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Issue 30.1 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. Gailen, 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; 6X2 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63to3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St.- Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19m6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Lonis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Bnildlng; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~) 1971 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A. 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JANUARY 1971 VOLUME 30 NUN, I BER I REVIEW FOR Volume 30 1971 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE P.O. Box 1110 Duluth, Minnesota 55802 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, 8.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELI - GIOUS is indexed in the Catho-lic Periodical Index and in Book Review Index. Microfilm edi-tion of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms; Ann Arbor, Michi-gan 48106, RICHARD P. VAUGHAN, s.J. The Experience of Crisis Since the conclusion of Vatican II a state of crisis in the Church and the religious life has produced a similar state in the lives of many religious. Values and goals, formerly held "as sacrosanct and essential, have been called into question and, in some cases, abandoned. Ways of living, traditional to an order or congregation for centuries, have been replaced. Members, once thought to be as settled in their vocations as the proverbial Rock of Gibraltar, have departed. Changes requested by the Vatican Council as necessary for renewal have sometimes failed to come about or have taken place with soul-jarring suddenness. There exists a seeming incompatibility between the old and the new, the young and the old. As a consequence, it is not surprising that a number of priests and nuns find themselves unable to face squarely what is taking place and then to make the necessary adjustments in their own way of thinking and acting to allow them to live com-fortably and productively in the religious life as it exists today. They have reached a point in their lives that can best be described as a crisis. The state of crisis is an immediate but transitory life episode in which the individual is taxed beyond his adaptive powers, resulting in an intense, distressing psy-chological experience.1 It is a period when a person is exposed to threats and demands at or near the limits of his coping resources? In his own mind, he frequently feels that he is asked to do the impossible. Under normal conditions, he would make use of his usual repertoire of coping devices; in the crisis situation, these prove ineffec-tive. 3 He sees no solution; he begins to panic and soon finds himself experiencing such psychiatric symptoms as severe anxiety, depression, and mental confusion. He feels 1 R. S. Lazarus, Psychological Stress and the Coping Process (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966), p. 2. -" K. S. Miller and I. Iscoe, "The Concept of Crisis: Current Status and Mental Health Implications," Human Organization, v. 22 (1963), pp. 195-201. s Gerald Caplan, Principles o[ Preventive Psychiatry (New York: Basic Books, 1964). 4- 4- 4- Richard P. Vaughan, S.J., is the provincial for education of the California Prov-ince; P.O. Box 519; Los Gatos, Califor-nia 95030. VOLUME :}0, 1971 helpless in the face of what appears to be an insoluble problem.4 Reacting to Stressful Situations No two people respond to an anxiety-provoking situa-tion in exactly the same way. One religious accepts drastic changes in his rule and way of living with apparent equanimity; a second is obviously shaken but collects his resources and copes with the situation while a third lapses into a state of incapacitating panic. The factors account-ing for this difference are threefold: (1) the structure of personality; (2) the nature of the environmental stress or stresses; and (3) the state of one's faith. The proportion that each of these factors contributes to the experience of crisis varies from individual to individual. As a consequence of inherited endowment, the ef-ficacy with which the developmental tasks of the various stages of life were accomplished, environmental circum-stances, and one's own deliberate choices, each one of us develops a unique personality. Some have strong per-sonalities; others, weak; most of us fall at one of the innumerable gradations between these two poles. The well-balanced religious is the one who is usually happy, contented, and able to meet at least adequately, if not well, most of the demands placed upon him. The neurotic religious is the one who lacks contentment, is dissatisfied, and unable to withstand the usual stresses of religious life. When he is confronted with the unrest and uncer-tainty ,so prevalent in communities today, he literally " "falls apart." He does not have the inner strength to face issues vitally affecting his life. We all have neurotic traits or tendencies. Some have more than others. The more of these traits, the more difficult it is to cope with stressful situations. The nature of a particular neurotic mechanism also limits adaptabil-ity. It should be noted that one need not be severely neurotic to undergo a crisis. The seemingly healthy reli-gious with several neurotic tendencies can also reach such a state. 4- 4- 4- R. P. Vaughan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 4 Meaning of Environmental Stresses Environmental stresses precipitating a crisis are mani-fold. Needless to say, some situations by their very nature are more disturbing than others. For many, initiating a new form of authority in a community or abandoning the traditional horarium will be more anxiety-provoking than a modificatiofi, of the habit.or mode of dress. Of greater importance, however, is the meaning the stressful situation has for the individual. The same situation can 4 Miller and Iscoc, Concept of Crisis, pp. 195-6. affect two people in quite different ways.~ For one it can be a motivating factor to participate in bringing about renewal whereas for the other it becomes a debilitating crisis. In the latter case, the individual is overcome by feelings of frustration and helplessness. The failure of his congregation to realize the ideal attacks his own ide-alism, something close to the core of his personality.6 Often such a person is lacking sufficient, security to allow him to live patiently under existing conditions, trusting in the benevolence and wisdom of the Holy Spirit. A feeling of hopelessness coupled with depression takes over and he sees no alternative but to abandon his commit-ment. The perception of these two individuals (lifter radically. The security and inner strength of the one per-mits him to see the congregation's assets as well as its limitations while the insecurity and weakness of the other causes him to look at only the natural limitations. It should be noted, however, that not all deciding to withdraw from the religious life are doing so because of insecurity and personality weakness. Reasons for such a decision are numerous and complex. Each case should be evaluated on an individual basis. Unfortunately some studies on departures from the priesthood and religious life tend to overgeneralize, thus producing dubious re-suhs. Faith Faith is a third factor influencing one's reaction to a stressful situation. If what a person believes has deep per-sonal meaning and has been integrated into his personal-ity, anything considered an attack on this belief will often be looked upon as an attack on himself. It is for this reason that some react with violent opposition when traditional doctrines and practices .are called into ques-tion. An inability to settle such questioning in a per-sonally satisfying way can result in a crisis. On the other hand, if an individual's faith in God and the Church is weak, he finds it relatively easy to abandon it. Recent events in the Church and in religious life are not likely to precipitate a crisis, since he has few emotional attach-ments to either. Cons'equences of Crisis The experience of crisis affects many areas of function-ing, the most pressing of which deal with emotional well-being. A common reaction, as we have stated, is a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness leading to depression,z + 4- Lazarus, Psychological Stress, p. 56. Ibid., p. 6. Miller and Iscoe, Concept o] Crisis, p. 196. VOLUME 30, 1971 5 ÷ ÷ I{. P. Vaughan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 As the crisis . h~ightens, anxiety increases, producing greater inactivity.8 An inability to meet the demands of a situation and to arrive at needed decisions results in a desire to escape. Many under severe stress experience an urge to run away; where makes no difference just as long as they can distance themselves from the threatening en-vironment. The major drawback of giving way to such an urge is that the crisis is internal and often continues in the new environment. The person in crisis also finds that he becomes disor-ganized in his work.'a Whereas previously he was able to handle his assignments with proficiency and competence, he now discovers that he is unable to concentrate and that he makes numerous mistakes. He can no longer force himself to prepare his classes or sometimes even to enter the classroom. His inability to take hold of himself and regain his former efficiency only increases his sense of hopelessness. Under severe stress an individual's perception of a situation and its ramifications is limited.10 He tends to concentrate on a small, sometimes unimportant portion of a situation and overlook many significant aspects. He is unable to see the true problem confronting him. For example, the religious in crisis often finds himself unable to place in proper perspective the Church and the reli-gious life as they exist today; he concentrates on one or two shortcomings appearing to him as insurmountable barriers to happiness, such as the failure of some superiors to treat subjects as persons or bishops governing from a stance of excessive legalism. He then calls into question the validity of the whole life. He lacks a balanced view and therefore is in no position to make a decision and then act on the basis of this decision. Unfortunately, a number of priests and sisters decide to abandon their commitment during a period when they are no longer open to all possible options and when they are incapable of seeing all the implications of their deci-sion. They simply feel trapped i.n a life presenting many frustrations and obstacles. They take the only apparent course open to them, when they should have been en-couraged to forego any far-reaching decisions and to wait until they can evaluate fully all the factors involved in their distressing situation. For this reason, a change in status or a leave of absence is much preferred to the finalized dispensation from the vows. It can be hoped ~ Sheldon J. Lorchin in The Encyclopedia o/Mental Health, v. 6 (New York: Franklin Watts, 1963), pp. 1975-82. "Jack R. Ewalt in Man under Stress ed. Seymour Farber (Berkeley: University o~ California, 1964), p. 39. ~0 Richard P. Vaughan, An Introduction to Religious Counseling (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1969), p. 93. that once they have distanced themselves from the stress-provoking environment and become engrossed in a differ-ent setting, emotional equilibrium will return and even-tually a decision based on reason can be reached. Helping the Religious in Crisis What can be done to help the religious in crisis? The first thing needed is an understanding listener to counter-act the feeling of isolation and helplessness. The priest or sister should be encouraged to express how he or she feels as well as some of the despondent thoughts accom-panying these feelings. Spontaneous expression estab-lishes the listener as an interested, and, hopefully, a help-ful person.11 It allows the religious to become consciously aware of his emotional state and eventually to appraise" the reasons for his anxiety, fear, and depression. Initially, there will probably be an outpouring of negativism, an-ger, and despondency. As the emotional turmoil begins to subside, a more realistic evaluation occurs. Since in the eyes of the disturbed religious everything looks so hope-less, the listener is often tempted to feel the same way. He is apt to think: "Things have gone too far, there is nothing I can do," whereas a little patience and time plus a manifestation of genuine concern can produce re-markable results. Until relative calm is reestablished, few, it any, rational decisions can be reached; hence pushing a discussion in the direction of reasons for and against taking a position is apt to be fruitless. What the religious needs most is support and reassur-ance that eventually he will return to his former state of mind.1-0 In the meantime the fact that he has someone he can trust and on whom he can lean means a great deal. Occasionally a situation demands some lesser decisions and action, something the individual is incapable of doing without reassurance and direct guidance. In gen-eral, however, the best principle is to make no far-reach-ing decisions during a period of crisis. Perhaps the greatest assistance that can be given is the advice not to decide or act until he can make a valid, reasonable deci-sion. Inactivity and withdrawing are two common symptoms accompanying a period of crisis. To counteract these, some definite form of activity commensurate with his psychological state shonld be encouraged. XYalking with another, playing a game of tennis or golf, or assisting an-other in some relatively simple office chore can all be 4- + 4- Crisis ~: Leopold Bcllak and Leonard Small, Emergency Psychotherapy and Brie] Psychotherapy (New York: Gruenc and Stratton, 1965), p. v0t.ut~E 101. a~ Ibid. 7 beneficial. Time to ruminate and brood should be elim-inated insofar as possibIe. If a religious manifests the symptoms of crisis for sev-eral months and appears unable to regain his former self, then professional assistance should be sought. It is quite probable that a neurotic condition is blocking the abil-ity to cope with the environmental situation provoking the state of crisis. + + R. P. Vaughan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8 GEORGE L. COULON, C.S.C., AND ROBERT J. NOGOSEK, C.S.C; Religious Vows as Commitment In this day when so many religious are leaving their communities, a question presses on the minds of both young and old: What is the value today of perpetual vows? For religious professed already ten or twenty years this question can be very disturbing during this period of dramatic change in the life of the Church. For young religious, as they approach final vows, the problem some-times takes the form of another question: How can I make a lifelong commitment to religious life? How can I pos-sibly anticipate today what I will think and feel ten, twenty, thirty years from now, when the world, the Church, religious life, and I myself may change almost beyond recognition? Three Interpretations To enter upon this question, it should be noted that religious live the commitment of their vows in various ways, not so much perhaps from what they were taught explicitly in formation, as from what they were seeking in entering the community, and also from the types of loyalty and idealism elicited through their subsequent experiences in the community. It would seem that three distinct interpretations of this commitment are typically the following: 1. Some live out their religious life as basically a devo-tion to their institute. They identify themselves with the structures and traditions of the community and with the institutions it has built up. They take a basic pride in belonging to this particular religious institute and have devoted their energies to improving its function, prestige, and influence in society. 2. Other religious see their commitment as centered on people rather than on what is institutional. They will say they entered the religious life to find Christian George L. Cou- Ion and Robert J. Nogosek teach the-ology at the Uni-versity of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. VOLUME 30, 1971 9 ÷ G.L. Coulon and R. 1. Nogosek REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS community. Their interpretation accentuates the idea of primary, face-to-face relationships. It puts its finger on an aspect of religious life that is very reall human, and true. It recognizes that the community is the soul of the institute and is what most really makes the insti-tute a coherent and stable historical reality. Despite the most radical institutional changes, it is really made up of its personnel. It sees that the community is a more important human reality than the institute with all its organized apostolates which identify the members with the institutions. 3. A third way of looking at the commitment of the religious life is that of a quest for salvation, or an at-taining of Christian perfection. In this interpretation, one entered the religious life because of the ideal of the Christian life it represented. Tbe vows were seen as a commitment to become a good religious and. to realize in oneself a deep life of prayer and a fruitful service to God's People. These, then, are three interpretations which we feel are rather frequent among religious concerning the commitment they are living out by their vows. They can be designated as (1) the institutional, (2) the communi-tarian (or personalistic), and (3) the'specifically religious interpretations of the religious vows. It is our thesis that much difficulty comes to religious because of ihese in-terpretions, for we maintain that they are all defective theologically, whether taken singly or even all together. In our opinion they simply do not express adequately what the commitment of the religious vows is supposed to be according to the gospel and the tradition of the Church. Temptations to Leave As evidence of their inadequacy, we see in each inter-pretation definite occasions leading one to abandon the vows. These interpretations of the commitment made by the vows really will not hold up satisfactorily to some rather ordinary temptations to get a canonical dispensa-tion from final vows and view the commitment as termi-nated. 1. In the case of the institutional commitment, what happens to that commitment if the religious institute changes radically in its structures and institutions? Can this any longer be called the same community we en-tered? One could then question the continuance of the commitment of the vows by arguing that their object hardly exists any longer. Everything has changed--the dress, the rule, the customs, the works. So then how can one be held in God's sight to vows made to something which has changed so much as no longer to be the same? 2. Other kinds of temptations to leave are likely to come to those committed to personal community. What if our friends have left, or we simply fail to find the warmth and virtue of true Christian community in the congregation? What if we find much truer community with friends outside? If our commitment of the vows is basically motivated by the quest for community, then if we come to feel that community is very inadequate in our own institute, we will be strongly inclined to leave and to seek fellowship where it is experienced as much more alive. 3. Even the specifically religious interpretation con-tains occasions for the temptation to leave. What if we find that we have not become good religious, that the religious form of life has not led us to an intense prayer life or a successful apostolate? What if we feel ourselves dying on the vine, where the test of years shows we have not realized in our lives the ideal we were seeking by taking vows? If this way of life has not brought us to the deep union with God we were expecting, we may be tempted to leave. A More Adequate Theology As remedy for such reasonings against perseverance, there is needed a much more adequate theological in-terpretation of the commitment of the religious vows. Such an interpretation should attempt to express as clearly and coherently as possible a Christian reflection upon religious life as it is experienced and interpreted thematically in the Church's tradition. In that tradition, at least from medieval times on, reoligious life has been considered as a special way of living the gospel. And this special way has been expressed most characteristically in the evangelical themes of poverty, celibacy, and obedi-ence. Religious profession of the three vows represented very basically a public confession of the power of the gospel at work existentially in one's life. It was also the recognition that in this special and chosen way of life there was present an effective way of growing in the perfection of charity. In terms of the human experience of this way of life, each of the vows can be seen as standing for both a nega-tive and a positive element. The negative element in-volves the renunciation of genuine human values. The positive element involves the affirmation of the trans-cendent power of the gospel and of divine love over even the highest human values. If a theology of the religious.vows is to approach ade-quacy, it must be able somehow to integrate the insights of the three common interpretations we have cited and at the same time all.eviate what might.be called their in- 4. 4- + Religious ¥ows as Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 11 ÷ 4. 4. G, L. Coulon and R. J. Nogo~e~ REVIffW FOR RELIGIOUS herent temptations to non-perseverance. What we pro-pose is a dynamic interplay of the institutional, com-munitarian, and religious aspects under the dem~inds of God's grace. In this dynamic, poverty represents the re-nunciation of the institutional element as an ultimate demand and affirms the supremacy of the community element over it; celibacy represents the renunciation of the ultimate supremacy of the communitarian element and affirms the supremacy of the religious over the com-munitarian; and obedience represents the renunciation of the religious element as ultimate and affirms the abso-lute supremacy of grace and God's reign. It is the last element which completes the dynamic and is to be recog-nized as the Christian basis for religious profession along with a Christian reaffirmation of the institutional, com-munitarian, and religious quest. The Commitment of Poverty The first of the evangelical themes to consider is pov-erty. it would seem that the most obvious meaning of religious poverty is the renunciation of wealth, power, and prestige. This is not to affirm the intrinsic value of destitution or lack of material goods, but rather ex-presses a preference for the simple hnman life o~ the little people of this world over the riches, affluence, and sophistication of those considered socially important. But by religious profession we enter into a religious institute; and it should be recognized that there is built into every institution, even those professing poverty, a strong tend-ency toward the acquisition of the precise human values renounced by poverty, namely, of wealth, power, and prestige. Consequently, in the spirit of evangelical pov-erty, there is frequent need for the religious institute to be pruned of its power, wealth, and prestige. Sometimes this pruning is actively undertaken by reforming and zealous leadership from within the institute. But more often it is done by forces from without, whether they be persecuting enemies or simply the changing situa-tion which undercuts the prestige and influence that an institute and its members previously had. In other words, the attitude of religious poverty involves not only the personal striving for a simple and humble life because it is evangelical, but also the willingness o~ the institute and its members to accept radical changes in the institute itself. This is probably the most deeply purifying aspect of religious poverty today, for even institutes which ap-pear to be affluent may actually be in serious jeopardy regarding their very existence. If the readiness to renounce the institutional fixity and security of religious life is the negative aspect of poverty, its positive aspect is the affirmation of community and of the supremacy of community over institute. Stated sim-ply, this means that people and human relations are more important than efficiency and order. It is the recog-nition that the friendship and love of its members are a deeper and more stabilizing reality than the institute's more public, organizational strength and cohesiveness. The spirit of poverty recognizes that human beings, feelings, and personal relationships are very often more important than reason and structural orderliness. This positive aspect of poverty is merely a specialized mode of Christian charity and an effective way of growing in it. It might be summed up in Paul's admonition: "Bear one another's burdens and thus fulfill the law of Christ" (Gal 6:2). The sharing of common life is not just a sharing of board and material goods. It is more deeply a sharing of humanness, of cares and ~anxieties, joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, actuated through love. Such is the very deep human reality affirmed by evangeli-cal poverty. When poverty is interpreted in the Biblical sense of God's special love for the little people who are often crushed by oppressive power structures, then it becomes a theme readily understood and appreciated by many of the rising generation today. Furthermore, the sharing of both material possessions and personal burdens as cor-porate affirmations of evangelical poverty responds to ideals meaningful and attractive today, even though ad-mittedly very difficuh to realize in actual practice. In any case, looking at poverty in this way does provide a remedy to the temptation of leaving the religious life ¯ because of radical institutional changes. Actually, the insecurity occasioned by such changes give the religious an opportunity to live out his profession of poverty more deeply in its renouncement of worldly security and .prestige, and also in its affirmation that people are more ~mportant than structures and things. According to the spirit of the poor Christ, the future is made secure not by possessions or good administration, but directly by reliance on the love and care of divine providence. Moreover, all laws and organizations are to be judged not on their merits as customs and tradition, but rather as service to real needs of real people. There were hardly any religious traditions as sacred to Israel as those regu-lating the Sabbath, yet Jesus pointedly declared: "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath" (Mk 2:27). The Commitment of Celibacy Celibacy is the renunciation of the intimacy of mar-riage and married love. It is the giving up of the kind of companionship and fulfilhnent specifically found in 4- 4- 4- Reli~iou~ as Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 ]3 + + + G. L. Coulon and R. J. Nogosek REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 marriage and family life. Certainly this is the sacrifice of very great human values, and snch a renunciation is bound to leave a certain hole or void in our lives and be very keenly felt in hours of loneliness and frustration. Coukl it not be that in the intense desire for "com-mnnity" spoken of so much today among religious there is something of the yearning for the kind of personal shar-ing normally found in marriage and blood relationships? This would not mean to condemn such a normal and instinctive yearning, and community life should strive as best it can to create an atmosphere of home. But never-theless celibacy does renounce family and marriage. The readiness to leave father, mother, husband, wife, sister, brother for the sake of following Christ is the affirma-tion of the relative value even of these most wonderfnl human realities of intimacy and fellowship in marriage and family life. This means that ~ust as poverty is the rennnciation and relativization of the institutional to affirm the su-premacy of the community, so in turn celibacy is tl~e renunciation and relativization of the community ele-ment to affirm the supremacy of the strictly religious. Now of all the features of religious life today, perhaps celibacy is the hardest for Western secularized man to appreciate, since in modern philosophies the sharing of persons characteristic of marriage has become a strong contender for the place of absolute value in human life. To renounce this particular value out of love for the un-seen Lord readily appears to many of our age as dehu-manizing folly. Of course, the argument that celibacy makes one more available for service to people contin-ues to give it some humanistic value; but in accordance with the gospel its motivation is supposed to be a direct, loving companionship with Christ. What is affirmed is love of Christ, direct union with Him in friendship; and the service of His people is to be an overflow and witness of this love, wherein we share in His own mission and love those (lear to Him with His own love. Celibacy thus affirms that personal union with Christ is a religions value so great and appealing to the hnman heart that we will sacrifice for it even the great human values of conjugal and family intimacy. That such re-nouncement of human community con/d result in full-ness rather than emptiness of heart will always remain a paradox and mystery. Bnt to know the risen Lord in friendship is already a beginning of His final Appeariug and thus represents a concrete anticipation already in this life of the riches of the eschatological kingdom of God. It implies a divine gift of living out an eschatologi-cal love where fellowship with others is based on sharing in the direct and intimate fellowship with the Lord, such that one finds union with the hearts of one's fellow hu-man beings fundamentally through one's personal union with God. This should mean, then, that the absence of human community should be no argument to abandon the vows to seek it elsewhere, for one's religious calling is to share Christ's mission of bringing the dead to life and building up the kingdom of love. The calling to renunciation of marriage is in the very confirming of a union with Christ and His own mission of redeeming man through reconciliation and building fellowship. The vocation is to love with Christ's freedom, to decide to be available as a grace to others for their sake, and the source of tiffs is the direct; personal friehdship with Christ. The mission is to bring about the fellowship of Christ-in-us, and the grace to do this comes through the religious union with Christ as beloved. Those who seek only the achieved fel-lowship want the kingdom without sharing Christ's effort to build the kingdom. They want the risen glory without sharing the way of suffering and self-crucifixion, which ac-cording to God's mysterious plan is necessary to its full realization. The Commitment of Obedience Often religious obedience has been presented as an attitnde of snbmission to legitimate superiors. Certainly obedience as compliance with authority is a necessary part of any ordered society; without it chaos is just around the corner. Obedience in this very human sense is one aspect of religious obedience. But the Biblical theme of obedience to God's reign is much more com-prehensive than simply submission to religious author-ity. It is not first of all a passive submission, but rather an active acceptance and a willing of the will of God, somehow found in every person we meet, in every place we live, and in every decision we and others have made that has affected our lives. Even in every failure to at-tain our aspirations the reign of God somehow triumphs. In other words, when we speak of religious obedience in the spirit of Jesus, we refer to the attitude of full ac-ceptance of God calling us to a personal destiny in and through the very stuff of our lives, including the people, events, failings, and attainments that make up our his-tory and our very self. The theme of evangelical obedi-ence is intimately tied np with the divine mystery of vocation and the human mystery of self-acceptance. It recognizes that in Christ the reign of God is present and at hand over our lives. In our acceptance that God's will is being revealed in and through our lives, we are also being led to that full and active self-acceptance which somehow enables us to come to grips with our-÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Vows as Commitment 4. 4. 4. G. L. Coulon and R. ~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 16 selves anti find a deep, inner peace throngh accepting and loving ourselves just as we are. Evangelical obedience is evidenced by tl~e saying of lesus that His food is to do the will of the Father (see ~n 4:34). He is sent fromthe Father to fulfill a destiny pre-establisbed by God's choice. As sons in the Son, we too are to acknowledge that we are chosen in Christ, that from all eternity our lives have been uniquely pre-ordained in terms of following Christ and sharing in His destiny (see Eph 1:3-7). We are called into His Church to bear fruit through living by His word and building up the kingdom of God on pathways .already prepared for us by providence (see Eph 2:10; Pb 2:13). We are to live in response to the calling and destiny chosen by the Father. Tiffs means living out of a fundamental decision of submitting to God's will over onr lives, whatever it is, even if it means accepting a chalice of suffering. The vow of obedience concretizes this fundamental submission to God's reign over us by our acknowledging a calling to the religious life as God's will for our life. Taken publicly and accepted by Christ's Church in an official capacity, the vow by its very nature implicitly includes the other two vows as a covenant of religious life. The obedience vowed is a faithfulness to the reli-gious life in this community made out of response to the will of God over onr life. Once made and accepted in Christ's Chnrch, the pnblic vows remain as a perma-nent sign of divine vocation and our human acceptance. Such a recognition of God's reign signifies that it is not we who have first loved God, but God who has first loved us. It is not we who are to determine what is to be our fnlfilhnent, but God's will determines what we are to be. We enter the religious life not because it is our own best way to God as attainment of deep prayerful-ness and the fullness of Christian virtue, but rather simply because the religious life is God's will for us. To put this in the terminology we have used for the other vows, religious obedience is the renunciation and rela-tivization of the highest religious values and the affirma-tion of the supremacy of God's reign of love over every-thing else. It affirms that God's choice over us is the su-preme valne. We have become vowed to the religious life nltimately not because it is our best way to be saved, or even to exercise Christian service, but rather because God has chosen us thus to bear witness in the Body of Christ. Its basis is not that religions life is best for ns, or most appealing, but rather that we are meant to be reli-gious. This we bare affirmed by public vows in the Church, and made a personal covenant with God calling upon Him to accept this kind of offering of our whole life given as response to His will for us. This, then, provides a thorough r~medy to the tempta-tion of relinquishing the religious life should it seem that we are not being thereby fulfilled as Christians. The event of our public covenant of vows remains a perma-nent indication of our vocation and our self-acceptance under God's plan. Should this be doubted as a sign of God's will, where are we to find a surer sign? What cri-terion could be presented by providence as dissolving the terms of the covenant already made and accepted through Christ's Church? That we are not good religious is no argument for leaving, since this points out our own un-faithfulness to the covenant and its recogriition is a sign that grace would lead us to repentance. That our prayer life be dried up or our apostolic efforts unfruitful and frustrated is no sign against continuing our covenant, for we have already acknowledged that the supreme value is not our own will or our own way to God, but rather that God wills us to be religious. His love is to be su-preme, even over the highest values of what we consider our own religious fulfillment. The aspect of obeying religious authority readily fits into this framework of obedience to God's will as destin-ing us to the religious life. Included in our response to that will is faithfulness to the duties of being a religious called along with others to form an evangelical and apo-stolic community. The obedience committed means a dedication to the common good of the community, re-sponsible for serving God's people. This common good is spelled out in many details by the legislation and govern-ing officials of the community. Thus, a docility and re-sponsibility to the assignments and direction of superiors fits into the context of obeying God's will that we be dedicated to our calling as religious. Even the absence of such leadership and management leaves us with our basic responsibility to the common good of community and apostolate. Conclusion We have tried to demonstrate theologically that mak-ing final vows is of its very nature an irrevocable event in our lives. It is a life decision involving a commitment until death, because through this particular institute, through this particular community of persons, and through this acknowledgement of God's reign over our destiny, we have made a covenant with God concerning what we are called to be in Christ's Body. Our perse-verance in the vows comes down to faithfulness and trust. The faitlffulness acknowledges the self-perception of the basic meaning of our life, of what onr life calling is ac-cording to God's design. The trust acknowledges that God has accepted our life-offering under the terms of the + ÷ ÷ Religious Vows as Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 vows. Our fundamental Christian witness will always re-main not our own virtue, but rather the acceptance of the Father's will, even should this mean our own weak-ness rather than strength, loneliness rather than human fellowship, and agony rather than the joy of success in our aspirations. + + + G. L. Coulon and R. ]. Nogosek REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18 SISTER JUDITH ANN WICK Identity and Commitment of Youn9 Sisters in a Religious Community Abstract: Weak ego identity and hesitancy of commitment are characteristics of contemporary society which are manifest in all institutions, including the religious institution. This study of young sisters with temporary commitments to a re-ligious community of women investigates the function of role models in the attainment of religious role identity, as well as the goal and duration of commitment. The data indicate that role models are influential in the identity formation of these young sisters, that the goal of commitment is ideological rather than organizational, and that opinion is evenly divided on the issue of permanent versus temporary commitment. The past ten years, characterized by rapid social change, have demanded from individuals and institutions a degree of self-examination and adaptation not called for in previous decades. To survive in contemporary so-ciety, institutions and individuals must search for and question their purpose and identity. This climate is per-vasive; it has penetrated what were formerly regarded as the "secnre" places in society where one was assured o[ identity and purpose. This paper illustrates the perva-siveness of social change, showing how change in secular society, coupled with change in the Catholic Church has converged to create problems of identity and institutional loyalty for young members in a religious com~nunity of women. Change in Secular Society Contemporary America's society makes it difficult for an individual to achieve a strong ego identity. Erikson defines ego identity as a unity of personality, felt by the individual and recognized by others, having consistency in time, and being an "irreversible historical fact" (1960: 11). Several factors in a technological society mili- Sister Judith Ann is a member o[ the sociology depart-ment o[ Briar Cliff College; ~03 Re-becca Street; Sioux City, Iowa ~1104. VOLUME 30, 1971 19 + 4. + Sister Judith Ann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 2O tate against this unity, consistency, and historical conti-nuity. Keniston enumerates these factors in the following manner: "Rapid and chronic social change, fragmenta-tion and specialization of tasks, decline of traditional 'gemeinschaft' communities, discontinuity between a warm, dependent childhood and a cold, independent adult world, theabsence of a utopian, positive myth for society, and the predominance of the rational in a 'tech-nological ego' " (1960). Ego identity is achieved by a complex interaction of factors, one of the most important being the observation of others acting out the role one hopes to fulfill himself someday. Observation of role models is difficult also. Age and sex roles are less clearly defined today than they were formerly, in part because the adult models which young persons have to follow are often inadequate for one who mnst find his place in a technological society: The young, who have outlived the social definitions of child-hood and are not yet fully located in the world of adult com-mitments and roles, are most immediately torn between the pulls of the past and the future. Reared by elders who were formed in a previous version of the society, and anticipating a life in a still different society, they must somehow choose be-tween competing versions of the past and future (Erikson, 1963: 169). As adult models become less influential in establishing norms for the decisions of the young, the range of choices involved in the decision-making process expands. Para-doxically, as the chances for a secure ego identity have decreased, the freedom [or independent decision-making has increased. Other factors in addition to the disappear-ance of adult role models have contributed to this free-dom. Career opportunities have multiplied with advanc-ing technology, and the number of careers open to women has increased. These factors have combined to create a situation in which the young person searching for his basic ego identity is confronted with a wide range of possibilities and practically unlimited freedom to choose. The decreasing influence of role models and the in-crease in freedom of choice are accompanied by a reluct-ance on the part of young people to ratify adult values. This expresses itself in a detachment and lack of enthusi-asm which restrains them from "going overboard" and so helps to avoid a damaging commitment to a false life style or goal (Erikson, 196~; 169). Erikson calls this hesi-tancy and period of delay in commitment "role morato-rium." One delays accepting certain values and in the intervening time "tests the rock-bottom" of these values (1963: 11). Change in the Catholic Church Weak ego identity and the accompanying independ-ence of choice and hesitancy of commitment are results of changes which have ramifications in the sacred as well as the secular realm. The religious realm formerly was the haven of security where an individual could be certain of finding out who he was and where he was going. The Catholic Church, characterized by an unchangeableness which held it aloof from the turmoil of secular society, was the prime example of an institution that still pro-vided the perplexed individual with answers to his ques-tions. The religious subculture was well-defined, stable, confidence-inspiring, and secure (Emery, 1969: 41). However, the technological changes which brought about rapid social change in secular society also affected the sacred element in society. Within the Catholic Church, the Second Vatican Council which met from 1962 until 1965 was a response to the changing secular society. The Council was an attempt to reform practi.ces within the Church to make them more meaningful to contemporary man. In order to do this the strong link which the Church had. with the past was broken. The continuity of external practices which had been mistak-enly identified as essential to faith was gone, and the same insecurity and lack of identity experienced in the secular world was present in the religious realm. With its emphasis on collegiality rather than concen-tration of all authority in one individual, the Council expanded the decision-making power of individuals within the Church. Not only, then, did the individual find external, non-essential practices changed, but he found himself confronted with a range of choices and freedom in decision-making in the sacred realm of his life. What had once been stable and unchanging took on the same changeable, impermanent characteristics of the rest of society, and what had once been an unquestioning commitment to an unchangeable institution became a less certain and hesitant identification with a set of be-liefs and practices which had been accepted without test-ing their value. Change in Religious Communities The changes in secular society and in the Catholic Church have radically affected religious communities of women. Once considered the most "total" of institutions, communities have been undergoing a "de-totalization" process, brought about by the Second Vatican Council and the rapid rate of social change in the secular world. The most visible changes have been in the area of clothing and rules regarding relationships and activities ÷ + ÷ ~dentity and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 21 ÷ Sister Judith A nn 22 outside of what were formerly considered the "bounda-ries" of the religious community. These changes in exter-nal characteristics, like similar changes in the Church, have broken a visible link with the past and made the identity of a religious sister less dependent upon external symbols and behavior patterns. With these changes has come an emphasis on individual responsibility and free-dom of choice, thereby altering the relationship between the individual sister and the institution of the religious community. Loyalty to the institution no lo/iger means responding to directives from those in authority since collegiality gives authority to all. Changes in the institu-tion make the permanent commitment required by the religious community appear less desirable. The hesitancy manifested in the secular world in regard to assuming a value or life style that might not be functional in the [t~ture has its counterpart in religious communities. It is not coincidental that the theology of a temporary reli-gious vocation appeared for the first time less than five years ago (Murphy, 1967; Orsy, 1969; Schleck, 1968; Smith, 1964). It is obvious that the identity of a religious sister and her commitment to the religious community are not measured by the same criteria as they were in the past. The new definitions of identity and commitment are not yet clear and are dependent upon individual characteris-tics. Given these changes within religious communities, the recruit to religious life no longer enters a stable and permanent organization with older members serving as role models. The new identity she is to assume and the institution to which she is to commit herself are as ambig-uous as her previous experiences in the secular world. Young members of a religious community still involved in the socialization process of their "formation" years have come from a secular situation in which ambiguity of identity and lack of permanence are dominant character-istics. It is to be expected that their prior experiences in this type of secular society, coupled with the changes in religious organizations, will influence their identity as religious sisters and their commitment to the organiza-tion in which they are being socialized. It is the purpose of this study to investigate the identity and commitment of this group of sisters. Ti~e strength of identity as a religious sister is measured by the influence of role mod-els, with more influence indicative of stronger identity. Commitment refers to consistent lines of activity which persist over a period of time, serve in the pursuit of a goal, and imply the rejection of certain alternative cri-teria (Becket, 1960; 33). Two of these aspects of commit-ment-- the time element and the goal pursued~are con-sidered in this study. Methodology To investigate the identit-y and commitment of young sisters, a pretest using a structured interview schedule was conducted. Twenty-five sisters, all with one-year "tempo-rary" commitments to their religious community were interviewed.1 On the basis of these responses, a question-naire was constructed which included twelve questions with alternative responses listed and one open-ended question. Five of the twelve closed-ended questions dealt with basic demographic information--age, length of time in religious life, size of home town, size of town in which presently working, and type of work engaged in. Four dealt with the decision to enter religious life--time of the decision, influential factors, and permanency of the deci-sion as viewed at the time of entrance. The other three closed-ended questions were designed to secure informa-tion about the sister's present understanding of religious life, influential factors in arriving at this understanding, and factors keeping the sister in religious life. The open-ended question dealt with the sister's attitude toward permanent commitment to religious life. The questionnaire was sent to all temporarily comnait-ted sisters who were members of a single Midwestern religious community.'-' Eighty-eight questionnaires were distributed; eighty-one were returned. Five of these were eliminated because responses were incomplete or ambigu-ous. This left seventy-six questionnaires for analysis. Description oI the Sample The mean age of the sisters responding was 23.88 years. They had been members of the religious community from four to seven years, with 5.99 years being the mean number of years as a member. Forty-four (58 per cent) of the respondents decided to join the religious community during their senior year in high school. Fifteen sisters (20 per cent) decided earlier than their senior year, and sev-enteen (22 per cent) decided later. Thirty-eight sisters (50 per cent) identified their home towns as farms; another twelve (16 per cent) indicated that the size of their home town was less than 2500. Fourteen sisters (19 per cent) joined the religious com-munity from cities with a population of greater than x After a period of eight years during which a sister makes ooe- )'ear commitments to the religious community, she is eligible to make a permanent commitment. If she does not choose to do this, she leaves the religious community. She is also fi'ee to leave at the expiration of any of the one-year commitments. ~ Selecting the sample from the same religious community allows for control of the rate of change occurring within the religious com-munity and the type of formation program used in the socialization process of the young sisters. ÷ ÷ 4- Identity and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 23 TABLE 1 Occupations of Young Sisters Occupation No. of Sisters % of Sisters Primary grade teacher Middle grade teacher High school teacher Student Upper grade teacher Homemaker Religious education Nurse Other Total 16 14 12 12 9 4216 76 21% 19 15 15 11 6 19 100 + 4- 4- Sister Judith Ann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 50,000. The remaining eleven (15 per cent) came from towns ranging in size from 2500 to 50,000. When asked to indicate the size of the town in which they were presently working, twenty-three sisters (30 per cent) indicated towns of less than 2500; thirty-one sisters (44 per cent) indicated cities with populations of 50,000 or greater. The remaining twenty-one sisters (26 per cent) worked in towns ranging in size from 2500 to 50,000. From this data it can be said that while 66 per cent of the respondents have non-urban (population less than 2500) origins, only 30 per cent are presently working in non-urban situations. On the other hand, while only 18 per cent of the sisters have large city (greater than 50,000) origins 44 per cent work in large city situations. Table 1 shows the types of work in which the subjects were involved. Fifty-one sisters (66 per cent) were engaged in teaching, with the greatest number of these being pri-mary teachers. Identity as a Religious Sister The respondents' role identity as a religious sister was determined by measuring the inltuence of role models. In this situation role models were defined as older sisters in the same religious community as the young sisters. Two questions were included in the questionnaire to deter-mine the strength of role model influence. One question asked: "What factor would you say influenced you most in deciding to enter religious life?" The second question was: "What would you say helped you the most to arrive at your present understanding of religious life?" Alterna-tives were provided for each of the questions, with space provided for other alternatives to be added. Respondents were instructed to choose only one alternative; those re-sponses including more than one alternative were consid-ered invalid. Response to the question concerning factors influenc- TABLE 2 Factors Influencing Decision to Join Rellg[ous Life Factor % of Sisters The idea that this was something God wanted me to do The conviction that this was the best way to serve Christ A sister in a religious community My family Other Invalid Total No. oI Sisters 47 11 8 2 44 76 61O/o 14 10 36 6 I00 ing the decision to join the religious community is shown in Table 2. From these data it is evident that role models ("a sister in a religious community") were not as influen-tial as other factors, accounting for only ten per cent of the responses. Forty-seven sisters (61 per cent) indicated that joining the religious community was influenced by motivation that could be classified as "supernatural." ("This was something that God wanted me to do.") Obviously, role models were not influential in the ini-tial step of assuming identity as a religious sister. How-ever, we cannot conclude from this that they were not influential at a later time in the young sister's life. Re-sponse to the question: "What would you say helped you most to arrive at your present understanding of religious life?" indicates that role models assume a new importance after a girl has joined the religious community. Table 3 indicates that thirty-nine sisters (51 per cent) indicated that role models ("living with and observing other sis-ters") were the most influential" factor in their present understanding of religious life. From the response to these two questions, it is evident that role models are more influential in the process of TABLE 3 Factor Most Influential in Present Understanding of Religious Life Factor No. of % of Sisters Sisters Living with and observing other sisters Personal reading and reflection Religious life classes Discussions with sisters my own age Other Invalid Total 39 9553 15 76 51% 11 77 5 19 100 4- 4- 4- Identity and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 identity formation after the sister joins the community than they are in the process of deciding to join. If the strength of role identity as a religious sister is estimated by the influence of role models, then it can be concluded from these data that, despite changes in the definition of the role, the majority of young sisters do have strong role identity as a religious sister and that this is developed by observation of role models. Goal of Commitmen~ Becker's definition cited earlier speaks of commitment in terms of activity in pursuit of a goal. Members of a religious community agree by their act of joining that community to pursue the goal of the community within guidelines for activity established by the organization. In a sense, then, commitment to a religious community is two-fold: commitment to the goals of the community (usually ideological goals such as living the Gospel in the "spirit of the founder") and commitment to the specific means of living these goals as defined by the organization of the community (e.g., manner of living together, specific rules regarding dress and behavior). The respondents were given two opportunities on the questionnaire to indicate the object or goal of their com-mitment. One question asked: "Which factor listed below woukl you say most clearly differentiates religious life from other forms of Christian living?" Eight alternatives were given, with space to provide others. Table 4 shows the response to this question and indicates that the model response is "community living" which coukl be classified as the organizational aspect of the two-fold goal. "Service to others" could also be classified as [urthering the con-crete organizational goals and non-ideological in charac-ter. Five of the other responses--"celibacy," "visible sign," TABLE 4 Factors Differentiating Religious Life frotn Other Forms of Christian Living 4- 4- 4- Sister Judith Ann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 26 Community living Intensity of Christian living Celibacy Visible sign; public witness Emphasis on prayer and spiritual life Service to others The three vows No distinguishing feature Other Invalid Total No. of Sisters % of Sisters ~8% 12 12 11 75 29 10 10 95 3 3l2 4 51 3 6 76 100 "prayer, . Christian living," and "tile three vows"--are more ideological in emphasis and removed from the prac-tical, organizational aspect of the goal. If the responses are classified in terms of organizational or ideological e~nphasis, thirty-two sisters (43 per cent) indicated commitment to an organizational goal, while thirty-seven sisters (48 per cent) indicated commitment to ideological goals. This difference is too small to make a statement about the goal of the commitment of the re-spondents. The other qnestion which provided data concerning the goal of co~nmitment was: "What do you see as the most important factor keeping yon in relig!ous life today?" Six alternatives were given for this question with space provided to write in others. Table 5 gives the re-sponse to this question. If the responses are considered as emphasizing either the organizational or ideological as-pect of the goal, it is clear that the majority of respond-ents view the ideological goal as more important than the organizational one in keeping them in the religious com-lnunity. Forty-three (57 per cent) of the responses indicated that the force keeping the sister in religious life is the sense of commitment to a value or an ideal: "It's the right thing for me to do"; "The love of Christ"; "To prove this life has meaning." Twenty-one responses (27 per cent) indicated that tile "holding force" or goal of commitment is identified with the organization: "Faith and hope in our congregation"; "To serve others better." From the response to these two questions, it can be concluded that young sisters view the goal of commit-ment as equally ideological and organizational when they are asked to identify it in an objective type of qnestion. When the qnestion is asked in a more personally oriented manner (e.g., "What are you committed to that keeps you in religious life?"), more sisters identify the goal in ideo-logical terms than in organizational terms. With empha- TABLE 5 Factors Keeping Sisters in Religious Life Today Factor No. of Sisters % of Sisters It's the right thing for me to do The love of Christ To serve others better Faith and hope in our congregation To prove this life has meaning I don't know Other Invalid Total 19 19 14 7 57 41 76 ~5% 25 18 97 9 61 100 ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 27 sis on personal decision-making and collegiality the or-ganizational aspects of the religious community are viewed as less important. Length of Commitment Formerly, commitment to a religious community was viewed as a permarient one, preceded by several years of temporary commitment. Changes in secular society have made permanency and stability almost non-existent, and changes in the Chnrch and in religious communities have reflected this trend. If the commitment of religious per-sons was to unchanging, spiritual values, the factors mili-tating against permanent commitment would not influ-ence religious commitment. However, it has been shown that the object of commitment is twofold: ideological and organizational. Ak the defects of an imperfect, changing, and nnpredictable organization loom large, a sister soon realizes tbat to be committed to the ideological goals of tbe commnnity, she may not need to be permanently committed to its organization. Many temporary organiza-tional and public service alternatives such as Peace Corps are available (Murphy, 1967: 1083). The young sister respondents were asked abont their initial ideas of the stability of commitment to religious life. The qnestion was stated in this way: "Think back to the (lay you came to religious life. Which of the three statements listed below would you say best describes your feelings at that time?" The alternatives ranged from "giv-ing it a try" to "very sure that I'd stay forever." The response to each alternative is given in Table 6. It is evident from these data that 20 per cent of the young sisters viewed commitment to religious life as per-manent tbe (lay they joined the community. However, most of the respondents (80 per cent) indicated that at the time they joined the community there was hesitancy regarding the permanency of their commitment to the group they were joining. + + + Sister Judith Ann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 28 TABLE 6 Attitude Toward Permanency of Commitment of Young Sisters before Joining the Religious Community Attitude I was going to give it a try and see if it worked I was quite sure--not positive though-- that I'd stay I was very sure that I'd stay forever Total Sisters ~7 33 16 76 % of Sisters 36% 44 20 100 The final question was an open-ended one which al-lowed the respondents to express their views on the issue of permanent versus temporary commitment to the reli-gious community. The qnestion was stated: "Some people have suggested that because of all the rapid social change occurring today that commitment to religious life should be a temporary one. How do you feel about this?" The respondents were given ample room to reply, and their opinions ranged in length from one sentence to several paragraphs. The responses to this questi6n were ranked according to agreement with permanent commitment, with four cat-egories resulting: (1) strong agreement with permanent commitment, (2) moderate agreement with permanent commitment, (3) moderate agreement with temporary commitment, and (4) strong agreement with temporary commitment. Thirty-nine of the respondents (51 per cent) strongly agreed that commitment to religious life should be per-manent. Their agreement was categorized as strong be-cause they felt that not only their own commitment, but all commitment to religious life should be permanent. These responses emphasized the necessity of permanency in order to bring security and stability to the individual and to "give witness" to the value of permanency in a world characterized by much impermanency. Typical of these responses are the following: . the rapid social change and the fact that there is so much "un-permanence" in the world today makes a permanent com-mitment all the more meaningful . It seems as though in many instances in life faithfulness is becoming less important and maybe even harder to practice. I think one of the things we religious should show others is fi-delity, keeping one's word with the Lord, as he has done for US . ¯. I feel it should be a life-long commitment. I think there's time for growth in this life that many are not allowing for in the temporary living. Especially today it takes more time to get rooted in a way of life and become persistent in our con-viction and values in that way of life . To really live religious life I think we must have a perma-nent commitment. I think it is only after we have lived a life as deeply as we can and for a length of time that we will blos-som as really selfless people (if we have taken the opportunities all around us to do this). Even though the world is rapidly changing, I think we need to show people it is possible to stick to a life decision . . I feel it is also necessary for one to make a decision and live by it. Those in other walks of life must do it. I think it makes one work harder for the final goal and makes one face up to her real purpose in this vocation . Sixteen of the respondents' opinions (20 per cent) were categorized as "moderate agreement with permanent com-mitment" since they indicate that, while the sister pre- 4- 4- Identity and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 29 + ÷ ÷ Si~ter $udith Ann REVIEW FOR R£LIGIOUS 30 {erred a permanent commitment for herself, she agreed that others in the religious community could make a temporary commitment. However, allowing this tempo-rary commitment was viewed as an exceptional measure, outside of the regular structure of the community, but somehow arranged so that those who made this type of commitment would be affiliated with the community. The argutnents in favor of permanent commitment are similar to those given by the respondents who strongly agreed with permanent commitment, as the examples below indicate: I think that for some people a temporary commitment is the best way for them to serve, and opportunity for this should be provided, rather than lose their valuable potential. For myself, a permanent commitment has more value. I want to give myself to something--someone--completely. A temporary commitment would just be putting off this giving of myself. I also think it is psychologically reassuring tbat a decision has been made, and now my whole effort can be put into living out that decision. I also think that people today need and want to see that Christ is important enough that someone will give his or her life to him.This is where a community of permanently com-mitted people has valne. I've thought of a temporary commitment many times. I can see some set-up like the Mormons have--giving two years of service to the church. But I can see that something more perma-nent and stable is needed. I think we have to think of more than ourselves . I think if young people want to serve the church temporarily, there are many other organizations for them. We need something more permanent and definite in this world and I think it should be religious life. I feel that if a person is truly committed to the religious life, her commitment will be a permanent one. However, because of contemporary insecurity and confusion, perhaps persons should be allowed to commit themselves for limited periods of time. I view this as a short-term measure. I feel this option should be given to some people. At the same time, I feel that for those who are able to make a perma-nent commitment this should be allowed because this is very much needed in today's society, too, as people need to witness a sign of permanency someplace. I think there is room for such a thing as a temporary com-mitment to a kind of religious living in our present, changing society. However, I do not think the place for such a commit-ment is within religious communities such as ours. It seems to me that religious life as we know it and are connnitted to is of its essence a lifetime proposition . I woukl favor the idea of something like a "sister-community" for those who wish temporary commitment, and we wonld work closely with and possibly live with these people. Eleven o¢ the sister-respondents (15 per cent) indicatetl "moderate agreement with temporary commitment." That is, while their response indicated agreement with temporary commitment, they indicated that those who desired permanent commitment ghonld be able to live in this way. This category was distinguished from the pre-vious one by its more positive view of temporary commit-ment. These respondents indicated that it should not be consklered exceptional and saw a place for it within the regular structure of the community. A strong emphasis on the individual's freedom to decide on the type of commitment was evident in these responses. In contrast to the other two categories of responses, arguments in favor of permanent commitment were not evident in this category. Typical of the responses are those listed below: I would tend to agree in part to the above statement. ! think a person can or could be committed to religious life for a number of years and then discover it wasn't for them. I also feel that there are people, many of them, who probably could and would be able to commit themselves to religious life for-ever. What I would like to see set up would be a plan whereby a person could dedicate a numher of years to the service of the church in religious life. I believe in a temporary calling or commitment to this life style--not that everyone should enter it on a temporary basis --but the option should be possible. Those that want the sta-bility of life commitment should have it; those that want this life-style for a temporary time of giving, living, growing, searching--it should be so. My first reaction to this idea was negative because it con-tradicted all that I was taught about vocation, but now I think it is a good idea. Mainly because I think this way of life gives each person who is in the least way sincere a very close and special relationship with God the Father. The op-portunities to know and to live God are very uniqne and centered. I just don't think that we can deny this relationship to anyone who desires it. Many times I think this is the reason a person enters religious life, and then maybe later they see that this type of life-style is not for them for various reasons. I believe that people should have the option of a temporary commitment. For some, this may better suit their character and personality, or their goals in life. It allows for changing in-terpretations of values. People enter religious life for different reasons, and for some, their understanding and purpose in re-ligious life might be served by a temporary commitment to it. Ten of the sisters (14 per cent) responded to the ques-tion with strong agreement toward temporary commit-merit. Like the responses in the previous category, these emphasized individual freedom of decision. In addition, they gave positive argmnents for temporary commitment. The tone of these argnments was that commitment to a changing institution cannot be permanent. This is ex-pressed clearly in the examples given below: It is most difficult for one to commit oneself to a certain institution with a permanent commitment to live out the 4- 4- 4- Identity and Commitment VOLUME ~0, 1971 31 4. + + Sister Judith Ann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious life in a particular way through this institution. Most people today find themselves changing jobs as they themselves change, due to the needs around them, through conditions or events and people they have interacted with . I feel that the commitment to religious life will always be a permanent one as God speaks to the individual, but the commitment to the institution through which the individual witnesses should be a temporary one. I'm beginning to think this is a good idea. I don't think people can take the intense living that community demands for a whole lifetime. Plus today society almost demands people move about and take on new ways of serving and giving. One single endeavor no longer seems adequate. There is a great instability about living which makes any permanent commit-ment an impossible demand. Yes, I think it shonld be temporary because the way religious life is changing now you might not be able to live happily and peacefully in the new conditions. Also, in living out one's commitment in religious life, a person may come to realize that she can commit herself in a fuller way in some other walk of life. I agree with the above statement. I too feel that because of the ever-changing demands and opportunities afforded by so-ciety that one should be flexible enough to r.espond to them as one sees fit which may not necessarily he within the establish-ment or structure of .religious life. I think that commitment to Christ as manifested in a really Christian way of living is the most important factor in one's dedication. The particular life style in which this is manifested may or may not be considered essential by the sister. I think that, in one sense, a real Christian has to "hang loose" with regard to any established institutions of the world. The Christian lives in the midst of many institutions, but must re-member, as Christ did, that institutions arc made for man, not man for institutions. Then the important thing is that a person make every effort to understand reality and develop a deep, honest 3ire attitude. From here on out, the formed Christian's inspiration and intuition is more important than membership in institutions. If this means there should be no permanent commitment to religious life, then there should be none. In snmmary, these responses to the qnestion concerning the permanency of commitment indicate that young sis-ters are evenly divided on the question, with 51 per cent favoring permanent commitment for all, and 48 per cent not favoring this position, although their disagreement with it is in varying degrees. Argnments in favor of per-manent commitment point out the "witness value" of permanency in a world characterized by impermanency, indicating emphasis on the ideological aspect of the two-fold goal of a religious community. Arguments support-ing temporary commitment emphasize the organizational aspect of the goal by stressing the difficulty of permanent commitment to an organization. These same argnments TABLE 7 Lambda Values of Predictor Variables Variable Value of Lambda Attitude of sister before she joined religious commu- .19 nity toward permanency of commitment Type of work Factor keeping sister in religious community Number of years in religious community Factor differentiating religious life from other forms of Christian living Factor leading to present understanding of religious life Factor influencing decision to join the religious com-munity Time when decision to join was made Size of town in which working Size of home town Age of sister ,16 .15 .14 .12 .11 .11 .11 .11 .11 .11 indicate the desirability of maintaining religiotts belie[s otttside of an organizational situation. Predictor Variables of Attitude toward Commitment. In order to investigate the possibility of predicting atti-tude toward commitment from other variables, further ;malysis was done using the responses to the open-ended qnestion regarding perm~ment or temporary commitment as the dependent variable. These responses were dichot-omized (those favoring permanent commitment for all members and those not favoring permanent commitment for all), and contingency tables were constructed using tbe data from eleven of the questions,s On the basis of these tables, the lambda statistic (X) was c;tlculated. Lambda is designed to estimate the percent-age of reduction of error gained by predicting the de-pendent v;triable from knowledge of the independent var-iable. Table 7 lists tbe content of tbe eleven qttestions used as independent v;triables and the corresponding val-ues of lambda. From these statistics it is evident that none of the varia-bles included in the questionnaire nsed for this study could be considered strong predictor variables. The strongest variable--the attitude of ;t sister before she joined the religious cuommunity toward the permanency of her commitment--reduces the error of prediction by a The question concerning the sister's decision to join the religious community: "When would you say you first started thinking about entering religious life?" was inchtdcd in the questionnaire only to clarify the question which followed it concerning the time when the actual decision to join was made, and was not intended for analysis. ÷ ÷ + Identity and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 33 only 19 per cent. In other words, knowledge of a sister's attitude on this topic wonld reduce the "chance" of erro-neously designating her as agreeing or disagreeing with permanent commitment for all members of the commu-nity. Without knowledge of this independent variable, a 51 per cent chance exists of correctly identifying a sister as agreeing with permanent commitment. With knowl-edge of this independent variable, the chance of correct identification increases to 70 per cent. Similar interpreta-tion holds for the other values of lambda, all of which, however, are smaller. + Sister Judith Ann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 34 Conclusion From the data gathered in this study, the following conchlsions can be drawn: (1) role models are influential in this group of young sisters; (2) more young sisters view the goal of commitment to the religious commnnity in ideological rather than organizational terms; (3) opinion is evenly divided on the issue of permanent versns tempo-rary commitment; and (4) none of the variables tested are outstanding in their predictive vahle regarding attitude toward commitment. While these findings do not appear to snpport tbe observations regarding cbange in secular society, the Chnrch, ~md religious commnnities, they nev-ertheless provide some basic information useful for fi~r-ther stndy in this area. For example, if none of the varia-bles tested here discriminate in regard to the attitude toward commitment, what variable is a discriminating one? Apparently neither demographic variables--size of a sister's home town, size of town in which a sister is work-ing, her age, or her type of work--nor variables concern-ing a sister's views of religious life and the factors in-fluencing these views can be considered meaningful predictor variables. Even role models, considered as fac-tors influential in the sister's present understanding of re-ligious life, and a sister's goal of commitment (ideological or organizational) do not discriminate in regard to perma-nent or temporary commitment. An area not investigated in this stndy was the family background of the sister, and previous work by Keniston (1960) indicates that certain factors in this area might provide discriminating varia-bles. REFERENCES Abrahamson, E., et al. 1958 "Social Power and Commitment: A Theoretical Statement." American Sociological Review 23 (February): 15-22. Becker, Howard S. 1960 "Notes on the Concept of Commitment." American Journal of Sociology 66 (July): 32-40. Becker, Howard and Carper, James. 1956 "The Elements of Identification with an Occupation." American Sociological Review 21 (June): 341-48. DeMilan, Sister Jean. 1965 "The Insecure Junior Sister." R~.zvIEw fOR RrZLICIOUS 24 (March): 208-220. Dignan, Sister M. Howard. 1966 "Identity and Change in Religious Life." REvi~w fOR R~LIC~OUS 23 (July): 669-77. Emery, Andree. 1969 "Experiment in Counseling Religious." REvizw vo~ RELIGIOUS 28 (January): 35-47. Erikson, Erik H. 1963 Youth: Challenge and Change. New York: Basic Books, Inc. Keniston, Kenneth. 1960 The Uncommitted: Alienated Youth in American So-ciety. New York: Dell Publishing Co. Murphy, Sister M. Cordula. 1967 "Religious Vocation: A Decision." RrwEw voa Rz- ~Ic~ous 26 (November): 1081-89. Orsy, Ladislas. 1969 "Religious Vocation: Permanent or Temporary?" Sisters Today 40 (February): 347-49. Schleck, Charles A. 1968 "Departures from Religion." R~vi~w ro~ R~o~s 27 (July): 682-715. Smith, Herbert F. 1964 "Temporary Religious Vocation." Rrvlrw voa Rr:- ~o~oos 23 (July): 433-54. ÷ ÷ ÷ ldentity and Commitment VOLUME ~0, 1971 WILLIAM RIBANDO, C.S.C. The Religious Community at the Catholic College William Ri-bando, C.S.C., is a faculty member of King's College; Wilkes-Barre, Penn-sylvania 18702. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 36 Like his brothers and sisters engaged in other aposto-lates, the religious who is employed in higher education in colleges or universities originally founded by members of his order faces serious problems. Drastic changes have occurred since that (lay in the distant past when fathers, sisters, or brothers were sent from the motherhouse to fonnd a Catholic college for the benefit of young men or women who would otherwise not enjoy the benefits bf a Catholic college education. Since then, many such col-leges bave experienced periods of growth which have in most cases led to a notable educational maturity as well as to certain repercussions for the religious and his com-munity. Both in fact and in law many Catholic colleges bave become alienated from the religious communities which originally founded them. This process of alienation of the religious community from the college or university has in many cases come about at the direct volition of the community which planned and implemented the legal and administrative processes necessary. In other cases an alienation in law aml in fact has come about by force of a variety of complex circumstances not necessarily under the control or to the liking of the religious community. Whatever the instigating causes, this process of alienation has brought with it many repercussions in the lives of the individual religious involved in such circumstances. This, taken with the increasing secularization in almost all areas of the life of the Catholic college, has left the reli-gious in a situation which is drastically different from that first experienced by the founders of his college. In the light of the present crisis of the Church and of the concurrent scarcity of religious vocations, it is impera- tive that religious as individuals and as communities rec-ognize the peculiar problems posed by the apostolate of religious in colleges which are in fact no longer run by their communities. This article will attempt to highlight some of these problems as they have become apparent in recent years. Viable solutions to these problems (if there be such) will come only as the result of much community soul searching and frank discussion. Recent conflicts and confrontations on the nations' campuses point to an area of possible conflict between the college or university as institution and the religious com-munity. Younger religious and priests imbued with the Vatican Council's concept of a prophetic Church are anx-ious to speak out on what they consider the grave evils affecting today's society. To remain silent in the [ace of apparent insensitivity towards the evils of war, racism, and poverty would seem an inexcusable betrayal of one's Christian conscience. For a Catholiccollege to acquiesce by its silence to these or other: "crimes against humanity" would seem in the eyes of many religious to be the height of hypocrisy. Yet often college administrators, lay or religious, find themselves by instinct or force of circumstance on the side of the "law and orddr" forces represented by the alumni or local community. The sign-carrying sister or bearded priest picketing the dean's office stands as a threat to the Catholic education past and future which the more conservative laymen or religious has known. One can easily im.agine the tensions created in a reli-gious community where both such concepts of the role of the religious are incarnated in various members. Because they operate from different concepts of what the Church is and does, the two types of religious find it difficult, if not impossible, to accept even the basic honesty and sin-cerity of the other. The religious community must play an important me-diating role in such situations or see itself split into schis-matic factions each claiming to be the one true realiza-tion of what the religions life should be. Open dialogue beginning in the religious community and branching out to all areas and aspects of the campus could go far toward fostering the creative peace necessary in a Christian col-lege community. The bells of the college chapel once loudly proclaimed to the religious that the will of God meant hastening toward the chapel for the morning or evening "exer-cises." Now the religious on campus often wishes that the will of God were spelled out for him in so clear and unambiguous a manner. Although he still has a superior, the religious finds that person or his office no longer playing the role they once did in his life. On most cam- + + ÷ Catholic College Community VOLUME 30, 1971 4. 4. 4. William Ribando REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS puses the offices of president and religious superior have been divided and given to two different persons. The religious, may well find himself consulting his reli-gious superior only on matters which are somewhat pe-ripheral to his professional life. With this fact comes the realization that most of what one is doing is not being done in direct obedience to the religious superior. No vow of obedience has been made to follow the directives of the college president, the (lean or department chair-man, the registrar or the business manager, all of whom may be laymen. Can the will of God be found in the xeroxed memos of all such campus heroes? One hesitates to answer too quickly lest officialdom's latest pronounce-ment be considered binding de fide definita. Yet if the religious is sincerely trying to find the will of God in the demands of his everyday life, he cannot too easily dismiss the directives of such persons as irrelevant to the fulfill-ment of his religious vocation. Here too the members of the religious community have something valuable to contribute to each other. A process of joint discernment and dialogue among people with like goals and aspirations can do much toward discover-ing the will of God in complex and confusing circum-stances. For example, a community discussion may enable a religious to decide whether a particular moderatorship or activity which he has been requested to take charge of will be belpfnl or detrimental to the fulfillment of his overall vocation as a Christian scholar and teacher. Too often in the past when almost every aspect of one's life was under the direct control of the president-snpe-riot, one was made to feel obliged to accept almost any assignment offered lest he be found lacking in the virtue of obedience. An institution which can now insist on the highest professional standards for all its professors and administrators, can no longer expect religious to fill in all the gaps in extracurricular activities at the expense of their own academic and professional development. Many times the religious on the contemporary campus may think of his classmates in various far off missions and wonder who is more the missionary. Altlaougb living con-ditions are no doubt better this side of the. Atlantic or Pacific, the distinction between working with "pagan" and "christian" peoples often seems quite blurred. A highly secularistic and often very hedonistic culture has had its effect on college youth to the point that one can no longer presnppose the real nnderstanding or accept-ance of traditional Christian teachings especially in the areas of personal religious observances, doctrinal beliefs, and sexual condnct. The religious who has done "dorm duty" can be hard put to discern how his students are in any way different in their mores from their counterparts on secular campuses. The creeping suspicion may nag him that he is indeed in a nonchristian missionary terri-tory minus the lions and tigers but replete with other formidable threats to life and sanity. The reactions to such a discovery can be manifold. The individual religiqus or the community as a whole can rend their garments, cry "blasphemy," and withdraw to the cloister emerging only for minimal skirmishes at class time and at graduation. This is roughly comparable to the foreign missionary who waits for the natives to come to the compound. Other religious may elect to recognize the missionary aspect of contemporary college work even if this means a good deal of pre-evangelization of the most basic type. This for many religious will entail considerable readjust- ~nent of methods in educational and pastoral approaches. Obviously no easy solution will be found to a situation so different from that prevailing even ten years ago. Yet the religious commnnity which refuses to examine itself, its methods, and its attitudes toward a changing campus scene would seem to rule itself into irrelevancy. Here too, open and frank dialogue between various segments of the religious community and between the religious commu-nity and students and lay faculty would seem an important means toward establishing the identity and role of the religious community in a campus community grown much larger than the founding congregation or order. One of the more striking differences between the Cath-olic college old and new is symbolized by the contract for religious as well as for laymen. Said document or the lack thereof serves notice to the religious that he is no longer working for the family store but rather for the large chain market which employs him simply on the basis of the contributions he can render to a particular aspect of the institution. The judgment is made on coldly objec-tive evidence with the emphasis on professional qualifica-tions. What degrees has he earned? How many articles and books has he written and how did he fare in the recent teacher evaluations? Is he accepted by his peer group of professors or administrators? This increased stress on professional standards in the Catholic college or university is no doubt yielding a nota-ble development in academic standards at the institutions involved. However, in many cases it also brings with it some less desirable effects. If a contract is to be denied, such an action may have serious repercussions on the community involved. If the administrators involved are religious, they may be accused of allowing a cold-hearted professionalism to supersede the charity owed one's fel-÷ ÷ ÷ Catholic College Community VOLUME 30, 1971 39 4. 4. 4. William Ribando REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 40 low religious. Rightly or wrongly, suspicions may arise that old grievances are being revenged via a politely pol-ished letter from the front office. Needless to say, such a situation can have enormous effects on the life, spii'itual and otherwise, of any reli-gious community. Factions can quickly form within the community depending on how individuals evaluate the evidence and the persons involved. ShOck at news of a dismissal can lead to a bitterness which may mar the effect of the community long after the departure of the religious involved. Superior and community wonder what their duty toward such a religious might be while the powers of the "institution" move on to the search [or a replacement more in line with the current needs of the college or university. Sholdd a religious community act as mediator or advo-cate for a religious who is being dismissed for whatever reasons? In some cases, the dismissal may indeed be well merited. In other cases, the very fact that a person is a religious may be used to perpetrate a great injustice. A quiet call to a provincial may result in the eviction of a religious who has served an institution well for many years. Under the guise of "obedience" a person m.ay be forced to take up a new occupation [or which he is both unprepared and uninterested. Certainly the least a community owes its members in such a situation is frank and open discussion and investi-gation of the factors involved. If an injustice has been done the collective voice of the community should be heard in the proper places; and, if need be, the contribu-tions and merits of the religious involved should be stressed to the interested administrators. If the dismissal is justified, the community's collective concern might well be demonstrated in assisting the person in finding a suita-ble position either within the same institution or else-where. In any case, a passive noninvolvement of the com-munity in the case of a religious facing such a situation could well lead to grave problems both within and out-side the religious community. These are but a few of the difficulties faced by the religious engaged in the apostolate of higher education. While they probably pale in comparison to the obstacles faced by the founders of most Catholic colleges, they are nonetheless not insignificant because they deeply effect the lives of the religious involved. Only by raising and discussing questions such as those presented can religious communities hope to preserve the unity of life and sense of Christian mission necessary to make a valuable contri-bution to the colleges and universities which they and their predecessors sacrificed so much to establish. THEODORE VITALI, C.P. A Qyestion of Life or Death: Is "Temporary Vocation" a Valid Concept? Among the many questions being discussed today among religious is the question of perseverance. Put in other words, is there such a thing as a temporary voca-tion? This paper is directed to the problem of perseverance in religious life. It is a theological investigation and thus is concerned formally with the theological validity of the concept "temporary" as modifying "vocation." By voca-tion is meant here a life consecrated to God by vows within the visible Church. This paper is not concerned with the problems encoun-tered in religious life, nor with the reasons given by peo-ple leaving religious life. There is a wealth of written material on this subject. The paper is concerned solely with the theological validity of the concept "temporary vocation." Thus there is no moral judgment intended on persons leaving. Christianity is the Paschal mystery of Christ. In Christ's death, humanity was handed over to the Father in perfect worship and fidelity. Through tlie absoluteness of His death, Christ offered the Father perfect worship. St. Paul in the Letter to the Pbilippians spoke of it in terms of obediential self-surrender. Flesh, the antithesis of spirit in the Pauline sense, is rendered spiritual by obediential self-sacrifice. The Father thus raised the Son, because the Son was obedient unto death. In His human-ity, Christ proclaimed through death that His father was worthy of total obedience, worship, and praise. ÷ Theodore Vitali is a retreat master at St. Joseph Spirit-ual Center; 3800 Frederick Avenue; Baltimore, Mary-land 21229. VOLUME 30, 1971 41 + 4. 4. Theodore Vitali REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 42 Baptism is the sacramental means by which men enter into this worshipful act of Christ. Through it, the bap-tized descends with Christ sacramentally into sacrificial death and rises with Him through the possession of the Spirit. The Christian life consists in living out this exo-dus, sacrificial self-surrender, (lying to oneself, and living for God. ~a the history of Christianity, many expressions of this baptismal consecration have occurred. In the early years of the Chnrch two modes appear: martyrdom and a life consecrated to the living ont of the evangelical counsels. The fathers of the Chnrch point out throughout their writings the importance and significance of martyrdom. To be martyred was the greatest act a Christian could perform. It was to enter into the baptismal mystery to its most profound depths. With Christ, the martyr obedien-tially handed his life over to the Father in praise and worship. By it, he symbolized and witnessed to the world that God is the supreme value of all human existence, to be worshiped and served. He points out equally well that all finite reality is of value only in relationship to the absolnte valne, God Himself. He points out finally that in death with Christ, one receives life transcending all human aspirations. St. Panl expresses this quite clearly in Philippians 3:8-11. Indeed I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as refuse, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him. that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in death, that if possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. In a word, by his death, the martyr points out to the world that God is the sole absolute in life, the sole and absolute good, infinitely transcending all finite good, even hnman life itself. Martyrdom is the Christian's es-chatological witness to the infinite worth of possessing God in Christ. There are indications in the Scriptures, too, of a way of life, not of martyrdom, bnt containing its essential char-acteristics. We read of widows following the Lord, of the eschatological dimension of virginity in Panl, of single-mindedness in following Christ. While no one would say this is religious life as we know it today, nevertheless there is present, at least inchoately, the basis from which religions life would emerge. Religions life as we know it becomes apparent during the 4th Century. After 313 martyrdom became less likely for the Christian. It was at this time that men went out into the desert. That same mystiqne which drove men to martyrdom now drove them into the desert. Origen spoke of "martyrdom of the spirit." Some spoke of "dry or bloodless martyrdom.'" There existed the strong desire, charism, to live out to the fullest the baptismal consecra-tion. They wished to die with Christ and live for God, but to do it in snch wise as to witness to the world the absoh=teness of God over man and the world. The vows became the means by which this was accomplished. By them, one handed himself over to God irrevocably, re-nouncing the world for the sake of God Himself. At first, this might see~ like the old fashioned notion that the world is bad and must be fled from. It cannot be denied that this element might have been present and might in fact still be present in the thoughts of those who enter this way of life. However, this is not the significant element in rennnciation; in fact, it is antithetical to it. Karl Rahner, S.J. in his essay "Toward a Theology of Renunciation," appearing in the Sister's Formation Bul-letin, Winter 1966, establishes the natnre of this renun-ciation. The rennnciation is eschatological. Rahner looks to the specific nature of the evangelical connsels as the soul of religions life: Renunciation is constituted by the Evangelical Counsels as a continuing way of life . The theology of renunciation be-longs within the framework of a theology of the Evangelical Counsels, inasmuch as we wish to see renunciation as their com-mon element (p. 1). The religious shows the world the possibility of holi-ness. This holiness is union with Christ, now through the theological virtues, and in eternity through beatific vi-sion: Christian perfection consists solely and exclusively in the per-fection of love, given in Christ .Jesus through the Spirit of God, affecting our justification and sanctification. This love encom-passes God and His spiritual creatures in the unity of His King-dora. Hence it is theological and because of its source, Christ in the Church, and its goal, the union of the redeemed in God, is ecclesial as well. Since it is supernatural, this love severs the human being from the world and his imprisonment in self, and draws him up into the already present but still buried-in-faith life of God Himself (p. 1). It is in these two notions that we have the basis of our theology of religious life and the answer to the questiou of "temporary vocations." Through the evangelical counsels the religious bears witness to the eschatological Christ, the eschatological nature of the Church. This is the important difference between religious life and other forms of Christian life: eschatological witness. This witness consists in the rennnciation of the world as good, not as evil, pointing out the absolnteness and ÷ ÷ + l", "T oecnaat~oo~na~ ry VOLUME 30, 1971 + 4. 4. Theodore Vitali REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS infinitely transcendent value of the love of God above all earthly, finite values. The monk in the desert as well as the religious today witness by their lives the "surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus." The martyr did the same by dying for Christ. They performed an absolute, irrevo-cable act of worship, handing themselves, over to the Father. By his vows the religious does the same. He re-nounced all finite values, precisely as good and valuable, because of and precisely for the infinite value of God. Contrasting the form of witness of the non-religious with the religious, Rahner states: The love of Christ, terrestrially orientated, that is, a love which focuses itself upon terrestrial values and acts out of a moti-vation of supernaturalized terrestrial wdues, precisely as it is earthly, has no clear function of showing forth or witnessing to this world the reality of eschatological love . It conceals rather than reveals that character (p. 2). Such life styles point as well to terrestrial values as motiwttions for activity as well as to supernatural wtlues. In fact, as a sign, it reflects primarily the visible terrestrial value not the eschatological. If we are to ask how this eschatological dimension is to be witnessed to, the answer can only be by the renunciation of the earthly values. It is either meaningless or it is the expression and realiza-tion of faith, hope, and charity reaching toward God, God who in Himself without reference to the world, is the goal of human beings in the supernatural order (p. 2). This, then, is the essential difference. For the non-reli-gious, their lives witness primarily the sanctification of the terrestrial order. By that very fact, they point to the goodness of finite reality, created and redeemed by God. Religious, on the other hand, by renotmcing the finite goods of this world, point to the infinite value of God. They remind the world that God is the absolnte wdue, giving meaning to all finite reality. Only God is the abso-lute motive for existence. Given the premises: (1) the Paschal mystery is the cen-tral mystery of Christianity, (2) martyrdom is the fullest expression of the baptismal consecration into that Pas-chal mystery, (3) religious life is a continuation of the charism of martyrdom, and (4) religious life hits as its essential characteristic the eschatological witness to the infinite wdue of God and the supernatural love of God, then it follows that lifetime perseverance is essential to that witness and is essential therefore to the concept of "vocation" as predicated of religious life. Because the witness is to the absolute goodness of God, apart from the world, an act or life consecrated as such, must of itself be absolute. As with the martyr, the values of the life or act lie in the irrevocableness of the act. There is no halfway measure to death; either one dies or he does not. If the martyr backs down at the last moment, there is no escbatological witness. In fact, the finite is witnessed to instead of the infinite in that it was chosen in preference to the infinite. From tiffs it can be concluded that there cannot be a valid theological reality called temporary religious voca-tion. For a valid witness there must be the irrevocability of the act or life. So long as one can validly opt for the finite within the religious life vocation, the religious life as snch bears no eschatological witness. It contains that terrestrial element which nullifies the premise, namely, that God is of infinite value and meaning apart from the world. To witness the infinite, the finite must be irrevoca-bly renounced. It takes an absolute act to sign an abso-lute reality. By its very name, temporary, the concept of "temporary religious vocation" is invalid. Temporary of its very natnre signifies relativity. Relativity and tempo-rary are opposite to absolute and eternal. It may be objected that this is totally a priori and unsympathetic to present problems in religious life. To say it is a priori is not to judge it false. The position is deduced, but from premises established from revelation, tradition, and history. The theologian has the right to make sncb deductions. To say that it is unsympathetic is to render it an inius-rice. The question set before us was concerned with "tem-porary vocation" theologically viewed. The dynamics of religious life and the problems encountered by members of a given community are integral to the question in general, but are not essential to tiffs question taken spe-cifically. In the early Church many people found martyrdom too difficuh to take. This is understandable. Martyrdom is a great grace, perhaps the greatest. Religious life as the continuance of the spirit of martyrdom in the worhl is also a great grace, perhaps the greatest today. As with the martyr, so perhaps with the religious, the martyrdom is complete only with the irrevocability of death. The vows are sealed nltimately with the death in faith of the reli-gious. Perhaps it can be said that religious life is actually constituted for the individual only at the moment of death when the exodus is complete. Only then is the renunciation complete. Only then is the eschatological witness of one's life trnly established. Anything shy of this final and absolute renunciation may be termed Christian, purposeful, necessary perhaps for the individual, and so forth, but it is not a "religious vocation" as sncb. The only person capable of claiming ÷ ÷ ÷ "Temporary Vocation" VOLUME 30, 1971 45 to be a religious is one who accepts the grace of persever-ance to the end, that is, those who die in their vows. Thus, the constitution of the vocation, religious life, is an ongoing process, constantly affirming itself, but never confirmed until death hassealed it. It seems to me, then, that religious life is a question of life or death. ÷ ÷ ÷ Theodore Vitall REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 46 SISTER MARY GARASCIA, C.PP.S. Second Thoughts on Pluralism and Religious Life "New breed" anti "old breed" may have been first but othet;s tried harder; and those early, simple labels were quickly upstaged by their more sophisticgted cous-ins in the name game. Transcendentalists and incarna-tionalists, moderates, traditionalists, liberals, radicals, secularists (with sub-species pluralists and urbanists, per-sore/ lists, authoritarians and their opposing numbers)-- all crowtled into the limelight.1 But while the labels may be disputed and ridiculed or accepted and praised, virtn-ally no one dispntes the nnderlying reality: Polarities exist in many religious communities today. Before discussing the main subject of this essay, plu-ralism as a sohttion to polarity, some further description of the problem is necessary. It seems that the tension of polarization is not felt during the first phase of renewal when attention is ab-sorbed by the enthnsiastic and optimistic shedding of restrictions and group practices. With the passage of time and the deepening of the qommunity's dialog with itself, however, a mood of pessimism and tension follows the discovery that changes which were supposed to bring great and true spiritual unity have resulted in many other things indeed: "Many members of Religious Orders who managed to live with each otlter successfully under a rnle and a tradition now seem to find this same bar- * For some of the more recent discussions of groups in religious life today, see the following series of articles: George B. Murray, "The Secular Religious," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 1047--55; Andrew J. Weigert, "A Sociological Perspective on the Secular Religious," REWEW rO~ REL~eIOUS, V. 27 (1968), pp. 871-9; and Placide Gaboury, "The Secular Religious and Pluralism," RE-viEw vo~ R~L~C.~OUS, v. 28 (1969), pp. 604-15. 4- Sister Mary Ga-rascia teaches at San Luis Rey Acad-emy; 4070 Mission Avenue; San Luis Rey, California 92068. VOLUME 30, 1971 47 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Mary Garascia REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 48 mony impossible on the basis solely of 'love' or 'com-munity.' "'-' As symbolic actions, objects, or idea-con-structs which formerly signified the community's unity become instead points of divergence, and as self-ap-pointed analysts proliferate, confusion and disappoint-ment and fear lead. to the alienation, in greater or less degree, of many members.:~ The phenomenon of anomy (confusion leading to alienation) in religious life has not been adequately studied, but Lachner, drawing upon the work of so-ciologists Durkheim and Merton, gives four effects of anomy on a group: innovation: new means are sought for achieving old goals with the hope that the means can unite where goals fail; ritualism: secure holding on "to patterns of means with little thought about achieving goals; dropping out: this can be done literally or by being uninvolved, indifferent, or unaware; rebellion: active rejection of old goals and means and an attempt to replace them with new ones.4 It should be easy to observe all these behaviors in religious community life today. In recent months the thesis that "honest pluralism must be introduced into the religious life for this time of transition" ~ has been heard with favor by many re-ligious. Is pluralism a legitimate solntion to the polari-zation and anomy described above? Or is the appeal of pluralism actually another effect of anomy by which the commtmity attempts to restore peace through some kind of compromise or coexistence? Religious women who are already prone to sloganism and oversimplifica-tion need to be doubly cautious in this time of insecurity of any euphorions solution to their problems. Pluralism is a complex reality; but it is by no means a new word, coming as it does from the well-established field of ec~menical stt~dies. An tmderstanding of pluralism as it exists "in its native environment" may lead to a more critical application of that concept to religions life. Pluralism: Its Meaning In German, pluralismus (pluralism) has a pejorative meaning; it is an ism and as such it is absolute so that w/file it glorifies multiplicity and diversity, it is also -"James Hitchcock, "Here Lies Community: R.I.P.," America, May 30 1970, pp. 578-82. a Joseph Lachner, S.M., "Anomie and Religious Life," .ro~ R~w,~oos, v. 28 (1969), pp. 628-36; and Reginald Masterson, O.P., "Religious Life in a Secular Age," Cross and Crown, June 1970, p. 142. ~ Lachner, "'Anomie," p. 629. My listing of his effects is slightly modified. ~Thomas O'Meara, O.P., Holiness and Radicalism in Religious Life (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970), p. 16 (italics omitted). intolerant of any worldview or metaphysic that tries to synthesize or establish relationships; hence it leads to subjectivism and individualism. German prefers plu-ralith't (plurality) which means that not only nnitariness and unity but multiplicity and diversity pervade reality and human experience.6 English uses the two words more or less interchangeably, but to Americans pluralism con-notes the variegated religious scene: "By plurfilism. I mean the coexistence within the one political commu-nity of gronps who hold divergent and incompatible views with regard to religious questions . Pluralism therefore implies disagreements and dissensions within the community. But it also implies a community within which there must be agreement and consensus.''7 In its fundamental sense, pluralism is a condition flowing from inan's mtture and the variety of human experience, from tlte nnique spiritual and intellectual histories of indi-viduals and groups, from urban specialization, the knowledge explosion, and Realpolitik: "The transparent, concrete unity of all things exists for man as a meta-physical postulate and an eschatological hope but not as something available for his manipulation. This plu-ralism is the hallmark of man's creatnreliness: only in God is there perfect unity; in the finite world the an-tagonisms within reality are invincible.''8 Pluralism is a condition of the Church which from the beginning welded opposing factions into a commt, nity of faith and love." There is no expression of Christian belief that can exhaust the message of Christ; there have always been plural (but complementary) theologies beginning with the Evangelists?o Pluralism is not merely to be tolerated but cherished by the Church who sees diversity as an effect of the outpouring of the Spirit. Pluralism helps to impede the growth of the wrong kind of collectivism in Church and society and prevents the establishment of privileged groups within the Church--or the establish-ment of the Church as a privileged group in society, for that matter: All modern pluralisms which move man into the center of things, which make him the subject and concern of the world °Heinrich Fries, "Theological Reflections on the Problem of Pluralism," Theological Studies, v. 28 (1967), p. 3. *John Courtney Murray, S.J., We Hold These Truths (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1960), p. x. s Karl Rahner and Herbert Vorgrimler, Theological Dictionary (New York: Herder and Herder, 1965), p. 359. "Avery Dulles, s.J., "Loyalty and Dissent: After Vatican II," America, June 27 1970, p. 673. ~o Chenu and Heer, "Is the Modern World Atheist?" Cross Cur-rents, v. 11 (1961), p. 15; and John T. Ford, "Ecumenical Conver-gence and Theological Pluralism," Thought, Winter 1969, pp. 540-1. 4- Pluralism VOLUME 30, 1971 49 ÷ ÷ ,4. Sister Mary Garascia REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 50 . which speak of freedom and of the unmanipulatible, in-violable Imman person, of the human dignity and human rights and conscience.which then are realized in the form of tolerance and humanitarianism and institutionally in the form of democracy--all these are original and legitimate fruits from the tree of Christian faith and of the effects which it envokes?' .4berrations o[ Pluralism Pluralism stands Janus-like, its second face something of a grotesque caricature of its first. Analysts of religion in America warn of possible disastrous results of an over-zealous espousal of pluralism. One attthor tohl the anec-dote of the donkey who starved between two bales of hay because be could not decide which to eat. On his death certificate was inscribed: Death due to acute, prolonged open-mindedness. In making the same point about 'plu-ralism, another author stated that "ahhougb it purports to be a total open-mindedness transcending sectarian lim-its, this attitude is really tire familiar Anglo-Saxon fallacy that if one pretends not to-have a metaphysic, then in fact be does not bave one." v, Radical Christians, he con-tinues, tend to embrace a dogmatic optimism which may lead to nihilism. From the. vacuum created by the at-tempt to buihl a cuhure without a consensus based on a belief system can come the substitution of a monolith like the "scientific world view" or "work"; or it can lead instead to a kind of pantheism: "The secularization of the West has not left a vacnum but a terrain filled with images and idols and ideologies." aa One of these idols may be an over-romantic and diffused notion of love inflated to fill the gap and be a Linus-blanket to hippie youth, splinter groups, and middle America alike.~ Or America itself may assume the Supreme Importance with the various religions being merely ahernate and variant forms of being religious in the American ¼Zay.~ In short, what passes for a uniqne unity of diverse religious naen-talities in America may be in fact indifferentism, a syn-cretic pseudo-religion, or a facade with the wars still go-ing on beneath a fragile surface of urbanity.~ Phtralism and the Religious Community I suggest that an urban religious community., would lean toward pluralism: all the members having a common ground, n Fries, "Theological Reflections," p. 15. ~-"James Hitchcock, "Christian Values and a Secular Society," A merica, September 13 1969, p. 159. ~ZMartin E. Marty, Varieties of Unbelief (Garden City: Double-day, 1964), p. 58. "Ibid., p. 77. ~nWillia~n Herberg, Protestant, Catholic Jew (Gardeq City: Dou-bleday, 1960), p. 262; and Marty, Varieties, pp. 148-51. ~ Murray, We Hold These Truths, p. 19. ,; minimal basis of understanding, but each having his own freedom, being his own self, following his own trend, "doing his own thing." Here the role of the "shared common core" would be to protect and stimulate the individuality of each member, to foster diversity and not simply tolerate it.'7 How should a remark like tiffs one be interpreted in light of a mature understanding of the nature of plu-ralism?. Pluralism can be welcomed by the religious com-munity as a legitimate insight and a partial solution to polarization only if it is ~i pluralism which is authenti-cally evangelical. Following from what has been said above, it would seem that at least four statements can be made about pluralism in the religious community. Pluralism and Tolerance There must he an atmosphere of tolerance in the com-munity if diversity is not to result in hostility. Tolerance is born of reverence for the conscience of persons and of the realization that faith is a free thing. Tolerance must be more than polite civility. A person is not "tolerant who is naively unaware of the basic differences that exist be-tween members of his community or who tries to cover over these differences with an imposed unity of his own such as "love" or "personalism." 18 Neither is the one tolerant who believes that everyone should simply "do his own thing." Nor is the tolerant person the one who figures that eventually everyone will come around to his own view or that sooner or later "our day will come." Definitely the tolerant person is not the one who ap-proves any diversity--as long as it is one of the approved deviations permitted by the majority consensus. The tol-erant person has a high "tolerance" for the ambiguons, the imperfect, and the complex. Tolerance is akin to pa-tience. Pluralism and Conflict There will be tension and conflict in the ph~ralistic community and it is unrealistic to expect these to disap-pear in the foreseeable ft|ture. Tile community mn~t be constantly on gnard lest it react to conflict by reverting to a rigid structure, by attempting to stifle criticism, by silencing or ridding itself of individuals or groups who differ with the prevailing consensus, or in any other way hehaving defensively. Genuine pluralism requires ". that we resist policies destined to neutralize specific .and az Gaboury, "The Secular Religious," p. 612. ~sSee the analysis of the shortcomings of the personalist world-view in Gaboury, "The Secular Religious," p. 613. ÷ 4- + Pluralism VOLUME .30, 1971 51 Sister Mary Garascla REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS definite convictions and establish a uniform lowest com-mon denominator . ,, ~9 Pluralism and Diversity Individuality and diversity must be encouraged in a way that is more than a concession to the times. Laws have not yet structured diversity in religious practice into such key areas as spirituality, the vows, communal life, apostolic life; until diversity is sanctioned by law, it must exist surreptitiously and imperfectly. Groups should be able to exist within a community without be-ing made to feel that they are harmful or at least suspect. Rahner points out that groups in the Church are not dangerous in themselves as long as they are not merely representing particular interests, using unchristian means to make their will effective, working as pressure groups using the threat of schism, or confusing human or secular imperatives with gospel exigency.'-'0 Groups in a religious community need to discover their own limits and possibilities. No group should have special privileges; there must be equality of opportunity for the expression of spiritualities and philosophies and personalities. Phtralism and Unity A pluralistic society is one relentlessly searching for unity. Dialog is the process of this search, a dialog charac-terized by openmindedness but also by strong convictions and dedication to the truth, a debate conducted with the spiritual weapons of humility, persuasion, and wisdom. "There is in the Church a singnlar which may never be dissolved into a plural but always remains unique, definitive, unsurpassable, exclusive. . the once-for-all character of Christ, of his person, his history and his achievement." 21 In what shall the unity of the religions community consist? This is the question of the hour. Probably there will not be too many bonds, but they will be profound ones close to the sources of the Christian mystery. Perhaps a deepened appreciation of redemption and mission will hold together a community pluralized by diverse works. There must be a renewal of spirituality in the community, possibly in the direction of a sacra-mental spirituality. The.dialogic search for identity in Christ and the ever continuing effort to renew and purify the community--with the attendant insecurity and tur-moil- can give a sense of tmity to a community which comprehends the ways of the Spirit. Certainly the in- ~°William A. Visscr't Hooft, "A Universal Religion?" Catholic World, v. 206 (1967), p. 34. ~ Karl Rahner, "'Schism in the Church," Month, November 1969, pp. 252-6. '-'r Fries, "Theological Reflections," p. 20. sight into the inviolable dignity of the person, the main contribution of American pluralism, is already acting as a motivating and unifying factor to some degree. Eventu-ally the search for unity must lead to the rediscovery of meaningfid symbols--actions and words which express and point to the reality which is the religious commu-nity. The unity of a community is not real unless it can be expressed in concrete symbolic form. The great task of plnralism is to turn our attention away from pragmatic and structural renewal toward a dialogic search by all diverse elements of a commnnity for the sources of its unity. Tim purpose of this essay has been to reflect on the reality of pluralism as it is understood in ecumenical studies in order to understand what its application might be in the American religious community of today. Taking its cue from the Church, the religious community em-braces its own variety, conscious that through plurality o[ personalities, mentalities, and spiritualities, it can be truly experienced in good deeds and service, a sign of wisdom, and a radiant bride made beautifid for her spouse.'-"-' Vatican Council II, Decree on Renewal oI Religious Lile, n. 1. 4- + + Pluralism VOLUME 30, 1971 53 SISTER MARY FINN Woman Who Is She? Sister Mary Finn is a Hotne Visitor of Mary and lives at 356 Arden Park; Detroit, Michigan 48202. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 54 The gospel of Mary is the good news of woman. Woman is the one who sets out, goes forth, quickly--to the city. town., street; into the hill country., house of Zach-ary; greeting Elizabeth. proclaiming., magnifying. Woman is the one who magnifies--the one the Lord God magnifies. The Lord proclaims His greatness in her; over-flows with love and delight; praises her; rejoices in her. He sets His eyes upon her; blesses her for all generations. Woman goes to a town . to Jesus. Jesus is the town. Jesus is where she lives, pours out her love, receives full-ness and riches of earth. She comes to hill country., to home of all the Zacharys there are. Woman is honse of Zachary, house of birth, house of brothering, sistering; house of new life; place of communion, so

Issue 70.4 of the Review for Religious, 2011. ; Unique Approaches Building Community Focus on Joseph Potpourri quarterly 70.4 2011 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 PHONE: 314-633o4610 ¯ FAX: 314-633-4611 EMAIL: reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯WEBSITE: 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 o P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. 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Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ gournal of Catholic Spirirualit)j Celebrating 70 Years Editor Associate Editor Book Review Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Michael G. Harter SJ Garth L. Hallett SJ RosemaryJermann Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm .Judy Sharp Advisory Board Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 70.4 2011 contents 340 prisms Prisms 342 364 .377 unique approaches A Tale of Two Scandals: Cornelia Connelly as Nouvelle H~loi'se Barbara Newman tells the remarkably similar stories of two married women who lived six centuries apart, became nuns and then abbesses only through the instigation of their husbands, suffered considerably, and faced numerous canonical difficulties in the founding of their orders. building community The Hum of Being: " Spirituality for Leadership Beatrice M. Eichten OSF describes the ministry of community leadership as a pilgrimage and explores the various spiritual realizations that flow from it--such as the openness to Spirit that comes through moments of emptiness and detachment, and the gifts of loving and being loved. Architecture and Religious Life Thomas A. Krosnicki SVD discusses the impact that the architectural design of buildings--in particular community residences--can have to the benefit of religious life and those they touch by their life and ministry. Review for Religious 386 404 408 .422 426 focus on Joseph Be Saints: Pathway to a Holy Life Joel Giallanza CSC gathers wisdom from St. Andr~ Bessette, whose name is forever linked to that of St. Joseph because of their obvious similarities. Both were simple laborers through whom God chose to do extraordinary things; both knew poverty and suffering; both experienced exile. Above all, both point out a pathway to holiness because they remained faithful to whatever God asked of them. St. Joseph in Focus: Husband of Mary and Guardian of Jesus John M. Samaha SM reminds us why we honor St. Joseph by giving us a simple portrait of the quiet, often overlooked member of the Holy Family. potpourri Lighting Our Modern Spirit: Pope John Paul II's Luminous Mysteries Carey Ellen Walsh explores the theology and the spiritual gift of John Paul II's meditation on the rosary in his apostolic letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae. She focuses on how one of John Paul II's most intimate reflections tends to the hunger in our souls. Multiple Sclerosis: A Gift Marian D. Frantz IHM reflects on how she has coped with multiple sclerosis and, in spite of the physical challenges and fears that accompany it, has come to understand it as a gift. Cremation: A Path to Protect Mother Earth Brian Jordan OFM calls us to rethink our attitudes and practices about how we remember our loved ones through burial or cremation and to develop an attitude of reverence for "Holy Mother Earth" in the process. departments 433 Scripture Scope: The Bible and the Liturgy 438 Book Reviews 444 Indexes 70.4 2011 prisms Erone intense week at the end of the summer, the population of Madrid swelled by more than one million souls. Crowds of young men and women came with the devotion of pil-grims; they participated in workshops and service projects; they baked in the heat, endured a rain-soaked and windswept prayer vigil, and coped with the chaos resulting from poor organization. They sang and prayed together, and blogged about their experiences all over the Internet. Such enthusiasm. Such energy. It all brought back memories of an earlier World Youth Day when I accompanied a group of Jesuit novices to Toronto in 2002. We, too, gath-ered with hopes and dreams, coped with crowds and long waits for something to eat. We, too, spent a restless night on the hard ground soaked through by a cold rain waiting for the final Mass celebrated by the pope. Drenched to the bone, I kept asking myself "What am I doing here?" But the enthusiastic singing of the young people drowned out the question. But I must be realistic. M}- perspective is not that of a young pilgrim. I just sent out invitations for a celebration of my golden Jubilee as a Jesuit. My novitiate classmates and others celebrating Review for Religious anniversaries of entrance and ordination (25, 50, 60, and 70 years of presence and service) are planning on celebrat-ing because we have much to celebrate. We have worked and taught, and borne the heat of the day in many different contexts. But as I look back on 50 years of religious life, I must admit that I have asked more than once "What am I doing here?" Sometimes the question arises because I feel too insignificant to make a difference. More often the ques-tion arises from a sense of wonder and awe about the ways God has chosen to work through me. My choice to enter religious life was well intentioned, but made with total naivet& The ministry for which I pre-pared myself (teaching high school) never materialized. The skills I learned in the process, however, equipped me to serve as an administrator, a forinator, and an editor. Through the years and with much prayer, I have tried to make myself available to be sent where I can best be used. I am privileged once again to live with our young men in formation. Their energy can wear me out, but their enthusiasm is contagious. They show that the church is ever young, ever new, always ready to grow in experience and wisdom. The seeds of faith are sprouting anew in many places. And in other pl~ces fields that have been harvested any number of times still produce with God's grace. The young pilgrims have now returned home from Madrid and are back in school or settling into their regular routines. But the memories and graces they carry with them will make their lives anything but routine. And as those of us further along the age continuum continue our trust walk with the One who has always accompanied us, we take to heart the prayer with which Benedict sent forth the young people from Madrid: "May no adversity paralyze you. Be afraid neither of the world, nor of the future, nor of your weakness." 341 Michael G. Harter SJ 70.4 2011 BARBARA NEWMAN A Tale of Two Scandals: Cornelia Connelly as Nouvelle Hdlo~se unique approaches 342 This is a tale of two scandals. It is a story of two women who courageously defied con-vention, yet submitted tragically and without reserve to the men they loved. It is a story of two ambitious and charismatic men, whose meteoric rise in the church was surpassed only by the suddenness of their fall. It is a story of two priests married to nuns--and not only nuns, but the founders of congregations-- who remained indelibly married in the public eye. From Romanesque France to Victorian England, so much had changed yet so much remained the same, especially where female subordination was concerned. So, finally, this is a story about the longue durde in Catholic attitudes to marriage, gender, and women's religious life. Barbara Newman is professor of English, Religion, and Classics at Northwestern University. Her address is Northwestern University; University Hall 215; 1897 Sheridan Rd.; Evanston, IL 60208. Reviev2 for Religious My first, more familiar narrative concerns a Frenchwoman born around 1100. Heloise, of high though illegitimate birth, received a superb educa-tion at the convent of Argenteuil. Raised by her uncle Fulbert, she was granted the rare privilege of private lessons with a famous philosopher, Peter Abelard, who was teaching in Paris. We all know what happened next: Abelard and his pupil fell in love. Their steamy affair ended in Heloise's pregnancy, Fulbert's horrified rage, a clandestine marriage, Heloise's rash denial of the union, and Abelard's castration at the hands of Fulbert's hit men. Given the fame of both lovers, the end of their :affair was a cause cglkbre. Finding the pity of his stu-dents even harder to bear than the scorn of his ene-mies, Abelard became a monk at Saint-Denis, though not before compelling a reluctant but obedient Heloise to take the veil at Argenteuil. Their son Astralabe was left with Abelard's sister on a farm in Brittany.~ But the lovers' conversion to religious life fueled more scandals. Abelard, who did not suffer fools gladly, had a gift for making enemies. At Saint-Denis, his 'historical research threatened to deconstruct the monks' patron saint, who also happened to be the patron of the French monarchy. This controversy led to cries of treason and landed Abelard in such trouble that he had to flee by night. Next he ~tried the vocation of hermit, :for which he was totally ufisuited, and soon wound up teaching again at a new foundation he called the Paraclete. Here too he got in trouble, partly because his ever-vigilant enemies objected to his oratory's dedication. In .the meantime, Abelard was charged with heresy at the Council of Soissons and forced in 1121 to burn his book on the Trinity with his own hands. Eventually he managed to be named abbot of the backwater monastery of Saint- 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals 344 Gildas, in his native Brittany, but fared no better there. By his own account, his monks tried to kill him with a poisoned chalice. Heloise too was dogged by scandal. Despite her past, she was elected prioress of Argenteuil. But in 1129 the powerful Suger--abbot of Saint-Denis and no friend to Abelard--had Heloise and her nuns evicted on charges of immorality. These charges may or may not have car-ried a grain of truth. It is possible that Heloise's regime was lax, though it is certain that Suger had his eye on the nuns' property; and he mobilized the king, the bish-ops, and the papal legate to enforce his takeover.2 At this juncture Abelard reentered the picture, offering the nuns his now-vacant oratory of the Paraclete. Gossip contin-ued to buzz: if Abelard visited, detractors claimed that he could not live without his mistress, while if he stayed away, they charged that he had abandoned his wife. A few years later, when he published his autobiography, Heloise responded with impassioned fury, lambasting his neglect at the same time that she avowed her undimin-ished desire. But despite the stormy beginning of their correspondence, the two eventually made peace. Abelard endorsed Heloise's teaching role and warmly praised her learning. At her request he wrote numerous works for her nuns.3 Not least, he authored a rule for the Paraclete, although it seems not to have been observed and signifi-cantly contradicts Heloise's own rule--a point' to which I shall return. When Abelard was again condemned for heresy in 1140, by an even more blatantly rigged council, it was Heloise who secured proof of his absolution and arranged for his burial, soon afterward, at the Paraclete. Surviving him by twenty years, she was.buried at his side. My second narrative belongs to the nineteenth cen-tury. Cornelia Peacock, born to an elite Philadelphia family in 1809, lost her parents in childhood.4 Raised by an aunt who gave her a superb private education, at 22 she married a clergyman, Pierce Connelly. The Connellys moved in 1831 to Natchez, Mississippi, where Pierce had been named rector of an Episcopal parish. At the birth of their son Mercer, his godfather gave Cornelia a slave as a christening present.5 Though Pierce was well-liked in his parish, the honeymoon did not last. Caught up in a wave of anti-Catholic senti-ment sweeping the nation, he decided to resist it and better inform himself, with the surprising result that he felt called to convert. Cornelia, though shocked at first, loyally followed. As she wrote to her sister, "against my prejudices and in spite of the horrors which I have always nurtured for the Catholic faith, I am ready at once to submit to whatever my loved husband believes to be the path of duty.''6 In fact, after Pierce resigned his parish and delivered his farewell sermon, Cornelia was the first to be received as a Roman Catholic. Pierce waited to make his abjuration in Rome itself, on Palm Sunday 1836, with pomp and ceremony. The Connellys soon became the darlings of the British recusant aris-tocracy in Rome, where they remained until a finan-cial crisis forced them to return home and look for work. Pierce found a teaching post at a Jesuit school in Louisiana; Cornelia joined him as a music teacher. By now the couple had four children, but one daughter died in infancy and their two-year-old son met with a tragic accident. Fearing that her happiness was too great, the devout Cornelia had asked God to demand some sacrifice of her. Only a day later the little boy, playing with the dog, tumbled into a vat of boiling syrup.7 After two days and nights of agony, he died in his mother's arms. 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals But this was only the first of Cornelia's sorrows. Soon afterward, while she was pregnant with their fifth and last child, Pierce announced that he had discerned a call to the Catholic priesthood. This time Cornelia did resist, but as soon as she realized how serious her husband was, she released him, which entailed her own consent to a monastic vocation. Returning to Rome, the couple had a private audience with Pope Gregory xvI, and Pierce was ordained with surprising speed in 1845. As for Cornelia, she became a postulant at the Sacred Heart convent of Trinit~ dei Monti, bringing her two youngest children with her. But she was not destined to take vows there. In 1846 Bishop Nicholas Wiseman, soon to become Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster, called Cornelia to England, where he wished her to found an order of nuns to educate English Catholic girls. Thus, before the end of her novitiate, the 3 7-year-old Cornelia Connelly, American wife and mother of three, became--not of her own accord, but by the deci-sions of her husband and her bishop--the first English monastic foundress in two hundred years. At this point the Connelly saga becomes so tumultu-ous that I can give only the barest summary. Cornelia's Society of the Holy Child Jesus (SHCJ) suffered more than its share of growing pains--lack of resources, litigation over property, internal discord, hostile chap-lains, and increasing strain between Cornelia and her superior, Cardinal Wiseman. These troubles were compounded by the "no Popery" agitation of a ,public deeply-fearful of Catholic emancipation. Mat Cornelia had least expected, however, was Pierce's rapid disil-lusionment with his new faith. Unsuccessftil in his bids for advancement in the church, ihe missed his wife and resented Wiseman's ban :on conjugal visits. So the frus- Review for Religious trated Pierce made two hostile, if contradictory, moves in quick succession. First, he wrote a spurious rule for Cornelia's order, which he circulated in Rome without her knowledge. Second, he pulled the children out of their schools and took 'them to Italy as hostages, with a new demand that Cornelia renounce her vows and return to him. Heartbroken but determined, she refused. The apostate Pierce thereupon sued his former wife in the Court of Arches for restitu-tion of his conjugal rights.8 The case of Connelly v. Connelly dragged on from 1849 to 1851, much to the glee of journalists.9 In 1850 a judge ruled in Pierce's favor, declaring that a papal~decree of separation had no force in England and leaving Cornelia to face imprisonment or a . forced return to her husband. While appealing to the Privy Council, she kept a suit of secular clothes in her cell at all times in case she had to flee the realm. Pierce meanwhile scandalized British Catholics with his apos-tasy, even seeking refuge for a time with the fanati-cally anti-Catholic Henry Drummond, a wealthy peer who led an apocalyptic sect. Eventually he returned to Italy, where he spent the rest of his life writing anti- Catholic tracts and serving as an Episcopal minister in Florence. Cornelia won her appeal on a technicality, but she never saw her eldest son again, for Mercer died at twenty of yellow fever. The younger children, Before~ the end of her novitiate, Cornelia Connelly, American wife and mother of three, became the first English monastic foundress in two hundred years. 347 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandal~ Adeline and Frank, remained with their father in Italy. He managed to estrange them permanently from their mother, returning her letters unopened. But in spite of all this, the Society of the Holy Child Jesus flour-ished. At Cornelia's death in 1879 it had six convents and schools in England, three in America, and one in France.~° Amazingly, Cornelia Connelly's case for saint-hood was opened in 1959, and in 1992 she was declared Venerable--the first step toward canonization. The Positio or formal presentation of her case is the first in history to be written by a woman.~ Since no one has ever proposed Heloise for saint-hood, except in the cult of romantic love, why do I call Cornelia Connelly a nouvelle Hgloi'se? I suggest this com-parison to probe more deeply into the case of a woman who filled the roles of wife, mother, nun, and abbess, not in succession but in conflict. Legions of women have become religiously active in widowhood, but few if any have faced down so public a scandal caused by living husbands, while simultaneously trying to establish their monastic authority. In the rest of this article, I will compare Cornelia's struggles with Heloise's apropos of three issues: sexuality, motherhood, and the authority of an abbess. In the France of the trouvOres, one could speak of sex more freely than in Queen Victoria's Britain, but Heloise would have been scandalous in any age. To dis-suade Abelard from their ill-starred marriage, she made a case for free love, claiming that .she would rather be called his mistress'(arnica) than his wife--and even if Augustus, ruler of the world, had asked her to be his empress, she would prefer to be Abelard's whore (scortum)--a word she chose deliberately for its shock value.~2 In Heloise's eyes, the true prostitute was the Review for Religious respectable wife who married not for love, but for security and money. As if these ideas were not scandal-ous enough, after ten years as a nun she confessed that she still felt sexual yearnings, even during Mass, and declared that she could never forgive God for Abelard's castration.13 This was no mere private avowal, but a rhe-torical performance before an imagined if not actual public. Medieval letters were never truly "private," and contemporary documents show that Heloise's arguments were well known in French clerical circles.14 Romantics (including my younger self) have often been dismayed with Abelard for refusing to respond in kind.15 But how could he? Neither his castration nor the couple's vows were reversible, so Heloise had either to find a way of coping or face a lifetime of misery, ending in her damnation. Abelard thus faced the.unenviable task of cajoling her to love Christ, her new Bridegroom, in his stead. If his tactics seem ham-fisted to our age, in his own they were supremely pragmatic. When Heloise said that she would gladly follow Abelard to hell; that her "heart was never my own, but was always with you"; that in every decision she had sought to please him, rather than God--it was not from marital duty that she spoke.16 A self-consciously clas-sical lover, she even took the nun's veil with the cry of a pagan heroine on her lips.17 In Cornelia Connelly we see nothing of the. sort. If she too ended by trans-gressing her culture's cherished feminine ideals, it was not by her choice. Yet in displaying obedience to her beloved, she vied with Heloise. To please Pierce, she braved her family's disapproval; left home for the dis-tant, culturally alien South; abjured her Protestant faith (a drastic step in the 1830s); accepted a life of exile; and finally made the supreme sacrifice of her marriage itself, 349 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals Where Heloise saw ,oppositiOn-; Cornelia saw con]'un ction:, L, vowing perpetual chastity so that Pierce could be ordained. But where Heloise saw opposition--she could obey either God's will or Abelard's, but not both-- Cornelia saw conjunction. As a dutiful Victorian wife, she followed the principle of Milton's Eve: "he for God only, she for God in him." In the end, Cornelia became a far more committed Catholic than the vain and shallow Pierce. Yet she would never have become one at all with, out the conviction that God was guiding her through her husband's will. As she wrote to her sister at the time, Pierce was "all that is estimable and far above what your sister ever deserved or looked for in her husband. It is not for me to praise him, but daily do I thank God for having so blessed me.''18 In entering religious life, both women faced the extraordinary challenge of renouncing their husbands' love at their husbands' bidding. When Heloise pro-claimed her immortal longing, Abelard commanded her to desire him no more, but rather the God who had castrated him. Cornelia confronted the same demand, except that Pierce's self-castration in will alone did not last. So in the end, having fallen genuinely in love with Christ, she had to fight her ex-husband in court to preserve a separation she had never wanted in the first place. Interestingly, it was Heloise who fared better in the court of public opinion. Abelard's friends and even some of his enemies sympathized with her, while later humanists like Jean de Meun and Petrarch admired her eloquence and uncompromising idealism29 Review for Religious Cornelia, on the other hand, fell afoul of both Catholic and Protestant sentiment. The English Catholic hier-archy, impoverished and terribly vulnerable, resented the scandal and expense of "Connelly v. Connelly." As for the Protestant majority, it eagerly believed Pierce's lies and blamed Cornelia for destroying her family. Caught between two patriarchies, faced with incompat-ible demands from husband and bishop, she could win neither public vindication nor private comfort. Her anguish is clearest--and the historical distance greatest--with respect to motherhood. We do not know what it cost Heloise to leave the infant Astralabe in Brittany, but upper-class women of her day often had their children fostered elsewhere, and it was not unusual for widowed mothers to enter monasteries. Moreover, we have good evidence that Heloise never envisaged moth-erhood as a career path. Before her marriage, she had even proposed a novel, feminist version of the old argu-ment that a philosopher should not wed. As she put it, "what husband could ever concentrate on philosophy or scripture and still put up with babies howling. ? What wife could stand the endless mess of children?''2° Later, in her letters of complaint, she never mentions her son's absence among her sorrows. Her only reference to him comes in a letter written after Abelard's death, asking the abbot of Cluny to find the young man a prebend.21 We do not know for certain what became of Astralabe,22 nor did contemporaries care, for motherhood in the twelfth century was not an admired vocation. St. Jerome, often quoted by Abelard and Heloise, had zealously praised mothers who steeled themselves against their children's cries to "become virile" and serve God alone:23 Seven centuries later, wives were no less subordinate to husbands, but the ideal of motherhood had changed 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals utterly. Hence nothing hurt Cornelia's reputation more than the belief, fostered by Pierce, that she had willfully abandoned her children. An anti-Catholic pamphlet in 1853 put it this way: "When Rome once depraves the heart, or bows the will, . . . the fountain of all natural affection has been, by priestly art, so dried up within her--as that she can forget her children whom she has borne, as well as the husband whom she has sworn, before God, to obey.''24 But Cornelia had never con-sented to Pierce's abduction of their children. As soon as she realized that he was using them to blackmail her, however, she swore a solemn vow: "In union with my crucified Lord and by His most precious blood, in ado-ration satisfaction thanksgiving and petition, I, Cornelia, vow to have no future intercourse with my children and their Father beyond what is for the greater Glory of God and His manifest will, known through my direc-tor.'' 2s A few letters to relatives reveal the agony this cost her. In 1854 she wrote to her brother that, initially, "my dear children were as much under my eyes as if I had not left the world till their father broke his word and his promises and stole them away from me. may God forgive him.''26 Four years later she lamented, "Poor dar-lings! I little thought of their having to suffer in this way, while I can do nothing to help them except by prayer."27 Under English law the children belonged to their father, so there was literally nothing Cornelia could do. In any case the church, in stark contrast with secular norms, still preserved its medieval legacy of valuing marital renunciation as the high road to perfection?8 The motif of the "maternal martyr" occurs so often in medieval hagiography that, if anyone had suggested sainthood for Heloise, her separation from Astralabe might actually have bolstered the case.29 Today, how- Review for Religious ever, the fate of the Connelly children poses a major obstacle to Cornelia's cause. It does not help that all three apostasized, though her daughter returned to the Catholic fold after both parents died. Cornelia's pro-moters., must therefore show that she bore the loss of her children as a cross, but--this is the key point--not a cho-sen cross.3° The postulator of her cause did try to revive the maternal martyr topos, citing Jeanne de Chantal as an exemplary saint who demonstrated "heroic virtue" by stepping over her son's protesting body as she departed for the cloister.3~ But most of Cornelia's advocates have shied away from this theme. Her biographers instead link her devotions to the Holy Child Jesus and to Mary, Mother of Sorrows, with her son's tragic death. This dimension of her spiritual life was incomparably deep-ened by the loss of her other children, though her work as a pioneer in girls' education compensated in some degree for the sadness of her own motherhood.32 Finally, I turn to the less sensational domain of reli-gious rules, which define a nun's mission and daily life, because both foundresses had to cope with problem-atic rules composed for them by their former husbands. Heloise had explicitly asked Abelard to create a rule, writing deferentially that "you, through God, are the planter of our congregation, and you, with God, should be the guide of our religious life.''33 Abelard complied, though the lengthy document he produced is an eclectic farrago of the Benedictine Rule, the desert fathers, pas-sages from Jerome, Augustine, and .Gregory the Great, and a few provisions specific to Heloise.34 Differences between this text and her own, more practical rule prolonged an old controversy over the authenticity of Heloise's letters.35 Some of the discrepancies concern fairly small matters, but the most important involve 70.4 2011 Newman * A Tale of Two Scandals lines of authority. On this subject the two rules cannot be reconciled.36 Abelard was profoundly conflicted about gender. Like every cleric of his age, he could toss off slight-ing remarks about the "weaker sex" and denounce abbesses who presumed to govern their nuns--or even monks--without male superiors. Yet in his treatise on the dignity of nuns, he pro-duced the most significant "pro-feminine" tract of the era.37 Some scholars have discerned a gradual con-version to feminism where others see only unresolved tension, but in any case, "~ Abelard's rule for Heloise is so ambivalent as to be unworkable.38 One reason is that he envisages a double community of monks and nuns, an arrangement that was common elsewhere but never established at the Paraclete. On the one hand, the whole community should have a male head or pro-vost, but on the other, both monks and nuns should profess obedience to the female head. Abelard calls her not "abbess" but "deaconess," an exotic early Christian term. He compares the deaconess to a queen and the provost to her steward, who fulfills his lady's will in all things--save that he "declines in what may do her harm.''39 It is hard to see how such an arrangement could have worked in practice. As for Heloise, she might have been happy enough with Abelard himself as her superior. But Abelard was still the abbot of Saint-Gildas, and if he should pre-decease her--which he did--the authority could revert Abelard's rule for Helbis e: is so ambivalent as to ,- be unworkable,, Reviww for Religious to her old enemy Suger.4° So in fact, the Paraclete had no provost. Heloise styled herself abbess, a more pres-tigious title than "deaconess," and exercised the nor-mal authority of that role. Given Abelard's peripatetic life, his reputation for heresy, and his disastrous failure at Saint-Gildas, the Paraclete undoubtedly flourished under her leadership as it could never have done under his. In fact, despite her unwilling entrance into religious life, Heloise proved highly successful as both monastic reformer and administrator. Before her death in 1163, six daughter houses had been founded or attached to the Paraclete, and its property holdings were vast.41 In addi-tion to glowing letters of praise from contemporaries, the popularity of the name "Heloise" in the next gen-eration testifies to the esteem in which she was held.42 Despite the troubles Abelard and Heloise faced in reinventing their relationship, both had a deep integ-rity. Abelard could be intransigent, but he did not lie, and Heloise's gift for placating superiors equaled his for antagonizing them. Thus she was able to attain the sup-port she needed from popes, bishops, lay patrons, and powerful abbots. Cornelia, to her cost, lacked these advantages. On the one hand, she had to endure Pierce's outright treachery, and on the other, a long series of conflicts marred her relations with hierarchs. Less than two years after she founded the first Holy Child convent at Derby, Pierce circulated a rule of his own composi-tion in Rome, prefaced by a claim that "the good Lord had long inspired in [him] the desire to found a little Congregation, with the help of a holy person well known to me and quite obedient (bien docile) to me.''43 But this was far from the case. When she learned of his act several months later, she sent off an indignant protest disavowing any changes he had made to her rule. Nevertheless, the 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals spurious text created so much confusion that at Cornelia's death, her own rule was still not approved. A year later, Pierce was claiming that the Derby convent was "worse than . . . a brothel," hence his first duty was "to rescue my blessed wife from the hands of devils.''44 With a lethal combination of lawsuits, apostasy, anti-Catholic propa-ganda, and his fraudulent rule, Pierce had made it nearly impossible for Cornelia to succeed in the vocation to which his own choice had driven her. It did not help that she and Cardinal Wiseman had a falling-out. Concerned that the Connelly scandal was making the church a laughingstock, Wiseman felt a need for rest and proposed that one wing of Cornelia's new convent in Sussex be converted to a seaside residence for his own use. Fearful of yet more scandal, Cornelia said no, infuriating her old ally. Hence Wiseman refused to support her pleas in Rome, where the authorities stud-ied both Cornelia's and Pierce's rules for years without action, still not realizing why they differed. The English bishops meanwhile dragged their feet, refusing to let the Holy Child nuns hold a general chapter to elect superi-ors. Wiseman insisted that the subsidiary houses should be canonically separate, rather than subject to the mother house4S--a disempowering move that Heloise, in her day, had managed to resist. The final blow came in 1874 when Bishop Danell of Southwark, Cornelia's immediate supe-rior, presented the nuns with a third rule that he himself had written, imposing a hopelessly complex system of governance. Without warning, he insisted that they set their rule aside and observe his for a "trial period" of three years.46 At the end of this time they begged Danell to restore their old rule--beginning with the youngest nun, who declared, "My Lord, it seems to me that the new Rule has been drawn up to correct abuses which Review for Religious never existed, and it does not lead us to love and obey our Superiors.''47 All agreed except Cornelia, who remained stonily silent in humility--or despair. But Danell refused their plea and imposed another three-year trial period, at the end of which the foundress died, her life and work in a shambles. It was not until Pierce's death four years later that Cornelia's rule could again be considered in Rome. Ten years after that, in 1893, it was approved in its original, unaltered form.4s To conclude, then--was Cornelia Connelly a nouvelle Hdloise? The real Heloise, who so vividly imagined her-self as a tragic heroine, turns out to have led a less tragic life than Cornelia. Successful abbess though she was, no churchman could call Heloise a saint. Not only did she defend illicit love and confess to religious hypocrisy, but by the standards that count, she didn't suffer enough-- or at least, not for the right reasons. Though she por-trayed herself as a martyr of love, she recovered from a devastating crisis to be reconciled with her beloved, win the esteem and admiration of her peers, and leave a lasting monastic legacy. But Cornelia--or should I say, the Venerable Cornelia--attained martyrdom on three fronts. As I have shown, she perfecdy fulfilled the medieval type of the maternal martyr, suffering the loss of five children through no fault of her own--three to premature death and three to her husband's perfidy, if we count Mercer twice. We can also call her a "mar-tyr of marriage," like other medieval saints who suf-fered at the hands of brutish husbands. The Connellys might have lived happily ever after if they had remained Protestant--but Pierce's short-lived infatuation with the Catholic Church decreed otherwise. Having first prod-ded his wife toward conversion, he would soon become her relentless persecutor, goading her toward sainthood. 70.4 2011 Newman * A Tale of Two Scandals Finally, Cornelia can be seen as a martyr of the church itself, having suffered nearly as much at the hands of bishops as of her husband. Admittedly, I have had to sim-plify her long, complicated tale. A full and fair account would not gloss over the abrasive side of her character-- or the odd moments of silence where resistance might have been more apt. It would also dwell on the unique difficulties attending the restoration of Catholic reli-gious life in Protestant England.49 Nonetheless, it seems strange that the defiant Heloise won more clerical favor in the twelfth century than the submissive Cornelia in the nineteenth. For twenty-five years after her death, her name remained under a cloud even among her nuns, who felt that the Society's goals were best served by silenc-ing their founder's scandalous memory,s° Returning to the longue durge, however, persecution has shadowed the church's most celebrated reformers; I need only mention Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, and Ignatius Loyola. If not a sine qua non for sainthood, it certainly helps. After all, Cornelia's long-suffering precursor in the sev-enteenth century, the Yorkshire foundress Mary Ward, was declared Venerable only a year ago. In each case, it remains to be seen if time, perseverance, and changing attitudes toward women will finally smooth the path from scandal to sanctity. Notes ~ These events are known to us from Abelard's autobiogra-phy, Historia calamitatum, and his subsequent exchange of let-ters with Heloise. I have cited these from the new translation by William Levitan, Abelard and Heloise: The Letters and Other Writings (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2007). ~ M.T. Clanchy, Abelard: A Medieval Life (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997), p. 152. 3 The treatise on the dignity of nuns is Abelard's "Sixth Letter" Review for Religious , in Levitan, pp. 127-69. For his hymns see Joseph Sz6v~rffy, ed., Peter Abelard's Hymnarius Paraclitensis, 2 vols. (Albany, NY: Classical Folia Editions, 1975); a few are translated in Levitan. The Problemata Heloissae (Heloise's questions on Scripture, with Abelard's replies) can be found in J.-P. Migne, ed., Patrologia.Latina 178: 677-730, and his Expositio in Hexaemeron (a Genesis commentary) in PL 178: 731-84. For the sermons see Paola De Santis, ed., I sermoni di Abelardo per le monache del Paracleto (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002). 4 There are now eight biographies of Cornelia Connelly, all but one by members of her Society. I have used the only account by a laywoman: Juliana Wadham, The Case of Cornelia Connelly (New York: Pantheon, 1'957), and Radegunde Flaxman SHCJ, A Woman Styled Bold: The Life of Cornelia Connelly, 1809-1879 (London: Darton, Longrnan and Todd, 1991). I have also consulted an excellent biog-raphy of her husband by D. G. Paz, The Priesthoods and Apostasies of Pierce Connelly: A Study of Victorian Conversion and Anticatholicism (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 1986). For a novelistic account see Sheila Kaye-Smith, Quartet in Heaven (New York: Harper & Bros., 1952), pp. 57-122. s Flaxman, A Woman Styled Bold, p. 18. 6 Cornelia Connelly to Adeline Duval, letter of 17 Oct. 1835, cited in Mother Ursula Blake et al., Positio: Documentary Study for the Canonization Process of the Servant of God Cornelia Connelly (nge Peacock), 1809-1879, 3 vols. (Rome: Sacred Congregation for the Causes of Saints, 1983), I: 79. 7 Flaxman, A Woman Styled BoM, pp. 72-73. 8 This was an ecclesiastical court that, until 1857, ruled on mat-rimonial cases under English canon law. Divorces granted by this court did not permit remarriage. Otherwise, the only way to obtain a divorce was by private Act of Parliament. Positio I: 330. 9 Brendan Larnen's play about the trial, Connelly vs. Connelly (New York: Blackfriars' Guild, 1961), was staged in New York and Los Angeles fifty years ago. See Kenneth L. Woodward, Making Saints: How the Catholic Church Determines Who Becomes a Saint, Who Doesn't, and Why (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1990), p. 267. 1o The Life of Cornelia Connelly, 1809-1879, Foundress of the Society of the Holy Child Jesus, by A Religious of the Society [Mary Catherine Gompertz] (London: Longrnans, Green & Co., 1930), p. 257. As of 1952, at the height of the Catholic educational system, the Society had established four additional schools and convents in England (including Oxford and Harrogate), three in Ireland, one in Switzerland, one in Rome, six in Africa, and twenty-two in the 70.4 2011 Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals U.S. Kaye-Smith, Quartet in Heaven, p. 118. Many of these are now closed, but the Society has further expanded into Germany and Latin America. See the SHCJ website, http://shcj.org/today_ministries.html ii Woodward, Making Saints, p. 253. The author is Sister Elizabeth Mary Strub, former superior general of the SHCJ. ~2 As recalled by Abelard in Historia calamitatum ("The Calamities of Peter Abelard"), trans. Levitan, p. 17; Heloise, First Letter, in Levitan, pp. 55-56. 13 Third Letter (in the collection, i.e, the second from Heloise), Levitan, pp. 78-79. 14 Giles Consta~ble, Letters and Letter-Collections, Typologie des sources du Moyen Age occidental, p. 17 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1976); Peter Dronke, Abelard and Heloise in Medieval Testimonies (Glasgow: University of Glasgow Press, 1976). 15 Barbara Newman, "Authority, Authenticity, and the Repression of Heloise," in Front Virile Woman to WomanChrist: Studies in Medieval Religion and Literature (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), pp. 46-75 (pp. 73-74). 16 Heloise, First Letter, p. 61; Third Letter, p. 81 17 According to Abelard, Heloise tearfully declaimed the lament of Cornelia, the wife of Pompey, from Lucan's Pharsalia--"and with these words, she rushed to the altar, snatched up the veil which the bishop had just blessed, and bound herself to the convent in the pres-ence'of all." Historia calamitatum, in Levitan, p. 20. 18 Cornelia Connelly to Adeline Dural, letter of 17 Oct. 1835, in Positio, I: 81. ¯ 19 The letters of Abelard and Heloise were popularized by the poet Jean de Meun, who translated them into French: Eric Hicks, ed., La vie et les epistres Pierres Abaelart et Heloys sa fame: Traduction du XIIIe siOcle attribude i~ Jean de Meun (Paris: Champion, 1991). More famously, he incorporated the lovers' tale into his bestrselling Roman de la Rose, which remained by far the best-known version until mod-ern times. z0 Abelard, Historia calamitamm, in Levitan, p. 15. Abelard cites Heloise in direct speech; she was in turn paraphrasing Jerome's trea-tise Adversus Jovinianum (393), and Jerome was citing a lost anti-matrimonial tract by the pagan Theophrastus, sometimes called "The Golden Book on Marriage." Theophrastus, Jerome, and their numerous medieval heirs all argued that a wise man should not marry; only Heloise extended this counsel to women, as I first noted in "Authority, Authenticity," p. 67. This grammatical nuance was Review for Religious overlooked in the classic translation by Betty Radice, The Letters of Abelard and Heloise (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1974; rev. ed. 2003), p. 14; Levitan corrects the error. 2, Heloise, letter to Peter the Venerable, abbot of Cluny, ca. 1144-49, in Levitan, p. 273. 2z He probably became a cathedral canon in Nantes, and may later have been a Cistercian abbot at Hauterive: Levitan, Abelard and Hgloi'se, p. 13, n. 26. Abelard wrote a lengthy didactic poem for him, the Carmen ad Astralabium, ed. Jos~ Rubingh-Bosscher (Groningen, 1987). 23 Barbara Newman, "'Crueel Corage': Child Sacrifice and the Maternal Martyr in Hagiography and Romance," in From Virile Woman to WomanChrist, pp. 76-107 (p. 81). 24 Thomas Hatchard, Case of the Rev. Pierce Connelly, 2nd ed. (London, 1853), cited in Judith Lancaster SHCJ, Cornelia Connelly and Her Interpreters (Oxford: Way Books, 2004), p. 250. 25 Notebook of Cornelia Connelly, 21 January 1848, in Positio I: 298. 26 Cornelia Connelly to Ralph Peacock, letter of 1854, in Lancaster, Cornelia Connelly, p. 274. 27 Cornelia Connelly to Ralph Peacock, letter of 18 November 1858, in Lancaster, Cornelia Connelly, p. 274. For a moving treatment of Cornelia's feelings about this loss, see Dorothy Bryant, '!Keeping Vows: Cornelia Connelly (1809-1879)," in Last Words: Imaginary Letters from Real People (2010). Online at http://www.dorothybryant. com/LastWords.html 2s Caritas McCarthy SHCJ, The Spirituality of Cornelia Connelly: In God, For God, With God (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 1986), pp. 73-80. For the history of this idea see Dyan Elliott, Spiritual Marriage: Sexual Abstinence in Medieval Wedlock (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993). 29 See Newman, "'Crueel Corage': Child Sacrifice and the Maternal Martyr." 3o Woodward, Making Saints, pp. 268-70. 3~ Woodward, Making Saints, p. 271. 32 McCarthy, Spirituality; Roseanne McDougall SHCJ, Cornelia Connelly's Innovations in Female Education, 1846-1864: Revolutionizing the School Curriculum for Girls (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 2008). 33 Heloise, Fifth Letter, in Levitan, p. 126. 34 Abelard, Seventh Letter, in Levitan, pp. 170-255. 361 70.4 201 ! Newman ¯ A Tale of Two Scandals 3s For Heloise's rule see Chrysogonus Waddell, ed., The Paraclete Statutes, Institutiones Nostrae: Introduction, Edition, Commentary (Trappist, KY: Gethsemani Abbey, 1987). On the discrepan-cies see John E Benton, "Fraud, Fiction and Borrowing in the Correspondence of Abelard and Heloise," in Pierre Ab(lard--Pierre le Vgngrable: Les courants philosophiques, littgraires, et artistiques en Occident au milieu du XIIe sikcle, ed. Ren~ Louis and Jean Jolivet (Paris: l~.ditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1975), pp. 469-506 (p. 474). In 1980 Benton retracted his arguments for the inauthenticity of the letters. 36 For discussion see Enid McLeod, H?loi'se: A Biography, 2nd ed. (London: Chatto & Windus, 1971), pp. 219-24; Clanchy, Abelard, pp. 251-60. Heloise's biographer states that she "worked entirely in har-mony with Abailard's wishes" (p. 222), though not slavishly. Abelard's more skeptical biographer says she "ignored" his rule (p. 258). 37 Mary Martin McLaughlin, "Peter Abelard and the Dignity of Women: Twelfth Century 'Feminism' in Theory and Practice," in Pierre Ab3lard--Pierre le V3n3rable, pp. 287-333; Mcuin Blamires, The Case for Women in Medieval Culture (Oxford: Clarendon, 1997), pp. 199-207. 38 See my "Flaws in the Golden Bowl: Gender and Spiritual Formation in the Twelfth Century," in From Virile Woman to WomanCbrist, pp. 19-45 (p. 27). 39 Abelard, Seventh Letter, in Levitan, p. 198. ~0 Clanchy, Abelard, p. 258. 41 McLeod, Hiloi'se, pp. 210-219. 42 Penelope D. Johnson, Equal in Monastic Profession: Religious VVomen in Medieval France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), p. 234. 43 "Memorial of the Rev. Pierce Connelly to the S. Cong. de Propaganda Fide," 10 February 1848, in Positio 1:299. The original is in French; English translation mine. 44 Pierce Connelly to the Earl of Shrewsbury, letter of 28 Dec. 1848, in Positio I: 307. 45 Wadham, Case of Cornelia Connelly, p. 226. 46 Not only did Danell style himself "Bishop Superior of the Institute"; he also sent his rule to the order's American houses with no explanation. Left in the dark, the U.S. sisters assumed that the new rule was Cornelia's high-handed innovation and refused to obey it, provoking a schism. Review for Religious 47 Gompertz, Life of Cornelia Connelly, p. 235. 48 Gompertz, Life of Cornelia Connelly, pp. 248-250. 49 Susan O'Brien, "Terra Incognita: The Nun in Nineteenth- Century England," Past dr Present, 121 (November 1988), pp. 110-140. so Lancaster, Cornelia Connelly and Her Interpreters, pp. 51-55. Palimpsest Recycling isn't new. When writing was serious, words were costly, vellum was scrubbed, papyrus washed, reused. Sometimes earlier uncials appear in ghostly outline. A Syriac text of Chrysostom reveals a Latin grammar: amo, amas, amat. What comes to articulation has layers beneath the surface deeper than words, runic letters in languages we don't quite understand. Bonnie Thurston 363 70.4 2011 building community BEATRICE M. EICHTEN The Hum of Being: Spirituality for Leadership At the beginning of his ministry, after hear-ing the heady proclamation that he is God's beloved Son, Jesus is plunged into a desert experience. He is tempted by the devil, who invites him to have his physical needs met, to exercise power through the worldly skills of division and manipulation rather than forgive-ness and reconciliation, and to be safe from all unpleasant, negative experiences. Jesus is able to withstand these temptations because he knows who he is. In his baptism and prayer, the truth of Jesus' identity is revealed to him: he is the beloved of God, one in whom God takes pleasure. Knowing who he is, Jesus is able to face the tension between being loved and being hungry/needy, between being loved and being socially powerless, and between being loved and being safe from all negative experiences. 1 Beatrice M. Eichten OSF is community minister/presi-dent of the Franciscan Sisters of Little Falls, Minnesota. Her address is 116 8th Ave. SE; Little Falls, Minnesota 56345-3597. Review for Religiotts When we are elected to leadership in our religious community, we are called forth to fulfill a special role as both spiritual and organizational leader. Such a call is empowering as well as humbling. It is a moment of being loved, of being affirmed for our strengths, a moment of special promise. However, this moment gives way to many other moments, and we quickly learn, as we take on this new role, that we do not give up our vulnerability or foibles. We do not cease wanting to control and "manage" others "for their own good." Nor can we avoid criticism, negativity, or unpopularity because of decisions we must make. We come face-to-face with ourselves as we encounter new challenges in the ministry of leadership. Where do we in leadership go when we face chal-lenges, temptations, and limitations? We can adopt the mindset of working hard to live up to the idealized expectations of our culture and community, or we can trust our authentic selves--the truth that we are beloved daughters or sons who give pleasure to God in carrying out a leadership function. We can discover a spirituality of leadership by examining our ongoing response to the challenges, temptations, and limitations we encounter. When we come to our spiritual identity, when we know who we are, says John Shea, then our spiritual work begins. As it was for Jesus, coming to this knowl-edge is a co-working with God that engages the full-ness of the human person. Foundational to the process is metanoia, conversion, the change of mind and heart that occurs~when we come to know ourselves as open to Spirit. Conversion leads us to make ourselves accessible to God. We move beyond our sinfulness and limita-tions to knowing that we, like Jesus, bring pleasure to God. This is a fruit of prayer. We open ourselves "to 70.4 2011 Eicbten * The Hum of Being 366 receive what the Divine Source is waiting to give" (p. 99). Openness makes us ready to receive. God as God. Such openness comes in prayer, in the troubled sister, in vexing financial and administrative details, in the elderly and the sick, in the gifted ministry of so many of our members, in our team of ministry colleagues, in cre-ation, and on and on. Spirit enters into this world; we do not break into Spirit's world. God is always present; we are the ones invited to open ourselves to receive and to act from our deepest identity as beloved of and precious to God. Shea goes on to say that, though the origins and destiny of Spirit are mysterious, you are filled by the sound of it. It is the burn of being--present, vibrant, alive, now. You live by a spirit that is not you. Being born of this spirit is not an event "done and over." It is the "always-already- now" of life. It is the power of God liv-ing in you. Touch that ever so slightly in yourself and you will open to the teacher sent from God, and he will whisper things hidden since the foun-dation of the world, the things he has heard from his Father, the things he is yearning to tell you. He will entrust himself to you. (p. 86, emphasis added) This "hum of being" is "the vibration of pure exis-tence. It blows where it will because it is not produced by people . its origin and destiny cannot be traced, but we bear the sound of it. We know it because it is car-rying us away" (p. 94). Opening to Spirit The core of leadership ministry is spiritual leader-ship-- a way of being present to ourselves and to our God that informs and guides our organizational lead-ership. Spiritual leadership requires an openness and readiness to receive Spirit as she comes to us each day. Review for Religious "Spirit is shy," says Shea. "It does not want to compete with other allegiances. It wants open space, vacancies that it can move into without conflict. When we are detached, we wait in readiness . . . [with] hands empty and open" (p. 38). This calls for an emp-tiness with which we are often not comfort-able. It calls us to back away consciously from being overly busy, important, needed, in control, and responsi-ble. Shea suggests that it means being con-scious of our human dependence and vul- -°- - nerability, of the alienation that characterizes sin, and of the uncomfortable conversion that leads us to redemp-tion rather than isolation (pp. 141-42). Being attentive to our inner reality requires time to be engaged with our inner selves and with God. Wayne Muller says that "without stillness, without being pres-ent, we will miss the simple, quiet opportunities., to hear more accurately. We will miss the opening, the readiness, that place of grace waiting to be born.''2 Being quiet and present is a critical discipline and necessary attitude as we deal with the siren lure of daily demands and issues inherent in congregational leadership. Different personalities will attend to inner realities and find a life focus in different ways. One person's way of being open and attentive to God can, for another, be a "grit-your-teeth" effort. Joan Chittister OSB reminds us that even age does not have to be an "impediment Being quiet and present is a ~ri~tical discipline as we deal with the siren lure of daily demands and issues inherent in congregational leadership. 367 70.4 2011 Eicbten ¯ The Hum of Being 368 to the magnet for life in us.''3 When we discover what is the magnet of life for us, we will also discover clues to where we find the source of energy for our journey through life. Those clues can be particularly helpful for those in a leadership position. By knowing and trust-ing our way of being present to God, we will come to know the truth that "There are as many ways to pray as there are moments in life . In all these moments, [we] gradually make [our] lives more a prayer and . . . open [our] hands to be led by God even to where [we] would rather not go.''4 Inherent Call to Conversion Spiritual and communal leadership is an ongoing call to conversion. We begin with any of a wide range of attitudes: "It's my turn." "I am finally feeling ready." "Oh God, please not me!" "I am willing to serve and to offer my best." "If this is what God and the community want of me ." "This is how I will do leadership" . "This is what I will do to help community grow" . "This is what I will do to 'fix' the community . " Regardless of how we begin, we soon learn that this ministry is about entering into a way of life where, as an elected leader, we turn from the perspective of a mem-ber to a perspective that encompasses the whole com-munity. The position brings new responsibilities and a fresh awareness both of the community and of the local and global church. Community members express their varied expectations of leaders in titles that range from "Mother General" to "Servant Leader," but whatever the expectations, leadership is a way of life that calls for detachment and self-emptying? for becoming a channel for Spirit in the life and activities of the whole community. Review for Religious Leadership requires letting go of attachments, fre-quently of a beloved ministry. A move to a new location, may mean distance from family, friends, and colleagues. We often discover, painfully, that being called to lead-ership changes how friends and companions relate to us. We need to move from roles and responsibilities with which we have identified into those that may not be of our personal choice. How many of us have said, "Finances are not my thing"? Yet now we must carry major responsibility for financial stewardship of the congregation. We learn that even though we are vested with power in the community, we do not have full control over our schedule, our members, our decisions. I remember hear-ing a speaker say to a roomful of new leaders that they had control of their schedules and could schedule days off. Having been in leadership before, I almost laughed out loud, knowing how many days off or team plan-ning days had been cut short by a death or a commu-nity crisis. While congregations talk about "part-time" leadership, the fact is, once elected, we are never not an elected leader. Leadership ministry is full-time, is exercised whenever and however it is called for, and is a ministry around which we wrap part-time responsibili-ties as chaplain or pastoral minister or whatever. The position calls for detachment from personal and minis-try commitments in order to carry out leadership minis-try. It also calls for circumspection as we come to realize that everything we say and do reflects on "leadership"; personal opinions become "Leadership believes . " Response to the Call to Conversion We can fight against the inevitable demands for detachments or we can allow them to be invitations to 70.4 2011 Eicbten ¯ The Hum of Being go within, to come to deeper self-knowledge, to get in touch with our spiritual center. I remember fearing that leadership would move me into falsity and role-playing. Then I heard Angeles Arrien, a cultural anthropolo-gist, speak about the necessity for leaders to exercise "response-ability"--not responsibility as duty or obli-gation ("I have to . . ."), but as the ability to respond from one's authentic self ("I choose to . . ."). Such an understanding invites a freely given choice. Richard Nahman OSA, in a reflection on gospel spirituality,5 points out that the word "authority" comes from the same root as "author" and "authenticity." He poses some probing questions: "How authentic am I? . . . do I challenge myself, asking, 'Am I "selling" a heart-rending "product," or is the Word of God alive in me?'" His questions encourage us to ask our own: When is my action more about me than about service to my sis-ters and our mission in the church? In facing the daily challenges of leadership, do I aim to win or do I enter into the call to conversion? Am I reacting to a particular sister because of some past experience with her? Or am I able to step back and consider how I would respond to that same request or situation if it involved someone else? Do I need to control, or can I open myself to living with ambiguity and other ways of thinking? How am I dealing with stress? Am I numbing myself by eating or drinking too much? What am I avoiding? To whom am I accountable? Questions like these help keep us honest, invite us to face the challenges we encounter with open-ness to our personal blindness and need for conversion, and move us to prayer and reflection. Acting from Gift or Obligation? If we are serious about conversion, in leadership we Revie~v for Religious will come face to face with our inner self and our bodily reality--our truth in all its beauty and messiness--and will be invited to make a choice to live and minister out of a gift economy rather than an obligation economy. God is gifting me with this opportunity. Can I offer my ministry out of a generous abundance, or do I move into resentment because I "have to do it"? Can I own the reality that leadership does involve some "have tos" and do them graciously rather than grudgingly? How approach a situation shapes how I enter into it and how others experience me in it. None of us is perfect; nor is anyone the perfect leader. But a leader is invited to go beyond duty or obligation and make a choice for life, a choice to love and to serve the com-munity members out of love. This, I believe, is a choice for conversion, a "turning away from one's past [and] entrust-ing oneself to the unex-pected, uncharted way into the incalculable future in which God comes to us.''6 Conversion is not just giving up and letting go, adapting our lives to the necessities of the ministry, but is a life-long project of committing one's whole life to God. And leadership ministry offers abundant opportunities to move toward that commitment. Gradually, if we are open to conver-sion, God becomes that "hum of being" that accompa-nies us whether or not we are aware of it. We need to choose intentionally to open ourselves to conversion, knowing that we do not control when or how it will happen. God has a way of unsettling our Conversion is a life-long project of committing one's whole life to God. 371 70.4 2011 Eicbten ¯ Tbe Hum of Being carefully controlled world and "tipping" it sideways. VChen we least expect it, God will find ways to unsettle us and invite us to make "soul" decisions in which we recommit our hearts and lives to the sacred journey-- inward, outward, and forward--the "always-already-now" of life that Shea speaks of. It is a journey wherein we are called to be witnesses to the gospel and to be changed by God's abundant love into true disciples. As leaders, we are sustained in this conversion pro-cess by our own prayer, by the love and prayer of our leadership team, by friends and companions, by the liturgy, by the beauty of creation, and by the grace of office itself---"the quiet, sudden infusion of some power beyond [one]self. the unbidden, unsought, unexpected emergence in the soul of a capacity hitherto unacknowledged" (Spoto, pp. 59-60). Leadership as Loving Relationship When Jesus came to proclaim the Good News, some were gleeful that the Messiah had come and things would be good for the downtrodden Jews. However, Jesus in his preaching and ministry taught that the peo-ple of Israel should not presume privilege. He began his ministry not from a place of power but from a realiza-tion that he was loved and that his mission was to draw others into God's love. Whatever he did, he did out of his identity as the loved one. When we are elected to leadership positions, we must realize that we are elected for mission and not for our own prestige. Shea suggests that when we realize we are loved, we are energized, and it is then that we begin, even if we continue work we have been doing for years (p. 113). We can draw on personal skills and abilities and become good administrators in our communities, but Review for Religious spiritual leadership is about knowing ourselves as loved; about loving and receiving love in our sister-to-sister, brother-to-brother relationships; and about speaking truth in love. George Wilson says that we are "held irre-vocably by a profound sense of charity." A deep love for God and for one another enables us to face the uncom-fortable and often contradictory movements in our lives and in the lives of our sisters and brothers. "The Gospel mandate of love--not a romanticized abstraction but an interpersonal engagement with a challenging flesh-and-blood sister or brother--will always remain the ultimate touchstone for truth.''7 The mandate of love moves us to relationships characterized by dialogue, forgiveness, and reconciliation. As leaders, we are called to create deeper understanding among our members, to uncover a base of shared meaning that helps us coordinate and align our actions with our values. We enter into a pro-found dialogue when we relate from a deep well of love, even in what may seem simple and ordinary. It is not just words that we share; it is a relationship8 that finds its source in our relationship with God. Our sisters and brothers may or may not remember a major project that was completed or that it was accomplished during the term of leadership. What they will remember is our relationship with them--whether we loved them. Leadership as Pilgrimage Spiritual leadership is not static but is a process that draws us into a vital and life-changing relationship with God and with our community. We can think of that process as a pilgrimage. Doris Donnelley identifies five characteristics that distinguish pilgrims from tourists.9 Perhaps we can appropriate these as we strive to become pilgrim leaders: 70.4 2011 Eichten ¯ The Hum of Being ¯ Valuing the internal. Pilgrim leaders are motivated by a hope for something to happen within, something that alters their attitudes and ways of looking at life. ¯ Valuing self-investment. Pilgrim leaders invest themselves and surrender to the experience. They sur-render all that clutters their lives so that God takes cen-ter stage. ¯ Valuing transformation. Pilgrim leaders are awak-ened to new dimensions of life, community, and church. Such awakening requires listening at a deep level--at the level of Spirit and the "hum of being"--to avoid falling into disillusionment and cynicism as they learn more about the human failings and limitations of their community members and their church--and perhaps of themselves. ¯ Valuing the journey as well as the arrival. Pilgrim leaders prepare both before and all through their term of office by "taking time seriously and elegantly--the right here-and-now time of [their] lives" (Muller, p. 167). At the end of their leadership ministry, they "go home" and allow the internal dimension of their journey to continue to unfold. Those who allow this to hap-pen are changed, and the rest of their life's pilgrimage begins in new ways. ¯ Valuing community. Pilgrim leaders know that they are on a particular journey at a particular time and with a particular group for a reason. As the journey unfolds, the connections they make and the experiences they share with the group help them to understand that they are part of something much bigger than their own per-sonal growth and decisions. All of us, both leaders and members, are on a pilgrimage. We are a community within the larger community of our church, both the pastoral and the Review for Religious hierarchical church. We allow ourselves to realize that we are about witnessing to our loving God, not about building the perfect community. Parker Palmer1° speaks about the necessity of "de-illusionment," that is, moving from the "illusion of salvation by interaction" (having an idealized community of love, understanding, and true dialogue, having lots of new vocations, etc.), to under-standing that we are people in search of God, that God is always present, and that salvation is pure gift of God. I conclude with words for all who are called to com-munity leadership: trust your pilgrimage of leadership. Open yourself to God's love so freely given. Surrender yourself to God and listen to the hum of your being as God guides your community into the future and guides you daily in your leadership service to your sisters and brothers. Your authenticity is a source of Spirit. You are strengthened and supported when you are able to be open to Spirit, when you can allow enough emptiness and detachment to make room for Spirit, and when you can trust God enough to enter into the call to con-version. When you know yourself as beloved and pre-cious to God, that love will overflow into those around you; and, if you allow it, you will experience the return of love in abundance. Returning to the words of John Shea: "You are filled with the sound [of Spirit] . . . the hum of being . . . present, vibrant, alive, now. Being born of this spirit is not an event 'done and over.' It is the 'always-already-now' of life. It is the power of God living in you." In these days, when there are no clear answers or directions for our communities, we are invited to enter into the pilgrimage of religious communal life and min-istry with trust, courage, hope, and gratitude. As lead- 70.4 2011 Eicbten ¯ The Hum of Being ers, let us journey together with our sisters and brothers and with our God into a future filled with hope. Notes ' John Shea, Gospel Light: Jesus Stories for Spiritual Consciousness (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1998). This theme is developed more fully in Chapter 4, pp. 97-116. 2 Wayne Muller, Sabbath, Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives (New York: Bantam Book, 2000), p. 167. 3 Joan Chittister, Gi~ of Years. (New York: BlueBridge, 2008), p. vii. 4 Henri Nouwen, With Open Hands (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1972), p. 158. s Richard M. Nahman OSA, "My Gospel Spirituality," Review for Religious (2009): 41-48. 6 Donald Spoto, Reluctant Saint, The Life of Francis of Assisi (New York: The Penguin Group, 2003), p. 48. 7 George Wilson, "Something Tells Me. ," Human Development (2008): 13. 8 William Isaacs, Dialogue and the Art of Thinking Together (New York: Doubleday, 1999), p. 19. He notes that the ancient meaning of the word logos suggests "an intimate awareness of the relationships among things in the natural world," making "relationship" the best English translation for logos. "In that sense, logos may be best rendered in English as 'relationship.' The Book of John in the New Testament begins: 'In the beginning was the Word (logos).' We could now hear this as 'In the beginning was the Relationship.' " 9 Doris Donnelly, "Pilgrims and Tourists: Conflicting Metaphors for the Christian Journey to God," Spirituality Today 44:1 (1992): 20-36. www.spiritualitytoday.org/spir2day/9243.1donnelly.html l0 Dr. Parker J. Palmer, "Borne Again: The Monastic Way to Church Renewal," Weavings: A Journal of the Christian Spiritual Life (1986), p. 12. 376 Review for Religious THOMAS A. KROSNICKI Architecture and Religious Life ~ ver the years, Review for Religious has covered a wide range of diverse topics that touch religious life. The indices of the preceding 69 volumes of the periodical attest to a rich and significant contribution. Yet it seems to me that one topic is conspicuous by its absence. There seem to be no articles dealing with the relationship architecture has with the life of religious communities in general or about the impact buildings have on the members of those communities. In this brief presentation, I intend to raise several salient points for reflection and possible discussion by religious men and women about the impact of architecture--the houses we live in--on religious life. Your House Is a Self-Portrait Granting that the statement "Your house is a self-portrait" holds a measure of truth, one might rightly Thomas A. Krosnicki SVD is a former Director of the Bishops' Committee on the Liturgy. He may be addressed at Divine Word House, 832 Varnum Street NE, Washington, DC 20017-2143. 70.4 2011 Krosnicki ¯ Architecture and Religious Life 378 ask: What is the identity that a religious community intends to project by its buildings? It could be worth-while, therefore, for community members to step back and take a good look at their present living quarters, particularly if they are contemplating renovations or the construction of a new building in the future. What com-posite self-portrait do the present buildings or plans for future ones project to members and non-members alike? There should normally be a correlation between the edifice and the self-definition of the religious community that it houses. Ideally, building and self-definition posi-tively reinforce each other. As there is no set design for th~ shape of a religious house, no one can convincingly claim that "this is how a house for religious should look." During the 1950s and 1960s, when religious com-munities were expanding in the United States, archi-tects designed new houses for religious communities that today remain clearly identifiable as from that era. Basically, many look very much alike--pejoratively described as "1960 Penal." They ended up strikingly similar in both design and material. I can, for example, point to the two houses across from my residence in metropolitan Washington DC and say unequivocally, "Clearly, from their appearance, both were built dur-ing the unprecedented growth phenomena of Catholic religious life of the 1960s." Unfortunately, in the States such buildings were generally designedto last for 75 to 100 years; they will be standing for another 25 or more years, even though their primary purpose may have morphed into something else, given the decline of voca-tions and dwindled need for large residential buildings. How did that kind of building style come about? Financial constraints? The pressure of urgent need for expansion? A lack of creative imagination? Government Review for Religious restrictions? Regardless of the reason, the basic princi-ple "Every house is a self-portrait" seems to have been unwittingly overlooked. One hopes that we religious have better images of ourselves than these buildings project. But, a corporate self-image is not always easy to come by. How might it be achieved? Rule and charism, as well as the function and ministry of the particular religious community are central to the large equation that feeds into an architectural design. Therefore, in plan-ning or renovating a house, a religious community must col-laborate with a care-fully selected architect in a process of "defin- ~, ing" the building so it truly fits with and looks like the community and not just shows off the architect's latest ideas. As qualified and inspired as the architect or builder might be, they still may not truly understand religious life and must watch the bottom line of overall cost and materials. In short, the community must school the architect, as well as itself, in its unique religious ethos, its particular rule, and its designated ministry so that the completed proj-ect images or reflects the community at its very best. Thus, a rural Trappist monastery should not have the appearance or design of an inner city residence for the Missionaries of Charity of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. One hopes that we religious have better images of ourselves than these buildings project. Form Follows Function The architectural principle of Louis Sullivan (~'1896) that "form follows function" remains both valid and in 379 70.4 2011 Krosnicki ¯ Architecture and Religious Life 380 vogue today. Unfortunately, one can still find designs that have proven to be decidedly dysfunctional in spite of that basic principle. Frank Lloyd Wright ('c1959), the renowned American assistant to Sullivan, accepted the axiom in principle but moved beyond it to "organic architecture" promoted by the "Prairie School" move-ment. Recent attention has focused on the organic archi-tecture of the Sagrada Familia Basilica in Barcelona, designed by Antoni Gaudi (t1927). Nature was Gaudi's inspiration. He saw that plant forms clearly stem from their organic function, and he incorporated those forms into the functionality of his imaginative edifice. Function does not necessarily dictate that the end product be prosaic, sterile, or crassly utilitarian. Paradoxically perhaps, structural forms can be functional without being deprived of the truly creative, void of the artistically challenging, or stripped of the esthetically appealing contributions of architecture. Religious residences are generally built in view of their multiple and unique functions. So, the first chal-lenge is to attempt to define the multifunctionality of a religious building that is to be something more than a warehouse for people or a residence for transient day-laborers, not unlike a Motel 6 or Holiday Inn. The bui~ldings are residences for women or men dedicated to a life in community (mensa communis remains an apt term) and bound together by common religious life and ideals, expressed in vows, vocation, and ministerial commitment. A first consideration, when looking at form-func-tion, is the physical arrangement or basic design of the building. What structural units are judged major-- i.e., the central, common spaces of the community? The community chapel, gathering room, library, and Review for Religious dining facility--characterized by their size, location, and accessibility--are generally considered primary. A well thought out floor plan needs to facilitate patterns of movement to these central community areas. Secondary structural units are necessary community service areas and the rooms for individual members, which provide commodious but not ostentatious living. I recall that some artist--perhaps Michelangelo-- stated that "small rooms beget small ideas." Although the personal rooms of the members remain secondary in terms of designed structural units, they are not unimportant for the general well-being of the commu-nity. Each community has its own approach and its own reasons for making its deci sions. One religious community that initially provided private rooms for members in initial formation decided to redesign the space into areas that could be occupied by several persons because they felt that during the ini-tial formation stage private accommodations fostered too much individualism, egocentrism, and even narcis-sism-- a concern that the 'T' might loom larger than the "we." Such questions remain open to serious reflection and debate based on various issues that come into play --e.g., culture, maturity, and background of the indi-viduals concerned. Ultimately, what must be considered in any situa-tion is the basic interrelationship of major and secondary structural units and their impact on the daily life and well-being of the community. Consciously or unconsciously, Some artist stated that "small rooms beget small ideas." 381 70.4 2011 Krosnicki ¯ Architecture and Religious Life decisions about their size and placement will identify and underscore community priorities and emphases. The physical environment does influence the persons who occupy the building, 382' The Building Shapes the Community We must accept the fact that the physical environ-ment does influence the persons who occupy the building. In a process that is subde and for the most part uncon-scious, the edifice can take hold and mold the minds and hearts of the occupants for good or ill. A house at architectural peace with itself can pro-mote harmonious peace for the inhabitants. A house bereft of structural harmony and beauty can, unfortunately, exacerbate division and conflict. That alone is a good reason for "getting it right" on the draw-ing board from the very beginning. Buildings, even for religious men and women, need to support and enhance the individual emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. Consideration must be given to how the psychological and spiritual well-being of the community members can be fostered by the house they inhabit. Is there an appropriate balance between community and individuality? What about the tension between the need for private and for public spaces? Areas of silence and communication? Flexibility and stability? Buildings architecturally designed like rabbit burrows or mazes, where one can easily hide away from others, do not facilitate communication (and therefore community itself) any more than open ended "glass houses" neces-sarily foster or encourage healthy solitude and needed Review for Religious silence. Other problems can be compounded by poor physical layout. Anger, for example, can be triggered by a person's assigned living space within the commu-nity (e.g., "We built the rooms too close to--or too far from--the elevators"). Inadequate light might contribute to depression--e.g., "It's too dark here. I need the sun. I'm depressed." Community and interpersonal tensions can arise when the building itself does not reinforce per-sonal identity, enhance self-worth, or affirm self-esteem. [Editor's Note: One, however, must admit that while some difficulties can be remedied by a change of rooms or by the purchase of adequate lamps, even the best architec-tural planning can go only so far in addressing deeply engrained attitudes and longstanding difficulties.] Serious interpersonal conflicts might be symptomatic of a systemic error in the very environmental package in which one "lives and moves and has his or her being." "You act the way you dress" is a maxim that might be buttressed with another: "You live the way you're housed." Physical, emotional, psychological wholeness and well-being along with spiritual growth are nourished by an environment of beauty and are enhanced by tran-quility begotten of right order. Go Green A new, but significant, consideration in the design and use of religious buildings is the "green" movement. Care for the earth and its natural resources is not only an environmental issue but a theological one as well. In the design and construction of new buildings by reli-gious communities, attending to this "green" factor can stimulate new thinking, practical cost-saving, and aware-ness of environmental issues. There are already positive examples in this regard. 3,83 70.4 2011 Krosnicki * Architecture and Religious Life The Holy Wisdom Monastery of Benedictine Sisters in Middleton, Wisconsin, (www.benedictinewomen.org) that opened in August 2009 addressed "green" issues such as geothermal heating and cooling, solar panels, rain and roof gardens, tankless water heaters, optimum use of natural light, restored natural prairie habitats, and use of regional building materials. The goals are clear: an environmentally sound structure, respect for the environment, use of energy-saving programs, affordable housing, and the manifestation of a spirituality aligned with a care for the earth and all creation. One resource for any religious community consider-ing the construction of a new building or the retrofit-ting of an old one would be the U.S. Green Building Council (USGBC). LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design), a program developed by USGBC, "provides building owner and operators a concise frame-work for identifying and implementing practical and mea-surable ~green building design, construction, operations, and maintenance solutions" (see www.LEED.org). The LEED program can be applied to all buildings regardless of where they are in their life cycle (old, renovated, new). Impact beyond the Community It is my contention that, with few exceptions, reli-gious women and men have not given enough attention to the architectural impact their buildings--in particular their residences--have on their membership. In addition to all that has been said above, it would be important to know what impression our buildings have on those who are shopping around for a religious community. Could it be that the building that clothes the community is of far more significance--more, even, than the religious habit--than heretofore granted? Certainly, in the pro- Review for Religious cess of designing new structures or retrofitting old ones, the psychological, spiritual, and physical well-being of the individual, and therefore of the community, must be carefully weighed. In all these areas, there is ample reflection material for the community, the architect, and the construction company. The fruit of that reflec-tion would benefit religious life and those that religious touch by their life and ministry. Approaching Fall As the drone of locusts saws through evening silence, summer quietly collapses. No encore of merry gardens, rains trelsy of wrens, aroma of cut grass. I gird my soul as I view the spent zucchini plants fiat and pallid. No sly submarines left. And so goodbyet. My God, pull back these fingers reaching for what's gone. Teach them to renounce for the needed span all blush and bloom, all sun-nursed freshness. Stiffen my spine for sterner days, arthritic stalks in dying fields, the grief of trees soon to weep their leaves. Let me trust the grace all losses offer. Patricia Schnapp RSM 70.4 2011 focus on JOEL GIALLANZA Be Saints: Pathway to a Holy Life Joseph On 17 October 2010, Pope Benedict XVI can-onized Brother Andr4 Bessette CSC, the first member of the Congregation of Holy Cross to be so honored. His canonization did not really surprise anyone who knows anything about his life and work and, of course, about the Oratory of Saint Joseph in Montreal. Even before Andr4's beatification in 1982 and now his canonization, it was easy to think of him as a saint. He was considered such even during his lifetime. And, in the interim period of forty-five years between his death and his beatification, it was generally assumed that one day he would be officially recognized as a saint by the church. It was easy to think of him as a saint because of the many healings and Joel Giallanza CSC is the administrative assis-tant to the provincial of the South West Province of the Holy Cross Brothers. He can be addressed at 1101 St. Edward's Drive, Austin, Texas 78704. Revi~ for Religious other miracles associated with him. Though not often mentioned, those other miracles included bi-location and the gift of insight through which he could read (or "see," as he said) people's souls. These types of miracles came to light during the testimony of witnesses in the processes for his beatification and canonization. Brother Andre's frequent exhortation to others was simple and direct, "Be saints." His life and work set before us a way to holiness, a way to "be saints." A Life and A Work Alfred Bessette was born on 9 August 1845, in Saint Gr~goire d'Iberville, Qudbec, Canada. He was the eighth of twelve children. By the time he was twelve years old, both his parents had died; he and his siblings were separated and sent to live with various relatives. Alfred did not receive much education; he learned to sign his name and to read a little. His health was always weak and it was difficult for him to keep a regular job. As a young man, he worked for various factories and mills in Canada and the northeastern United States. In 1870, when he was twenty-five years old, he applied for admission to the Congregation of Holy Cross, a community of brothers, priests, and sisters founded in France thirty-five years earlier by Blessed Basil Moreau CSC, a diocesan priest of Le Mans. Alfred was accepted, and took the name Brother Andre. Because of his poor health, his approval for profession of vows was delayed. After his initial formation, he was assigned to Notre Dame College in Montreal, a secondary boarding school sponsored by the Congregation of Holy Cross. He served as doorkeeper, infirmarian, barber, and jani-tor. In 1872, he was approved to profess his vows as a 387 70.4 2011 Giallanza ¯ Be Saints Brother of Holy Cross. Though he was not involved in the school extensively, he was particularly sensitive to students who were ill. When an epidemic of smallpox broke out in another school in Montreal, Andr~ rec-ommended a procession with a statue of Saint Joseph through the school. The epidemic diminished imme-diately. Increasingly, the sick began to visit Brother Andr~ and ask for his prayer and advice. His usual recom-mendation was that they pray to Saint Joseph to ask for his intercession. In the early 1870s, the first heal-ings began to occur. Brother Andr~ always insisted that Saint Joseph accomplished all these things. His typi-cal "response when people requested his own prayer was simple: "Ask Saint Joseph to bring your petition to God." Because the sick were coming to the school to see him, parents and community members objected that the students were being exposed to various sicknesses and diseases. It became difficult for Andr~ to meet with those who came to him for prayer. In 1896, the Congregation of Holy Cross purchased a piece of property across the street from the school, near a trolley stop, where the sick could meet with Brother Andr& A small chapel was built in 1904, and in 1909 he was assigned full-time to be in charge of this place of prayer. In 1915 construction began on a larger chapel, the crypt church of the present Oratory of Saint Joseph, to accommodate more people. The number of pilgrims seeking Brother Andre's counsel and Saint Joseph's intercession steadily increased. After comple-tion of the crypt, construction continued and the upper church began to take shape. When funds fell short and the work was suspended prior to the placement of the roof, Brother Andr~ said, "If Saint Joseph wants a roof Review for Religious over his head, he will take care of it." Saint Joseph even-tually did take care of it, but Andr~ was not alive to see it. Over the years Brother Andre's health never improved. Two days after Christmas, 1936, he had a severe attack of indigestion, and a few days later he was admitted to the hospital. In the days that followed, his pain increased; during that time he was constantly pray-ing and asking that God's will be done. On January 4 he went into a coma. Brother Andr6 died at 12:50 AM on 6 January 1937. His body was brought to the Oratory. During the next seven days more than one million people waited in line, in the bitter cold, to pass his body, to touch their rosaries and other objects to it, and to pray. Many extraordinary cures were reported during those days. Saint Andr~ did not live to see the completion of Saint Joseph Oratory as it is today; however, he is buried in the crypt church he knew so well. The Oratory contin-ues to be a place of prayer and pilgrimage. Andre's name is forever linked to that of Saint Joseph because of the obvious similarities between these two saints. Both were simple laborers through whom God chose to do extraordinary things; both knew pov-erty and suffering; both experienced exile. Above all, both remained faithful to whatever God asked of them; both point out to us a pathway to holiness. A Way to Holiness Though Andre's life was filled with miracles and other extraordinary phenomena, our faith teaches us that such things do not de facto constitute a person's holiness. Holiness is not about singular actions within a person's life, regardless of how impressive those may be. Holiness 70.4 2011 True holiness is enduring 390 is reflected through the person's entire life, the complete example that is given to others. Further, the standard for such holiness is not arbitrary; it is nothing less than God's own person. Jesus taught, "Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48). Another transla-tion says, "Be holy, as God in heaven is holy." With the Incarnation, Jesus becomes the standard. Holiness is simply to live as Jesus lived, to love as Jesus loved, to do what Jesus did; we do it in our own lives, in our daily relationships and responsibilities. Each and accessible, time Jesus confronts those . who would sum up the law in terms of what they do or what they have accom-plished, he counters it by referring to the priority of mercy, detachment, compassion, forgiveness, charity-- in brief, following him and his way. We look to people we consider holy for encourage-ment and guidance, for insight about how to follow Jesus. Brother Andre's entire life and example speak to us of following Jesus, of being holy. His is an endur-ing holiness that reaches beyond the historical period in which he lived. His life also reflects an accessible holiness; a way of life that is possible, even though we may never do exactly what Andr~ did. His instruction to us is simple, "Be saints." True holiness is enduring and accessible; temporary holiness is counterfeit and conceited. In our own way, in our own life, we can be holy. Brother Andr4 shows us a pathway to a holy life. What are the recommendations for the way to holiness that Andre's life and example place before us? These reflections will focus on four recommendations. Review for Religious Believe First, believe. Andrd used to say, "God never forgets us." "Never" is a strong word and leaves no room for variation. And yet, that is what our faith teaches us. God is always with us. God always loves us--always, without exception. Do we believe that, without exception? This is the faith to which we are called. The challenge for us emerges when our faith is confronted by experiences that do not speak to us of God, or by events that seem to be in direct contradic-tion to what we hold to be true of a loving God, a good God. Then we are tempted to think that God possibly has forgotten us or is looking the other way for the moment. Yet, faith teaches us that such are God's ways, such is the way that Providence works. We are called to trust Providence, to believe Providence, even when things point in directions that, to all appearances, have nothing to do with God. This was true in Andre's life. The fact that he was admitted to the Congregation of Holy Cross is evidence that God was at work when the normal pointed in the opposite direction. He was not educated, he learned to read very little, and could barely write much beyond his name. His health was always precarious. From a voca-tion perspective, it was uncertain if he would ever have the capability or stamina for any kind of ministry. These facts provided more than sufficient reasons for the com-munity to think that it would be too much of a risk to accept him. Still, Andr~ remained faithful to the work that had been assigned to him and hoped he would be accepted. As he said, "If you do not believe in God, you will get nothing." Andr~ believed; and though his formal acceptance and profession of vows were delayed, he was admitted to Holy Cross. 391 70.4 2011 Giallanza ¯ Be Saints Similarly, the fact that the Oratory came into exis-tence is a testimony to Andre's faith that God, through Saint Joseph, would complete what Andr~ believed God was calling him to do. Even after permission was received from the community to proceed with the con-struction, there were financial setbacks. Each step along the way required the conviction that God and Saint Joseph would provide. Brother Andr~ continued his work as if God and Joseph were already in the process of providing. As con-struction work was well underway, when asked how he had succeeded, Andr6's reply was simple, "I have always left the work of the Oratory in the hands of the good God." In late 1936 and early 1937, when it became evi-dent that Brother Andr~ would die before the comple-tion of the upper basilica, his own perspective never varied: "The good God has no need of me to complete this work. Saint Joseph will see to it." The foundation for our own spiritual life is faith, the conviction that God does not and will not forget us or abandon us. In reality the questions before us are not about God's side of the relationship; rather they arise about our side of the relationship. VChen are the times that I tend to forget God? What experiences or events distract me from God's constant presence to me? What can I do to maintain a conviction about the constancy of God's presence? Pray A second recommendation for the way to holiness that Andr~ teaches us: pray. Andr~ used to encourage others by telling them, "When we pray, God's ear is pressed to our lips." It is an intriguing image for at least two reasons. Review for Religious First, there is an intimacy about the image, illustrat-ing God's desire to be as close to us as possible. There are obviously times when we do not sense or perceive that proximity as a reality. Andr~ assumed it. He believed that God would be near when we prayed regardless of whether we experienced that nearness. Such an insight builds upon the faith that was mentioned as the first rec-ommendation for a way to holiness. There is no incen-tive to pray if we think that the words and thoughts and desires that we bring to prayer simply disappear into a vacuum. To pray at all, we must believe that God is near to us. The Book of Deuteronomy teaches us: This commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, "Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, "Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?" No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe (30:11-14). Such is God's closeness to us when we pray. Second, it is interesting that in this perspective on prayer Brother Andr~ saw God as quite active. He had the firm conviction that God was listening and listening closely. It is God who presses an ear to our lips. God is interested in our prayer and wants to hear what we have to say. It was said by witnesses that Andr~ prayed as if he was speaking to someone from whom he expected an answer. We must be willing to bring the happenings of our daily life into our prayer, honestly and directly. Andr~ used to say, "In prayer, one speaks to God as one speaks to a friend." We can speak to God in this way because there is an intimacy about prayer and because God draws close to us when we pray. 393 70.4 2011 Giallanza * Be Saints Prayer may not be so much about changing the world around us as it is about changing our perspective on that world. 394 Brother Andr4 prayed about what was going on in his life and his ministry. He brought his concerns to God, very explicitly. Whether it was his concern about the continuing development of the Oratory or about the condition of a particular person who had asked for his prayer, he believed that prayer could and would have a real impact in the world. He says in his customary sim-plicity, "If we prayed more, things would go better in the world." Given the complexities of the world in which we live, it would be too easy to dismiss this as naive. And yet, prayer may not be so much about changing the world around us as it is about chang-ing our perspective on that world, enabling us to make a difference, enabling us to see ways in which God is present and active. Genuine prayer always urges us to action; prayer apart from action is no prayer at all. When it came to Saint Joseph, we know that Andr4 had a special relationship with him. For Andr4 it was sim-ply a matter of presenting to Joseph whatever needed to be done and then trusting that it would get done. He said, "If people knew how to pray better, they would obtain everything from Saint Joseph." The challenge is two-fold: first, to be clear regarding what we are praying about; and second, to refer everything to God's will. What we envi-sion as a response to our prayer may or may not be what God has in mind. Praying "better," as Andr4 understood it, required attentiveness to whatever God has in mind. Review for Religious Prayer builds upon the foundation of faith and is necessary for our continued progress and growth in our faith life. Our approach to prayer and our fidelity to prayer say more about its quality than does the actual content and method of our prayer. What is my method of prayer and am I faithful to it? Do I bring to prayer the reality of my everyday life: my hopes, struggles, fears, expectations, aspirations? Is my prayer more a demand or a desire, a litany or a longing, a performance or a passion? Ser~e A third recommendation for the way to holiness: serve. Brother Andrt's sense of service direcdy echoes the gospel; he said, "We cannot love God without lov-ing our neighbor." Service must flow from our prayer. As prayer expresses our love-relationship with God, so service expresses our love for others. Brother Andr6 used to say, "The door of heaven is the heart of Jesus and the key to that door is prayer and love." These two--prayer and love practiced in service--flow into and out of one another. They form a dynamic cycle of our relationship to God and our apostolic relationships with others. Andr~ does not speak about service as much as he speaks about loving others, caring for them, and respond-ing to their needs. Clearly he understood loving others in very practical, immediate terms. Serving others, loving others, in some way engages us with them. Andr6 often said that it was not sufficient to give money in respond-ing to needs; it was also necessary to give compassion from the heart. Money could assure that there would be a distance maintained between ourselves and the reality to which we are responding; compassion demands that we 70.4 2011 Giallanza ¯ Be Saints 396 know about and be touched by the actual circumstances of others. It is clear in studying Brother Andre's example that he was willing to be very engaged in the lives of oth-ers. Witnesses testified that even brief encounters with him left them with the impression that they had been lis-tened to and even known by him much more profoundly than they had anticipated. Brother Andr~ often said that the Lord was our big brother and that we, as little brothers and sisters, have the responsibility to love one another as members of the same family. This is a key theme in the spirituality of the Congregation of Holy Cross. Still, it is especially interesting that Andr~ would use the family as a refer-ence for loving others. His own experience of family, that is, his biological family, was quite disjointed as he was growing up. In fact, his experience of family could have left him bitter or with a feeling of being deserted, due to the death of his parents and the separation from his siblings. Yet he overcame that potentially debilitat-ing reality to grow into a person who genuinely cared for others and responded to their needs. Rather than going through life with a bitterness because he had no natural-family identity, he chose to center his sense of family around the Lord Jesus. And that center was espe-cially necessary because there were times when even his Holy Cross religious family was not very supportive. Brother Andrd is known for his very close relation-ship with Saint Joseph. His mother introduced him. to practices of praying to Saint Joseph and, over time, he developed a strong and intimate relationship with this great saint. However, it is clear that the priority in his life was his love-relationship with Jesus, and he lived that relationship through his service to others. He served simply because that is what Jesus did; as Jesus Review for Religious cared for the people, so too Andrd cared for the people; as Jesus healed, so too he healed. For Andrd this was a very straightforward reality: do what Jesus did and so become like Jesus. Service, in whichever form it takes, demonstrates the reality of our spiritual life. Service--the giving of ourselves, our talents and gifts--is a necessary part of the Christian life. The alterative is that our spiritual life becomes narcissistic and self-enclosed. Neither the type nor the extent of the service that we render to oth-ers is as significant as that we build some form of ser-vice into our life as a way of continuing the mission of Jesus. Our service must be consistent with our gifts and respectful of our priority commitments in life. How do I serve others? In which ways do I continue the mission of Jesus? How has the service that I offer been a source of spiritual growth for me? Trust The fourth recommendation for the way to holi-ness: trust. Trust, in terms of the spiritual life, involves the recognition and acceptance of the abilities we have and the efforts we make to do what our relationship with God and our spiritual life require of us. Trust also involves the conviction that God will support us in those abilities and efforts. Brother Andr6 teaches us, "God does not ask the impossible. God asks that we offer our good intentions, and accept the inconveniences that come with each day, and offer our daily work." Such simplicity reflects Andr6's basic approach to the spiritual life: we do what we can with what we have. But this simplicity should not be equated with ease. Sometimes when we are con-fronted with daily inconveniences and the work that is 397 70.4 2011 Giallanza * Be Saints before us, the good intentions of which Andr~ speaks may not be so evident. Even though God does not ask the impossible, that does not mean that what each day brings to us does not feel impossible or at least over-whelming at times. Trust is to be convinced that God will remain faith-ful, that God will provide the grace we need to be good Christians, even when we encounter difficulties or experience setbacks. If we do not believe that God will remain faithful, we will gradually move toward discour-agement and, in the worst case, despair. Andr6's recom-mendation is explicit: "We must pray that God does not abandon us in our trials and pray to accept with confi-dence the trials that the good God judges appropriate for us to carry." Trust is especially necessary when confronting the cross, of whatever kind. We know that Andr~ most certainly had his share of crosses, both from the Holy Cross community and from those outside Holy Cross. Brother Andr6 speaks about the cross and about trusting God in the midst of experiencing the cross. However the cross comes, it is yet another expression of God's love for us; it is part of our transformation into the liv-ing likeness of Jesus; it is part of resurrection. This is why. Andr~ refers to trials that "the good God judges appropriate for us to carry." He saw the cross in our life as part of God's will even as it was in Jesus' own life. He said to someone who did not see any improvement in a bothersome physical condition, "If it is God's will that you be sick, why would you refuse to accomplish God's will?" The appropriateness of the crosses we carry is based upon what we need for our transformation. It also reflects our capacity to carry a particular cross and our openness to the grace necessary for carrying that cross. Review for Religious Brother Andre's name is tightly linked with that of Saint Joseph, and yet it is said by those who knew him well that his principal devotion was to the Passion of Christ. They said he spoke of the Passion as if he had lived it. This makes perfect sense for one who expe-rienced many obstacles along the pathways that he believed God was calling him to follow. And, beyond that, it makes perfect sense for one who shares in the heritage that Father Moreau, as founder, passed on to the Congregation of Holy Cross. Accepting the Passion of Christ as a model for our life requires trust, the con-viction that what we experience will truly lead to our transformation into the living likeness of Jesus, that it will guide us to resurrection. Andr6 is a saint, but if we distance him from us, then we make it impossible to use his example as a support for our own life. Each of us has ~he potential to be a saint. To realize that potential we must trust that God will give us the graces we need. The alternative to trust is self-reli-ance; it is to assume that we are self-contained in terms of the resources we need to be holy. Trust is practiced by fixing our attention on God, accomplishing our everyday responsibilities, and placing our gifts at the service of oth-ers. Do I trust that God will give me the graces I need to be a good Christian? When have I experienced trust as essential for my continued spiritual growth? Which crosses have been the most transformative in my life? "I Have Asked to be Always in God's Presence" When asked about his own prayer and spiritual life and what he was called to do, Brother Andr~ said, "I have asked to be always in God's presence." Whatever images we may have of him, his work and his miracles, it is interesting that his desire was simply to be in God's 399 70.4 2011 Giallanza ¯ Be Saints 400] presence, to do what he did in cooperation with God. At another point he said, "We must not be attached to earthly things, otherwise we cannot be attached to God." To be one with God, to be attached to God - this was his deepest longing. And that constitutes Andre's holiness more than any of the extraordinary accomplish-ments that occurred during his life or since his death. For him, this union with God, this being in God's presence, was essentially an act of love. He frequently recommended, "Pray to obtain a true love for God." A true love for God would be reflected in the desire to be ever close to God, to complete God's will, to live those qualities of life that are reflected in the gospel: humility, faith, compassion, generosity, patience, etc. It is interesting that, in commenting on his ministry, Andr~ once said, "It is su.rprising that people often ask me for healings, but rarely for humility, for the spirit of faith." While a particular healing might be important in response to what a person was suffering, he believed the priorities for the spiritual life were more closely related to humility and faith than to any healing. Before Brother Andr6 died, his last words were, "This is the seed.;' Though it is an allusion to several gospel texts, he did not expand on his statement; so we can reflect on this self-description from several perspec-tives. All of them can give us some insight into the way to holiness that Andr6 points out to us. In Matthew's Gospel, in the parable of the sower, Jesus says, "As for the seed that was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hun-dredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty" (13:23). The seed in this case is God's word that is meant to bear fruit. It is evident that Andrd's life has produced fruit Review for Religious far beyond what he may have imagined. Responding to God's word was for him a simple act of love. As he often recommended, "Love Jesus as he has loved us, effectively and openly." This is what it means to receive the word and have it grow within our life. In Luke's Gospel, while teaching the crowds, Jesus says, "What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches" (13:18-19). The seed in this case is a very small, even minuscule, real-ity that becomes ~ large enough to welcome and sustain life. As Brother Andr~ said on more than one occasion, "The Oratory is the work of the good God." Andr~ sowed a small seed, even in the midst of opposition and criticism; today it is clear how extensive the influence of the Oratory is. It continues to be a place where people find comfort and healing for their life, refreshment and encouragement for their faith. Also in Luke's Gospel, when the apostles ask for an increase in faith, Jesus responds, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you" (17:5-6). In this instance the seed is faith that accomplishes what needs to be done. The amount of faith is not of significance to Jesus; some mustard grains are almost like powder. It is the conviction and confidence underlying faith that make the difference. If we could be The priorities for the spiritual life were more closely related to humility and faith than to any healing. 401 70.4 2011 Giallanza ¯ Be Saints 402 one with God's will, our faith would have the same effec-tiveness as Jesus' own. What Andr~ did, he did in faith, confident that God and Saint Joseph would respond. He used to say, "You must submit yourself to God's will; it is the teacher of everything." Andr~ had learned well God's will; in his work for the development of the Oratory and in his healing ministry, the confidence and strength that came from that learning are clearly evident. In John's Gospel, Jesus teaches, "Truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (12:24). In this case the seed is the death that leads to new life. This may very well be the seed with which Brother Andrd identified himself. His perspec-tive, not only on the Oratory, but on everything he did, was that God and Saint Joseph were doing what needed to be done. His own task was to remain close to God and to accept whatever came. He had learned that close-ness to God came at a price. He said, "The closer one is to God, the more one suffers." There was dying to do as the Oratory developed; more than once plans did not go exactly as Andr6 had hoped or envisioned they would. But he remained faithful because he knew that God had called him to do this. " Brother Andr~ could say "This is the seed" near the end of his life precisely because that is what he had been throughout his whole life. Regardless of the gospel lens through which we reflect on his words, Brother Andrd has become a seed. His life has become an example of living God's word; of believing that the smallest efforts, if sincere, can produce enormous results; of bringing faith to all that we do; and of dying to self so that new life may emerge. Review for Religious "Be Saints" Brother Andr6's exhortation is simple: "Be saints." The assumption in this, of course, is that we can be saints. The truth is, we can. We do have the potential for a holy life, within our own life. As Andr6's example has been and continues to be a seed of encouragement for countless people, so too we are called to be a seed for others. The soil necessary for that seed to flourish requires that we believe and pray, serve and trust. These will provide the fertile ground that is the foundation for the pathway to a holy life. Reference Quotations of Brother Andr~ are taken from Frbre Andrd disait souvent. (Saint Joseph Oratory; Montreal: Editions Fides, 2010). Translation provided by the author. Imagining the Journey Retracing the route from the San Salvador airport taken by the four North American churchwomen on 2 December 1980 What did they do, I wonder, when the road turned toward death ? Gaze at the sleeping corn, longing to taste harvest? Pass by the gnarled ginger root tree, with hope for the next day's shade? Did they sense the holy ones gathered around them, arms outstretched in welcome? Did they reach for the hand of another who also trembled, finding courage and comfort in her clasp? Did they, I wonder, hold the shining beauty of this world for one last fleeting moment? Chris Koellhoffer IHM 403 70.4 2011 JOHN M. SAMAHA St. Joseph in Focus: Husband of Mary and Guardian of Jesus 404 Hw)w much do we know about the man who as the husband of the Mother of Jesus and the guardian of our Redeemer? St. Joseph is the often-overlooked member of the Holy Family. Scripture says little of him. We seem to give him scant attention. Yet devotion to St. Joseph has deep roots in Christian tradi-tion. Just how do we honor and appreciate him? Do you remember when, as children in Catholic school, we wrote "J.M.J." at the top of our papers? We did so to remind ourselves to have the same intentions that Jesus, Mary, and Joseph had in life. Husband of Mary We must remember that Mary and Joseph are a couple. And Jesus is their child. We picture the mem-bers of the Holy Family side by side. They belong Brother Jolm M. Samaha SM writes from Marianist Center; 22683 Alcalde Road; Cupertino, California 95014. Review for Relig$ous together. When separated, their significance in God's plan of salvation is clouded, because their importance lies in their relationship to each other. While honor-ing the perpetual virginity of Mary, we cannot disre-gard Joseph's privilege and happiness of being Mary's husband. Artwork has often depicted Joseph as an old man--possibly so that he would seem to be less of a threat to Mary's virginity. Such depictions tended to undervalue the loving relationship of Mary and Joseph as husband and wife. St. Teresa of Avila, for one, always insisted that Joseph was a young man when he married Mary. The special preface for Joseph the Husband of Mary in the Eucharistic Liturgy reinforces this positive approach: "With a husband's love he cherished Mary, the Virgin Mother of God." Foster Father of Jesus Since Joseph is the husband of Mary, he is also father to Jesus. While we know that Joseph was not the physical father of Jesus, Luke, in the gospel account about Jesus being lost in the temple, has Mary say to Jesus: "Son, your father and I have been searching for you in sorrow." And the preface cited above goes on to testify: "With fatherly care he watched over Jesus Christ your son, conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit." If one were to think that Joseph's fatherhood was diminished because he did not physically procreate Jesus, let that person speak with adoptive parents-- especially the ones who have conceived a child of their own and adopted others. They will let you know how real Joseph's fatherhood is. Head of the Holy Family Joseph played an important role as Jesus "grew in 405 70.4 2011 Samaba * St. ~osepb in Focus 406 wisdom, age, and grace before God and men." In the Jewish tradition children were in the special care and tutelage of their mothers until they reached the age of five. Beyond that age children came under the special guidance of their fathers. Joseph was the rabbi of the Holy Family and it was his duty and privilege to teach Jesus the Jewish faith and practices. Joseph would have led his family in worship in their home at Nazareth. At meal times both Mary and Jesus looked to Joseph at the head of the table to offer the prayer of blessing. Each year when the Passover was celebrated, the youngster Jesus played his role and addressed the ritual question to Joseph: "Father, why is this night different from every other night?" Then he listened with his mother to Joseph's narration of the glorious events of the Exodus and the explanation of the meaning of the paschal lamb. He could easily have recalled Joseph's explanation years later when he heard John the Baptizer proclaim him the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world. When Jesus was of age, Joseph introduced him to syn-agogue worship and the rituals to which Jesus remained faithful throughout his life. Joseph also taught Jesus the skills of a carpenter. By practicing this trade Jesus sup-ported himself and his mother after Joseph's death. Jesus' human experience of fatherhood was drawn from his relationship with Joseph. When Jesus said, "What father would hand his son a stone when he asks for a loaf, or a poisonous snake when he asks for a fish," surely he had in mind Joseph's gentle kindness to him as he was growing up. When Jesus told the parable of the prodigal son, Joseph could easily have been the model of the loving father in the story. As Jesus described how the father Review for Religious embraced and welcomed the son who had been lost, might he have been recalling how Joseph hugged and kissed him after he had been lost in the temple for three days? When Jesus taught us how to pray, he began with the same loving tide, abba, with which he had addressed Joseph all his life. His deep affection for Joseph is evident in scene after scene throughout the Gospels. Joseph obviously made a profound impression on Jesus. St. Joseph's Relation to Us Has Joseph made an impression on us? How do we think of St. Joseph? How do we honor him and pray to him? Do we appreciate the special place he has in Christian spirituality and in our own heritage? Let us wholeheartedly revere the husband of Mary, the foster father of Jesus, the patron of the universal Church. He is, after all, the man who is closest to Christ. Surprise Visit We much preferred Him At a distance. He could not be bought. He would not be made Into a code, A ritual Or a system. Our minds simply Could not contain Him. We wanted a distant Diety. How were we to know He would come close enough To wear our wounds ? Teresa Burleson 407 70.4 2011 potpourri CAREY ELLEN WALSH Lighting Our Modern Spirit: Pope John Paul II's Luminous Mysteries Pope John Paul II was unmistakably a Marian pope, as shown by his encyclical Redemptoris Mater, his visits to prominent sites of Marian apparitions, and his papal motto, Totus Tuus ("Totally Yours") addressed to Mary--all this in an age when Marian devotion had gone into public decline. The Catholic faithful seemed either to love this about their pope or to for-give it as the pious by-product of his hav-ing grown up under Nazi, then Communist, oppression and having lost his mother at the tender age of eight.1 Both reactions missed the theological aspect of John Paul II's pastoral leadership of the church. Mary, for John Paul II, is not relegated to private devotion, but is the "school" for a 408 Carey Ellen Walsh, an associate professor of theology, is a Benedictine Oblate of St. Meinrad's and teaches theology at Villanova University. Her research inter-ests include biblical theology and Catholic spiritualities. Review for Religious new evangelization in the modern world. She invites us to communal study, deepens our understanding of the gospel, and so eases our isolation. As pastor of the universal church, the pope was drawing on an image of the familiar and universal--a mother's love for her child--as a means for spiritual nourishment. Yet because he used the ancient devotion of the rosary, the spiritual contribution of his example in learning from Mary has not received sufficient attention. It is the intent of this essay to demonstrate the spiritual gift of John Paul II's meditation on the rosary. For a pope's foremost role is that of pastor, with "supreme, full, immediate, and uni-versal power in the care of souls.''2 My focus therefore is precisely on how John Paul II's Marian reflections tend to the hunger in our souls. Given his devotion to Mary, it was no surprise when John Paul II recommended anew the rosary as a devotion and declared October 2002-October 2003 as the Year of the Rosary (Rosarium Virginis Mariae). He wrote lovingly of Mary in the gospels, shared the influence the rosary had had on his own life, and suggested that the rosary was a "school of Mary''3 for learning about Christ. It was, indeed, one of his most intimate reflections. What did occasion surprise, however, was that the pope added a new set of mysteries, the luminous, to the long established joyous, sorrowful, and glorious myster-ies- something no one had done for eight centuries, although many popes had written on the rosary.4 In fact, from the start the rosary had been pre-eminently a prayer of the laity, not of the hierarchy. It had first arisen as a popular practice in tandem with the monastic recitation of the Psalter. The 150 Hail Marys recited in the people's prayer, the rosary, corresponded to the 150 psalms, chanted by the monkss and gave a way for 409 70.4 2011 Walsh ¯ Lighting Our Modern Spirit Theology was no abstraction with this pope~ He used it to electrify~ and empower his hearers. 41:0 the laity to contemplate scenes from the gospel. This is how the rosary long functioned in the prayer life of Chris6ans who were largely illiterate. After considering why John Paul II thought it neces-sary for the papal office to enhance this lay devotional prayer, I will assess the theological reason for his having done so. While the pope could easily have been accused of authoritarian interven-tion in the private devo-tions of the faithful, or have been dismissed as a retrograde pope clinging to a pre-Vatican II tradi-tionalism, his Rosarium Virginis Mariae honors the lay contribution to tra-dition and was in accord with the Second Vatican Council's definition of the church as the "People of God," in which the laity plays an important participatory role. One consequence of the council's definition of the church as the people of God, rather than primarily as a clerical institution, was the erosion of the line between popular piety and theology. From the start, this pope's audience was the church as People of God, not the curia. This was evident in his use of the media, his international appearances, his World Youth Days, the popularity of his international best-seller Crossing the Threshold of Hope, and in the response of lay workers under Communist Poland who, heed-ing their pope's conviction on the dignity of all human beings, brought down the Iron Curtain. Theology was no abstraction with this pope. He used it to electrify and empower his hearers. In an age that saw the aban- Review for Religious donment of churches in Europe and the United States, he nourished the church spiritually by returning to the foundations of the faith. When John Paul wrote on the rosary, he did not segregate the professional theologians from believers in the pew, but embodied the Second Vatican C

Issue 58.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1999. ; f'o r reli i , C~stian Heritages and Contempora~ Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ~°~NUMBER5 Review for Religious is a forum for shared r(flection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. Tbe articles in tbe journal are meant to be informative, practical, historical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or ~ometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-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 P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017 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 c~)ver for information on subscription rates. ©1999 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm 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 SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER'1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ¯ NUMBER5 contents 454 perspectives The Self in Postmodern Thought: A Carmelite Response Vilma Seelaus OCD places the biblical God-related understanding of the. self, on which the Carmelite tradition rests, in conversation with the postmodern self. 470 The "World" from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II Frederick E. Crowe SJ examines some major transitions in the Christian attitude toward the world, especially as a new context for the meaning of consecrated life. 490 brothers "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother": Being and Doing Brotherhood Joel Giallanza CSC reflects on the very identity of the religious vocation of "brother" as providing both brothers themselves and the church with a rich and prophetic spirituality. Religious Brothers: One Vocation Director's Perspective Paul Bednarczyk CSC shares his reflections on why fewer people are choosing to be brothers and on some possible countermeasures. Review for Religious 5OO journeying On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming Avis Clendenen brings together personal experience and psychological and theological insight in addressing the reality of making and breaking commitments. 515 Charism and Membership: Surpassing the Institutional Limits of Religious Life Deborah M. Cerullo SSND proposes that emphasis on becoming grounded in the charism through a common novitiate experience would create a better synthesis of diverse ways of being members. 524 associates Identity, Purpose, Organization: Ongoing Associate Programs Rose McDermott SSJ presents a brief historical overview of associates and associations joined to religious institutes, reviews church legislation, and then raises issues about sound future development. 537 Similarity and Uniqueness in the Association Experience: Theological Reflection Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, Mary Mester RSM, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share their experience of using theological reflection in a regional gathering of associates and sisters. departments 452 Prisms 546 Canonical Counsel: Impediments to Admission 552 Book Reviews September-October 1999 prisms Thy kingdom come The words kingdom and reign sound off-putting to most Americans. We have little tra-dition of kings and queens. What we have of it stems from a relatively brief past of early colonizers looking back to European roots. But when we Christians pray the Lord's prayer, we find ourselves begging God--the one we address by Jesus' word Father--that "your king-dom will come." By Jesus' teaching us a way to pray as he prays, we seem to be using language that pictures God as ruler or king and God's area of influence as a kingdom. What do we mean when we pray "Thy kingdom come"? Perhaps we can gain some cl,arity by identifying first what we do not mean. Kingdom is not to be identi-fied with any political entity. Even the age-old notion of Christendom was not tl~e same as this kingdom, and so the breakup of Christendom was not a dissolution of the kingdom. Kingdom is not a certain physical locale. The Roman Catholic Church as an institutional structure is not identified with the kingdom. The church has an important role to play in the kingdom, but it is not the kingdom itself. The church continues the mission of Jesus in proclaiming the kingdom. The church is at the service of the kingdom; it is meant to be a sign, a sacrament of its presence. The kingdom is not something that we human beings fashion or build. We may sing some songs about Review for Religious our "building the kingdom of God," but there is no reality to be done corresponding to our words. According to the gospel imper-ative, we seek first the kingdom of God. We want what God wants. We desire to be totally available to God, ready to serve, eager to do God's will. Doing the will of God involves discipleship--hear-ing the call of Jesus and responding with the total gift of self. Doing the will of God makes the kingdom present, because we are busy about what God is busy about, and so we are where God is. Above all, as our petition teaches us, we pray for the coming of the kingdom since it is God's doing, it is God's work. Jesus himself never gives a definition of kingdom, and we may be surprised that no one seems to question him. In the synoptic Gospels, he never claims the kingdom as his; it always is identified with the one he calls Abba. Only through parables do we find Jesus giving some description of the kingdom. Our Christian Eucharist anticipates the frequent parable allusions to the eating and drink-ing at the Lord's table in the kingdom. For in every Eucharist we place ourselves with Jesus in his total availability to God as he prays "not my will, but yours be done." So what are we to say about the kingdom? How are we to make this petition our own every time we pray the Our Father? The kingdom is the inbreaking presence of God to our human world and our responsive relating to God's being with us. God continues to pour out divine life--what we name as grace--and, when human cooperation is present, then the kingdom is right at hand. Just as the disciples experienced the transfiguration of Jesus, so too the kingdom is often experienced by our touching into this transfiguration kind of moment of a deeper-down reality shining out through our ordinary world. As we enter into this jubilee year, not through the alarms of some millenarians, but rather through the gospel introduction of Jesus, we hear anew Jesus' call to conversion and repentance, his admonition of obedience and watchfulness, and his appeal to be ready and waiting. We are like members of a wedding party--joy-ful, expectant. But it is no bride or groom whom we serve and cel-ebrate. It is our triune God--shining out as the redemptive presence of the Father in Jesus through the power of their Spirit of love. What do we want for ourselves and for our world? "Thy Kingdom come." David L. Fleming sJ September-October 1999 perspectives VILMA SEELAUS The Self in Postmodern Thought: A Carmelite Response This article was conceived at the end of the Carmelite Seminar of 1997 at St. Mary's College in South Bend. I had an opportunity to browse in the Notre Dame book-store, and two titles in different sections waved for my attention. The first was The Thought of the Heart and the Soul of the World, in which Jungian author James Hillman takes archetypal psychology in a new direction. He claims that, with the soul of the world sick as evidenced by violence and corruption, individuals become sick at heart and suffer heart attacks. To restore the heart's courage and its imaginative power, therefore, the soul of the world needs the same attention that we have been giving to the soul of individual persons. Situating the individual self within the heart of the world challenges the rugged individualism of the modern self.1 The other book that caught my attention was Anthony Thiselton's Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self, in which he offers a hermeneutic of selfhood. Thiselton compares and assesses both modern and post-modern interpretations of the self in relation to Christian Vilma Seelaus OCD made this presentation in June 1998 at the Carmelite Seminar at St. Mary's College in South Bend, Indiana. It is being published also on audio- and videocas-sette by ICS Publications and the Carmelite Institute. Her address is Carmelite Monastery; Barrington, Rhode Island 02806. Review for Religious theology. Postmodern interpretations, he acknowledges, perceive the self as trapped within a network of role performances imposed on it by the power interests of others, but he argues for a deeper understanding of the self and its destiny. Postmodernism de-cen-ters the self; it denies any permanent, integrated reality to the self. It claims that identity is socially constructed and that people in different kinds of societies have quite different identity-forming experiences. Thiselton accepts the force of this, but argues for a deeper understanding of the self in relation to the biblical vision of reality and Christian theology.2 Reading Hillman and Thiselton enticed me into further study of postmodern thought in relation to the self. Before long, the complexity of the topic had my head spinning) Furthermore, post-modern debates about the very nature of reality challenged beliefs that shape my life as a Carmelite. And yet, the more perplexed I became, the more firmly did an inner conviction stand its ground: that our Carmelite mystical tradition has perennial values and insights for our postmodern world and perhaps for many worlds yet to come. In these reflections, therefore, I place the biblical God-related understanding of the self, on which the Carmelite tradition rests, in conversation with the postmodern self. I do this in two parts. Part One brings together important insights from both the mod-ern and the postmodern movements, showing a shift in under-standing the self. Part Two looks into the writings of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross for what they offer by way of chal-lenge, expansion, or depth in regard to the self and in regard to our own spiritual journey.as we enter the new millennium. Part One Walter Truett Anderson's insightful and witty book titled: Reality Isn't What It Used to Be helped me to realize that the self in particular is not what it used to be. What did the self use to be that it no longer is? What are the shifts in self-understanding, which, for better or for worse, postmodernism names for us? How might we as Christians respond appropriately to the challenge of post-modernism? First, what do we mean by postmodern? Postmoderns claim to have superseded, to have gone beyond, previous ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving which developed in the so-called modern September-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought period. It deconstructs them, to use the "in" term. At the same time, postmodernism is far from a developed, coherent social theory. Scholars dispute whether or not it is a form of radical modernism or something distinctive after modernism, or some of each. According to Philip Endean in his foreword to an issue of The Way dedicated to postmodernism and spirituality: As the structure of the word implies, the postmodern cannot be understood for what it is in itself, but only in terms of what has preceded it: the postmodern is a gamut of reac-tions to the modern, swinging between two moods: a mood of disillusionment, as previously unquestioned assumptions and standards are found wanting, and a mood of exhilara-tion, as new and better alternatives are explored, develop&d, and advocated. Postmodern thinking draws on a wide range of sources: from cybernetics to feminism, from literary the-ory to the new physics, from cultural history to psychoanal-ysis and linguistics. Perhaps for this reason its expression can be, notoriously, opaque.4 Although the philosopher Kant back in the 18th century.paved the way, the 1960s are considered the true beginning of the post-modern era. At that time everything came into question, and all belief systems, with their traditional values, came under attack. People in the '60s began to question what they called the myth of objective consciousness: that, when you looked at things, what you saw and described was what was actually there. (At the scene of an accident, eyewitnesses often give conflicting accounts of what happened.) Today constructivists hold that the "real world" is an ever changing social creation. In the 1960s, thoughts about the self were also changing. As Anderson points out: In the '60s, people assumed that, if you developed enough contempt for your old socially adapted self, a new True Self, unsullied by any conformity, would magically appear, that a True Culture and a True Politics likewise stood in the wings--and that when they appeared they would not have to coexist with old selves, old cultures, old politics. Things didn't work that way!6 Though the '60s were the time of eruption, postmodernism con-tinues and radicalizes trends that actually began during the Enlightenment, at the dawn of what philosophers call the "mod-ern period." Descartes (1596-1650), the classical modern philoso-pher of clear and distinct ideas, attempted to provide clear and Revieva for Religious certain criteria against which our knowledge can be tested for truth. He was also intensely preoccupied with the subject who knows these ideas: the knowing person. For today's radical deconstructionists, like Derrida, such Cartesian objectivity is anathema. Derrida holds all reality to be socially constructed. Reality is simply the interpretation of the perceiving subject. Derrida insists that we cannot grasp reality because it slips by before we can catch hold of it. Everything, then, is interpreta-tion. Nevertheless, Derrida and the other decon-structionists are in a way Descartes's descendants. Descartes understands the self as an active agent, whereas for Derrida the self shifts from active agent to passive situatedness. Instead of a core something (called selJ) determining how it will respond to different situations, the situation cre-ates the self. Different situations call forth a dif-ferent self to be expressed.7 On the whole, postmoderns recognize the importance, for its time, of the modern move-ment. It brought new values to the fore. We ben-efit from the knowledge that scientific objectivity makes possible. From it come the many techno-logical wonders that are integral to our everyday life. In the moral and political spheres, modernity made room for personal autonomy and liberty and for the development of a liberal society wherein diversity is possible. Religion, too, has been enriched by modernity. Most Jewish and Christian believers, for example, no longer subscribe to a literal understanding of the Bible's story of creation in six days.8 But the improvements of modernity have a dark side: the exploitation of nature and its resources, the emergence of indi-vidualism and the consequent collapse of the sense of community, the divorce of technology from moral values, and denials of the worth of ethnic, tribal, and religious traditions. While the modern period gave us universal abstract systems and scientific "metanar-ratives," accounts of the origins and development of the universe, these often denied the existence of God or denied that God could ¯ be discovered by the conscious self. As a result, in today's world many lives are governed by efficiency, profit, success, and the will Modernity made room for personal autonomy and liberty and for the development of a liberal society wherein diversity is possible. September-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought to power without regard for ultimate human values. Talk of love, truthfulness, belief, loyalty, and so forth has little meaning. Further, advanced technology, the offspring of the modern period, has introduced a world of ceaseless change. New models quickly replace the old. Things are made not to endure, but to be consumed and replaced. Think of how quickly appliances need replacement or upgrading. Indeed, today we struggle with both the benefits and the dark side of the modern period. As science enabled the modern self more and more to carve out and control its own destiny, the self tended to be assured and opti-mistic. But today, as postmodern thinkers become increasingly aware of the self's arrogant, power-hungry dark side, the self appears to be, in fact, de-centered--no longer an active agent, but instead taking its identity from the variable roles imposed upon it by society and by its own inner drives and conflicts, conflicts which the communications media keep in constant motion. The media, especially the advertising world, tell it who it should be, how it should look, what it should own, and where it needs to travel in order to feel good about itself. Postmoderns see our opinions formed for us by the collective perceptions of the media. Under such conditions, notions of a true self give way to the self as wear-ing different masks to suit the occasion, with little sense of a solid identity underneath. We tend to become who we think others want us to be. In theory, the will of the individual is still supreme, but often it has no strong center, no belief system to serve as anchor. When everything is up for grabs, the self lacks the support of collective meaning. There is too much to choose from; this can leave indi-viduals feeling alone in a sea of options. Many people today feel estranged from others and even from themselves. When people see no value to their lives other than the imperatives of efficiency, success, or serving the power interests of others, when their "real-ity" depends on what the TV screen says is real, no wonder there are high r~ites of suicide and physician-assisted death. Veronica Brady, in an article in The Way, describes it well: "Caught in this ceaseless flow of images, the self almost ceases to exist, breaking into fragments, identifying only with the flow. Right and wrong become a matter of personal taste, depending not so much on what is done but who does it. The center does not hold because there is no center.''9 A character in Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses says: "Information got abolished sometime in the Review for Religious twentieth century, can't say just when, stands to reason, that's part of the information that got., abolished. Since then we've been living in a fairy-story . Everything happens by magic. [We] haven't a. notion what's going on. So how do we know if it's right or wrong? We don't even know what it is.'''° Rushdie's world of illusion hangs within the "actual" world of extremes of rich and poor, with millions dying of starvation as nations invest billions of dollars in developing new and deadlier weapons that are then sold to warring ethnic and tribal groups intent on destroying each other. In this context the theories of deconstructionists like Derrida and Lyotard begin to make sense. The absurdity of human confidence in its power to rule the world is becoming more and more apparent as the products of the human mind threaten to destroy us. At the same time, on the positive side, the modern period highlighted one of the deepest urges of the human heart: to be someone. The drift of cultural change is in the direction of human rights, of wanting everyone to be free to create personal identity and experience, even though, for many in our world, resources are not available. No wonder people become dishonest--seeking to have and be and do what the TV ads say they should have and be and do. The struggle to be someone is now a global struggle. Some years ago I had occasion to live in Israel for three months. The incongruities of the struggle became vivid for me when I saw, above Bedouin tents in the desert, TV antennas con-necting them with the modern/postmodern world. As Walter Truett Anderson puts it: "Every morning billions of pairs of eyes open, and billions of societies of mind set forth on the adventures of selfhood. For many the adventure only rarely rises above the level of a struggle to keep the body alive, but even the most mis-erable among us also hear the aspirations of the self---the 'me' craving reassurance that it exists and is good and the modern me that pursues happiness and believes that, whatever happiness it finds, will be what it has taken or created and not what has been handed down by fate.''~ To add a further dimension, the global struggle to be someone is seen with fresh and deep insight by postmodern psychologists who have been influenced by Buddhism. Psychologists Robert Rosenbaum and John Dyckman hold with Buddhism that self/oth-ers are empty. This does not mean that they are void; it means they have no existence other than in relationships that are con- Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought World and self mutually influence and create one another. stantly arising in the immediate experience of the moment. To say that the self is empty means that the self is not a thing and there-fore has no unchanging core characteristics or essence. It is a way of indicating that self is always completely connected to its imme-diate experience, that in the immediacy of the moment, uncon-strained by past residue or future expectations, self is always free. As the Buddhist Diamond Sutra notes, the past is gone, the future is not here, and the present cannot be grasped. This is perfect freedom.12 As the authors point out, freedom here is not to be confused with a pseudofreedom that seeks to abandon all constraints. Instead, to understand emptiness as being connected to immedi-ate experience can lead to greater generosity and compassion toward the self and others. Past experience no longer has the last word. The empty self, actualized in immediate expe-rience, binds together apparent opposites: the dynamic interchange of oneness and separate-ness. These are not mutually exclusive. The empty self is the connected self which is actu-alized in context and in relationships. Observation reveals self-identity to be fluid and constantly changing according to context and relationships. As the Rosenbaum-Dyckman article puts it, "At work we may be decisive and authoritative; when out to dinner with our spouse, we may be hesitant and deferent about what to order for dinner. Yet we believe ourselves to be the same person.°13 Postmodern psychologists repeatedly make the point that our person is not encapsulated by our skin, but exists in relation. The self is always self in relation, in action, and as such is always con-textual. They hold that emotions are always a reliving in the pre-sent rather than a recall from the dead past. If we do not need to be attached to an unchanging self, and can see change as the only constant, it becomes somewhat easier to image change in prob-lem behaviors24 Although the self may be fluid and constantly changing, it must nevertheless have a boundary, but, according to Rosenbaum and Dyckman, a boundary with infinite length enclosing a finite, definable area, different from the rigid boundaries of lines on a map. Human boundaries are not abstract, conceptual schemas, but are always embodied in constant interaction with a world from Review for Religious which they are not separate. World and self mutually influence and create one another. Such mutual influencing has the potential to stretch present definable boundaries and give glimpses into the infinite. Here the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican comes to mind. If our attitude is one of self-righteousness that places us over against the rest of the world, we will be unable to hear the challenges that postmodern psychologists offer us for continued growth in our postmodern world. Our boundaries become sealed in finitude, and the infinite capacity that is ours becomes rigid, like the lines of a map. Psychologists in increasing numbers address the postmodern shift in regard to the self, and they offer valuable insights for living healthily in today's changing world. At the same time, postmodern philosophers and psychologists do not have the last word, and so now we turn to the mystics for their insights into the self. Part Two Since human boundaries are not abstract, but are embodied and are in constant interaction with the world from which they are not separate, precisely here does the biblically based Carmelite tradition offer timeless help. Back in 16th-century Spain, Teresa of Avila wrote a book to help her daughters of the reformed Carmel relate to one another and to the world, from which they were not separate even in their cloister. In her Way of Perfection, she gives her daughters some advice that flows with meaning into our post-modern age: "I shall enlarge on only three things., for it is very important that we understand how much the practice of these three things helps us to possess inwardly and outwardly the peace our Lord recommended so highly to us. The first of these is love for one another; the second is detachment from all created things; the third is true humility, which, even though I speak of it last, is the main practice and embraces all the others.''~s Many centuries separate us from Teresa and the particularity of her issues, but the interrelated dynamic of love, detachment, and humility are integral to spiritual growth in today's confusing world. Postmodernity challenges much of what we cling to by way of values and beliefs and, in particular, our self-understanding. To understand the self as fluid and constantly changing invites a deeper penetration into the Christian, Carmelite Understanding of Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought detachment. It would have us be attached to nothing, not even the most innocent of things, for in time of need they fail us com-pletely. John of the Cross insists: "To come to the knowledge you have not, you must go by a way in which you know not. To come to the possession you' have not, you must go by a way in which you possess not. To come to be what you are not, you must go by a way in which you are not . This places us in our center of humility.''16 Detachment and humility go hand in hand. They cre-ate an openness to new ideas, a willingness to let go of the past an, d let the context of the present create us anew. The contextual pre-sent is the place of encounter with God. The past, while it may continue to influence present behavior, is in fact nonexistent, and the future evolves out of each passing moment. Detachment opens up roads less traveled; but, if we feel attached to our current road, we may all too readily say, "This is me; this is my self." We have heard people say, "I'm a one on the enneagram or an INFP on the Myers-Briggs, so you have to take me as I am." With such a self-fixated attitude, we will less likely hear God's invitation into the infinite realms of potential self-realization. If we conceive of the self as determined by the pathways already taken, a composite of past experiences, it will be hard to let go when unknown paths beckon us onward. As Rosenbaum and Dyckman put it, "The self, as an accumulation of experience, is a prison; the self as empty, as shimmering potentiality, is a prism that, depending on its positioning, gives forth many different colors."17 In his Spiritual Canticle, John of the Cross reminds us that the woods and thicket in which we find ourselves today have been planted by the hand of the Beloved.18 God's self revelation con-tinues right within the human story. The density and darkness of postmodernity--which holds that there is a multiplicity of per-spectives in the search for truth, which denies a stable foundation of self and of knowledge--can generate extremes of uncertainty. But the de-centered self of postmodernity has its own gift to offer. It invites us, beyond the limits of what can be known and con-trolled, into a self that is mystery, into God as ultimate Mystery. The temptation is either to stay blinded in self-righteous cling-ing to the limitations of human knowledge, or to despair before the uncertainties of life. Detachment itself can be the void of despair, unless it is grounded in faith and in the experience of God. The Dutch theologian Frans Jozef van Beeck, in his contem-porary. Catholic systematic-theology series titled God Encountered, Review for Religious reminds us that "the human subject., is naturally and radically 'de-centered': the mature person's true center does not repose in the person. Authentic persons live on the strength of unfulfillable desire . Grace graciously enables human persons, along with their world, to that most natural, yet most divine of all things: freely to move toward God in total faith and abandon."'gIn the midst of alternative versions of reality, and many different ways of being in the world, with the postmodern tolerance for a plethora of possibilities, choosing to believe in something is vital. We can be respectful of others with differing beliefs and still stand firm in the faith that is ours, a faith that centers the self in God. According to the philosopher Kierkegaard, faith is the pas-sionate embrace of objective uncertainty.2° Faith bypasses the postmodern self that interprets, even cre-ates, its own reality. It bypasses human reason to plunge us into mystical depths where being and nonbeing are held in cre-ative tension by God's abiding presence to human life. At this level Rahner rightly speaks of the experience of God and the experience of self as one.2' In his insis-tence upon the possibility open to all of an immediate experience of God, Rahner writes: "I am convinced that such an immediacy between God and the human person., is of greater significance today than ever before. All the societal supports of religion are collapsing and dying out in this secularized and pluralistic society. If, nonetheless, there is to be real Christian spirituality, .it cannot be kept alive and healthy by external helps, not even those which the church offers., but only through an ulti-mate, immediate encounter ofthe individual with God.''22 The Harvard psychologist Charles Verge names this place of encounter "the divine self.''23 Here the self and God mirror each other.24 The longing of the human heart to be someone issues from God, in whose image we are made and whose love holds us in being. "Beloved of God" defines the self. The Spiritual Canticle of John of the Cross is a text that writes the self of each one of us. In the Canticle, God's passionate love for the soul, enfleshed in Christ, The longing of the human heart to be someone issues from God, in whose image we are made and whose love holds us in being. Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought stirs a passionate response and gives meaning and direction to life right within the extremes of uncertainty that surround us. To be transformed into the image of Christ, to become like Christ, con-stitutes the heart of the divine promise. Faith enables us to embrace, with passion, the ultimate objec-tive uncertainty that the mystery of God revealed in Christ is. Christ lifts the self out of its predefined situatedness with its self-interest, into love for God and love for others. God's love trans-forms the will to power, to possession, to lust, into will to love. The detachment that faith calls forth issues in genuine love even for those who differ from us. Postmodernism stretches our capacity to love. Life today beckons toward a global embrace of love; love for those who may look different from us, love for those who may think differently from us, and love for those whose values may be different, even opposed to ours. Today, in the face of our differences, love holds the special challenge of intense, respectful listening, which can only happen if the heart is humble. A humble heart is a heart detached from pre-conceived ideas and personal prejudice. According to Teresa, humil-ity is truth, and our truth is that we are all, without exception, finite, fragile creatures capable of sin and that as such we always stand on the threshold of ongoing conversion. At the same time, integral to truth is that each one of us is always infinitely loved and possessed by God. Insofar as we fall short, God invites us to continued conversion and, even more, to divine transformation. Our challenge is to live Christ's gospel of love. Such love dissolves the disharmony of suspicion and distrust, it detaches us from self-interest, and it opens us to others in humility and genuine con-cern. As Rahner sagely asks, "Why should there be any need for deception, which serves to protect the self, if the self is loved, wel-comed, accepted, and reconciled-as-one with the Other?''2s Receiving the self from God in Christ, giving the self to others in love, and serving the other's interests as one's own are mirrorings of God, the divine self-giving Trinity, in whose image we are. In trinitarian theology, love constitutes the ground of selfhood. The gospel account of Jesus at table, encircled by the outcasts of his time, symbolizes the self today cast out from itself and in need of re-centering in Christ. From the horizon of Christ, we see the incompleteness of all that is human in relation to our total commitment to Christ, but in Christ we also see ourselves con-nected with the heart of all that is. Revie~v for Religious The archetypal psychology of James Hillman invites us to this from a psychological perspective. He would have us see ourselves and others as intimately connected with what he calls the soul of the world. Today conversion extends to claiming our part in what Hillman rightly names the sickness of the soul of the world. He claims that the world, because of its breakdown, is entering a new moment of consciousness by having its attention drawn to itself by means of its symptoms. It is becoming aware of itself as a psychic reality. We now encounter pathology in the psyche of politics and medicine, of language and design, of the food we eat. Sickness, says Hillman, is now "out there" as well as "in here.''26 To situate our individual self within the heart of the world not only challenges the rugged individualism of the modern self; it also invites a deeper awareness of our connectedness with others and with planet Earth, whose beauty and balance are today oppressed by our violent consumer world. The world itself is now a patient in need of hea~ling. Postmodernism offers a broader understanding of the redeeming mission of Christ. The entire cos-mos becomes the locus of redemption. Like us, our church and civilization and even planet are all in need of Christ's redeeming, healing, transforming love. Postmodernism is globalism; as such it is the half-discovered truth of the one unity that transcends all our differences. The language of postmodernism would be alien to Teresa, and yet, as she increasingly experienced herself as centered in God, her self became increasingly fluid. She seems astonished as the boundaries of the self continue to expand. There are many exam-pies, but in her Autobiography, her Vida (chap. 15, para. 7), Teresa, experiencing herself infused with the light of God, comments: "And I, though being what I am, seem to be another person." In 23.1, recalling how God freed her from herself, she writes that "here begins another new life." In 27.1, having placed herself com-pletely in the hands of God, she says, "l saw that I was a com-pletely different person." In 27.9 she says, "One of these graces is enough to change a soul completely.''27 In the context of these remarks, Teresa specifically mentions that she is growing in either love, detachment, or humility. At the height of her mystical life, Teresa has a profound expe-rience that, on the level of the divine self, reflects the empty, de-centered, but relational, contextual self of postmodernity. In 40.5 of her Vida, she writes: Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought Once, while I was reciting with all the sisters the hours of the divine office, my soul suddenly became recollected; and it seemed to me to be like a brightly polished mirror, without any part on the back or sides or top or bottom that wasn't totally clear. In its center Christ our Lord was shown to me, in the way I usually see him. It seemed to me I saw him clearly in every part of my soul, as though in a mirror¯ And this mirror also--I don't know how to explain it--was com-pletely engraved upon the Lord Himself by means of a very loving communication I wouldn't know how to describe. ¯ I was given understanding of what it is for a soul to be in mortal sin. It amounts to clouding this mirror with mist and leaving it black; and thus this Lord cannot be revealed or seen, even though he is always present giving us being. In God, Teresa is connected with the world's sin, even as she affirms the ever present graciousness of God always giving us being within the darkness of sin. God is present in Teresa, not with power and might, but in love and with an invitation to self-transcendence that is as pertinent and penetrating for us today as it was for Teresa. In 3 7.11 of her l/ida, Teresa sounds as though she is living in our present age. After lamenting the foibles of her honor-bound society, with its elaborate system of etiquette, she says, "I don't know how it's all going to end up; even though I'm not y.et fifty, I've already seen so many changes I don't even know how to live anymore. What will they do who are now being born and will live for many years?" What will we do, we who have been born in this postmodern era, this era in which we live for many years, often into our nineties? Like Teresa, we do not know where it is all going to end up. Many would say that dark night engulfs our entire world and the times in which we live. The Carmelite tradition, however, assures us that God is in the night. John of the Cross eloquently describes the meaning of the soul's journey into the night of God. In this night of faith, we discover that love is the eye of God and we in turn are to see and interpret all things through the eyes of God. From this perspective we see that we are all one in God's love and that we bear one another's burdens. By the quality of our lives, Christ would have us be bearers of hope for all who suffer the travails of poverty, violence, injustice, and oppression. Right within the many forms of death that surround us is the seed of resurrec-tion impatient for new life. As we work with our differences in families, in our civic and Review for Religious church communities, we can dare to hope that our graced strug-gle will energize efforts toward understanding, toward finding common ground within the extremes of diversity that ctiaracterize our postmodern world. What we see in Teresa's writings is a devel-opment in her understanding of herself and of Christ, who com-panions her journey. Today,. as we find the self anew, we also find new ways of seeing Christ and the Christian mysteries right within our postmodern world, without getting caught in nostalgia for the past. Again, like Teresa, we do not know where it will all end up. What we do know is that the future is present, like a seed, in today's disconcerting moment. Our challenge is to live now, to live fully (but with humility, detachment, and love) what we say we believe. The sufferings of our time are not meaningless, as sec-ular postmodernity might see them. They are integral to the groan-ing of creation in labor until it brings forth redemption, the final triumph of God's love. At its deepest level the self is caught up in the incomprehensible mystery of Love we call God. Notes I James Hillman, The Thought of the Heart and the Soul of the World (Woodstock, Connecticut: Spring Publications, 1995). 2 Anthony C. Thiselton, Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self'. On Meaning, Manipulation, and Promise (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998). 3 It also leaves me with a little anxiety that the many authors that I read be given due credit. As I prepare this paper for publication, I real-ize that much of what I read merged in my thinking as I internalized the material. 4 See The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 175. s According to Anderson, Kant's work in the 18th century began with a problem that was as divisive in its time as the objectivist-con-structivist one is in ours--in this case a conflict between the British empiricists such as Locke and Hume, who saw thought as merely an instrument for understanding or using "real world experience," and the Continental philosophers such as Descartes and Leibniz, who saw the mind as the supreme organizer and discoverer of all reality. This was not a postmodern debate. All parties assumed that people could appre-hend unchanging and universal truth. Kant's attempt to resolve the con-flict was his own contribution to the search for "foundational" knowledge or reality--beyond historical and cultural relativism--but it pointed toward a view of the mind as a creator of reality. Kant describes the mind as an active organ that orders and forms the raw data of experience, 1-467-- September-October 1999 Seela~s ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought imposing upon them its own structure; we do not experience things in themselves but rather representations of them. See Walter Truett Anderson, Reality Isn't What It Used to Be (San Francisco: Harper, 1990), pp. 59-60. 6 Anderson, Reality, p. 48. 7 See Robert Rosenbaum and John Dyckman, "Integrating Self and System: An Empty Intersection?" Family Process 34 (March 1995): 26- 27, and Kenneth J. Gergen, "The Social Construction of Self- Knowledge," in Daniel Kolak and Raymond Martin, Self and Identity: Contemporary Philosophical Issues (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1991), pp. 372-403. 8 See Max Charlesworth, "Postmodernism and Theology," The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 188-202, for an interesting summary of the devel-opment of modern to postmodern thought. 9 Veronica Brady, "Postmodernism and the Spiritual Life," in The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 181. 10 Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses (London: Viking, 1988), p. 313, quoted in Brady, "Postmodernism." 11 Walter Truett Anderson, Reality, p. 132. 12 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," pp. 28-33. 13 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," p. 26. 14 According to Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," pp. 35-37, acknowledging memory as constructive, as a present contextual experi-ence, rather than as retrieval of the past, helps to avoid difficulties such as the controversies over recovered memories of trauma and abuse, which are a sensitive contemporary issue. ~s Teresa of Avila, Way of Perfection (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980), chap. 4, para. 4, p. 54. 16 The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), p. 150. 17 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," p. 37. is See his Spiritual Canticle, stanza 4, in Collected Works, p. 494. 19 Frans Jozef van Beeck, God Encountered: A Contemporary Catholic Systematic Theology, Vol. 2/1 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), p. 238. 20 Soren Kierkegaard, "Truth Is Subjectivity," in Concluding Unscientific Postscript, ed. and trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), pp. 169ff. "Truth is precisely the con° tradiction between the infinite passion of the individual's inwardness and the objective uncertainty. If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe. If I wish to preserve myself in faith, I must constantly be intent upon hold-ing fast the objective uncertainty, so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith . " Review for Religious 2~ See Karl Rahner, "Experience of Self and Experience of God," in Theological Investigations, vol. 13 (New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 122- 132. 22 See "The Immediate Experience of God in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola," in Karl Rahner in Dialogue, ed. Paul Imhof and Hubert Biallowons, trans. Harvey D. Egan (New York: Crossroad, 1986), p. 176. 20 See Charles Verge, "Foundations for a Spiritually Based Psychotherapy," in Religion and Family, ed. L. Burton (Hayworth Press, 1992), pp. 41-59. 24 See also her Autobiography in Collected Works of Teresa of Avila, Vol. 1, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1976), chap. 40, paras. 5 ~nd 10. Teresa here recounts two visions in which God and the soul mirror each other. See also Spiritual Canticle, stanza 12, in Collected Works of John of the Cross, pp. 515-519. 2s Quoted in Thiselton, Interpreting God, p. 160. z6 Hillman, Thought of the Heart, pp. 96-99. 27 With only a quick glance, I found chap. 20, paras. 23, 25, and 26- 28; chap. 21, paras. 8-9; and chap. 25, paras. 18-19--all referring to Teresa experiencing herself as a different person. The Salvation Cup I raise my fragile, broken cup. Accept it empty. Nothing I own can f!ll it. This is the cup of my truth, my faith in the promise, my salvation cup. Fill it with the wine of the Spirit, the river that makes fertile my barren ground, the ocean of never ending mystery. This is my cup. With it I offer my fragileness, my sinfulness and my broken promises. Heal me, Spirit of God, with theelixir of salvation. Virginia Skrdlant SHCJ September-October 1999 FREDERICK E. CROWE The "World" from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II An old proverb, once thought to be scriptural, warns us that where there is no understanding the people perish. Scriptural or not, the proverb itself is sound enough, and I would apply it to the institution of religious life. On all sides the question is heard: Is religious life dying? I refuse to believe that the God who gave us Anthony of Egypt, Benedict, Francis, Dominic, Ignatius, and so many others down to Mother Teresa is a God who intends religious life to perish. But I do believe in the need for under-standing, so that through our input God's operative grace may become cooperative. The Pattern of Human Thinking This essay is, then, an essay in understanding, but much more modest in scope than the preceding paragraph would suggest. It does not attempt td study religious life in its essence, its proper-ties, its various manifestations. It goes back rather to a prelimi-nary question and takes one small point for study: the Christian attitude toward what we call the "world." It is my hope that, if we gain some understanding on this background question, we will have a context for an eventual rethinking of religious life itself. Frederick E. Crowe SJ wrote "The Ignatian Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality" for our July-August 1994 issue. His address remains Lonergan Research Institute; 10 St. Mary Street, Suite 500; Toronto, Ontario; M4Y 1P9 Canada. Review for Religious My approach is historical rather than analytic. It examines the major transitions in the Christian attitude toward the world. It finds a dialectic running through history, a dialectic of to and fro that is not a mere alternation, but a progressively unfolding pat-tern in which each alternation is a step forward. It concludes with the way the church is finding new meaning for its role in the world, and proposes this as a new context in which religious too might find today the meaning of their consecrated life. The advantage of approaching history as a dialectic in the sense described is twofold. First, it may lift us out of our "crisis" mood, in which we think of our present situation as a spiritual fever, as a low point from which the patient may either die or recover and resume life as it was before the crisis. In a dialectical understanding, that is not the case. The low point is an opening on a new high. Second, a dialectic follows an intelligible pattern, with each step part of a natural, though not necessarily logical, sequence. This means that, if we can plot the sequence up to the present, we may be able to establish the direction of movement and discern the path we should take into the developing and unknown future. That "natural sequence" is the pattern of human thinking in time, the way the human mind naturally works as it progresses toward fuller and fuller understanding. In itself the pattern is sim-ple enough. Faced with a problem area of any complexity, the human mind will first find some specific factor of explanation, will tend to make that the whole explanation, but will eventually see that it is insufficient as a total view. It will then discover a generic factor and will in turn make that the full explanation, only to dis-cover that this too is insufficient as a total view. Eventually, in the dialectical oscillation of specific and generic, the mind will arrive at a higher viewpoint and hold the specific and the generic in the unity of a full understanding. The Pattern Illustrated That is terribly abstract. So, before applying it to the history of Christian thinking on the world, let me offer two concrete illus-trations that show the pattern as realized in actual history. First, the natural priority of the specific is easily illustrated in human lan-guage. "So in Homer there were words for such specific activities as glancing, peering, staring, but no generic word for seeing.''1 This is "both the strength and the weakness of'early language";~ it Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican ll The term vocation was appropriated to the religious life (as it commonly still is). has the power of the concrete, but is unable to reason in abstract or generic terms. And so in learning to write English we are told to search for the specific, for the concrete descriptive word, but in the strict reasoning of, say, a legal question we may have to resort to technical and abstract language. What is true of human language is true also of human think-ing, and so my second illustration is taken from the theology of our need for divine grace. Here there was first the discovery of a specific explana-tion, namely, the fall of our first parents. This was largely the focus of St. Augustine's thinking, which centered on the difference between their state before the fall and ours after it. This idea ran its course for about seven centuries, cul-minating in the position of Peter Lombard, namely, that there are in the grace-history of our human race "four states of human liberty: the earthly paradise, fallen man, man redeemed, and heaven.''3 Our need for divine grace is understood in relation to those states. Meanwhile, however, the insufficiency of this specific step was gradually becoming apparent. There was difficulty in defining lib-erty; the doctrine of merit tended to hang in mid air; even grace itself lacked a clear definition, for what is there that is not a free gift of God and therefore grace?4 The dialectic of ideas was prepar-ing theologians for the next step, the discovery of the generic the-orem of two orders with quite distinct status in the universe of being, the supernatural order and the natural: "not only was there the familiar series of grace, faith, charity, and merit, but also nature, reason, and the natural love of God.''5 This was largely the work of Philip the Chancellor in Paris in the early 1200s. It was an epoch-making discovery, and it put the question of our need for divine grace on an entirely new basis, releasing a whole series of developments. But so intoxicating was Philip's idea that theologians made a mistake exactly parallel to the one their predecessors made in the use of Augustine: the view that this was a complete and adequate explanation. Thomas Aquinas himself, in his early writings, shows hints of this one-sidedness, not giving sufficient attention to the moral impotence that is the result of Adam's fall. Nevertheless, it was Thomas who finally Review for Religious brought, the two factors, the specific and the generic, into unity. Peter Lombard's four states remain in the Thomist synthesis, but as applying to a specific question within the genus of the total divine plan.6 The Pattern Verified in the Specific Idea of "World" I have illustrated the way the human mind naturally works in time as it advances in understanding: first, a specific idea; then, exaggeration of this idea; next, a generic idea; exaggeration of this in its turn; eventually a synthesis. I believe the pattern is discernible also in the history of Christian thinking on the idea of the world. There too I find a specific and a generic factor, with the specific the first to be discovered and exploited beyond its potentiality, and the generic the next to be discovered and in its turn exploited beyond due measure. Again let us turn from the abstract to the concrete. Concretely the first step may be located in, or at least represented by, Anthony of Egypt. Toward the end of the 3rd century, "Anthony gave away his possessions, and devoted himself to a life of asceticism, and c. 285 retired completely into the desert . Towards the end of his life, the numbers of those who turned to the solitary life of the desert increased as the result of the secularization of the church.''7 It is possible to see this development in too simplistic a fash-ion, but at least one characteristic feature is clear: flight from the world. So it produced works with titles like De contemptu mundi (On contempt of the world). It filled Europe with hermitages, con-vents, and monasteries. For twelve centuries the idea ran its course with enormous impact on Christian v.alues, Christian living, Christian institutions.8 But it suffered the handicap of being a specific idea attempt-ing to provide a total view. For one example, the term vocation was appropriated to the religious life (as it commonly still is). In this respect the laity of the church and even the diocesan clergy were deemed to belong to a lower class: they did not have a "voca-tion." A reaction was inevitable, but it was centuries taking shape. Many diverse influences were at work promoting it. Its history is a complex interweaving of those influences. There were subver-sive along with legitimate movements. But what was positive and valid in the reaction, and quite natural and basic in the unfolding Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II dialectic, was the emergence of the generic factor in the concept of the world. The Pattern Verified in the Generic Idea of "World" The quite basic event, then, in the. emergence of the generic concept of the world was the discovery by Philip the Chancellor of the two orders: natural and supernatural. I used this earlier to illustrate the pattern of human thinking as it is found in theology (not only was there the familiar series of grace, faith, charity, and merit, but also nature, reason, an'd the natural love of God). I use it now as a basic explanatory factor for the new stage of our dialec-tic. That is no accident. It is an idea so fundamental that it is bound to appear in the history of any theological idea. It underpins all that I have to say in this section and the following. Every discovery makes its way against opposition from an estab-lishment. The recognition of the natural order had to be followed by a recognition of its rightful autonomy, and that could not fail to be a traumatic experience for the church. The history of this strug-gle need not detain us here. In essence the point is that the human race was not only created divine; it was also created human, with a need for hunting, fishing, farming, for song and dance, for math-ematics, science, philosophy, whatever lies within its potency for development. Without grace we are able, Thomas Aquinas would say, using his favorite example, to cultivate our fields and build our houses. But the full extent of that principle means that without grace we can marry and be given in marriage, form guilds among artisans, establish universities, function as nations, join in a world union of peoples, explore the boundaries of space. Further, the natural has its own laws. Natures operate uni-formly: we do not gather grapes from thorns or figs from thistles (Mr 7:17). And those natural laws can be isolated in thought and allowed to develop and flourish according to their own potential. For to be human is to learn: to learn that there are human tech-niques for producing good crops, human means for controlling nature, human means of self-government, human means for gain-ing wisdom and educating upcoming generations, and so on through the list. If, then, we take a broad view of the forest, not stopping to study individual trees, we can discern here the generic factor in Review for Religious the concept of the world, the needed complement to the specific factor provided by Anthony. This generic factor is the recogni-tion of the world as good in its own right. God did not create an evil universe, but made all things that they might have being and life (Ws 1:13-14; 1 Tm 4:4). That means that we can no longer be satisfied with the negative connotation of "flight from the world." There is a positive side to Anthony's strategy: its focus on the transcen-dent. The negative side is not repudiated, but it has to be seen in relation to that focus and has to be complemented by a generic view of the goodness of all creation. But the pattern of the dialectic suggests that this step too will be exaggerated, and that is exactly what happened. In the intoxication of this new idea, there was a widespread repudia-tion of the age-old flight from the world. Convents and monasteries were emptied; instead of contemptus mundi, there was a glorification of the secular.9 And so secularism arose: what was legitimate in the discovery of the natural, what was legitimate in the declaration of its auton-omy was magnified to an ism. What was a genetic idea that should have been brought into union with the specific paraded as the full explanation of the universe. A movement for the liberation of the secular became a secularism. The secular and the sacred have to do with human thought and feeling and the human use of creation. Uniting the Specific and the Generic: New Categories Christian thinking on th~ world has gone through the two phases inherent in the dialectic of human learning: the discovery and undue exploitation of a specific factor, followed by a reaction, and the discovery and undue exploitation of a generic factor, fol-lowed in its turn by a reaction. The current need is for the inte-gration of the two factors, and the categories that offer hope of that are the sacred and the secular. This pair of terms has crept into our discussion as related to, but not identical with, the supernatural and the natural. They need more careful definition. The natural and the supernatural provide the framework of creation; they are what philosophers would call Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican 11 the ontological constituents of the universe. But the secular and the sacred have to do with human thought and feeling and the human use of creation; they pertain to the cultural sphere rather than the ontological. The natural cannot be made supernatural: as Isaiah reports the word of the Lord, "my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways" (Is 55:8, NEB). God is the wholly other. Grace perfects nature but does not destroy it. The natural, then, maintains its identity within the unity of God's creative plan. Catholic schools do not use a different mathematics to add and subtract, to divide and multiply. But while the natural remains what it was created to be, it can be invested with the aura of the supernatural, and in this sense the natural can be sacralized, become sacred. Bernard Lonergan provides a context in which to locate this cultural transformation: "The whole world of sense is to be. a token, a mystery, of God"; and again: "the world of sense is. a mystery that signifies God as we know him and symbolizes the fur-ther depths that lie beyond our comprehension.''~° This means that the secular, not only as a world but also in its various aspects, can in human thought and feeling be given the character of the sacred. So in primitive peoples there was a religious ritual for plant-ing and harvesting, for coming to puberty and marrying, for rev-erent remembering of the dead, and so on. All these activities are given a sacred aspect, though their natural basis allows for their secular use. But they are only potentially secular; they are not at first recognized to have that aspect. For the human race is funda-mentally religious, in the sense of being created with a religious consciousness, and has remained religious despite all the protests of unbelievers. One may say: In the beginning was the sacred. That is, what later became distinguished as the two zones of the sacred and the secular was at first all one zone, and it was sacred. Now, just as in the ontological sphere the natural component of the universe had to be recognized for what it was, the natural, so too in the sphere of the cultural the legitimately secular aspect had to escape from the domination of the sacred and assume its independent role in the plan of creation. In the course of this development, there was inevitably a conflict with the representa-tives of the sacred; inevitably too the secular won its rightful inde-pendence. "For this sacralized construct of man and his universe was impugned and impugned successfully by Copernicus, Galileo, Review for Relig4ous and Newton, by Darwin and Freud, and by the swarm of philoso-phies" at least since Descartes.~l So the struggle between natural and supernatural was repeated here, with the same exaggerations. The extremists were not con-tent to liberate the secular; they were driven also to desecrate the sacred. Concretely we might think of the relation between a sec-ular day of rest and the Lord's Day. There has been a strong ten-dency in this matter for the sacral to dictate to the secular, imposing a religious observance so strict as to frustrate the secu-lar purpose of a day of rest. But on the other side there is the des-ecration of the Lord's Day represented in past history by the extremists in the French Revolution and, some would say, by the present Sunday shopping. Uniting the Specific and the Generic: New Strategy Perhaps it is possible now to sketch the lines we might follow to achieve the desired integration of our specific and generic fac-tors. Our question is: How is the church to achieve the unity of Anthony and Aristotle, of Jerusalem and Athens, of the transcen-dent and the this-worldly, and now in particular of the sacred and the secular? Our suggestion is that what had been at first unwit-tingly sacralized was then wittingly secularized. Bur what was wit-tingly secularized can be wittingly resacralized for Christian purposes as the need arises. The pagans of Rome sacralized their meat by offering it to their gods, but the Christians could, in effect, desacralize these meats with a good conscience and, if they wished, resacralize them to their own purpose: "he who eats meat has the Lord in mind when he eats" (Rm 14:6). Again, a game of golf may be just what workers need on their day of secular rest, and present discipline in the church allows them to keep holy the Sabbath and still go golfing. But the new sacralization will be different. There will be a new understanding and a new humility. The sacred will not dictate to the secular in the latter's own sphere. It will be a sacralization through the intention of believers, using the natural end of a nat-ural entity to their religious purpose. They who eat meat have the Lord in mind when they eat; they who golf give thanks alike in the weekly Eucharist and in their outdoor exercise. A final point brings us back to larger issues: sacralization will not be merely extrinsic to the natural world. On this question Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II Marie Dominique Chenu Op has some helpful remarks. He sees a purer presence of the church in the world creating a new kind of Christians in the world: missionaries of the gospel, and not the protectors of a civilization that they themselves have organized. The real vocation of lay people will be to show that Christianity does not despise the world, but lifts it up, consecrates it, and ful-fills it. And this new presence will unite intrinsically with the world, will make it a true partner, for the believers will read the signs of the times and through them discern the elements in the world and human history that are, as it were, naturally open to the sacred, offering the possibility of a new praeparatio evangelica. They now look for a spirituality that will integrate their life in a world that has become the main field where they must seek their sanctifica-tion. 12 Religious Life in the Ongoing Dialectic The focus of my attention has been the new path for the church in the world today, along the lines of the Vatican Council II document Gaudium et spes. We must be clear on the church in the new age before venturing to discuss religious life in the new age, for religious are Christian before they are religious; that is the order of the council in its document on the church, Lumen gen-tium.~ 3 But of course that means that the dialectic we have dis-cerned in history will apply also to the features of Christian living that religious have in common with all Christians. In that context we may anticipate the direction that applying the dialectic to religious life should take. We will understand how the religious state began as a "flight" from the "world," and we will realize that, as our conception and knowledge of that world has changed enormously, so also must our notion of flight from it. We have come a long way from St. Anthony of Egypt. I trust, never-theless, that we have not left him behind. With all reverence we may conceive an analogy with a hymn of Thomas Aquinas that the church uses in Holy Week: "The word of God, proceeding forth / Yet leaving not his Father's side." Our task is not to aban-don Anthony, but "proceeding forth" to retain his insight and transpose it into a realization of Vatican II's "church in the mod-ern world" and of religious life as it is to be lived in the coming millennium. Our task is to achieve in our own way the unity of the specific and ~he generic concepts of the world. Review for Religious Religious, then, will retain their vows, and the vows will have the meaning they had for Aquinas, a revocatio ab affectu temporalium, a withdrawal from affection for this world.14 They will have the meaning also that Anthony's flight from the world had for him in his time of secularization. And that meaning will remain even in the most sacred of times. A focus on the transcendent and the escha-tological state will necessarily involve the reevaluation of the world that the saints have always shown: not a contempt for the good of creation, but a love for the better to which the good is open. Correspondingly, there will be far more attention to the positive aspects of the vows. This movement has already begun, but it should undergo an extensive development. Similarly for the pos-itive counterpart of the "flight": contemplation of the divine. The cloistered will redouble attention to their contemplative role, and the active will redouble attention to their role as contemplatives in action. As we follow the dialectic in its future course, we would do well to consider our starting point. The first word in the gospel message is "repent" (Mt 4:17; and see the same in Mk 1:15, but with a preface, "The time has come . . ."). Our examination of conscience in this respect might ask in what degree, if any, we transferred to ourselves as perfection what belongs rather to the realm of the sacred. Medieval theologians argued at length about holiness and the more perfect state. Should the operative word be, not "holy" in the sense of personal virtue, but rather "sacred" in the sense of "consecrated to God"? Notes 1 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994 reprint), p. 87. 2 Lonergan, Method, p. 87. 3 Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1971), p. I0. 4 Grace and Freedom, pp. 14-15. s Grace and Freedom, pp. 15-16. 6 Bernard Lonergan, "Gratia Operans: A Study of Speculative Development in the Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas," doctoral disser-tation, Gregorian University, Rome, 1940, pp. 36-37. The preface and introduction, from which the dialectical pattern is taken, were published in Method: Journal of Lonergan Studies 3, no. 2 (October 1985): 9-46. The whole dissertation will he published in volume 1 of the Collected September-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "World"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican 11 Works of Bernard Lonergan, soon to appear from University of Toronto Press. This section of my article simply paraphrases Lonergan's position as set forth in that dissertation. 7 The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. EL. Cross (London: Oxford University Press, 1958), article, "Antony, St., of Egypt." s See, for an example, G.J. Engelhardt, "The De contemptu mundi of Bernardus Morevalensis," Mediaeval Studies 22 (1960): 108-135; 26 (1964): 109-142; 29 (1967): 243-272. On the same topic Robert Bultot published widely in books and periodicals of the 1960s under the title La doctrine du m~pris du monde. 9 The turnaround had an interesting development in the Lutheran idea. Lutheranism "does not consider the call of the pastor any more sacred than the call of each Christian to witness to the lordship of Christ in his life and work. The universal priesthood of believers., makes the vocation of every man a holy calling"; see "Lutheranism" in A Handbook of Christian Theology (Cleveland and New York: World Publishing Company, 1958). Here too there is a valuable insight, namely, the vocation of every Christian, but it is not integrated into the dialectical development on the "world." 10 Bernard Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), pp. 689, 692. '~ Bernard Lonergan, "Sacralization and Secularization," unpublished MS of a 1974 lecture (originally given 1973), p. 23. My whole article relies heavily on this lecture. ~2 Spirituality in the Secular City (Concilium 19), pp. 114-115. I have paraphrased, with frequent verbatim quotations, two pages of "Desacralization and the Spiritual Life" by Claude J. Geffr~ op. ~3 See chap. 6, §§43-47, on religious, in Lumen gentium, the coun-cil's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. 14 On "revocatio ab affectu temporalium," see Thomas Aquinas, De perfectione vitae spiritual#, chap. 6. Review for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother": Being and Doing Brotherhood In Genesis, chapter 45, Joseph, one of Jacob's sons, has the delicate task of revealing his identity to his brothers. Having sold him into slavery several years before, they do not recognize him now in this powerful Egyptian official, second only to Pharaoh. In his self-revelation Joseph tells his brothers, "Come closer to me. I am your brother" (Gn 45:4). To be convincing, Joseph has to do more than tell his brothers who he is; he must demonstrate this through his attitudes and actions toward them. If he was truly to be their brother, then he had to do what brothers do. Only then was he gen-uinely recognizable to them. This story has a valuable reminder for religious brothers today. The name by which we identify our-selves in life and in the church reflects a rich and prophetic spirituality. "Brother" is not only a title, it is what we are. Even more, it is what we are called and committed to do among ourselves, among the people, and for the church. Also, it is ever a reality we must become: it cannot be fully and finally accompJished at the time of our religious profession. In my experience of the church and sodety today, several forces outside lay religious life often contribute Joel Giallanza csc wrote for us as recently as our May-June issue. His formation work continues at Charles Andersen Residence; 320 Brahan Boulevard; San Antonio, Texas 78215. Septe~nber-October 1999 brothers Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brotber" We need one another to be who we say we are and to do what we say we do by our very vocation. to making brothers unrecognizable, unknown, or unappreciated. One of them is that the church's administration emphasizes-- implicitly and explicitly--the clerical state as normative for min-istry and governance within the church, while brotherhood tends to become invisible or at least peripheral. Another is that in a vari-ety of cultures the term brother is used to designate seminarians and other candidates for presbyteral ordination. From this perspective brotherhood tends to be inter-preted as a transitional stage. These outside forces, how-ever, are not alone in influencing the public perception of brothers. Two internal forces come to mind. Sometimes we define our-selves or allow ourselves to be defined in negative terms, that is, by what we are not: unordained or nonclerical men religious. To go through life with "un" or "non" as the beginning of our self-iden-tity is not a good basis for explaining our vocation. It is even a less good basis for promoting vocations. And sometimes we do not reflect upon sufflciendy and articulate clearly our own identity, including the challenges we face simply because we dare to call ourselves brothers. Being Brother Immediately striking about the term brother is its relational character. It expresses both a specific relationship and a way of being in relationship. For us it assumes that we are willing to enter into relationships with others. It assumes we choose to be involved, not isolated. Though Vita consecrata does not speak extensively about the vocation of brothers in the church, it recognizes four relationships that are to characterize our way of life. These religious are called to be brothers of Christ, deeply united with him, "the firstborn among many brothers" (Rm 8:29); brothers to one another in mutual love and working together in the church in the same service of what is good; brothers to everyone in their witness to Christ's love for all, especially the lowliest, the neediest; brothers for a greater brotherhood in the church (Vita consecrata, §60). Review for Religious I would like to comment on these four relationships and on their prophetic implications. Brothers of the Lord Whatever else we may do, whatever our ministry, the rela-tionship that defines and shapes religious life is our relationship with the Lord. This must be the first and deepest of all our rela-tionships. Jesus says to the disciples, "You are my friends, if you do what I command you . I call you friends because I have made known to you everything I have learned from my Father" On 15:14-15). Our relationship with the Lord, our friendship with God, is rooted in knowing and doing what we have learned from the Lord. To be brothers of the Lord is to know the ways of God and to do what the Lord asks of us. To be brothers of the Lord, we must be people of discernment and people of fidelity. We must probe God's will ever deeper and then faithfully put into action all that we discover. We must be skilled in seeing God in all and in seeing all in God. We thereby proclaim and live the intimate closeness of God to this world, even when global events or personal experi-ences provide no evidence or apparently contrary evidence of such intimacy. Brothers with One Another Everything we say about ourselves and about our life together will not be authentic if we do not live in such a way that our com-mon life is marked by love, mutual care and concern, courtesy, hospitality, and a genuine interdependence. Jesus tells us that we will be recognized as his followers if we love one another (see Jn 13:3 5). Note that Jesus does not say what we would be recognized as, if we did not love one another. Could we become completely invisible, thereby rendering impossible any kind of recognition? To be brothers with one another in a religious community is much more than merely getting along; it must go beyond friendly tolerance. There are two important elements here. First, to be brothers with one anothdr is to recognize and accept that we do not live this way of life alone. We need one another to be who we say we are and to do what we say we do by our very vocation. There must be a mutuality and an interdependence among us by which we September-October 1999 Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" strengthen and support one another. Second, to be brothers with one another is apostolic. The quality of our life together commu-nicates something about God's presence and activity in our world. In some areas of the world, we may be the only witnesses people see, the only evidenc~ they have that God is alive and active in their lives and in their culture and society. Brothers to the People Our very title brothers excludes distinctions among us. Nationality, culture, ethnic heritage, education, ministry, natural and acquired skills--all these are gifts that are to unite us, not dif-ferences to be made into walls of division among us. So too our presence among the people must communicate without compro-mise that we make no distinctions, that we welcome and are hos-pitable to all people. To be brothers to the people also influences the way we approach ministry, whatever our ministry. Our apostolic activity among the people must be a model and a means of unity for them. We must be skilled in guiding people to work together, to appre-ciate one another's gifts, and to share those gifts with one another for the good of all. Regardless of the specific nature of our min-istry, this task of facilitating union among the people is a primary aspect of our mission and message as brothers in the church and society today. Brothers for the Church There are many unnecessary distinctions in our church today. Among the most dominant are those between women and men, between lay and ordained persons. Our presence and activity in the church must strive to communicate a perspective free of the kinds of distinctions that can and sometimes do deteriorate into divisions. To be brothers for the church is to live and proclaim, in St. Paul's terms, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male 6r female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 3:28). We know it was a risk for St. Paul to preach such a message two thousand years ago. In truth, it is still a risk to preach this today precisely because people can and do establish their identity in distinctions. Any message that seeks to Review for Religious remove distinctions tends to disrupt that identity, thereby stimu-lating responses that range from simple admonition to sharp antag-onism. I believe it is part of the mission of brothers in the church today to preach and to live such a message regardless of the con-sequences. Doing What Brothers Do What I have said so far pertains to being brothers, pertains to our basic identity as lay religious in the church and society. To be brothers of the Lord, with one another, to the people, and for the church will have a definite influence on our doing what brothers do. Doing what brothers do is the prophetic dimension of our life as lay religious. In terms of these four basic relationships, what do we do as brothers? Through our relationship to the Lord, we demonstrate the possibility of living the example of Jesus in today's world. Jesus' example of selflessness, of compassion, of service to others is not popular today. We observe the sustained promotion and tenacity of an individualism which condones and constructs self-contained and closed styles of life that do not readily respond to the influence or needs of others. The danger is that Jesus' example could be placed on the shelf of items that are no longer realistic or useful for our world: items that are fine for museums of ancient artifacts, but not really relevant for everyday life in contemporary culture. To do what brothers do is a clear expression of the importance, necessity, and urgency of Jesus' example for today. Through our relationship with one another, we demonstrate the possibility of love and reconciliation. In a world where self-ishness and self-containment become the ways of relating to one another, love and reconciliation become ever more rare. Personal histories, past mistakes, and present weaknesses become conve-nient excuses for not reaching beyond ourselves to love, to for-give, to be reconciled with others. And yet it is only through our humanity--with our histories and mistakes and weaknesses--that we can love one another. To do what brothers do means commit-ting ourselves to love and forgive and reconcile, and to take up whatever means are necessary to live that commitment every day. Through our relationship to the people, we demonstrate the possibility of living in peace and unity. The rich diversity repre-sented in social, political, religious, cultural, and ethnic differ- September-October 1999 Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" ences is too often used as a basis for creating divisions among peo-ple. And as the barriers supporting those divisions become stronger, mutual destruction appears more effective and efficient than coop-erative dialogue. Conflict, violence, war then become the usual ways of dealing with differences in life. To do what brothers do means making every effort to show that the differences among people are graces and blessings to be celebrated, not burdens and bothers to be shunned. Through our brotherly relationship with the church, we demonstrate the possibility of living and ministering in equality. This equality is not uniformity; there can and must be distinctions among the many necessary ministries within the church. The important and imperative idea here is to help maintain the link between those many ministries and the common good of the Body of Christ. To create and then vindicate situations in which peo-ple are excluded or treated slightingly is not acceptable. Ignoring such situations is also not acceptable. To do what brothers do means pointing out injustices and inconsistencies--in our society, but most especially in our church. We will not be popular for iden-tifying such realities, but to neglect doing so would contradict what we profess to be and to do. The Haunting Question Male lay religious are often confronted with the simple but haunting question "What is a brother?" Brothers themselves, as well as other church ministers, struggle with formulating a satis-factory response. I do not believe that any response, however elo-quent and theologically sound, will ever be satisfactory. Indeed, it cannot be. If being a brother and doing what brothers do is at heart a matter of relationship, then our identity as brothers will be found in our actions, in our witness and our way of relating to the Lord, to one another, to others, and to the church. Thus, the only worthy answer to "What is a brother?" is simply "Watch us! Watch what we do, how we behave. Observe our love, care, concern, com-passion. Watch us. Then you will see and know what being a brother is." Are we willing to make that response? Will the integrity, consistency, and quality of our lives withstand such close scrutiny? The precedent for this response has been established already. When asked by John the Baptist's disciples, "Are you the one who Review for Religious is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Jesus responds, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the leper~ are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them" (Mt 11:3- 5). Jesus' response invites a simple and direct method: observe, then report what you see. Could it be that we work to enhance the eloquence of our language and the soundness of our theology in responding to "What is a brother?" because we hesitate to say "Watch us"? Obviously, to invite close observation is to imply an integrity and a quality of life that are beyond question or com-promise. Writing to the Corinthians, St. Paul is boldly explicit in continuing Jesus' precedent: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Co 11:1). In fact, no less than seven times does Paul make this recommendation in his correspon-dence with the early Christian commu-nities (see 1 Co 4:16 and 11:1; Ph 3:17 and 4:19; 1 Th 1:6; 2 Th 3:7 and 9). We might wince at the bluntness--almost arrogance--of his recommendation. Nevertheless, the only way to avoid rel-egating Jesus' example to the realm of theoretical ideals is by a practical demonstration of it. Only a living example can accomplish that demonstration effectively. Brothers must live in such a way that we can make this Pauline recommendation with confidence and integrity. If we believe that our God is incarnational, then the example of our own lives must be the first of all our responses to the simple question "What is a brother?" Again, we must ask ourselves about our willingness and ability to make that response. Any other response, whether from an individual religious or froma general chapter, will fall short of the convincing and transforming power inherent in a living example. Being brothers and doing what brothers do involve decisions regarding a belief and a behavior. The belief is that the example of our brotherhood, as a reflection of Jesus' own, is necessary for society and for the church today--and tomorrow. The behavior is our effort to follow Jesus with integri.ty, simplicity, and fidelity. Through our brotherly .relationship with the church, we demonstrate the possibility Of living and ministering in equality. September-October 1999 Giallanza * "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" This belief and behavior must stem from deliberate decisions, for they will not and cannot come into being by themselves. If they do not find explicit expression in our daily lives and activities, then they do not exist at all. If we cannot invite the world to "Watch us" when we are asked about the identity and meaning of our life as brothers, then we have only words. Such words die in thin air without living exam-ples to certify their truth. Action verifies articulations; witness confirms words. When action and witness are separated from artic-ulations and words, credibility is compromised. To speak and to act, together, must constitute our effort to define who and what we are as religious brothers and, being brothers, what we do. All else is shifting sand. All else contributes to the continued invisibility of religious brothers within the church and society. Being and Doing To be brothers and to do what brothers do are inseparable. We must strive for consistency in our life so that what we per-ceive and profess ourselves to be and what we do become a single reality. Otherwise we compromise the quality of any prophetic presence and activity we would have in the world. To be and to do as brothers of the Lord, we must be men of integrity, firmly rooted in the Lord. To be and to do as brothers with one another, we must be men of communion, who willingly choose the interdependence necessary for a healthy and whole life. To be and to do as brothers to others, we must be men of mis-sion, who love others through compassion and service. To be and to do as brothers for the church, we must be men willing to pro-vide challenge, whose commitment to the church enables us to question its inconsistencies even as we continue to love it. In the Book of Genesis, the challenge confronting Joseph is both to reveal his identity and to witness to the truth of that rev-elation. He begins with a simple invitation, "Come closer to me." He invites closer scrutiny and careful listening, confident that he will be recognized and accepted for who and what he claims to be. We religious brothers, by the very nature of our vocation, must extend the same invitation in all our relationships. The witness of our integrity, our sense of communion and mission, and the chal-lenge we present will confirm or contradict the truth of what we claim to be and profess to do. Vita consecrata says that brothers participate in the "mission of proclaiming the gospel and bearing witness to it with charity in everyday life" (§60). Such proclamation and such witness are responsibilities we bear and services we provide. They are the heart of our invitation to "Watch us"--to "Come closer" and see ¯. "I am your brother." Questions for Personal and Communal Reflection These brief reflections need fi~rther refinement from the particular cultures and contexts in which brothers live and minister around the world today. In fact, the most sound theologies of religious brotherhood today will conte from within those cultures and contexts. Generic theologies of religious life, by attempting to speak to everyone, run the risk of speaking to no one. As we continue to reflect on and discuss various dimensions of our religious life, we must remain ever attentive to the specific culture and context in which we live and minis-ter. The following questions are offered as a starting point for individuals and for communities. For us as brothers of the Lord, what aspects of Jesus' example and teaching are particularly striking and significant, given the heritage of our religious congregation and the particular culture in which we live and minister? As brothers with one another, what do we desire people to see in us through our life together? What do we believe our wimess communicates to people? What evidence do we have to support that belief?. As brothers to the people, what means do we use to foster peace and unity among them? How do our ministries serve towards dialogue and reconciliation? As brothers for the church, what efforts do we or could we make in our local area to emphasize the equality of persons within the church? With what specific challenges does our heritage as a congregation con-front the church? In which aspects of our life are we confident in saying "Come closer"? In which aspects of our life fire we hesitant about saying "Watch us" in response to people's questions about our vocation? What are the principal gifts we bring as brothers to this cultural set-ring? What are the principal social and ecclesial challenges confronting us today as brothers in this cultural setting? What is the most attractive quality about our religious life in this cultural setting? What is least attractive? What means would be effective in the particular culture where we live and minister for educating the people and the church about the voca-tion of brothers? In addition to the witness of our life, what are effective strategies for promoting vocations to religious brotherhood today? Septentber-October 1999 PAUL BEDNARCZYK Religious Brothers: One Vocation Director's Perspective Religious congregations of brothers can no longer ignore the question of new membership. The "vocation crisis" is staring us in the face. We can debate more effective governmen-tal structures, we can plan new mission orientations, and we can write more documents about solidarity with the poor, but, unless new members join our communities, what will it all mean fifty years from now? The membership crunch seems to be hitting home more now than ever. In many dioceses and religious congregations, the vocation question has been moved to the forefront. At their annual national meeting three years ago, the United States bishops agreed on a comprehensive strategy for vocations to the priesthood and reli-gious life. In June 1998 the U.S. bishops' committee on vocations sponsored a national symposium that had an overwhelming atten-dance. In addition, both the men's and women's religious leader-ship conferences--the Conferences of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM), the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), and the Conference of Major Superiors of Women Religious (CMSWR)--are exploring how leadership corporately can be more active in promoting the priesthood and religious life. For the past thirty-some years, we have quietly and sometimes unconsciously watched more brothers leave our corigregations than Paul Bednarczyk CSC, of his congregation's eastern province, first published this article in Horizon, a journal for vocation directors. His address is Congregation of Holy Cross; 85 Overlook Circle; New Rochelle, New York 10804. Review for Religious enter them. We prayed for vocations, and many communities even maintained their commitment to a full-time vocation director, but few prospects have joined our prenovitiate programs. Although over the years there was a general concern about the lack of new members, still--because numbers of brothers remained in the "work force"--we felt somewhat comfortable regarding our num-bers. These days are now gone. Our congregations are aging, men are retiring, and fewer members remain in full-time ministry. Our younger members continue to be few. We must confront the new-membership question. Much has been written about societal factors that create a cli-mate unfavorable to religious vocations. Family and neighborhood structures are no longer what they once were. We are witnessing changing definitions of family: single-parent homes, blended fam-ilies, children being raised by gay or lesbian couples. In addition, physical, sexual, drug, and alcohol abuse have greatly impacted the trust and stability that families need. Individualism and mate-rialism have consumed our American culture. Authority is looked upon cynically and institutions are considered suspect. Combine that with young people's inability or reluctance to make commit-ments, and religious vocations become an uphill battle. The changing face of the American Catholic and the tension between Catholic teaching and American values also have an impact on the numbers of religious vocations. The rising multi-culturalism of U.S. Catholics challenges us. Many Hispanic peo-ple continue to abandon the Catholic faith of their ancestors for fundamental and evangelical groups. Polls claim that many Catholics believe that the church's teaching on contraception, homosexuality, and premarital sex is outdated. Although young adults in general do not see the difference between clerical and religious celibacy, they will say that celibacy is the primary rea-son why they would not be a priest or a religious. Likewise, given our democratic values, American Catholics must reconcile them-selves with a church that does not function democratically. I believe it important to mention these factors at the outset because, although they are beyond our control, they have an effect on our religious-vocation promotion. In this paper I intend to share my own reflections on why fewer people are choosing to be brothers. Although I belong to the Congregation of Holy Cross, I have shared some of these ideas with brothers in other religious congregations. We are not alone in our struggle. After five years Septentber-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Religious Brothers as vocation director, I offer thoughts I have gleaned from numer-ous vocation talks I have heard and given, from many meetings and discussions withadolescents and young adults, from direct-ing men and women on both personal and group discernment retreats, and from my association with other vocation directors both regionally and nationally. 492 A Question of Visibility We religious brothers are invisible. To put it more precisely, people generally have no clear idea about who or what we are. I say this neither cavalierly nor despairingly, but as simple truth. Part of this is the reality that we are fewer in number. In the United States, according to thd 1998 official Catholic Directory, the number of religious brothers dropped in 1997-98 by 178, resulting in a national total of 6115. Of course, many of these are retired or infirm and therefore no longer engaged in part- or full-time min-istry- and so are even more invisible. Brothers in teaching congregations cannot assume that the freshmen entering our high schools in September know what a religious brother is. Even though some come to us from Catholic grade schools, many have not met a religious brother or sister and know little or nothing about religious life. If they do have a min-imal understanding oic our life, most likely their perceptions have been influenced by what they see in the media, which is often dis-torted, stereotyped, and scandal ridden. Their parents, too, a generation that had greater exposure to religious in classrooms and parishes, have limited understandings of religious life. They may have romanticized notions of who we once were or, on the other hand, may endlessly repeat stories of brothers and sisters maintaining uncompromising discipline and inflicting harsh corporal punishments. In addition, people are con-fused by the polarization of the various religious lifestyles. How do lay people find a balance among various extreme "liberal" and "conservative" positions taken by religious men and women? How do they understand community when the religious they know live in private apartments or are in scattered communities of twos and threes? Although there are justifications for various places on the spectrum, the average persons in the pews just do not understand. I think it safe to say that they are confused, just as we are at times. The question of visibility is more complex than the reality of Review for Relig~o~!s fewer members. It is, I believe, also related to a greater issue in the church. Without a doubt, within the past twenty years our church has become increasingly clerical. At a time when there are fewer and fewer priests, lay religious life is not always promoted in the church as enthusiastically or emphatically as it could be. In litur-gies all of us have heard public prayers for vocations to the priest-hood and privately wondered why we were not also praying for vocations to the religious life. I do not think these omissions are intentional. When I have respectfully asked presiders to include in their future prayers of petition a mention of an increase in candi-dates for religious life as well, I was usually met with sincere apolo-gies and a response such as "To tell you the truth, I didn't even think of it." Such admitted forgetfulness is disarming, but the response remains a telling one. Another reality is that many bishops and priests are "gun shy" of religious men and women. Since many of their dealings with us have been confrontational and neg-ative, it seems they may be choosing to either ignore or avoid us in order to avoid future hostile situa-tions. Likewise, we religious have suffered from our own antago-nisms with the clergy and the hierarchy, and we too may choose to either ignore or avoid them. My point is not to say that we are right and they are wrong, but rather that stereotypes and false generalizations held by either party only lead to further break-downs in communication and in understanding one another's voca-tions in the church. If we assume an "us and them" mentality, we add to the divisiveness that already exists here and there in our church, and it is the church, the people of God, that ultimately suffers from such internal strife. To pin the blame of our invisibility solely on the church would be both unjust and inaccurate. We brothers must own the fact that some of us have chosen to be invisible. In the neighborhoods of some of our communities, I would conjecture that most of the neighbors are unaware that there is a religious community of men living on their block. Instead of participating in the life of our local parish community, some of us have chosen instead to par-ticipate anonymously in a nearby parish that may provide a better liturgy or choir. At a time when many teaching congregations have made concerted and successful efforts at connecting the mission of We religious brothers are invisible. September-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Religious Brotbers their schools with the mission and charism of their community, some brothers choose not to participate in school activities, often to the dismay and wonder of lay colleagues, parents, and alumni. Although reasons for these examples may be acceptable to us, we must realize that such choices promote further invisibility and anonymity, something which we brothers can no longer afford. Without a public presence, our hope for future vocations is dim. The old clich~ has much truth: "Out of sight, out of mind." Not being part of the clerical hierarchy has given us a unique freedom that is comfortable. I heard one brother say about the hierarchy: "It's good that they forget about us--this way they leave us alone!" We come to a religious community not to dis-tance ourselves from the existing tensions or authority in the institutional church, nor to find a supportive haven for our anger against church authority, nor, for that matter, to promote our own church agenda. As consecrated religious we are men of the church and in the church. Our vocation by its very nature calls us to deepen our baptismal commitment and our relationship with the people of God. The faithful see us and look to us for who and what we are: men who through our vows have consecrated ourselves totally to God and to service within the church. They expect us to be integral to the church: when they do not see this, they are surprised and confused. If we are going to welcome men into our communities, I believe that we must all realistically deal with our feelings and beliefs about the church of today--not the church of yesterday or tomorrow, but the church of today in all of its glory and weakness. Generational Differences The majority of us have lived through the social, political, and ecclesial turbulence of the 1960s. We experienced the devastation of political assassinations, the power of the people in working for justice, and the sense of betrayal and shame that resulted from Watergate. We mourned the violence and casualties of the Vietnam War and of the racial wars that were erupting in our city streets. We underwent our own personal and spiritual transformations after the drastic changes set in motion by the Second Vatican Council. Suddenly our equilibrium was shaken. We experienced a shift in values from uniformity to diversity, from authoritarianism to collegiality, from commonality to individuality. Review for Religious We dealt with these dramatic events and changes in a variety of ways. Some simply left religious life. It seems to have been a good decision for some, once they discovered they .may have become brothers for the wrong reasons. On the other hand, oth-ers left and we still wonder why. Regarding these departures we still grieve. And, into the bargain, some of us have stayed. What are our reasons for remaining? After these radical shifts in church, society, and culture, has our dependence upon God and one another deepened, or have we learned instead to place more trust in our own self and in our material security? Have our vows increased our joy and appreciation for life, or have they regretfully only made our life burdensome? Do we face the uncertainty of the future with excitement and hope, or with cynicism and despair? If we are to witness to an attractive lifestyle option, we must answer these questions honestly and reexamine our own commitment to religious life. Unlike many of us who were brought up with the order and constancy of a triumphal church, our young people today have experienced conflicting messages from a church in transition, and they seek, simply, truth. In the face of New Age spirituality and watered-down Christianity, there are those who, in their desire to know more of what it means to be Catholic, resort to tangible, traditionally Catholic symbols. I find it fascinating that Exposition and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is making a comeback on college campuses. In the midst of the noise and rush of their aca-demic lives, students appreciate the hour of silence in the pres-ence of Mystery. Similarly, young adults are rediscovering the virtue of Mary, and have found the rosary to be an attractive form of prayer that is identifiably Catholic. Some ofos may be quick to categorize these young people as conservative or wacky, but these are students who volunteer weekly at local soup kitchens and par-ticipate in "alternative" spring breaks with Habitat for Humanity. They are also class officers, athletes, and students on the dean's list. As I have discovered, our younger people defy the neat and tight boxes in which we tend to categorize them. Have our VOWS increased our joy and appreciation for life, or have they regretfully only made our life burdensome? Septentber-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Relig4ous Brothers To live with the ideals, hopes, and dreams of the young is inconvenient and at times even uncomfortable. In my meetings with men who are exploring a vocation, I have found that it is not because of ministry, education, or social-justice convictions that they are drawn to religious life. Our church has evolved to where, if this were their primary desire, they could eas-ily do this in a Catholic institution as laypersons. They are com-ing to us first and foremost for the religious life itself. To live in the secular world as a committed Christian espousing Catholic values is difficult for them. They admit their need for a community of like-minded individuals who could strengthen their love for God and their Catholic convic-tions. They are not looking for just a nice group of people who do good work. They are looking for men who know and can lead them to God and who can give them a sense of hope in a world that has become increasingly pessimistic and destructive. They want to pray together, share their faith, and bring the Good News to people through their ministry. They acknowledge the Eucharist as central to our faith, and they have devotion to it. Since they often come from an unchurched, nontraditional back-ground, they seek structure and definition. From our community perspective, that is quite an order to fill! Some of you who are reading this are probably wincing and saying, "I thought we got away from that years ago!" To put it simply, I believe we find ourselves in the middle of a generation gap. Thirty years ago some brothers retained their habits, sat in their pews, and looked with distaste upon those who wore jeans and colored shirts and prayed on throw pillows. They thought that, for sure, religious life was quickly going down the tubes. The younger brothers, however, challenged the older brothers to renew their zeal for religious life by adapting to a different lifestyle, one that was based more on shared expressions of faith and on more interpersonal, communal living. Likewise, the younger members were taught by the elders to appreciate the tradition of our life and consequently were enriched by their fidelity to their vows in the face of change. Since some of us have lost a younger generation in our con-gregations, we have forgotten what it is like to be challenged by the young. The lively community dynamic that occurs with the mix- Review for Religious ture of generations--the elderly, the middle-aged, the young--does not happen in many of our local communities. As a result, many of us have grown comfortable with one another and in our life together. For the majority of us, the mutual challenges and exchanges that we all remember from our earlier years and that occur naturally between the young and old do not happen anymore. At forty-one years old, I am still considered one of the "young" brothers in my community. I realize that much of my religious life has been lived with men older than myself. Although I am thank-ful for the benefit of their example and wisdom, as I enter my own midlife I realize that I have been deprived of living with the con-tagious energy and enthusiasm of much younger religious. I know that I need at times to be challenged to think in new ways and to experience life differently. Most of us are middle-aged or older. If we are to have a newer generation following us, we must--even if it becomes increasingly more difficult as we age--be open to the renewal of our basic val-ues: prayer, community, and lifestyle. Ironically, those who are considering religious life look for deeper community experiences while some veterans of thirty or forty years say they are tired of the routine and demands in community. How do we bridge this gap? To live with the ideals, hopes, and dreams of the young is incon-venient and at times even uncomfortable, but I know of no other way. Although youthful idealism may need some tempering, we must admit that at least it is refreshing. We have now become the "older" brothers of yesterday, and, like the older ones of thirty years ago, we too are invited to new ways of thinking and being as we look to the next generation in religious life. I do not believe that age has to be a deterring factor. When I hosted discernment retreats for prospective candidates at our retire-ment facility, I would invite three of our elderly brothers to tell their vocation stories. The combined witness of almost two hundred years of faithful religious life is better than any vocation brochure I could ever design! Their authentic fulfillment in Holy Cross and their continuing joy and vitality were always evidence to these interested men that this life can be lived and can be lived well. Our young people look to their elders for inspiration. They hunger for the wisdom that comes from living a prayerful and reflective life with God. If, however, they see stagnation, apathy, and cynicism, they are left disillusioned and wanting. For many of us, our lives as religious have been deeply enriching and grace filled, and yet some September-October 1999 Bednarczyk * ReligiousBrotbers of us are reluctant to share these experiences with each other. We underestimate at times the power of our stories. In many religious congregations it has been the tradition to respond to "the signs of the times" and to the contemporary needs of the church. I maintain that we need to continue this spirit of openness not only to our mission and ministries, but also to our religious lives as well. The Answer Is in the Present I do not claim to have the answers for the future. To be truth-ful, my worry is not for the future, nor is it for the past. It is the present that is my concern. We can only theorize about the future, as we can only reminisce about the past. Such intellectual exer-cises tend to distance us from the responsibility of making neces-sary choices about our lives and our community in the present. In general, given the societal changes and challenges discussed above, some recerit shifts in our culture seem to coalesce with our lives as religious brothers. For example, our society displays a renewed interest in spirituality. Celebrities from Oprah to Madonna have made daily meditation chic again! With the pro-liferation of self-help and support groups for every issue imagin-able, people long for connection and belonging. They desire "to share their story" and to be validated by a group. Corporations are supportive of community service, and some school systems have included service components in their curricula. As a result, volunteerism is at an all-time high. Ironically, many authors are making lots of money with their best-selling books on how to sim-plify one's lifestyle. It would seem that religious brotherhood would somehow fit into this picture. Our life is a wonderful secret that needs to be shared more now than ever before. As religious brothers we bring, I believe, a special gift to the church. Our faith teaches us about a God whose love is uncondi-tional and whose mercy is unlimited. If faithfully and genuinely lived, our vows attest that fulfillment is to be found more in the transcendent than in the transitory. Where division and broken relationships characterize many families and marriages, our com-mitment to community life, despite its inherent struggles, myste-riously witnesses to welcome, order, acceptance, and equality. I have read many books and articles detailing futures for reli-gious life in temporary vowed commitments, lay associate mem- Review for Religious bership, satellite communities, blended communities, and so forth. All of that makes for interesting reading and good discussion, but I return to the question: What about now? How do we live now the vows we professed, however many years ago? Do we do so with the passion, zeal, and love of our early years? I do not believe that the answer to the challenges of our pre-sent situation is as simple as the reconstruction of past external structures. Our lives are much more complex today than they were thirty years ago. No one can deny that our traditional structures served us well, considering the church and spirituality of the time, but it would be naive to expect the former ways to meet our con-temporary needs. We can romanticize about the past, but we know that it is impossible to turn the clock back. I am, however, not convinced--at least in my own congrega-tion- that we are at present compelled to create new models and forms of vowed religious life. We do not need to reinvent the wheel. We need to insure that the wheel we already have is on the right track. Besides, since Vatican II, a number of experimental lay and religious communities have already been formed, imple-menting exciting new models of lifestyle and commitment. How they will fare in the future, only time will tell. I am convinced that as brothers we need to reclaim who and what we are. We are men of the church vowed to a life of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. We commit ourselves to a life of prayer and mission with each other in community. Given today's society and culture, these core values are what make us countercultural. Our vows are meant to be lived joyfully, with hope. This life was meant to be lived in relationship with God and with one another. Our challenging times invite us to probe and to enter more deeply into the essence of our vows and the mysterious grace that comes with this life. I believe in the gift of religious life, and particularly in the gift of religious brotherhood. I want a future for us because I believe the church would b6 lacking without us. Knowing how much I have been enriched by my own vocation to Holy Cross, I desire to share this gift with a new generation of religious. I am sure that the majority of members in our communities desires the same, but to do this requires conversion and a courageous open-ness to the Spirit that speaks to us today--and not yesterday and not tomorrow. [--z~00 September-October 1999 AVIS CLENDENEN II On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming journeying It has been sixteen years since I requested and received a dispensation from my religious vows. The following reflection explores--from ethical, psychological, and theological perspectives-- the experience of malting and breaking promises and leaving the vowed religious life. Principally I will be drawing upon the ethical con-siderafions of Sister Margaret Farley RSM, the psycho-logical insights of Dr. Carl Rogers, and the theological depth of Father Karl Rahner SJ. These pages reveal a slice of an experience shared by many--that is, the mak-ing of a religious commitment, living in a vowed reli-gious community for years, developing bonds of trust and friendship, experiencing a crisis of fidelity, discov-ering the personal inability/choice to sustain the orig-inal commitment, and ultimately breaking the commitment and leaving religious life. A suspicion I had as I thought about examining the psychology and theology behind the making and break-ing of promises was that Rogers and Rahner had more than their first names in common. I sensed they shared a fundamental understanding of the human person, the Avis Clendenen PhD, associate professor of religious stud-ies and director of the Pastoral Ministry Institute, teaches pastoral theology and ministry at Saint Xavier University in Chicago, where she can be reached: 3700 West |03rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Revie~v for Religimts human dilemma, and the graced and flawed human quest of becom-ing whole and free. The following reflection reveals some signif-icant connections between Rogerian psychology and Rahnerian theology and offers a way of viewing the painful process of leave-taking and becoming. The painful and hopeful contours of this all-too-familiar experience can be traversed again in openness to the possibility of deeper revelations about the choices we make that sustain our word of love. Sixteen years from my departure after a thirteen-year commitment gives me perspective and a desire to return and examine the process of making promises, breaking promises, and becoming. In the fall of 1969 at nineteen years of age I entered the Sisters of Mercy. My letter of request to enter was all of two paragraphs composed by a nineteen-year-old touched and transformed, as late teens can be, by the turbulent events of the 1960s: My reason for choosing religious life as my way of life is because this in the only life that makes sense to me, as an individual. I want to express my life as a commitment of love to God and His Church. I am not quite sure why there is an attraction to the Mercy order in particular, but I believe my potential for giving and receiving, of freedom and ful-fillment, lie within this community. By the time I would profess my final vows in 1978, all refer-ences to God in the masculine pronoun were to be stricken from my vocabulary. By 1978 1 would be a graduate of the Jesuit School of Theology, having been the first woman admitted to its master-of- divinity program. Throughout the 1970s I struggled with the weight of a patriarchal church, including the graces and conflicts surrounding the inclusion of women in all ministries of the church. I would, over the expanse of years, come to greater clarity as to my "attraction" to the Sisters of Mercy as women of valor and vision, with a deepening sense of gratitude for the reciprocity of our rela-tionship. The issues of freedom and fulfillment became bemus-ing, and the turbulent times never did seem to abate. At thirty-three years of age, thirteen years after my entrance and less than four years after my final profession, I received a dis-pensation from my vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. The following are excerpts from the letter I wrote to the provincial administrator, initiating the formal leave-taking process: To try and summarize all the spiritual and psychological investigations I have done would be an injustice to all that has September-October 1999 Clendenen ¯ On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming gone into this decision. To say too little would be an injus-tice to the quality of relationship I have shared as a Sister of Mercy throughout these years. I feel great pain as I accept responsibility for breaking my promises. But it was the pain of remaining in religious community that finally made the decision. I have asked myself again and again about the truth and integrity of the final commitment professed in 1978. That moment expressed the insight and honesty that was available to me; and while only four years ago, it's been a lifetime. In the months I have lived alone, I have read all the journals from my thirteen years as a Sister of Mercy. I saw the patterns of my struggles repeated year upon year. I read and remembered delightful times in community. My loneli-ness lines many pages. Notes from numerous retreats reminded me of my love for God. And, oh, the growing rage at the institutional church as it demeaned me and our efforts for women's voice and body to be celebrated all places, including the altar. I do not believe that in asking for a dispensation from my religious vows I am walking away from the vision of Catherine McAuley, the works of mercy, the body of Christ, or the commitment with feminists to liberate ourselves from the patriarchy. I am stepping away from a vowed relationship among you. I promised to persevere for life. I believe I per-severed until there .was no more life for me. I am so very sorry. I do not look for understanding, I~ut I will always expect compassion for that is why we bear our name. For the compassion that has been shown me and I have shared with you, for the years of service given expres-sion to as a Sister of Mercy, for the treasured moments and persons, I will always be grateful. I remain a believer and a daughter of Catherine McAuley. I hold now with courage and trepidation her legacy, my Bible, and I turn a corner. And trust. To Give One's Word Yale University Professor of Christian Ethics and Sister of Mercy Margaret Farley's tough thinking on the meaning of fidelity and its claim of obligation form an important frame of reference in analyzing whether one has the moral sanction to end a com-mitment. Sister Margaret Farley wrote her book on commitment in the late 1980s, when the permanency of commitments in American marriages teetered at a fifty-percent divorce rate and when "defection" from the priesthood and religious life in the Review for Religious American Catholic Church continued to deplete the ranks of ordained and vowed Catholic ecclesial leaders. For many years I successfully avoided Margaret Farley's 1986 book Personal Commitments: Beginning. Keeping. Changing. Research for this article inevitably led me back to her work and the challenges to think hard about why we give our word in mak-ing commitments, why we are obliged to keep them, and under what circumstances we may be morally released from them. Farley suggests that the rise of the human-potential movement served to shift the goals of many from the challenges of permanent commit-ment, fidelity, and responsibility, toward the increasing warrant of the call for per-sonal growth and self-actualization. It was as if these two venues for being and becoming were mutually exclusive. Those who had previously interpreted their life in terms of a religious vocation began to claim the. need to transfer voca-tion from one locus to another. "It was not always easy to tell whether these were expressions of faithfulness or of irresponsibility and betrayal."' What does it mean to say you make a promise with a sense of its truth and integrity and then years later suggest that your insights and sense of integrity have changed so signifi-cantly as to justify a breaking of the bonds and a release from obli-gation? Is emotional pain and lack of personal fulfillment sufficient cause to be dispensed fr6m the vows professed in an act of freedom, a free action always given into the hands of an uncertain future? As Farley eloquently explains, commitment has to do with the free action of free persons who give their word as part of them-selves. Commitment m~ans to give my word because that word belongs to me and I freely choose to entrust it to another's keep-ing. In a sense, commitment means to share with one or more per-sons claims on my being there in a promised way with and for them. While my word is "given away," paradoxically I still pos-sess it because it is myself. In commitment we freely take on an obligation to do as we have promised. The motivation for the kind of commitment we are discussing here is always love. "By assuming certain frameworks for love, we Is emotional pain and lack of personal fulfillment sufficient cause to be dispensed from the vows professed in an act of freedom, September-October 1999 Clendenen ¯ On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming commit ourselves to whatever we understand essentially to con-stitute this framework."2 The profession of religious vows to be lived in the mic

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 45.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1986. ; Direction and Reconciliation The Prayer of Being Responses to Rape The Key to Spiritual Direction Volume 45 N umber 6 Nov.IDec. 1986 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR REt.IGIOOS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REL~OOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVtEW YOn RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Nov./Dec., 1986 Volume 45 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REviEw FOR REt.tGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW FOU REHCmUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindeli Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print~ issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The World Synod of Bishops: The Extraordinary Session of 1985 The Ordinary Session of 1987 Jan Schotte, C.I.C.M. Archbishop Schotte is General Secretary of the World Synod of Bishops. This article is based on his address to the Catholic Press AssOciation Convention, June 7, 1986, the text of which was first published in its The Catholic Journalist, July, 1986, pp. 5-8. ~n this article I will deal with what I have learned, during the past~months since my transfer to the office of Permanent Secretary, about one of the youngest institutions of the Catholic Church, the World Synod of Bishops. When in the course of my remarks I intend also to say a few words about the relationship between the Synod and the media, please accept my contribu-tion as the expressio~n of a deeply held conviction that the media have a major role to play in the mission of the Chm:ch, and especially with regard to the Synod of Bishops. This conviction is based on my experience as a priest and missionary who has been privileged to serve the Gospel of the Lord and his Church in many different functions. I worked with the media as the briefing officer for French-speaking journalists in the 1980 and 1983 Synods of Bishops. In those days, I was somewhat biased in favor 0f media people. Today, as Secretary General of the Synod, I dare to hope that I still carry within me that same favorable bias. I will confine my remarks to.three areas. In the first place, I will share some insight into the preparation, the process and the final product of the Extraordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, held in 1985. 801 802 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 Secondly, I will brief the reader concerning the next Ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops on the theme "Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and the World, Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council," which is scheduled to take place from October 1 through 30, 1987. Finally, I will offer some very tentative comments on the relationship between Synod and media, telling what the Secretary General of the Synod expects from the media, and at the same time expecting to hear from the media professionals, what they expect from the Synod Secretariat. I. The Extraordinary Synod of 1985 The Extraordinary Synod, which received more media attention than any of the previous synods, was first and foremost a Synod of Bishops-- just that, but totally that! What Is the Synod of Bishops? It is not easy to give a brief reply to this question. It becomes especially difficult when the person asking the question expects an answer in terms of civil or political administration. Is it a parliament, a Church senate, a private council of the pope, a mini-ecumenical council? Each of these bodies has some analogy with the Synod, but none is apt to explain the true nature of the Synod. The Synod is explainable only in terms of the interior logic of the Church, from within her structure and her life. Dealing with an ecclesial entity, a juridical-institutional explanation is not sufficient, but it is necessary to have recourse to the notion of the Church as mystery and as communion. The Synod of Bishops has become part of the life of the Catholic Church; we accept its existence as normal, undisputed. From 1967 onwards we have witnessed the synodal assemblies treating topics and arguments of great importance and attracting the attention not only of Catholics but also of many others. The Synod of Bishops has become one of the propulsion centers of the pastoral activity of the Church, introducing into its life the more important reforms called for by Vatican I1. We recall the 1967 Synod which discussed several topics: the basic orienta-tion for the New Code of Canon Law; orientations for the reform of semi-naries; mixed marriages; and institution of the International Theological Commission. The first Extraordinary Synod of 1969 contributed to the clarification of the role of the bishops' conferences their relationship to the Holy See. The Synod of 1971 againdiscussed two fundamental topics: one on the identity of the Catholic priest and the meaning of priestly celibacy; the other on The World Synod of Bishops / 803 social justice. The 1974 Synod was dedicated to the theme of evangeliza-tion. It was followed in 1977 by the Synod on catechesis. The Synod of 198Odiscussed the Christian family. The Synod of 1983 addressed the issue of reconciliation and penance. The Second Extraordinary Synod of 1985 evaluated the implementation and impact of the Second Vatican Council. Truly an impressive list for only twenty years of activity. Such fundamental and vast themes together with their links to the Council and the post-conciliar period suffice to show the growing importance of the Synod of Bishops in the life of the Catholic Church. It is an institution with connotations of universality, agility and topicality, which seeks to fulfill its role as Syn-odos, the "walking together" of bishops for the benefit of the universal Church and all humankind. The Synod of 1985 It is necessary to understand that any .session of the Synod of Bishops is a fruit of the Second Vatican Council, and an expression of collegiality and communion in order to fully grasp the meaning of that special event that was the Second Extraordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, which took place from November 24 through December 8, 1985, on the theme: "The Second Vatican Council on the Twentieth Anniversary of Its Closing." In recent years, the Church has been subjected to surprises: the death of the smiling Pope John Paul I after only thirty-three days in office; the election of the first non'Italian Pope in four centuries; the vitality and charm of Pope John Paul II who travels to all continents and keeps drawing massive crowds of Catholics and non-Catholics alike. In some way, we have become used to such surprises. Despite all this, when John Paul II made his announcement of an extra-ordinary general session of the Synod of Bishops to evaluate the impact of the Second Vatican Council, the Church and the world were not prepared for this new surprise, so much so that immediately a full-blown debate started in the news media about the purpose Of the Synod, about the intentions of the Holy Father, to say nothing about the feasibility, of calling the bishops to Rome with only eleven months of advance notice. Yet this announcement was fully consistent with the personality and style of the Holy Father, and more especially in accord with his deepest faith convictions. It is no secret that John Paul II has a deep sense of his mission, and that he is constantly looking for ways and means to confirm in the faith his brother bishops and the whole people of God. We also know that he attaches great importance to significant gestures and symbols. We have learned that he is not afraid to face reality and tO assess situations with 804 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 utmost lucidity. All these factors taken together would have been sufficient to explain why he deemed it necessary to convene on short notice an Extra-ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, But there is more. John Paul II is a firm believer in the collegiality of the bishops and he is a convinced defender and promoter of the Second,Vatican Council. The Holy Father has always believed and continues to believe in. the Council, not for strategic ~r.easons but for reasons of faith. Vatican II was for him, who participated in all its sessions as a young bishop, an experience which deeply marked .his entire episcopate and pontificate. A faithful analysis of the unwavering support of the Pope ~for the Council seems the only serious and objective method for interpret!~ng the reasons behind the convening of the Second Extraordinary Synod .without falling into the trap of putting the Pope's intentions on trial or of expressing purely subjective judgments. The Pope could not have stated the objectives~of the Synod more clearly: to celebrate,and re-live the extraordinary spirit of the Council; to verify what has been done to implement the Councilteachings; to promote a deeper awareness of the Council and the application of its principles to present and future problems. To look again at the Second Vatican Council and to assess its implemen-tation was, for the bishops at the Synod, a massive program. Yet it was unrealistic to think that the Pope intended to review every single Council document in a comprehensive way within the twelve ~working days that were available. It was equally unlikely that the Holy Father had a further agenda, a hidden one, to throw into reverse the process of renewal initiated by the Council, or to use expressions from certain journalists, "to bury the Council," "to put the brakes on renewal," "to set the clock back," "to roll back the tide," or "to let theprophets of doom back in after they have been banned from the Church by John XXIII." Preparation of the Extraordinary Synod After the surprise announcement by the Holy Father, the General Secretariat of the Synod began immediately the preparation of this unusual event. N,Iy predecessor, the then Archbishop, now Cardinal, Jozef Tomko initiated a series of consultations with a number of bishops and theologians who had participated in all sessions of the Second Vatican Council. Some of those had played a role of primary importance, either as officers of the Council or as participants or experts involved in the drafting of the Council documents. They were asked to react to the three objectives indicated by the Pope and to formulate guidelines for a consultation of all the bishops' conferences. The World Synod of Bishops / 805 The fifteen members of the Council of the General Secretariat were called to Rome for a two-day meeting, March 14-15, 1985, to examine the answers to the preliminary consultation. It was then decided to mail a questionnaire to the patriarchs and metropolitans of the Oriental Churches, to the presidents of bishops' conferences, to the Union of Supefiors General and to the heads of the various departments in the Roman Curia. This questionnaire Went out on April 1, 1985, with a covering letter in which strong emphasis was put on the necessity for a consultation that would reach as many persons and levels of the Local Church as was feasible in so shol~t a time. It was felt that the opinions should be sought not only of the bishops and the experts of the Conference, but also of the priests, religious and laity at large. It was further stressed that the inquiry should try to focus on the major documents of Vatican II, without excluding any of the others. Th6re was no doubt that the debate in the Synod should focus on the nature of the Church and its mission: what is the inner reality of the Church? How does she see herself and, in the light of that perception, how does she organize herself? How does she relate to the complex structures and needs of the world? Such had been the original and genial inspiration of Vatican II itself; any evaluation twenty years later had to concentrate on those same questions. The answers were expected at the General Secretariat by September 1, 1985. However many factors contributed to delays so that the deadline was not respected. The General Secretariat had received only eighteen answers by September I. In the end, however, the result was quite satisfactory: 73.75°70 of the answers'(out of a possible total of 141) were received in time to be incorpo-rated in a summary which reflected the different regional realities, cultures and problems and which~ represented in an objective way the situation of the Church twenty years after the closing of Vatican II. Not every single response to the questionnaire had the same value or authority; some were very detailed while others remained rather schematic; some reflected the thinking of the bishops while 0thersdrew on a large grass-roots response; some had been fully discussed and formulated by the bishops in conference, while others were the work of experts or the secretariat of a conference; some replies reflected rather local concerns while others definitely attempted to see the problems at the level of the Universal Church. All taken together, however, gave a true image of the situation in the Church. I want to share with you a particular observation with regard to this consultation: the formal answers which we received were not the final answers! After the national hierarchies mailed in their submissions, reflection and discussion continued at the level of the single bishop or layperson as well as in the circles of experts, theologians and ecclesial groups or communio 806 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 ties. Many bishops arrived thus at the Synod with different ideas than those expressed in the answers of their respective Conferences. The Final Product The 1985 Synod issued two documents which I am sure you are all familiar with. I feel therefore dispensed from recalling the content of the "Message to the People of God" or of the "Final Report." I only want to clarify a few points. In the media, the fact of the immediate publication of the Final Report was highlighted as an unusual event. Some saw it in terms of a victory of the bisl~ops who wrested this concession from the Pope. The truth of the fact is somewhat different. Every Synod transmits the result of its exchange for consideration to the Holy Father in the form of a report or a list of proposals, or even by entrusting all relevant working papers to the Holy Father, who then decides in what form the results of the Synod will be made public. After the Synods of 1974, 1977 and 1980, the Pope published an "Apostolic Exhortation" in which he presented the results of the Synod. After the 1983 Synod on "Reconciliation and.Penance" however, John Paul II enlisted the collaboration of the bishops elected to the Council of the General Secretariat in preparing a "Post-Synodal Exhortation." During the preparatory phase of the 1985 Extraordinary Synod, many different possibilities for coricluding the Synod had been examined, and the Holy Father did not exclude any, postponing his decision until the Synod had finished its task. When the reports of the small language group~ were presented to the assembly halfway through the proceedings, it became clear that they contained a very rich material, reflecting a large consensus among the participants in evaluating Vatican II's impact and in proposing ways to promote its further implementation. It was then decided to ask the Rappor-teur to .try drafting a final report that would reflect the consensus and the richness of the contributions. This report was debated and finally voted upon. Separate votes were taken on eighteen different sections of the report, and the approval of each one was almost unanimous. In his closing r.emar~s, which followed immediately after the proclamation of the results of the final balloting, the Holy Father stated: Right from the beginning of this Synod, it has appeared clearly how much all those who. were called to participate in it truly shared in its objectives. The results of your work--contained in the "Message" and in the "Final Report"--are witness to your clear-sightedness and your diligent care as well as to your fine ecclesial sense . Therefore, with joy and with sincere gratitude I accept from your hands the "Message" and the "Final Report" which demonstrate this sense of communion: with my consent these docu- The World Synod of Bishops / 807 ments will be rendered public. May the Lord see to it that they bear abundant fruit. It is now your task to ensure that the great force and the awareness of the importance of the Council penetrate deeply into the Universal Church, into your particular churches, and into the various communities. With these words, the Holy Father indicated his approval for the publica-tion of the "Final Report," and manifested at the same time his profound sense of mission and of collegiality. What the "Final Report" makes especially clear is that the Second Vatican Council is the most important event for the Church in the twen-tieth century. The Council offered orientations and answers not only for the questions of the last twenty years, but for the problems of the future as well. The total richness of the documents of the Council, taken together and not separated one from the other, consists in that it explains what the Church is and how she must be Church in the world. The Extraordinary Synod exploded as it were a number of myths which got hold of the minds of many Catholics in the years after Vatican II, and which conditioned the implementation of the Council teaching. Allow me to list just a few. 1. The myth of the primacy of the pastoral over the doctrinal. The "Final Report" affirms: "Special attention must be paid to the four major Consti-tutions of the council, which contain the key for the interpretation of the other Decrees and Declarations. It is not licit to separate the pastoral character from the doctrinal vigor of the documents." 2. The myth of presenting the Vatican Council as a mere historical event, to be left behind as soon as possible in order to work towards Vatican III. The teachings of Vatican II, although looking at the Church and her mission in the light of the prevailing situation, remain valid because they recall funda-mental tenets of the faith and of the Church. 3.The myth of the contradiction between the teachings of Vatican I and Vatican H. The 'Final Report' states: "The Church is one and the same throughout all the Councils." 4. The myth of the preeminence of the spirit over the letter of the Council. The "Final Report" affirms: "It is not legitimate to separate the spirit and the letter of the Council." 5. The myth that pluralism in doctrine o f faith is the way of the future. The "Final Report" states: "The pluralism of fundamentally opposed posi-tions., leads to dissolution, destruction and the loss of identity." 6. The myth that human development is to be promoted without reference to the mystery of the Chu, rch. The "Final Report" says: "It is. necessary to put aside the false and useless opposition between the Church's spiritual mission and diaconia for the world." 81)8 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 7. The myth that any meeting of the world episcopate dissolves auto-matically into opposing camps of North versus South, of East versus West, of liberals versus conservatives. The openness of the debates and the fraternal spirit that was evident from the very first days of the Synod made manifest that there was complete unity. 8. The myth of the intended "'restoration, "" The Bishops affirmed: "The Synod has been for us an occasion which has allowed us once again to experience communion in the one Spirit, in the one faith and hope, and in the one Catholic Church, as well as in the unanimous will to translate the Council into the practice and the life of the Church." We leave to history the final assessment of the Extraordinary Synod of 1985. However it is not presumptuous to state that it was, in many ways, a truly extraordinary event in the life of the Church. The Ordinary Synod on the Laity, 1987 The Synod of Bishops reconvenes in 1987, in ordinary general session, to discuss the "'Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council." Inevitably the bishops will return yet again to consider the nature of the Church and the responsibility of all baptized for her mission and ministry. The 1985 Extraordinary Synod has provided us with the right theological context in which to prepare for the Synod on the Laity. As you know, the Synod on the Laity was originally scheduled for 1986, The announcement by the Holy Father of an Extraordinary General Session of the Synod in 1985 made it advisable to postpone by one year the con-vening of the Synod on'the Laity. In so doing, the Holy Father acceded to a suggestion that was made by the many bishops' conferences who feared not to have sufficient time for a thorough preparation and consultation with the laity. The deadline for the submission to the Synod Secretariat of con-tributions by the bishops' conferences was therefore extended by six months to May 1, 1986. Not the First Synod on the Laity? The coming Ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops will not be the first that deals with the laity. A simple enumeration of the arguments discussed at the past Synods readily demonstrates the continuing and signi-ficant attention which the Synods have devoted to th& theme of the laity. Thus we had the 1971 Synod with its double theme of "Justice in the World" and the "Ministerial Priesthood." Both topics had a particular relevance for the laity: the first in that it touched upon the role of the Church in society--a privileged field of activity for the Christian laity, and the second The World Synod of Bishops / 809 which explored the ministerial priesthood in its connection also with the common priesthood of all the faithful. The 1974 Synod on "Evangelization" recognized and explicitly promoted the specific mission of the laity. It stated: "Lay people, whose particular vocation places them in the midst of the world and in charge of the most varied temporal tasks, must for this very reason exercise a very special form of evangelization." While the 1977 Synod on "Catechesis" stimulated further appreciation of the role of the laity, especially with regard to youth, even more so did the 1980 Synod in its presentation of the Christian family as the primary and basic form of secular vocation and mission in the Church. Finally, the Synod of 1983 recognized and promoted the task of lay people in the work of Christian reconciliation, which finds expression not only within the ecclesial community but also within human society. Reconciliation is not only a personal challenge for each Christian, but a corporate task for the laity. This summary listing of the topics of the Synods amply demo0strates how the Church, through one of her more important institutions, has taken to heart the deepening of her understanding of the vocation and mission of the laity. It could not have been different, since it was one of the major thrusts of the Second Vatican Council to enhance and promote the partici-pation of the laity in the mission of the Church for the salvation of the world. How Was the Theme for the 1987 Synod Chosen? After twenty years of existence, the Synod of Bishops has developed its own procedures and methods, which are all specifically "synodal." This applies also to the selection of a theme for the Synod. At every Ordinary Synod, towards the end of the proceedings, an open debate is organized on possible themes for the next Synod. The Synod Fathers then express their preferences, indicating at the same time why they propose one topic: rather than another. Already at this stage some themes emerge as being especially timely. Immediately after the closing of the Synod, the General Secretary con-tacts all the patriarchs and metropolitans of the Catholic Oriental Church, the heads of the departments of the Roman Curia, and the presidents of national and international conferences of bishops, inviting them to indicate a theme of their choice. This step is necessary since an Ordinary Synod con-sists only of a relatively small number of bishops, and it is imperative to hear from all bishops through their respective conferences. When all the replies have been tallied, the fifteen members of the Council of the Synod Secretariat are then convened to examine the material and 810 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 to formulate more adequately the themes that seem to emerge. Such a further step is necessary because many suggestions from the bishops' conferences will sometimes deal with the same general topic but under different aspects. The top three themes are then prepared for presentation to the Holy Father, who, as the President of the Synod, sets the agenda and determines the topics to be discussed. Up to now, the Holy Father has always been able to honor the results of the consultation, and has steadfastly chosen the theme that emerged as number one. "Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World, Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council" was requested. The Holy Father, acceding tO this request, told the members of the Council of the General Secretariat on May 19, 1984, the following: It is not difficult to grasp the motives for such a convergence of opinion. In reality, the mission of the laity, as an integral part of the salvific mission of the entire People of God, is of fundamental importance for the life of the Church and for the service which the Church herself is called to render to the world. Among the different motives which have been presented in favor of the theme, the following can be singled out. Within the context of the specifically secular vocation and mission of the laity, there have been numerous posit.ive results and achievements, such as the commitment of many lay men and women in the area of human development, social justice, human rights, peace and international solidarity, politics, human labor and culture. There are also in this area a number of problems which require critical evaluation. Two tendencies which are prob-lematical and raise questions cannot be ignored. A first tendency concerns those among the laity who are so influenced by secularism and by the values, or non-values, of the world that they no longer see that their whole activity in the temporal order is necessarily linked with their faith. This is the case of those men or women who engage in social, political, economic or cultural activity and feel that the inspiration and motivation for their commitment must be found outside their faith. It is the case as well of Catholic public officials who in order to serve all their constituents assume that they must promote positions or norms of behavior which are in contradiction with their faith and their Catholic identity. Another tendency exists where Christians believe that they can carry out their mission by abstaining from any involvement in the problems of society. They withdraw into a purely spiritual or devotional world and close in upon themselves or upon the very private circle of any group or movement to The World Synod of Bishops / 811 which they belong. The Council has very clearly stated that "by reason of their special voca-tion it belongs to the laity to seek the kingdom of God by engaging in the temporal affairs and directing them according to God's will." The same Council also noted that "the laity can be called in different ways to more immediate cooperation in the apostolate of the hierarchy" and that "they have the capability of being appointed by the hierarchy to some ecclesial offices with a view to a spiritual end." In accordance with this conciliar doctrine, a more direct and wider participation of the laity in the pastoral activities of the Church came about. But together with this positive develop-ment, there exists also on the part of some of the laity a far more extensive and stronger demand fo~: access to various "ecclesial ministries." Not all lay participation in ecclesial ministries is without problems. In some local churches, one notices a tendency to restrict the mission of the laity to ecclesial ministries only. This can involve the danger of confusion with regard to the correct understanding of the respective missions of the clergy and of the laity in the Church. We thus see in some situations a real attempt at "clericalization of the laity," while at the same time we assist at the phenome-non of the "laicization of the clergy," when the latter take over the specific mission of the laity in temporal affairs by becoming merely social workers, or p61itical activists. These and other phenomena derive from a particular interpretation given to the vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in the world presented by Vatican.II. If that interpretation is not correct, the vocation of the laity will not be ~ruly lived out, with the result that harm is done not only to individuals and groups but to the entire ecclesial community. The latter's credibility is impaired and its pastoral efficacy is restricted. It is therefore clear that the doctrine of the Council on the participation of the laity in the mission of the Church and on their own specific mission in the world must be studied in depth at this time. The Preparation of the Synod As soon as the theme of the 1987 Synod had been established, the Secretariat of the Synod invited the bishops' conferences, the Pontifical Council for the Laity and other representative bodies to submit their views on how to approach the theme. The answers were examined first by a task force of theologians, and afterwards by the members of the Council of ti;e General Secretariat. Following the indications contained in the answers from the bishops' conferences and the guidelines elaborated by the fifteen members of the Council, the General Secretariat then produces a preliminary paper called Linearnenta or "outline of the theme." 812 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 The Lineamenta has been sent to all the Hierarchies, not as a working paper for the Synod, but as a help for further study of the theme and for wider consultation in all Local Churches. The outline document is in no way--nor does it pretend to be--a complete and logically ordered treatment of the theme. Neither is it an outline or a draft of a possible future synodal document. It aims to offer a point of departure for analysis, discussion and reflection on the laity: on the doctrinal and pastoral aspects of the question, on values and needs, on achievements and diffict~lties. Its main aim is to stimulate discussion and help the Local Churches deepen their own thinking in. the matter. In the covering letter which accompanied the Lineamenta, the General Secretary insisted that the consultation not be limited to the bishops or to specialized commissions of the bishops' conferences. The letter strongly emphasized that the very nature of the theme, as well as the direct experience of those who fully live their vocation as lay Christians, demand a large scale consultation of the laypeople themselves. This consultation should not be limited to comments on the Lineamenta only, but should continue up to the opening of the Synod itself, so that the participating bishops can truly reflect the situations and expectations of the laity in their particular Churches. Past experience has proven that such a consultation can be a truly bene-ficial event for the Church. It can initiate a process of deeper awareness of all the faithful concerning their own baptismal vocation. In preparation of the 1980 Synod on the Family, the Bishops' Conference of France was able to collect fifty thousand answers from groups and families. Prior to the 1983 Synod on Penance and Reconciliation, the Bishops of Chile gathered twenty-five thousand answers from parishes and small ecclesial communities. The very process of the consultation cannot but have d profound impact on the life of the Local Church when it is carried out at all levels. In order to facilitate a consultation at the grass roots level, the Lineamenta was published in seven languages, and bishops' conferences have translated the document into many more local idioms. It has become one of the most widely distributed texts. At the end of the three chapters of the Lineamenta some questions have been formulated. The answers to the questions, duly synthesized at the level of the bishops' conference of each nation and supplemented by any con-sideration which the bishops themselves might add, will then serve as the basis for the "working paper" which we hope to forward to the future par-ticipants sometime before the opening of the Synod. As of May 1, the cutoff date for the submissions from the particular churches and bishops' conferences, the Secretariat had received answers to the questionnaire from a grand total of three conferences of bishops! The The Worm Synod of Bishops / 813 Extraordinary Synod has certainly interfered with the preparation of the Synod on the Laity. But I also feel that Synods which follow too closeiy must allow sufficient time for a thorough preparation in a way that the whole People of God can feel involved. When I left my office some days ago, the submissions had begun to arrive in larger numbers. Within the next month a Task Force of experts--priests and laity-~will study all the responses and prepare an outline for the working paper (Instrumentum laboris). The fifteen cardinals and bishops, members of the Council of the Synod's General Secretariat, will discuss and finalize ~the outline at the next Council meet-ing, October 8-11. It is clear that the preparation, of the Synod constitutes a unique chal. lenge but also a sterling opportunity for lay men and women to undertake an assessment of their own involvement as baptized Christians in the Church and the world. For the whole Church, it will be an occasion to deepen the understanding of the true nature of the Church on the eve of the Third Millennium of her history. It is an occasion that the Church cannot afford to miss. For Catholic professional media people, the coming Synod offers the possibility to look at their own involvement in the Church and in society, and to assess the role they are called to play as Catholics and as communi-cators. But at the same time the whole People of God, pastors together with the laity, must reflect on the sacredness of the communic~ator's vocation, charisma and ministry. I hope that the following remarks may somewhat contribute to this process of reflection on your part. The Synod and the Media The surprise announcement of the Extraordinary Synod and the relatively short time allotted for its preparation attracted right from the beginning an unusual amount of comment and speculation. Within the Catholic Church, some seemed to fear that the Synod would be used to point the Church in a new direction, signaling a kind of retreat from the principles and attitudes of the Second Vatican Council. Some, on the other hand, saw the Synod as providing an opportunity to identify and correct what they judged to be the mistakes and abuses of the past twenty years. Most however--and this contrary to the impression given by the mass media in the months preceding the Synod--accepted the Synod gratefully as an oppor-tunity to deepen their understanding of the Council, while others, of the younger generation, hailed it as a welcome occasion to discover for the first time in a deeply personal way the message of Vatican II. In spite of the clearly stated intentions of the Holy Father, a debate con-tinued to rage well up to and into the time of the Synod itself. Taking into 814 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 account that some media people have difficulty not to inject into their report-ing their own perceptions and biases, the future debate at the Synod was presented erroneously as a battle between liberals and conservatives. Some seeds of misunderstanding concerning the aims of the Synod may also have been found in the polarization which exists today within many sectors of the Catholic community concerning the nature of the Church and her role. Not a few h~ve retained a position which has not moved beyond the First Vatican Council, and see the Church almost exclusively in structural, institu-tional terms. They have not given enough weight to the work of the Second Vatican Council. They have failed to recognize the essential truth that the Second Vatican C6uncil does not contradict the First Vatican Council, but complements it. The primacy and infallibility of the pope, defined at the First, are not contradicted but developed further at the Second Vatican Council by a fuller consideration of the role and ministry of the bishops. The Second Vatican Council lays emphasis, then, on the collegiality of bishops, on their respon-sibility for their own dioceses and for the good of the Universal Church, on the true nature of the diocese as the Church of God in each locality, and on the dignity and calling of all the baptized. Part of the Church's task in the past twenty years has been to try to find ways of expressing these complementary truths of the First and Second Vatican Councils in struc-tures and attitudes that do justice to both. Inevitably we have failures as well as successes to look back on. But some people have never accepted that that effort had to be made. Others have failed to see how the Church relates to the modern world. In the past, some Christians saw nothing but threat and danger in the world. According to those, the Church stood apart from the world and tended to oppose, reject and condemn it. The Second Vatican Council taught that the Church must be open to the world, its aspirations and struggles, and seek to provide it with a soul and a conscience. Because of those and similar factors, some Catholics came to view the Extraordinary Synod as a moment simply of crisis or conflict. They failed to understand that there is a very real sense in which the life and work of the Church, of a Council as well as of a Synod, can only be seen through the eyes of faith. Many, however, and towards the beginning of the Synod they were a majority, acknowledged the true intentions of the Holy Father. This progres-sive acceptance of the objective and of the true nature of the Extraordinary Synod was the result of many converging factors. The Holy Father himself spoke repeatedly, on the occasion of the Angelus prayer on Sundays, of the teaching and orientations of Vatican II. Bishops, bishops' conferences, The World Synod of Bishops / 815 theologians and lay people engaged, everywhere in a process of further reflec-tion about the Council. Each in their own sphere and field, they began to take stock of where they stood and what ,they had done to implement the Council. And so it could be said that even before the Synod convened its objectives had already been partially achieved through a greater awareness of the total richness of Vatican II for the Church of today. The media interest during the Extraordinary Synod was exceptional. Over and beyond the two hundred fifty journalists with permanent accreditation to the Holy See, some four hundred ten correspondents from thirty-four countries came to Rome for the sole purpose of covering the Synod event. The media of the whole world followed the 1985 Synod with more interest than any of the preceding Synods. Never had the Church attracted so much attention since the days of Vatican II, not even during the Conclaves of 1978, nor even on the day the Pope was shot. The large majority of media professionals.~faithfully reported the true content of the proceedings and of the concluding documents. Wherever I went after the Synod, I was truly amazed at seeing how most of the people that I met had a correct knowledge and understanding of the Synod. And yet, some publications still keep hammering away at the so-called secrecy of the synodal process, at the insufficient briefings or press releases, at the reluctance of Synod officials to talk, at the exclusion of the journalists from the Synod Hall during the meetings, and so on. I will not endeavor to give a deta!led account of all that was done before and during the Synod in order to improve the flow of information. I can only pledge that Archbishop Foley and myself are determined not to put aside any legitimate suggestion that will contribute to better and more objec5 tive information. Today, I only want to share some general observations regarding the relationship between the media and Synod, hoping that those of you who will cover the next Synod may be helped in their task. 1. A Synod of Bishops is an event that must totally and specifically be seen in the context of the Church. Information on ihe Synod has to do with the image of the Church. When one speaks of the image of the Church, there is more at stake than "image" understood in a public relations sense. Something far more fundamental is at stake, namely the self-understanding on the part of the Church of her very nature and mission. Upon that self-understanding or "image" so much else depends, and, in the case that con-cerns us here, on it depends the understanding of the nature and functioning of a Synod of Bishops. 2. The Synod of Bishops is not an ecumenical council where all the bishops of the world, together with the pope, exercise directly and collegially the supreme authority in the Church. The Synod, as set out in the Code 816 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 of Canon Law, is a limited group of bishops who have been chosen from different regions of the world, and who meet at stated times with the pope-- normally every third year. The scope of such meetings is threefold: to fos-ter closer unity between the Roman Pontiff and .the bishops; to assist the Roman Pontiff in safeguarding faith and morals and in strengthening ecclesiastical discipline; to consider questions concerning the Church's activity in the world (Can. 342). It is the role of the Synod of Bishops to discuss the questions on the agenda and to formulate suggestions, but not to decide the issues or to issue decrees, unless the Roman Pontiff in certain cases has endowed the Synod with deliberative power, and even in this event, it is the pope's prerogative to ratify the decision (Can. 343). It is most important to be clear on this point. 3. It is important to realize that the Synod of Bishops is directly under the authority of the pope, who convenes its assembly, ratifies the election of its members and appoints other members, determines the agenda, presides over the Synod and brings it to conclusion (Can. 344). The Synod, then, is not to be seen as a kind of constitutional "check and balance" to the authority of the pope; it is most certainly not an alternative or rival authority; it is one means by which the bishops of the world are given an opportunity to collaborate with the Holy Father for the good of the whole Church. The bishops gathered in Synod together with the pope are not called to promote their own priorities. In listening to and in exchanging with their brother bishops from all continents, they try to achieve a consensus regarding specific recommendations which they wish to propose to the pope. While aware of the needs of their own particular Churches, they must view all questions from the perspective of the universal good of the Church, and thus give equal consideration to the situations prevailing in their own dioceses or nations, as to those of the most distant regions and peoples. 4. The synodal process is unique and cannot be compared with any other process of group dynamics. In a Synod, bishops come together in function of the episcopal mission which they received through sacramental ordination. A Synod will therefore always be first and foremost an event with a spiritual dimension. All through the days of a Synod, bishops open their hearts and minds not only to their brother bishops but to the voice of the Holy Spirit. They allow their convictions to be shaped by human reasoning, by speak-ing out and by listening, by dialogue and discussion, but above all by their willingness to accept the message of Jesus Christ, while together they fathom its depth and relevance under the inspiration of the Spirit. It is therefore normal that at the end of a synodal process bishops approve proposals and express ideas which they did not hold at the beginning, or which differ from what had been stated by their own conference of bishops before the Synod. The World Synod of Bishops / 817 The process of discernment is so essential to the Synod that it should not be made dependent on the ebb and flow of public opinion. That process would be hampered or even distorted if bishops were concerned more with posturing for the media back home than with the collegial search for insight and consensus. 5. Religious editors and correspondents are by and large professionals in the true sense: they know their business and they have a thorough under-standing of the business of the Church. However, time and again some media send to the Synod correspondents who have earned their kudos on the polit-ical scene but are mere apprentices when it comes to Church activities and religious events. The editor of a serious national newspaper or wire service would not dream of sending one of the staff to cover the tennis open unless he or she had demonstrated a solid grip of the intricacies of the game. Nor would a network dispatch to the Pentagon a reporter who has never heard about military strategy, tactics and hardware. And yet, at every Synod we meet media people who see in the Church nothing more than just another political convention or parliamentary assembly where all results are produced through a majority vote. They do not know that the magic of the majority vote does not work when it comes to the formulation of theological principles or moral doctrine! It is not fair to the professional integrity of journalists when they are put in a position of having to relate or interpret events and statements that are totally outside the scope of their qualifications. Goodwill and hard work are not always substitutes for expertise, knowledge and com-petence. A lack of knowledge about religious matters or Church affairs may lead a correspondent to discard whatever news or issue cannot be reduced to "material" or "secular" or "political" categories. 6. A Synod is also a good place to observe trends that are developing in the Church. The last Synods have clearly shown how the presence of bishops from Third World countries is becoming stronger and more influ-ential. Their voices are listened to with greater interest, all the more so since the churches in Africa, Asia and Latin America often present a picture of dynamic growth and joyful celebration that we so sorely miss in many of the churches in the Western world. The Church is no longer Eurocentric or Occidental. Yet among the journalists and correspondents at the Synod, the overwhelming majority comes from Europe and North America, a situa-tion that accurately reflects the distribution of media power in today's interna-tional community. As a consequence, churches in the Third World are almost totally dependent on secondhand information from western sources, except in the case of the few diocesan bulletins that have the good fortune of receiv-ing reports from their own bishops, faithfully composed at the end of each week during a Synod. 818 / Review for Religious, November-Decetnber, 1986 The situation of the Third World churches merits our attention. It is important, therefore, to become more fully aware of the information needs of the younger churches. Media persons should ask themselves whether some-thing more could be done by their publication, by their diocese, at the level of the national Church, particularly of such entities as the Catholic Press Association. It should not be too difficult to come up with some truly imaginative projects, such as sponsoring a religious correspondent from a Third World Church to theupcoming Synod, or organizing internships for young'journalists from Africa or Asia or Latin America who could accom-pany a Western staff to the Synodl These have the means, and I am sure also the motivation, to find a solution to a problem that cannot be solved by them alone, but that will never be solved without their help. I conclude my remarks. Every Synod of Bishops deals with some aspect of the truth of the Church, and always with the entire truth of the Gospel message. The service which the communications media render is, to use an expression dear to John Paul II, "service of truth." In the realm of religious information, the medium cannot be separated from the message of the Lord. We live in an age of increased complexity, confusion and helplessness. In a time of great change and upheaval, there is always, in the Christian com-munity, the human urge to withdraw in a Church-under-siege mentality, to become obsessed with difficulties and dangers, or to suffer paralysis from too much analysis, In the Church we always have a fair share of prophets of doom, those that pull their hair and wring their hands in lament for the loss of faith in our society, while in their own lives they fail to witness to the truth of the Gospel message. Such prophets of doom deny the power of Pentecost and the working of the Spirit, and go forth to proclaim the Good News. In a very special way Catholic media people must be the bringers oftruth, the heralds of the Spirit and the witnesses of love of the Father as revealed in Christ Jesus. The streets and the squares of our cities and villages are teeming with people who wait to hear the truth of the Lord Jesus. We cannot fail them. Pilgrim and Penitent: Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father McCarty writes in his covering letter: "It seems like ages since I've sent in any-thing . A stint on our general council broke the flow of writing." Actually his last article was in 1978, and was entitled: "Religious Roots: Knowing and Owning Our Own Story." He may be addressed at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. The emergency call from my niece came early one Friday last winter. Her seven-year-old was balking at the prospect of first confession with her class several weeks hence. Reassurances seemed of little help. But Heather was willing to talk with her great-uncle. Faced with the formidable task of meeting with a seven-year-old (I'm used to dealing with grown-ups!), I agreed to come over after school that day for., what? Was it to be penitential catechesis? Spiritual direction? Pastoral counseling? Talk about intimidation! In my own mind I settled for just an avuncular chat! Some hours later, I found myself in peripatetic fashion sloshing through the melting snowbanks at a local park. In between kicking her patent leathers into every icy puddle along the way (and stopping to watch a freight train pass), Heather's predicament unfolded. (It's O.K. to write about this. She said I could tell.) Yes, she was clear about the meaning of the sacrament (she called it "reconciliation" !) and about the ritual involved. Yes, her God-image was in good shape (God was her "friend"). No, she didn't have trouble telling God she was sorry when she didn't behave properly (though she did have some trouble telling her brother!). No, she wasn't afraid of the priest (he was "real nice" with the kids). What her hesitation came down to was: (a) she didn't want to have to 819 820 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 tell all her sins to anyone (at least no one "outside the family!") and (b) she was afraid that, if she did, the priest would tell her parents (apparently they didn't count as part of "the family"!) After some reassurances that lots of grown-ups had difficulties with confession (she was surprised that grown-ups had to go too!), but many I knew found it very helpful. I asked if she thought she might give it a try. Her response: "I'11 have to think it over." By that time we were back to the house. It seemed right to end this avuncular chat at this point. There is a certain irony in what appears to be a simultaneous rise of interest in prayer in the United States~ and a sharp decline in the number of sacramental confessions by "grown-ups" in the last two decades.2 Nor is the latter decline limited to the United States. Church-wide concern was manifest at the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which addressed "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church.''3 At the close of the synod, Pope John Paul II called for a "contemporary penitential catechesis." With personal prayer "up" and sacramental confessions "down," there has been correspondingly an increased search for spiritual directors and a decreased demand for confessors. Perhaps it would be mutually advantageous for both the sacramental ministry of reconciliation and the non-sacramental ministry of spiritual direction to see them in relationship to one another. That might be one step toward a contemporary catechesis, hopefully leading to a deepened understanding and appreciation of both ministries. It is my purpose here neither to analyze the reasons for this simultaneous rise and decline, nor to trace the historical development of either ministry to any great extent. Rather, I shall explore some distinctions'and similarities between the two; weigh the comparative merits of keeping them together or separate; and, finally, suggest ways in which the two ministries might be kept correlative and complementary in the lives of Christians called to be both pilgrims and penitents. My two basic premises are: (1) it is generally helpful and sometimes necessary to talk about one's experiences of both grace and sinfulness; (2) spiritual direction and the sacrament of penance are two distinct, but not necessarily separate forms of pastoral care providing forums for such sharing. The choice is not to be pilgrim or penitent; it is how, when and where to assume the modality of each. I use the term pilgrim in a symbolic sense to indicate a person's graced movement towards God which often leads to spiritual direction; I use the term penitent in a symbolic sense to indicate a person's movement away from sin which often leads to confession. To expand the symbols somewhat, a pilgrim might be described as one Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 821 who chooses to embark on an intentional faith-journey. The journey becomes intentional to the extent that a person makes a commitment to give serious and consistent attention to the quest for holiness of life as a disciple. Life becomes a faith-journey to the extent that one believes in and acts as though there is a transcendent dimension to all reality and belief in a God who con-tinues to provide for and to guide creatures as they move through life. There is an outer dimension to this journey as the pilgrim interacts with people, places and events that occur in providential sequence and become part of one's sacred geography. There is an inner dimension to this journey as the pilgrim follows a path that leads to deeper union with the divine. Above all, the pilgrim style is prayerful in that, it provides for uncluttered space for reflection so that the people, places and events of the journey can become revelatory of God's beauty, design and call. For help with this discerning prayer, pilgrims often seek out spiritual directors who act as companions, counselors, guides for the journey. ,. As a symbol, a penitent might be described as one involved in an ongoing process of conversion as a sinner loved by God who shows a spirit of true penitence in seeking forgiveness of sin and reconciliation within the community of believers. Conversion is a lifelong process of allowing the grace of God to unify and to free our divided hearts for perfect love. It is a movement away from self-absorption and towards self-surrender to God's designs. True penitence involves knowing and owning the reality of one's sins, being sorry for them and seeking forgiveness. This inner disposition of penitence becomes outwardly manifest in acknowledging one's sins not just to God, but to another who, as an agent of reconciliation, can enable the process of for-giveness. This mediation can happen in both sacramental and non-sacra-mental ways. Sacramentally it can occur in baptism, anointing and Eucharist as well as in penance. Non-sacramentally, it can happen in a variety of ways including healing services, therapeutic counseling or just a talk with a trusted confidant. There is a splendid example of this latter means in the Fifth of Alcoholics Anonymous' Twelve Steps which states: "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and. to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs.''4 Prescinding from any canoncial necessity, A.A. attests to the efficacy of confessing to another human being: This practice of admitting one's defects to another person is, of course, very ancient. It has been validated in every century, and it characterizes the lives of all spiritually centered and truly religious people. But today religionis by no means the sole advocate of this saving principle. Psychi-atrists and psychologists point out the deep need every human being has for practical insight and knowledge of his own personality flaws and for a discussion of them with an understanding and trustworthy person. So 822 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 far as alcoholics are concerned, A.A. would go even further. Most of us would declare that without a fearless admission of our defects to another human being we could not stay sober. It seems plain that the grace of God will not enter to expel our destructive obsessions until we are willing to try this.5 Finally, a penitent seeks reconciliation within the community of believers. Since one's sins break or fray the bonds of relationship and tend to alienate or isolate the sinner, there is need to seek at-oneness with others who have been affected by one's dark deeds, words or omissions. And this applies to societal as well as personal sin. For help in seeking forgiveness and recon-ciliation, penitents often seek confessors and confidants with whom they can share their failings and seek absolution. Distinctions Between Spiritual Direction and the Sacrament of Penance Before drawing distinctions between the two ministries, a brief historical sketch of the roles of confessor and spiritual director may prove illuminating. In the tradition of the Eastern Church, there has always .been a clear distinction between confessor (parish priest) and spiritual director (starets). According to P. de R6gis: One confesses to his parish priest, and does so by way of an ecclesiastical obligation. He thus accomplishes a duty of community life. However, he goes to the starers solely with the pure desire for personal perfection . A second trait sets the starets completely apart from the confessor. He is chosen not because of his priestly character, but solely because of his charis-matic gifts which people think they see in him. This situation, without doubt, has always existed everywhere, and it was St. Francis de Sales who recommended that we choose our director carefully from "among ten thousand . ,,6 In the tradition of the Western Church, spiritual direction came to be increasingly combined with sacramental confession, a development that paved the way for the later "confession of devotion.''7 A significant influence in the development of Western sacramental prac-tice has been that of St. Alphonsus Ligouri who, in explaining the duties of a confessor, declares that one of the most important of these duties is that of "directing devout souls.''8 B. Haring reflects this strong Alphon-sian tradition of uniting the role of spiritual director with that of confessor: The confessor must also form the conscience of his penitent to an awareness of the obligation to grow in the love of God . The confesso~:'s role is to guide the penitent through the various pathways to holiness, lighting the way to Christ by helping him to develop a fuller prayer life.9 Others who highlight the liturgical role of the confessor tend to separate Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 823 more the ministries of spiritual director and confessor as, for example, L. Hamelin: Nor is the priest I encounter in this sacrament primarily a director of con-science. All the better if he is this, since such direction is a felicitous pro-longation of confession. But it is not essential to the sacrament of reconciliation that the confessor be a good director. The important thing is that he is charged with a mission, namely, the proclamation of the world's salvation. ~o Notwithstanding a variation of stress on the confessor's role as spiritual director, certain distinctions between the ministries of spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation can be made on the basis of purpose (why), minister (who), content (what), process (how), time (when), place (where) and recipient (for whom). These are not meant to be sharp distinctions. Often what happens more properly in one forum occurs also in the other, but in a more secondary way. For example, healing can happen in direction; prayer does occur in the sacrament. Purpose (Why?): Spiritual direction aims primarily at enabling growth in a person's relationship with God and with others in Christ. In addition to proclaiming the world's salvation, the sacrament of penance aims primarily at mediating God's forgiveness and a person's reconciliation with God, self and others. As A. Von Speyer says, "To put the matter simply, we may say that the main function of the confessor is to set free from sin, that of the director to foster growth in divine love.''~ A further distinction should be made within the sacrament itself -- that of penance as a sacrament of necessity, following mortal sin and that of devotion, useful for spiritual progress. This classical distinction is repeated in the revised Rite of Penance (1973) in numbers six and seven, yet, as L. Orsy points out: Strangely enough., it seems that these two distinct operations of penance are lost from sight; the very term "reconciliation" is used indiscriminately for both, although in its proper sense it should be used for those who "have left the house of their Father," not for ttiose who have remained there.~2 Minister (Who?): The present complex practice of the Church is that confessors be ordained priests with faculties granted by an Ordinary for the administration of the sacrament to specified individuals or classes of people. Spiritual directors, on the other hand, do not hold formal office in the Church. Ideally, they are those charismatically gifted and who have the requisite knowledge, experience and skills to enable spiritual growth, and who are sought out by the community. Content (What?): The focus of content in spiritual direction is on the God-consciousness in a person's life and how that person is responding to 824 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 what is heard/seen/felt. The ministry of direction embraces the entire range of a person's religious identity. Key are the questions: Where is God and his offers of grace in the experiences of my everyday life? What are God's desires for me? What am I doing about it? In the sacrament of penance, the focus of content is on a person's need for the forgiveness of sin by an all-loving and merciful God. Key are the questions: What is the shape of my sinfulness for which I am sorry and seek forgiveness? Can I experience God as merciful and myself as a loved sinner? Process (How?): Confession takes place in the internal sacramental forum according to a prescribed rite and is governed by specific laws. In the revised Rite of Penance, there are three modes of sacramental celebration: two com-munal, one individual. For individual, auricular confession, there are pro-visions for praying with and for the penitent, sharing of texts from Sacred Scripture, listening compassionately to the confession of sins on behalf of God and the community, helping to discern the spiritual situation of the penitent, conveying the forgiveness of God by absolution, expressing the exigence of God's call to conversion by the imposition of an appropriate penance and possibly offering counsel as it seems fitting?3 Spiritual direction takes place in the internal, non-sacramental forum, does not follow any set ritual, noris it generally governed by specific legis-lation beyond the basic norms of moral conduct. Direction involves an inter-personal exchange helpful in discerning God's action in the life of the directee. It proceeds according to a style congenial to a particular director and direc-tee, though there are dynamics foundational to all healthy spiritual direction. Time (When?): Spiritual directors meet with directees on a regular basis determined by a working alliance/contract/covenant mutually agreed upon. Penitents are obliged to receive the sacrament of penance as soon as feasible following mortal sin. For confessions of devotion, frequency rather than regularity seems to be the norm suggested for current Church practice. Place (Where?): The ordinary setting for sacramental confession is either a confessional with screen between priest and pentitent, or a reconciliation room specifically appointed for a more personal and informal exchange between the two. (Heather calls the first "the old way" and the second "the new way"! She likes "the old way"!) There is no designated place for sessions of spiritual direction, though consideration should be given to a discreet setting that provides the requisite comfort and confidentiality for a fruitful exchange. Recipient (For whom?): The sacrament of penance is for Christians assuming the modality of penitent.s. Sp.iritual direction is for those assum-ing the modality of pilgrims. Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation Similarities Between the Two Ministries Just as there are differences I~etween spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation, so are there similarities on the bases of purpose, minister, content, process and recipient. Purpose: Both are concerned with the spiritual condition of the pilgrim/ penitent; one stresses the turning away from sin, and the other, the turning towards God -- two sides of the same coin, conversion. Minister: Both confessor and spiritual director see their roles as instrumental, with the Holy Spirit as the principal agent of both forgiveness and spiritual growth. Their instrumentality is enhanced by many of the same qualities and dispositions like prayerfulness, a listening heart, fraternal exchange, respect for the freedom of the other, observance of confidentiality, Christlike love. Content: On the one hand, matters of spiritual growth often receive attention, especially in confessions of devotion. On the other hand, matters concerning forgiveness frequently are dealt with in spiritual direction. A report to the 1983 Synod of Bishops indicates several ways in which this happens: ". certain forms of spiritual direction are of the nature to redeem sins, as, for instance, the revision de vie, the capitulum culpae, a talk with one's spiritual director, confession to a starets in connection with monastic practice." 14 Process: Many of the activities and dynamics that enable effective com-munication with each other and fruitful mutual listening to the Spirit are the same, These would include: prayer with and for the pilgrim/penitent; sharing of texts from Sacred Scripture; affirming grace; challenging growth; occasional instruction; co-discerning the spiritual condition of the recipient; observing periods of silence; gestures communicating God's prodigal love manifested in Christ. Recipient: Pilgrim and penitent are modalities of the same person. Both modalities build on a foundational awareness and acceptance of being a sinner unconditionally loved by a graciousand merciful God. The qualities that dispose one for a more fruitful use of both spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation are much the same: honesty; openness; trust; humility; gratitude and not least of all, the ability to keep one's gaze up and out towards God, and not down and in on one's feet! Together or Separate? There are some notable advantages in combining spiritual direction with the reception of the sacrament of reconciliation: (1) This situates spiritual direction within a liturgical/sacramental context, thus lending it a more visible ecclesial dimension. To the extent that sacramental celebration brings a 826 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 deepened and broadened sense of Church, one can experience more solidarity, support and nourishment in the twin tasks of reconciliation and spiritual growth. J. Sudbrack goes so far as to say: As Catholicism sees it, the most initmate transactions between man and God become authentically visible in the sacrament of the Church. Now as a matter of fact spiritual guidance has often taken place, historically, in the sacrament of penance. The modern practice of consulting the priest in confession is a revival of an old tradition. Even when confession and spiritual guidance cannot be one and the same., it is desirable that such guidance culminate in sacramental confession.~5 (2) Combining both can lessen the tendency to dichotomize one's growth in prayer from the moral attitudes and behaviors of one's life; (3) The for-giving, healing, reconciling action of the Holy Spirit is particularly evident in the revised Rite of Penance. It would seem particularly appropriate that these issues so inimical to spiritual growth -- alienation, isolation, selfish-ness, woundedness -- be dealt with in the same context as one's growth in the Spirit; (4) With keener discernment in "naming one's demons," in being specific about the shape of one's sinfulness, a person is likely to see more clearly those factors as they dull one's sensitivity to the Spirit; (5) Com-bining spiritual direction and confession can become an occasion when one can catch a fuller glimpse of self, both the sin-side and the grace-side. With such fuller perspective it would seem less likely that a person would fall prey, on the one hand, to a self-absorbing remorsefulness over sins or, on the other hand, to hubris (spiritual pride) over spiritual progress; (6) The penitent/pilgrim might see more clearly that God saves and sanctifies right in the midst of one's sinfulness, using even sinful acts and attitudes to lead to deeper union. G. Croft has expressed this well: Like the father with his prodigal son, God permitted Israel's waywardness of old in order that his chosen people might experience what it meant to be separated from their Father, and thus recognize afresh their need of him. So, too, our Lord's consciousness that he had come to save the lost sheep is reflected in knowledge of him as savior, particularly in the moment when the sinner experiences separation from God and the need of his love and mercy. This moment of grace and of conversion each one of us has experienced . not once but many times; so that even when we cry "out of the depths," our seeking is fraught with thanksgiving as we remember his past mercies.~6 (7) The sacrament is a humbling reminder that no one can grow a whit spiritually on his or her own initiative; (8) As both guilt and giftedness are brought to the same session, it can be seen more clearly that both need con-version, lest one become' self-absorbed in either guilt or gift; (9) Coming Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 827 at once as pilgrim and penitent can bring a more genuine realization of St. Paul's observation, ". power is at full stretch in weakness" (2 Co 12:9); (10) Finally, having the same person for confessor and director seems more conducive to the integration of these two valuable outside helps to holiness in that one person hears the whole story in the same context. Difficulties in Combining Roles On the side of the confessor/director, the most obvious difficulty is that this limits the ministry of spiritual direction presently to celibate, male clerics. With increasing demands on time and ministerial skills along with decreasing numbers of priests, it seems hardly likely that they could even begin to satisfy the rising need for spiritual directors. Besides, not all priests have the charisms for this ministry, not to mention the knowledge, skills and experience that facilitate the use of the gifts. Confessors who feel called to and who are willing to give a priority to spiritual direction for their penitents need adequate preparation for it. The commission's report to the 1983 Synod expressed this strongly: It is true that today the authentic form of private confession needs to be profoundly renewed in its spiritual aspects, and this in connection with the revised Ordo paenitentiae. Without such a renewal the Church will not be able to cope with the crisis of the sacrament of penance. For this a better spiritual and theological formation of priests is required, in order that they be able to deal with what is now demanded from confession, viz., the latter should contain more elements of spiritual direction and of fraternal .exchange. Under this aspect the so-called confession of devotion retains its importance.~7 On the side of the pilgrim/penitent, unless care is taken, the integrity of the two distinct ministries can become clouded. There may be some danger, too, that by locating spiritual direction within the context of confession, the project of spiritual growth could become too sin-oriented. At times, a person's sense of sinfulness ~can become so humiliating and/or immobilizing that open and honest exchange is flawed. Or the preoccupation with sin can so capture a penitent's consciousness that there is little room or energy for dealing with matters of spiritual growth. When Distinct But Not Separate In practice, the two can be kept distinct, but not necessarily separate. This is more likely to happen when both confessor/director and pilgrim/ penitent are clear about the distinction and habitually differentiate between the two ministries. If a choice is made to combine them, certain considera-tions may prove helpful: (1) Every session of spiritual direction need not 828 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 occur in combination with the sacrament of penance; (2)Especially appropriate times for combining them might be the seasons of Advent and Lent as well as periods of retreat; (3) In preparing beforehand, the very nature of one's examen can be such as to lead to a reflection not only on sinfulness, but also on graced invitations for further growth. For example, the Beatitudes might provide such a growth-oriented examen for pilgrim/ penitents. D. Barry makes this recommendation: The Beatitudes immediately recommend themselves as a blueprint for an updated, life-affirming ethical spirituality especially suited to the Christian mission of healing and reconciliation. Since they summarize the essence of Christlike living in a form that makes for easy recall, the Beatitudes offer a particularly rich source of meditation or conscience examination matter for the maturing Christian . They readily lead us to questions about our attitudes and conduct that get right to the heart of what contemporary discipleship is all about.~8 (4) If the penitent chooses to combine both, there should be some indica-tion of this intent at the beginning of the session. The penitential ritual might then be celebrated by itself at the beginning or the end of the time together or the penitent might indicate a desire to use the entire time to open before God his whole spiritual condition, graced and sinful, with a view to abso-lution at the end. As alluded to previously, one can develop a sensitivity to God speaking in the midst of one's sinfulness showing a side of self not otherwise open to awareness and conversion; (5) It would seem appropri-ate, on the occasion of confession/direction, that a pilgrim/penitent, in addi-tion to expressing sorrow for sins, also express gratitude for the graced times that have occurred. This, too, is with a view to keeping the more complete self in perspective as one considers his or her relationships to God, self and others. When Distinct and Separate Though the 1983 Synod of Bishops was primarily concerned with the sacrament of penance and, consequently, the role of the priest-director, the theological commission's report to the Synod did give recognition to extra-sacramental direction: That form of confession of sins, which is tied to spiritual direction, is a' very ancient treasure of the Church. On the one hand, it belongs to the very structure of the Church. On the other hand, as can be seen in the mg.nastic and spiritual traditions, it also has a place outside the sacrament. Both these data are factors in the development which is guided by the spiritual experience of the Church.~9 In the increasing likelihood that more spiritual directors will not be priests, Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 829 it would seem appropriate that the ministries be kept correlative and comple-mentary to the sacrament of penance. Some provisions that might help this happen are: (1) Alert and resourceful confessors might recommend qualified spiritual directors to those whose confessions indicate they would benefit from such further help; (2) Both directors and confessors might alert those who come to them to issues that might be dealt with better in the other forum. For example, a director may uncover some significant area that needs sacramental healing. Even if the person feels more comfortable in dealing with the issue in direction, there is the further possibility of celebrating the sacrament of reconciliation later; (3) The relationship between director and directee should be such that the latter will feel free to confide his or her sinful as well as graceful side with a director, lest either side get compart-mentalized; (4) Confessors and directors would do well to cultivate a mutual understanding of and respect for each other's ministries so as to see them-selves not in competition, but in collaboration with each other in their care of souls. Summary In the preceding pages, using the symbols of pilgrim and penitent, I have attempted to further such an understanding and appreciation of the ministries of spiritual direction and sacramental reconciliation by indicating some dis-tinctions and similarities between the two; by weighing the comparative merits and deficits of keeping them together or separate; and, finally, by suggesting some ways in which they might be kept correlative and complementary in the lives of Christians who are called to be both pilgrims and penitents. I close with some verses from the heart of one such pilgrim/penitent who has been on the journey somewhat longer than Heather (by about ninety years)! They are entitled, "Confessor-Director": And then above the dark horizon of my night There beamed a star that bathed my soul with light And beckoned me upon my pilgrim way. My spirit soared to meet the guiding flame That traced a path illuminated by His name And led me on to greet the dawning day! The Day that dawns to span Eternity. P.S. By the way, Heather did join the class for the sacrament of reconcilia- 83!1 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 tion! It seems that Father offered them the option of sitting in his lap. I forgot to ask if she opted for the "new" way! NOTES ~K.A. Briggs, "America's Return to Prayer," New Yoi'k Times Magazine (November 18, 1984), pp. 107-18. 2T.P. Sweetser~ "What Ever Happened to Confession?" New Catholic World (January-February, 1964), pp. 31-2. 3j. Ratzinger, "The Necessity for Personal Confession," Origins 13 (October 20, 1983), pp. 331-2. 4Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (New York: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1953), pp. 56ff. 51bid, pp. 57-8. 6p. de R6gis, "Confession and Spiritual Direction in the Oriental Church," The Sacrament of Penance, C. de Vaux St. Cyr et al. (Paramus, N.J.: Paulist, 1966), p. 94. 7H.B. Meyer, "Confession or Spiritual Direction?" Making Sense of Confession, 0. Betz, ed., (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1968), p. 128. 8St. Alphonsus Ligouri, Praxis confessarii, nn. 121-27. 9B. Haring, Shalom: Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giraux, 1967), p. 140. ~°L. Hamelin, Reconciliation in the Church, M.J. O'Connell, trans. (Coliegeville: Liturgical Press, 1980). ~tA Von Speyer, Confession (New York: Herder and Herder), p. 214. ~2L. Orsy, The Evolving Church and the Sacrament of Penance (Denville, N.J.: Dimension, 1978). ~3See M. Hellwig, Sign of Reconciliation (Wilmington: M. Glazier, 1982), especially Chapter VIII which treats the role of the confessor. ~41nternational Theological Commission Report to 1983 Synod of Bishops, Penance and Reconciliation, Origins (January 12, 1984), p. 521. ~sj. Sudbrack, Spiritual Guidance (Paulist, 1983), pp. 24-5. ~6G. Croft, "The Sinner Finds God," The Way (January, 1968), pp. 34-40. ~TReport to 1983 Synod, supra, p. 522. ~SD. Barry, Ministry of Reconciliation (New York: Alba House, 1974), p. 111. ~9Report to 1983 Synod, supra, p. 520. Freed for Life in the Spirit -- Together Romans 12:1-8: A Meditation Daniel J. Harrington, S.J. This biblical meditation on Christian life and community was presented at the assembly of the Jesuit New England Province on June 12, 1986. Father Harrington is professor of New Testament at the Weston School of Theology; 3 Phillips Place; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. In an extraordinary act of boldness, Paul addressed at great length the Chris-tians of a church that he had not founded. He was bas.ically asking for a room in which to stay before moving on in his mission to Spain. Even before that, he had to bring the proceeds of the collection to J~rusalem, and perhaps also explain his activities to the Christian leaders there. Meanwhile he was hearing reports about frictions within the Roman community, chiefly with regard to divisions between Gentile Christians and Jewish Christians. With all these situations in mind, Paul wrote what has come to be recog-nized as his theological masterpiece -- his letter to the Romans. I find an uncanny parallel between the dynamics, of Romans and of St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises. Paul first establishes the need of all persons -- Gentiles and. Jews alike -- for something or someone beyond themselves if they are to find right relationship with God. Then he roots the person of Jesus and his followers in the tradition of salvation history reaching back to Abraham. Next he reflects on the difference that Jesus has made by freeing us from sin, death and the Law, and by freeing us for life in the Holy Spirit. These first eight chapters laid the foundations for reflection on the mystery of Israel in chapters 9-11, and for addressing problems within the Roman com-munity in chapters 12-16. Romans 12:1-8 presents Paul's vision of life within the Christian com- 831 832 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 munity. That life is first and foremost a response to the difference that Jesus has made. That life is communal, the task of persons freed from sin, death and the Law as potential masters of their lives, and freed for life under the prompting of the Holy Spirit. That life takes a variety of forms with the clear recognition that all the tasks undertaken within the Christian com-munity are important. "Freed for life in the Spirit -- together" -- that was Paul's understanding of Christian life. Perhaps he can help us as we try to give shape to our life as religious together. A Response Paul begins his exhortation in this way: I appeal to you, brothers, through the mercies of God to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this age but be transformed by renewal of mind so that you may discern what is God's will, what is good and pleasing and perfect (vv. 1-2). With these words, Paul provides us with a way of understanding our-selves and our brothers and sisters in Christ. Calling upon familiar terms associated with sacrifice and temple worship, Paul insists that genuine worship of God takes place not merely in a designated place at a set time but rather in all that we do and whenever we do it. Everyday life is the "place" in which the Father of Jesus Christ is worshipped. The sacrifice that we offer to God is ourselves, no more and no less. In this framework, when we Christians do come together in a designated place at a set time, we are simply making concrete what happens throughout our 'lives. All our life is an act of worship, a time for praise and thanksgiving, a sacrifice holy and pleasing to God. Our Christian lives can be a continuing act of worship precisely because of the difference that Jesus Christ has made. Even though the kingdom of God, or the age to come, is not yet here in its fullness, we believe that in some way it has been inaugurated in Christ. Therefore we need not be con-formed to what Paul calls "this age"; that is, we need not be dominated by sin, death and the Law. Christ has freed us to live in the age to come, which he has already begun. And because Christ has freed us and invited us to share in the inaugurated kingdom, we can discern God's will. In Paul's perspective, discernment is not simply clear thinking coming to closure. Rather discernment has been made possible by what God has done for us in Christ. Discernment is our way of living in the inaugurated kingdom, in the age to come. Discernment is the way in which we shape our response to the freedom won for us by Christ. Freed for Life in the Spirit / 833 Christian life as continued worship, as living in the kingdom, as dis-cernment in response to Christ's gift of freedom -- these are the chief ele-ments in Paul's understanding of Christian life. Paul's exhortation continues: For by the grace that has been given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly than he ought to think but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith God has assigned to him (v. 3). Paul speaks sternly here. He wants the Christians at Rome to be more modest and realistic. He wants them to put an end to factionalism and com-petitiveness. He wants to deflate their pretensions. Nevertheless, Paul's way of deflating the Romans' pretensions is amazingly creative and positive. He does not downgrade them or criticize their abilities. Instead, he reminds them about the real source of their powers and indeed about the real source of his own power. In appealing to his own apostolic authority, Paul describes it as "the grace that has been given to me." In urging a more sober estimation of their own intellectual power, Paul tells the Romans to recall that whatever spiritual gifts they have were portioned out to them by God. So in the process of calling to task the Roman Christians, Paul insists on the gift that gives shape to all of Christian life. The fundamental gift of God is Jesus Christ. The ways in which that fundamerital gift is made concrete are themselves gifts. Thus the Christian community is the gathering of gifted persons, who all bear witness to God's most basic gift in Jesus Christ. On the one hand, Paul's doctrine of grace encourages humility, does a~ay with factionalism and competitiveness, and deflates pretensions. On the other hand, Paul's doctrine of grace underlines the "gift" character of Christian life, allows us to look on one another as gifted persons, and helps us to see our lives together as reflections of God's fundamental gift of Christ. No one can boast, precisely because all is gift. Life Together Paul continues: For as in one body we have many members, and all the members do not have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, members each one of the others (vv. 4-5). What coach, what director of a play, what overseer of a trip has not used the body analogy in order to urge greater cooperation among individuals? People of Paul's time were surely familiar with this analogy from a famous fable about the city as a body recorded by Livy. Thus our 834 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 own term, the "body politic." Indeed, there is no need to search for prece-dents or ancient parallels since the analogy is so easy. We all have bodies. Our bodies have many parts. When all the parts work together, each per-forming its proper function, we can accomplish our goal. When one part hurts or fails to function, the whole body suffers. The body analogy is so obvious that we could pass over it quickly if it were not for the small qualifying phrase "in Christ." We are one body in Christ. That is an enormously important qualification. What makes us a body of Christians is not a desire to win a game; or put on a play, or go on a trip: Christ makes us into a body. We become the body of Christ. The life that runs through us all, the spirit that animates us, the force that enlivens us is Christ. Therefore, as we live out our Christian lives as religious, we do so as members of the body of Christ.We are conscious that God has called us to this form of Christian life with other members of Christ's body. We have been called together as a way of responding to God's gift to us. As we work side by side, what we should try to see first and foremost is the life of Christ expressing itself in one another. Service Having laid his foundations about the nature of Christian life and having insisted on Christ as the 'basis of our communal life, Paul now considers the proper response to God's gift of freedom. For what have we been freed? We have been freed for service. In one Of the most tightly packed and meaningful sentences in the entire Pauline co~'pus, Paul says: "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them . . ." (v, 6a). This dense sentence summarizes Paul's approach to the place of service iri Christian life. In addressing the Romans, he assumes that all Christians are gifted ("having gifts"). The word for "gifts" here is charismata, the singular of which is charisma. But Paul does not use the word charisma as we do in our own day when we talk about charismatic politicians or movie actors -- those who have that certain undefinable something, that magic that makes them attractive to us, whose power comes from some unknown source. Paul knows the source of the Christian gifts. It is the Holy Spirit. Paul knows why Christians can do what they do. It is through the Holy Spirit. Paul knows why Christians do what they do. It is to build up the body of Christ. These gifts (charismata) are according to the grace (charis) given to us, By making this qualification; Paul reminds us that charisms flow from the fundamental grace, which is Christ. Charisms make concrete the grace of Christ. They are the means by which the grace of Christ expresses itself Freed for Life in the SpMt / 835 in our place and in our ~ime. These gifts differ. What sounds like an obvious statement on the logical level is not so easy to recognize in practice. Just as in a body the different members have different functions, so in the body of Christ there is astonishing variety.But sometimes variety is intimidating or frightening, and we want to shape others according to our own conceptions of what is good for them. Paul says no to all such attempts at imposing uniformity on the body of Christ. Variety must be respected not because it is refreshing or interesting but .because it witnesses to the marvelous power of God that can work through so many different instruments. "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us . " All of us are gifted. Our gifts are rooted in God's fundamental gift to us. Our gifts differ. The next and, indeed, necessary step is to use our gifts in service. God's gifts are not our personal possessions to be polished and stored away. They are not occasions for pride or boasting. God's gifts are to be used in free response to Christ our Lord~ Unlike most people today who understand freedom as the absence of any restraint upon them, Paul looked upon freedom as service under the only master worth serving. Whereas for many of our contemporaries "free-dom's just another word for nothing left to lose," for Paul freedom meant putting aside false masters for the sake of serving God and his people. Paul gives us some examples of service: ¯ . . if prophecy, according to the proportion of faith; if service, in service; he who teaches, in teaching; he who exhorts, in exhortation; he who shares, in simplicity; he who presides, in zeal; he who is merciful, cheerfulness (vv. 6-8). The list illustrates concrete ways in which God's gifts are made manifest. The'list includes prophecy, service (diakonia), teaching, exhortation, sharing, presiding or administration, and acts of mercy. I will not comrfient on each of these gifts.Nor do I suggest that we can bE satisfied with merely transferring them into the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the list is instructive fo? us on several counts. The emphasis is on activities rather than offices or the persons who hold the offices. Also, there is no discernible hierarchy in the list, unlike 1 Corinthians 12. All the activities are important. Moreover, there is a stress on the spirit in which the activities are carried out -- moving backward on the list, in cheerfulness, in zeal, in simplicity, and so forth. Paul reminds us that actions are more important than status or office, that all the charisms are significant and help toward the health of the body, and that much depends on the attitudes with which we carry out our activities. Prayer of Being: Intimacy at the Center David Hassel, S.J. ,, In this article Father Hassel continues his study of prayer and intimacy. The work he has done on this subject, much of which has appeared in our pages, is being gathered into a book entitled Dark Intimacy; Hope for Those in Difficult Prayer published in the near future by Paulist Press. Presbntly, Father Hassel, as Research Professor, is devoting him-self fully to writing, primarily in the area of philosophy. He may be addressed at Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 N. Sheridan Road; Chicago, Illinois, 60626. People lose heart when God is drawing them into prayer of being, prayer of simple presence. Here is where people feel most useless to God and to themselves, most empty and unworthy of God. For this prayer is quite silent, ord!narily dry, sometimes hollow, angry-fearsome, briefly joyful, and lacking many former certitudes. If ever a praying person feels far from intimacy with God, it is at this critical growth-point of developing union with God. Here, then, such a person needs reassurance against diffidence. Perhaps assurance will be gained if this prayer of being is recognizably described within one's prayer experience, if its nature is revealed in Scrip-ture, if the disciplining action of this prayer can be sketched accurately, and if the way of living in this prayer can be clearly depicted. All these "ifs" form the strategy of this article. How to Recognize Prayer of Being Prayer of being, lying hidden underneath, at least three layers of expe-rience, has paradoxical features. Probably this is because the depth at which prayer of being occurs makes it describable only in limit-statements. The latter plot out the extreme boundaries of any mysterious experience; 836 Prayer of Being / 837 they do not offer a clear X-ray picture of its inner structure. For example, the first feature of thisprayer of being is its silence. It is gestureless, wordless. When one prays, there seems tobe no response, no sense of God's even hearing one's attempts to reach him. The silver arrows of one's petitions seem to hit the tabernacle and to fall shattered at its base. Praying becomes like the mocking echo of one's own voice when. shouting across.a river to a great bluff on the other side. At the same time, paradoxi-cally, the prayer may be noisy with distractions. One's mind feels like a huge warehouse at which gigantic "semi's" are unloading fresh cargoes of distractions on the warehouse dock and forklift trucks are delivering the boxes of distractions to the center of one's attention. Naturally, such distractedness is accompanied by dryness, the second characteristic of prayer of being. One feels no ready satisfaction, no lifts of the heart with joy. One gains no splendid insights to light up one's path; not even the tired insights of past years arise to illuminate the desert darkness. There is little or no heartfelt attraction for Christ, for Gospel reading, or for generous actions; there is only a certain blankness of mind and a wrinkled leathery feeling in the heart. Yet at the same time, after one has weathered the time given to this prayer (e.g., early in the morning) and started towards breakfast, one experiences a quiet worthwhileness and even a restored strength for the day's duties. These qualities are palpably missing when one omits this prayer; instead, one knows an indefinable seine Of loss and a certain lethargic heaviness. Of course, such experience seems somewhat hollow, the third feature of the prayer of being. The absence of satisfaction felt inside oneself is matched in one's outer activities. Hobbies, entertainment, daily work, favorite diversions--all seem strictly routine, not attractive, and rather superficial as though the silence and dryness of prayer had seeped into one's more exterior doings. Yet in the prayer of being itself and in these activities, there is a remote sense of fullness, as though through the deepest caverns of one's praying/working self there runs a great underground river. This remote fullness expresses itself indirectly when the praying person finds himself or herself saying: "Where else would I want to be than here? Nowhere else. What else would I rather be doing? Nothing else." What is this peculiar sense of rightness amid silence, dryness, and hollowness? Because the person now doing the prayer of being has already lived faithfully with the Lord not a few years, there is the fear that he or she is backsliding, is caught in a web of self-delusion. And yet the person may also feel deep anger towards God at the "unfairness of it all." This is the fourth feature of theprayer of being. For the individual begins to question: "What am I doing wrong that the Lord should be so distant?" And then 838 / Review for Religio'us, November-December, 1986 begins some rummaging around in the past for a disastrously wrong deci-sion, a fatal flaw of character, a refused grace of strategic importance. For example, a retreatant was asking these questions of himself from the fifth to the nineteenth day of his. Ignatian thirty-day retreat and came upon this answer on the nineteenth day: "This retreat is a fraud; your life leading up to this retreat has been equally fraudulent; in fact, you've been embezzling yourself from adolescence till now." On recounting this dazzling insight to his director, the latter said to him: ''Be sure to keep up this type of question-ing. And don't for a moment trust yourself, others, me, or God." This response shocked the retreatant into recognizing both the superficial evi-dence that provoked the questioning and the serenity he experienced deep at the center of his being--paradox of paradoxes. Even as he felt whirled about in swirls of confusion, he also knew that in the depths of his being he was resting at home with the Lord in the center of the universe. He felt like the weather-pilot who had been fighting a bucking plane through the tornado and now has suddenly broken into its quiet eye. But where there is fear, there is often also an accompanying anger. Frustrated with my work, my family, my own self, and embarrassed by my anger at God for all this frustration, I am restless, eager to break out of this suffocating cocoon of self. 'Repulsed by, my negative mood, by the stark vision of my sins .and limitations, by my own littleness compared to God's greatness, I experience a profound, but false sense of guilt. For I have forgotten that one gets most deeply angry only with those one loves best and that to be angry with God is to take seriously his goodness and his providence. Anger with a friend (even with God) can be a secret compliment. ~ Thus the angry Jeremiah felt free to call God to his face "a treacherous brook" (Jr 15:18) and to accuse the Lord of duping him (Jr 20:12). For this reason guilt at my anger is a false guilt, which acts like a suit of armor so that I cannot feel God's touch. Even if I did feel his touch I would deny it, because "what god would want to deal with me." Yet eventually, as a fearful, angry person who is doing the prayer of being, I find myself repeating the words of the fiercely angry prophet in the Book of Lamenta-tions: "The favors of the Lord are not exhausted, his mercies are not spent. They are renewed each morning, so great is his faithfulness" (3:22-23). Amid all this confusion, there are occasional leaps of the heart at God's dim presence. They are very brief and widely spaced, with only.a rare moment when he seems to take over completely. Prayer of being, then, is not one long, monotone bore, A person can, however, overlook these quick touches of the Lord. Once a directee confessed: "If I had not kept a daily diary of this dry prayer Prayer of Being / 839 of mine, I would have complained that God was completely absent these past fifty days. But when I read back, I found four or five spots where the Lord made his presence felt for a few moments." Of course, this informa-tion makes quite a difference not only to the directee but also to the director. Soprayer of being is not a state of prayerlessness; its fifth feature is the Lord's quiet signaling of his companionship in our fears and anger. There is, nevertheless, in this prayer of being a gradual loss of youthful certainties. This constitutes the sixth characteristic of the prayer of being. One feels quite uncertain about so many things: political issues, the nature of holiness, the future of the United States, theological schools of thought, personality theories, economic cure-alls, long-standing family arguments, the proper raising and education of one's children, and so on. This deep wondering issues not so much from tired cynicisms as from a new sens( of mystery. Too often the failure of simple solutions has proved the myste-rious complexity of a person or of a situation, or of some vast plan of social improvement. Sometimes the praying person mistakes the deep wondering at such failures fora faith-loss---especially when a glance at the vine of one's apostolate seemingly reveals only shrunken grapes. A compelling temptation can then arise to find new works to do, new people to consult, new plans to promote. There can be even tears at this point though one is not sure why they come frustration, hope, self-pity, consolation? The most acute sufferings occur when the praying person feels seating doubt about whether he or she can love anyone fully, or be lovable to anyone else. And yet as the praying person descends deep into the self without knowing what lies ahead, there is no desire to go back up, even though the darkness seems to be heavier, for one experiences a strange contentment with the, situation--because one feels loved intimately. Does Prayer of Being Deny Intimacy? These six characteristics of prayer of being: silence, dryness, hollow-ness, fearsome anger, rare inbursts of joy, and loss of certainties would seem almost to deny the presence of any intimacy in this prayer. But the opposite is true. First of all, only by going through the various stages of prayer which require deep intimacy (one-to-one prayer, forgiveness, sinful-ness, apostolic more, and powerlessness) can one enter into the prayer of being. To declare that these stages of intimacy lead only to non-intimacy is to join the absurdist philosophers in stating that the human person is a living contradiction for self-destruction. In fact, the state of dryness charac-teristic of prayer of being is normal to all prayer, just as it is the normal 840 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 condition of any human relationship. It is the state lying between the extremes of consolation and desolation, just as the dryness in marriage or in work is the normal feeling between the ecstacy of love or of high success and the despair of lost love or bankrupt business. Dryness in prayer is the balanced state for enduring well everyday living. It is a secret strengthening joy; it is that sustaining intimacy which arises out of suffering well the everyday routines of prayer and life. Indeed, dryness is very instructive for the praying person. It forces the one who prays to distinguish the various levels of human experience, to enter their depths, to learn, more accurately what passive prayer is, and finally to develop a faithfulness to God which is more independent of consolations or desolations, of elations or depressions, and of subjectively estimated successes and failures. Let us glance at the levels of human experience so as to better under-stand dryness in prayer. There is, first, a superficial level, which consists of pleasures and pains present to our awareness like the constant purr of an air conditioner, the heavy perfume of lilacs, the irritation of a skin rash or a raspy voice, the comforting warmth of a May.sun or the soft touch 9f an April breeze and shower. The first level, then, is a constant stream of sensual impressions, the context of life. Underneath this is a second level of deeper experiences, such as the constant ache of neuralgia, or the deep pleasure of loving interchange, or the delight of solving a perplexing business problem, or the lyric leap of an evening at the symphony, or the exuberant planning for the first baby, or the panic fear of a flashing knife. This second level is more meaningful, and it lends depth to the first one. But underlying both these levels is a still more profound set of expe-riences which make up the third level. It is on this level that one experiences the enervating worry at not having a job, the satisfaction of affectionate family living, the sorrow of watching the alcoholic spouse struggle for respectability, the fulfillment of a project successfully completed which demanded ten years of one's life, the sense of worthwhileness in the costly sacrifice for one's beloved. At this third level, a person's deepest hopes are raised or dashed, a person's finest joys are brought into full bloom, a person's crushing sorrows test the stamina of one's very being. Believe it or not, there is also a fourth level, which is the dynamic basis of the three higher levels of experience. Although the top three levels are directly knowable to the subject, this fourth level is discovered and known' only indirectly, that is, only in contrast with the other three. Thus, a woman can be in good health on the first level, can enjoy a full family life on the second level, can see her role in life as richly meaningful on the third Prayer of Being / 841 level, and yet be restless and pain-filled on the fourth level. If it were not for this dramatic contrast with the top three levels, .she could not possibly come to know the fourth level as part of her experience. This revealing contrast can also occur in the opposite manner. A man may be suffering from a fourteen-day cold on the first level, may feel misunderstood by the family on the second level, experience sharp doubt on the third level about his ability to handle his new and complicated position in the corporation--and yet be peaceful at the fourth level, under-neath the disturbing events of the top three. He could well find himself asking: "What's wrong with me? I should feel depressed and desolate, but I don't. Am I becoming schizoid? Or have I lost interest in my family and my career?" But this startling contrast lets him know, if he reflects on it, that there is a fourth level of his experience, one known only by contrast with the upper three levels. This long explanation is meant to lead to the conclusion that great dryness of prayer at the top three levels of experience can be accompanied by a serene peace and sense of personal worthwhileness lurking underneath at the fourth level. Such a discovery lights up prayer of being, since such prayer happens at this fourth level where one comes into contact with one's being, one's fullest identity. Here, too, is the best rendezvous-point for meeting God. As any prayer which leaves us feeling powerless indicates: God is the one doing the praying in us; and he starts it at the fourth level, then lets it percolate up through the other three levels. In prayer of being, however, God may shut off this percolation into the top three levels. When this happens, one can find God only indirectly, through the contrast of the upper three levels with the fourth-level. At this point the praying person finally recognizes that he or she is totally at the mercy of God's initiative. Again, he or she more sharply appreciates the need to be more pa~ssive under God's action. Most of us, nonetheless, fight hard to be the active senior partner in prayer, and so we struggle mightily On the top three levels to keep control. At the first level we may try new vocal prayers, new Zen techniques, new spiritual reading books; at the second level we may try to pump up old emotions we once felt and duly inscribe in our spiritual diaries, or we may review magnificent panoramic insights of our personal salvation history. On the third level, we may investigate our motivations for being good family people, for becoming career enthusiasts, for entering the life of religious vows, for being unmarried or married, for being lazy or aggres-sive, for being liberal or conservative, and so on. In other words, to avoid the passivity of prayer, we strain to climb the sheer glass mountain of mystery by our fingernails. Inevitably we end up at 842 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 the bottom of the mountain, looking at our bloody hands. Slowly it dawns on us that maybe only God can lift us to the top of the glass mountain, that we have to rest passive in his hands as he lifts us gently and gladly, that only after we admit our total dependence on him, will he lift us to the top of the mountain. We learn, then, what the passivity of prayer is: letting God do the praying in and through our four levels of experience, while we simply furnish ourselves--and some basic conditions for prayer, e.g., time carefully set aside, some reading of Scripture and other spiritual works, a reverent body-position, a readiness to go in prayer wherever the Lord leads, and so on. These conditions God can use or not use as he sees fit. There is a third result of recognizing thi.s fourth level: because of dry7 ness at the upper three levels, one develops a faithfulness to God which is more independent of consolations or. desolations, of elations or depres-sions; one becomes aware of the constant presence of God in this fourth level. There, likea great underground river, he quietly nourishes all one's activities on the top three levels, rendering the praying person serene in the sure direction of the fiver, and letting the person know that he or she is never alone, never far from the center of the universe. This quiet reas-surance can occur in the midst of the most joyful, or the most sorrowful happenings on the upper three levels, and thus it nurtures the wholesome independence of the praying person. So it is no surprise that the person finds the edge taken off deep fears, fierce angers dampened down, and pestering doubts stilled. Thusprayer of being is never a lonely experience, since it is a constant, indirect awareness of God at one's deepest level of experience, at the center of one's being. In this way, divine being speaks within the individual person's being. Paradoxically, such communion is wordless at this silent depth. It is a simple presence to each other like that between long-married partners who have great mutual devotion to each other. In this one-to-one awareness, God and the praying person have, by a kind of osmosis, an underlying, indirect appreciation of each other rather than a direct face-to-face meeting as in the beatific vision. Their co-pres.ence is more by being than by insightful action or by tangible feeling. It is as though the praying person reaches behind his or her back to touch God. For each affects the other by pure presence of being, as happens when people are aware of each other even though separated by oceans and mountain ranges. Because this presence is so deep and subtle, it takes long years and much experience for the average praying person to recognize its potential for intimacy. Such mutual awareness is a beingrfor-the-other. This has a rema~:kable effect on the human partner. He or she finds greater empathy for other human beings at a deep level of experience, namely, that of being, of Prayer of Being / 843 radical person-hood. It is this which enables the praying person to enter more profoundly into the routinized lives of God's marginal people, to feel more deeply the emptiness of their sometimes meaningless lives, and the gestureless silence of their listless suffering. As a result the person in prayer of being becomes more ready to sacrifice, more apostolic in intent, in order to fulfill the needs of the Lord's anawim. Perhaps this is the cosmic com-passion of which Christ speaks: "Love your enemies, pray for your persecu-tors. This will prove that you are sons of your heavenly Father, for his sun rises on the bad and the good, he rains on the just and the unjust. In a word, you must be made perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:44-48). Because this prayer of being issues in close union not only with God but also with his marginal people, it leads to a dynamic compenetration of the two great commandments: to love God is to love neighbor and vice vers~a. In this way, prayer of being becomes like the background music permeating my consciousness as I wait for a client or work over financial accounts or have my teeth cleaned or do housework and gardening. It is a quiet, strengthening, enlivening presence which I may even take for granted until its temporary shutoff leaves me cold and bereft. Perhaps better, it is like a long-term friendship highly prized yet often taken for granted because it has always been the~:e to guide, envigorate, and challenge me, and, finally, to assure me of a happy future in serving others. Thus prayer of being, if it is anything, is a new depth of intimacy not only with God and self but also with all other human beings. Prayer of Being in Scripture Prayer of being is profoundly embedded in Scripture. Among the multiple translations of 'the divine name Yahweh in the Old Testament is: "he-who-is-for-others." Since Yahweh is the continuing creator and perdur-ing animator of all things, he clearly lives up to his name. He literally brings all things into being out of nothingness and then remains in them to pulse their existence constantly lest they sink back into nothingness. He is being for all other beings. It is no wonder, then, that in theprayer of being, the praying person becomes so sensitive to nothingness or emptiness at the same time as he or she notes the fullness of being around and in him or her. Yahweh, nonetheless, is not satisfied with this degree of intimacy within all created beings. Out of all the nations, he selects the weakest, that motley throng of mixed breeds from Egypt called the Israelites, and begins to form them into his people. To do this, he makes a covenant with them; they are to be his people and he, their God. Actually, it later becomes a marriage covenant since he comes to consider the Hebrew nation his bride. To 844 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 demonstrate this, he even tells Hosea, who had unfortunately married a woman turned prostitute, to remarry his bride. In this way is symbolized Yahweh's remarriage with his adulterous Israelite people, and so drama-tized the intimate relationship which Yahweh wants with the Hebrew peo-ple-- a relationshipfar beyond, yet built out of, the intimate relationship of creator and creature in being. Thus any turning of the Hebrew people to another or false God is considered nothing less than adultery--to be pun-ished, for example, by the great exile of 587 B.C. Such being-for-others (Yahweh himself) makes understandable why the second person of the Trinity would be sent into the womb of Mary to become the Jesus of history. The Christ intimately immerses himself in the being and life of his Jewish family, his town of Nazareth, and his country of Palestine. Jesus becomes. Jewish from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Thus he literally is the wedding covenant of Yahweh with the Hebrew people; his very flesh and all his historical actions are divine and human, Godly and Jewish, inextricably. In this way, the God-man can enter into and share our gestureless, wordless silence in the hidden life of Nazareth, our dryness from routinized lives in his daily handyman tasks, our felt hollowness from self-emptying sacrifices for those dear to us (Ph 5:2-7), our fears ("My soul is troubled now, yet what should I say-- Father, save me from this hour?" [Jn 12:27]), and our angry frustrations ("What an unbelieving and perverse lot you are! How long must I remain with you? How long can I endure you?'[Lk 9:41]). He also shares our rare leaps of joy ("At that moment Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit"ILk 9:12]), and our hollowness felt at the center of our beings (Jesus sleeping the sleep of exhaustion in the storm-tossed boat). He knew all the ingredients of being human; he, too, did theprayer of being in relation,to the Father. In his bones and nervous system Jesus felt his being-for-others at the three upper levels of his experience. This being-for-others is best seen, however, in his joy at the fourth level underneath his passion at the upper-three levels. The seven last words of Christ express an exquisitely beautiful and expensive intimacy. When Jesus said: "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me. Weep for yourselves and for your children" (Lk 23:28), could he have been other than a being-for- others amid terrible dryness and felt fear? When he cried out: "Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing" (Lk 23:34), was he not a being-for-others amid the deaf silence of his crucifiers? When he turned his head towards Dismas to say: "This day you .will be with me in paradise" (Lk 23:43), was he not a being-for-others in the brief joy of this moment? When he looked to Mary and John and said: "Woman, there is your son; [son,] there is your mother" (Jn 19:28), was he not a being-for- Prayer of Being / 845 others emptying himself of his last possession? When he screamed out: "I am thirsty" (.Jn 19:28), was he not revealing that his being-for-others felt hollow and dry in its helplessness? When he spoke to the Father appeal-ingly: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Lk 15:34), was he not a being-for-others feeling the loss of cherished certainties? When in a final burst of profound trust he shouted: "Father, into your hands I com-mend my spirit~' (Lk 23:46), was he not a being-for-others stripped down to nothing but trust, having given over to the Father all that was dear to him: Mary, the apostles, Mary Magdalen and the other loyal women, his work of the past thirty-five or so years, and the whole future of his Church? Underneath this crush of even~ts commemorated by Jesus' seven last words, underneath the excruciating agony of the physical, psychological and spiritual levels of Christ's ex.perience, is the fourth level of his joyous strength in the Father's love for him, and in the beautiful "background music" of the Father's tender, caring affection for him. For the death of Christ on the three top levels was simultaneous with the subdued resurrec-tion on the fourth level. This was Christ's continual prayer of being within the Paschal mystery. Has there ever been such intimacy in suffering and joy as that of Christ with the Father and with his people? Thus is revealed dimly the structure of the prayer of being beneath its previous paradoxical features. As Letter,to the Hebrews notes: "For the sake of the joy which lay before him he endured the cross, heedless of its shame" (12:2). The Terrible Liberating, ~iscipHne Of the Prayer of Belng Theprayer of being, therefore, carries within it a terrible, yet beautiful, discipline: the willingness to suffer for what is right and just, true and good. The author of Heb~rews put~ ihe meaning of discipline .bl.untly for us:~ "Endure your trials as the discipline of God who deals with you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you do not know the disciplineof sons, you are not sons but bastards" (12:7-8). Evi, dently God disciplines his people out of affection by allowing them to suffer. As a result, aware of powerlessnes.s, they can be endowed with his power without any fear that th, ey wohld claim this power to be their own. Chapters six to nine of Deuteronomy illustrate how a ,terrible discipline prepares for intimacy with God, for prayerof being. There God declares: "You shall not put the Lord to the test" (6:16), that is, demand that he act in your way at your time and place. Clearly, "It was not because you are the largest of all nations that the Lord set his heart on you and chose you, for you are really the smallest of nations. It was because the Lord loved you" 846 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 (7:7-8); in your littleness you do not set the music of the dance with God. "For forty years now the Lord, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert, so as to test you by affliction and find out whether or not it was your intention to keep his commandments" (8:2); ". the Lord, your God, disciplines you even as a man disciplines his son" (8:5); ". [lest] you become haughty of heart and unmindful of the Lord" (8:14). God's guid-ance through the desert (of prayer of being) may seem directionless to us and may seem to undermine our certainties. But our trustful following keeps us from the crazy deviations of pride and of secret contempt for God's providence. This discipline of the prayer of b'eing is necessary because "otherwise you might say to 3)ourselves, 'It is my own power and the strength of my own hand that has obtained for me this wealth'" (8:17). "No, it is not because of your merits or the integrity of your heart" (9:5). This last statement is strangely reassuring for the person doi.ng prayer of being and feeling virtueless, angry, fearful and empty. Such a person has reason to hope because Christ anticipated this: "Son, though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when perfected, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him" (Heb 5:8-9). There is, therefore, a scripti]ral basis for the discipline found in prayer of being. This discipline itself, though painful, is actually a liberation produced by the prayer of being. This liberation, however, is not a secret contempt for the bodily and the sensual; such would be a disincarnation, not an incarnation, of Christ. Nor is this liberation the ability to leave a beloved person or a f~ivorite place-possession-job-ambition without suffering regret; this would be more a cold self-centeredness that is ready to detach itself only in order to grab something or someone better. Rather this liberation is: 1) a willingness to be separated from what one loves for the sake of the beloved without ever ceasing to love this beloved' (seeing off the mis-sionary friend withoUt hope of ever meeting again); 2) a'willingness to let someone dear grow freely without trying to control, even though this means great suffering for both (the parent letting the stubborn twenty-year-old make a d(astic mistake in choosing a job--for the sake of his growth in wisdom); 3) a willingness to risk everything to put God or another person ahead of one's business, sporting succesg, work, comfort, or career, even as one continues tO pursue these ventures; 4) a willingness tO choose the good consistently, i

Issue 29.1 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDI.TORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Eilard. 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 R~wEw vog l~uG~ous; 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; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9xo6. + + + 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 Provirice Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1970 by RZVzEw' FOR RELIOIOUS at 428 East Preston Str~:t; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class posta[~e paid at Baltimore, Maryland and ai addiuonal mailing offices. Single copies: $1.00. Suhscsiption U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, "$9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two yean. Orders should indicate whether they ah: for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to RFvu~w FOR RI~LIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions; wl~re ~ccom-padded by a remittance, should be sent to Rgv~zw ~OR RELIGIOUS; P. O. ~X 671; Baltimo~, Ma~land 21203. Chang~ of addr~, bu~ co~es~nd~ce, and ord~s not a~ ompa~ed a remittance should be g~Ltotous ; 428 East ~eston Ma~land 21202. Manu~ripts, ~itofial cor- ~s~ndence, and ~oks for r~iew should sent to REVIEW FOR gELIOIOUS; 612 Hum~ldt Building; 539 North Grand ~ul~ard; Saint ~uis, Mi~uri 63103. Qu~fions for answering should ~ the Qu~fio~ and ~we~ ~tor. JANUARY 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER 1 REVIEW FOR Volume 29 1970 EDITORIAL OFFIG'E 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston Street Baltimore, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOLIS is indexed in the Catholic Peri-odical Index land in Book Re-view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS i8 available from University Mi-crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. GEORGE WILSON, S.J. Community. and Loneliness Not another article on communityl Haven't we all heard enough on that subject to last us through our next ten general chapters? Perhaps. But I hope the reader will excuse me if I muse a bit out loud on some questions in this area which I feel we have neglected in spite of the deluge of analyses, anathemas, and recipes to which we have been treated in recent years. The reflections which follow will have only the merest semblance of any order. I make no apology for this. It happens to represent for me the state of the issues, which recurrently bob to the surface of my consciousness like the flotsam from a variety of experiences with religious men and women over the past six years. It strikes me, incidentally, that flotsam may be a particularly apt word inasmuch as some of these experiences involved rather disastrous shipwrecks. We might make a good beginning by taking eight giant steps backwards to a typical religious community in the year 1962. (We now know that such a thing never existed, of course; beneath the surface each com-munity was really very different. In those idyllic days, however, we might very well have lived under such an illusion.) We heard about the Council---the typical first reaction was "I wonder why?"--so we prayed for the gentle rain of the Spirit. We prayed for the success of the Council more or less as we would have prayed for a Eucharistic congress. We prayed for rain and we were treated to a ty-phoon. And not least in the area of what we came to call "community." We might even have to remind our-selves now that the word "community" was hardly ever heard before the Council. And certainly if we used it at all, it was not with all the psychological baggage with which it is currently burdened. In those ÷ + George Wilson, $.J., teaches theol-ogy at Woodstock College in Wood-stock, Md. 21163. VOLUME 29, 1970 + 4. 4. George Wilson, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS days we might have spoken of "common life"--but that was such a different thing. I hope I will be for-given the whimsical reflection that in those days "com-mon life" was frequently used to engineer the rigidity which precisely destroys all life, whereas today our more likely mistake is to invoke "community" in order to perpetrate all the most bizarre diversities which haven't the foggiest connection with the people with ¯ whom we live. Lest this latter remark be misconstrued, let me .hasten to add that it is not in any way a plea for more togetherness. I suppose at this point I am just suggesting that we abandon the futile gesture of trying to baptize the many sensible, good, and apostolic things done by religious with the tag "community." If indeed they are sensible, good, and apostolically profitable, they will remain so even without the tag, as long as the religious lives up to his or her basic commitment to the group. At any rate, I think we would all admit that "com-munity" has taken on new burdens in the renewal years. The new factor consists in the conscious emphasis on personal enrichment of the life of the individual through the intimate sharing of life with similarly dedi-cated persons. This is not to suggest that religious life in previous decades did not bring rich personal satis-faction to the lives of many wonderful and wonder-fully human beings. It is one of the cruel illusions of some of our fiery reformers to think that they dis-covered the category of the personal--cruel to others because it seems to cast a shadow over the accomplish-ment of their great lives of service, but even more cruel to the reformers themselves because, being, an illusion, it prevents them from seeing precisely the beauty of lives lived for years at a steady, if less ro-matically intense, warmth. One is tempted to think of beams and motes and so forth. Be that as it may, the difference between then and today is not, I would submit, that between coldness and warmth, but rather between a then in which the warm personal successes and the cold impersonal failures were just lived, and a today, in; which they are consciously sought after (warm personal relationships) or consciously and ruthlessly knocked down (the merely functional, computerized, impersonal civilities). People were always warm (some) and cold (some) and they still are today (some of e~ch). Wheat and cockle and all that. It is just that we religious have as a group grown more reflective about how it happens; we have evolved a new set of forms which define and give contemporary expression to warmth and coldness (and we .are evolving even newer forms at a dizzy pace); and we are more consciously searching out the ways to increase the successes and minimize the failures in the process. All of which is good. Religious communities not only should be places in which the full development of human personal potential for life and love and happiness takes place, they should also be evidently such. Signs which don't communicate are worse than anomalies: they have the fateful chameleon capacity to become counter-signs. Let it be proclaimed once and for all: a man or woman giving his or her life to Christ in a religious society should find there the ac-ceptance and warmth and affection which any hu-man being has a right to look for in his commitment to any other person or group of persons. Unfortunately this still does not get us out of the woods. I say unfortunately, because I am afraid that many religious feel that the mere affirmation is enough by itself to answer all difficulties. To draw a bold caricature which probably never happened, I ~aave the recurring fantasy of a contemporary religious say-ing: "A religious community should be an intimate group of people who are in love with one another. I don't feel that way about any of the eight people I live with and I certainly know non~ of them feels that way about me. So this isn't a community, and I'm get-ting out of this farce." Put in such a starkly simplistic form, some of the ambiguities which lurk within our thinking about community are thrown into a new light and some finer honing of our questions is called for. What degree of intimacy can a person realistically hope for with eight people selected more or less at random by somebody who won't be living with them? Yes, the community should supply warmth and personal sup-pol: t--but just who is the community when I say that? Does the community commit itself to being my only source of deep personal relationships and human ful-fillment? Need it always and in every instance even be the primary source? Is it possible that by failing to face these questions we have created a thought pattern in which the individual religious is unwittingly taught to have entirely unrealistic expectations and then when these cannot be met he or she is compelled to seek their fulfillment elsewhere? It has been observed in the case of marriage that our current high divorce rate can be directly attributed to the fact that modern man's ex-pectations from marriage are, contrary to a superficial view, actually much higher than in the past; would the increasing rate of departures from religious life be say-ing the same thing about our expectations concerning it? I would not pretend to answer all of these difficult questions in the space of a brief article. But perhaps we + 4. + Loneliness VOLUME 29, 1970 5 + ÷ ÷ George Wilson, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 may move the dialogue along a bit by examining a couple of areas: (l) the people with whom I should expect to find "community" when I commit myself to Christ in a religious group, and (2) one of the false understandings of community under which we may have been unwittingly operating. First, to the people. The operating principle of many religious today would seem to be that I should be able to attain to deep intimacy with all the members of my local community or else it is all a sham. I will leave aside the question which the older religious, often quite legitimately, is frequently heard to ask, namely, what in the name of all that's holy do they mean by "deep intimacy"? My presumption for the moment is that the people in question are attempting to point to something real of which they have already had some experiential taste and which they do expect to find in religious life, however halting they may be in articulat-ing what they mean by it. In other words, I can also sympathize with their common response of "if you don't even sense what I'm talking about, that's even sadder than the fact that we don't have it here." At this point the meaning of "deep intimacy" is not my con-cern. But leaving it descriptively for the moment at the level of a vague but real experience whose presence or lack can be grasped by any sensitive human being, my question is rather: With whom should I reasonably expect to achieve it? There is a "tradition" (of very recent vintage, I sus-pect) which would be shocked that the question is even raised, since sell-evidently this kind of relationship has to be achieved with one's local community. To which my question in return would be: is it all that self-evident? I ought to find a~ceptance and warmth and affection in the community of people to whom I have committed myself, but does this lead me realistically to expect a relationship of deep intimacy with the eight members of my local community? At about this point in the dialogue it is not unlikely that someone will be thinking: "But just look at the community of our first foundersl They had this kind of deep relationship, but we've lost it." The comparison is frequently made and I would like to suggest that it masks a fateful equivocation. To use the word "com-munity" to describe a handful of people who freely and individually sought each other out through a proc-ess of long personal contact and testing, and then to make this a model for one's expectations when one is assigned to a random collection of eight individuals out of a 500-man (or 35,000-man) congregation to which I commit mysel/-~this is surely courting intellectual con- fusion and psychological disaster. The founding group had a sense of community and generally very intimate relationships. (Would one seem too cynical if one were to suggest that we have probably romanticized even the latter element? A sober reading of our early histories would suggest that for all their vision and charisma our founders generally had to be very hard-headed, down-to-earth wrestlers in order to. survive the fierce opposition which their vision generated.) The fact that they had both these elements in one integrated, lived way should not make us forget that they are two different things. Perhaps a parallel drawn from a related area may be of some assistance here. The movement known as the Teams of Our Lady (or by its original French title, Equipes-Notre Dame) consists of married couples who are established into communities of six couples each. It is important to note that the couples do not as a rule choose the other couples with whom they will de-velop as a team; the leadership of the movement usually gathers them on the basis of factors such as geographical proximity and so forth. The goal of the team is to help one another grow in holiness, which involves assisting each couple to find the ways to express love in the various situations into which their marriage and family life call them. The forms and practices of the spiritual life vary from couple to couple. The role of the other couples in the team is to foster the individual couple's unique growth, not to dictate a particular recipe for conjugal sanctity. The point of the parallel is that the testimony of the couples in the movement reveals that they have discovered experientially the distinction be-tween a successful team and what they call a "cozy team." A given team which is functioning well may gradually develop also into a cozy group; the couples and their children may begin to socialize apart from the explicit team structure, they may begin to gravitate to-ward other team couples in deep friendship. Or they may not. The point is that couples find that this factor is not essential to the success of a team. Teams can reach great depths of spiritual sharing and mutual assistance and growth without a great deal of socializ-ing or what one might call camaraderie. Indeed there are teams whose rating on the latter scale is very high but in which nothing of significance with regard to the goal of the movement is happening. It will be instantly objected that the supposed paral-lel is fallacious because of course these couples already have their primary needs for intimacy satisfied else-where, prior to entry into a team. The objection has some merit; certainly the parallel limps. On the other hand, it would be a bit cavalier to dismiss it out of + 4, VOLUME 29, 1970 4. 4. 4. George Wilson, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8 hand simply on those grounds. We must face the fact that when we admit the inadequacies of the parallel we are not thereby justified in ignoring the facets in which it does touch home in spite of its hobbling gait. Nor--more importantly--may we thereby surrepti-. tiously insert the assumption that the religious must of course find his or her admitted needs for intimacy satis-fied within the local cgmmunity. Despite the weak-nesses of the parallel I submit that this notion remains at this point in the case exactly that, just an assump-tion. What are we to say of its value? It occurs to me that we might make a better assessment of it if we pose some specific situations for ourselves. Suppose that a given sister or brother or priest, were to discover that he or she finds it much more pleasant to be with, say, a member of the lay faculty or some parishioner or fellow nurse than with members of the local community. A deep and rich friendship has evolved through sharing important experiences together. There may be several such relationships. The religious may honestly face the fact that he shares a deeper level of friendship with people beyond the community than with those inside ~t. Should this be a disturbing discovery? Should it lead to the conclusion that this religious group ~is only a hollow facade and that honesty dictates a resignation from the group? My own personal answer would have to be negative. If I might take a stab at describing the stages of the re-cent development of community life styles, I would suggest that it has proceeded along the following lines: (1) the "lived" stage mentioned above. There were de facto some rich friendships in religious communities. There was also an explicit doctrine which inculcated fear of any human warmth. The healthy were always able to put this doctrine in psychological brackets and go on about the business of living, which is to say, trying to be human. The less healthy were more crippled by the tradition or, as a perhaps harsher judgment would have it, allowed themselves to be crippled by it. At this stage relationships outside the community were the ultimate no-no. (2) The explicit doctrine was gradually battered down by the new openness to in-sights from the human sciences, if it did not simply crumble from the weight of its own unreality. Friend-ship, warmth, openness became values to be consciously striven after. Rather ironically we rediscovered that fusty old English word "Thou~' (as .in "I-hyphen- Thou"; but never in hymns, pleasel) and eyeball-to-eyeball became the image of the day. But this was all to be within the community--it is no accident that our word "pagan" has as one of its earliest meanings simply "an outsider." And although the explicit doctrine of suspicion of friendship was finished, an unwritten tradition had evolved very quickly, according to which the community where friendship had to be discovered was the local community. In the meantime a third step was taking place, one which deserves a separate paragraph because it repre-sents the present for many religious. Having been con-sciously opened to the value of the human, they discovered that it existed outside the religious group as well. They inevitably began to experience the rise of friendships with persons outside the group. In some communities the explicit tradition quickly adjusted to this new fact by seeing it as a natural consequence of openness to personal relationship and accepted it as a good thing; in others the notion has had a more bumpy ride. For all, the -~ituation became more tense when father or brother or sister found that there were many more inviting people outside than in. The new tradition has created an intolerable bind for many. They are being told in effect (1) that every human being needs some deeply fulfilling human re-lationships, (2) that these should not be fostered out-side the community, or at least (3) that even if outside relationships are acceptable one should be able to reach that same level of intimacy with those religious with whom one happens to live as a result of the need for a teacher of remedial reading---a placement deter-mined by someone who in all probability will not be sharing the local community situation. At this juncture I am not. sure whether I have more .to fear from my. friends than my attackers. I can imagine one group hailing me because I have shown that they were right all along, that all this deep relationship business was exaggerated and all we really have to do to have .community is to be civil. (Sometimes things get so bad in dealing with this mentality that one is almost tempted to agree and settle for that, but civility seems to be one of those things you cannot have all by itself; either we aie going forward to love and warmth or else we are soon back in the cold jungle.) A group .on the opposite side is saying: "Of course that's not what he means. What he's clearly shown is that the only solution is to let everyone choose his or her own local group. Then we' can reduplicate the intimacy of our founding fathers." A third group is made up of the poor harried school,supervisors and provincials, and they are probably muttering in the corner that I have leveled another juvenile a.ttack against that old straw man, the im-personal bureaucratic sturcture, when they have had ÷ 4. ÷ ÷ ÷ 4. George Wilson, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]0 their insides torn out trying to respect the personal needs of individuals in the face of important com-munity commitments. Which means it is time for fixing our position. I am not going back on my stand affirming the importance of warm and deep human relationships for all human beings and therefore for all religious. Nor on the other hand am I convinced that a group of people which has a job to do can simply let its members form all its subgroups on the basis of free association untram-meled by the facts of broader common commitments. And I have the greatest sympathy for those in the com-munity who have the difficult task of reconciling per-sons, pegs, and holes; their service, far from being mere bureaucracy, is generally one of the most excruciatingly personal ones in the whole community. No, our solution lies neither in shrinking back from personal relationships nor in totally free association. I would suggest that the sources for an answer are in two places: in the broader pool of the larger religious community and in the open personal concourse of religious with the outside world they serve. A religious need not feel especially troubled on discovering that there are no close personal friends among those with whom he or she happens to live, provided that some-where in the larger religious group there are those with whom such a relationship exists. And the com-munity should foster the normal means by which such relationships can flourish and grow: the chance to choose vacation partners, freedom to visit and recreate to-gether without the other members of each one's local community feeling slighted, trips within reason (proportioned by the same responsible norms which two lay friends might have to use in making such a decision, such as available funds, other commitments, and so forth). Beyond the incarnated friendships of those in different local communities warm relationships with other men and women outside the community should be expected to arise, be fostered when they do, and be given the normal modes of expression which suit such relationships (if sister has to be home by midnight on a particular occasion, it is not because she is sister but because she is an adult human being with a responsibil-ity to perform as an adult the next morning--and that is something she should be free to discover for her-self by trial and, alas, error). In this way we can ease the impossible demand which has been placed on the local community by the tradition of unreasonable ex-pectations. We will of course still have to be open to growth in the depth of our relationships in the local community. We will have to be on our guard lest the needs of more withdrawn members of the local group go unattended. But paradoxically, it is just possible that we may be better able to meet these basic demands of love on the local scene if we do not expect that scene to fulfill all our human personality needs. All of this might become more acceptable doctrine if we were to examine the normal patterns of mature and healthy individuals-in-community. It is quite natural for the mature adult in our society to func-tion within a wide diversity of social circles simul-taneously, to have his own needs met and to meet the needs of others in a variety of ways and on different levels. This is true even of that most intimate of com-munities constituted by the one-to-one relationship of marriage. The husband lives on one level with his wife, on another in his field of occupation, on still another with a few very close male friends (with whom his wife may or may not be on such close terms), on another with more casual social acquaintances; he may even have a select group with whom his only contact may be a weekly game of handball. The wife's circles will be analogous; in some instances they may range more broadly than his, as for example in the parish or neighborhood. At times their circles will coincide, at times not. They will strive to enlarge the areas they share (which may not necessarily mean that they do the things together; they learn to enrich each other by sharing what they have done separately). But one thing is sure: they know that if they demand even of this re-lationship that it satisfy all their personal needs for intimacy, it will become involuted and shrivel up and die. It is true of the couple; it is true of the family on a different level; and it is true of the individuals in a given local religious community. If we are supposing, then, that a particular religious will not have any really close friend within the group with whom he or she must share years of human life and work, are we not exposing the religious to a frightening risk of loneliness? This very real question brings us to the second area in which it was suggested that we might clarify our thinking, namely, a false understanding of community which may unwittingly be causing a lot of unhealthy departures from religious life. Actually it is really a false understanding of loneli-ness rather than immediately one of community which is at issue; but on a given level these are really correla-tive notions, and our understanding of the meaning of loneliness has its impact on our expectations from com-munity life. The issue was brought home most force-fully to me in a response by Thomas Merton to an ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, 1970 ]! George Wilson, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ']2 interviewer's question, as reported in Motive for Octo-ber,. 1967. The interviewer touched on the issue of celibacy and solitude; and Merton's answer read in part: I think I can say I have experienced levels of loneliness that most people do not allow themselves consciously to admit. From a certain point of view I can say bluntly that to exist as a man without relating to one particular woman-and-person who is "my love," is quite simply a kind of death. But I have enough experience of human love to realize, too, that even within the best of relationships between man and woman this loneliness and death are also terribly present. There are mo-ments in human love in which loneliness is completely tran-scended, but these are brief and deceptive, and they can point 9nly to the further and more difficult place where, ultimately, two lonely and helpless persons elect to save one another from absurdity by being absurd together--and for life (pp. 36-7). This explicitation of the fact that there is a certain kind of loneliness experienced within the most intimate of unions and even in its peak moments can be of in-valuable assistance in clarifying our expectations from religious life in community. Whether we consciously admit it to ourselves or not, we.do tend to interpret the meaning and value of various human experiences by comparing them with expectations from other ways of life. This is a perfectly human process, for man is, after all, a prudential being. But the worth of the process depends on the realism with which we view the two situations. It is my convic-tion that a number of religious have made the decision to leave, religious life on the unhealthy basis of a judgment that the loneliness of religious life would be assuaged by the relationships available in lay, and particularly married, life. It is important to be dear 0n what is being asserted here. It should be evident that there is no criticism of these people intended, and certainly not a condemnation. Nor is there any at-tempt to dispute their assessment that indeed for them life with this particular religious group had become intolerable due to the type of loneliness they actually experienced. What is at issue is the use of a principle according to which religious life itself would involve a loneliness that is unique to it and would therefore be ".solved" by departure from it. This is, I believe, an unreal assumption and any decision based on it is un-healthy because unreal. Clark,Moustakas has written a precious gem of a book .which .should be required reading for all religious in formation. Entitled simply Loneliness (Prentice-Hall ';Spectrum". :paperback), the brief work makes a valuable contribution to our discussion from two points of view. Moustakas first alerts us to the fact that the one word "loneliness" can actually cover two distinct reali-ties. One consists in the experiencing of my fundamental human uniqueness, separateness, and inalienable re-sponsibility for myself and my decisions, and actions. No one can stand in my shoes, no one can do "my thing." This quality of genuinely human experience, which Moustakas .calls existential loneliness, is quite simply a part of being human: Loneliness is as much organic to human existence as the blood is to the heart.~ It is a dimension of human life whether existential, sociologidal, or psychological; whatever its deriva-tives or forms, whatever its history, it is a reality of life. Its fear, evasion, denial, !and the accompanying attempts to escape 'the experience of being lonely will forever isolate the person from his own existerlce, will' afflict and separate him from his own resources so thht there is no development, no creative emergence, no growth in awareness, perceptiveness, sensitivity. If the individual does not exercise his loneliness, one signifi-cant capacity and dimension of being hum~in remains unde-veloped, denied (pp2 When we allow ,ourselves to experience this reality in all its dimensions; we discover that is, is a gomplex phenomenon which includes both the painful acknowl-edgment of our igclination to evade responsibili.ty by leaning on someone else as well as the exhilarating discovery of the Ipower of our deepest self and its capacify for respo.hsible accomplishment.-This kind of loneliness, which belongs to every adult's life, has to be distinguished from ~inottier reality which is call'dd by the same name but is really the anxious fear. of being left alone. Moustakas calls this latter loneliness anxiety: Loneliness anxiety results from a fundamental breach be-tween what one island what one pretends to be, a basic alienation between man and man and between man and his nature (p. 24). Modern man is ;plagued with the vague, diffuse fear of loneliness. He goesI to endless measures, takes devious and circuitous pathways] to avoid facing the experience of being lonely. Perhaps the !loneliness of a" meaningless existence, the absence of values, convictions, beliefs, and fear of isolation are the most terribl~ kind of loneliness anxiety (pp. 26-7). The fact that. twqt.very different realities can go by the same name g~ves r, lse to the question: When a religious laments the loneliness of the religious group and de-cides to resolve ~he tension by separating from the community, tehic~ lcind oI loneliness is he or she at-tempting to resolve? Please note that I am not trying to answer the ques-tion in any particular case. It may very well be that the .individual may have wakened to the very valid realiza-tion 'that life in this particular group does involve such a measure of pretense, superficiality, and meaningless Loneliness VOLUME 29, 1970 George Wilson, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]4 forms that he or she is in danger o~ total self-estrange-ment. When there is the concomitant realization that the individual is impotent to do anything about this destructive communal pattern, it may be the better part of valor to shake the dust of this group from one's shoes. (What one in such a case makes of his personal commitment to serve God as a celibate-- which need not be in this community--is a broader question whid~ would take us beyond the scope of this article.) On the other hand, there is the possibility that a person may be unwittingly seeking to evade the existential loneliness which he just happens to be ex-periencing more painfully now than at previous stages of his growth; and this would of course be an impossible quest. This kind of loneliness is just part and parcel of being human; and no change from one community to another, even if the latter is the community of marriage, will change that fact. It might seem that all of this leaves us with a de-pressing prospect: we are going to be lonely come what may. Here Moustakas' second contribution opens vistas unsuspected by the togetherness generation, for he re-minds us of the positive value of the experience of loneliness. Loneliness is a condition of existence which leads to deeper perception, greater awareness and sensitivity, and insights into one's own being. New images, symbols, and ideas spring from the lonely path. The man living his life, accepting all signifi-cant dimensions of human existence is often a tragic man but he is a man who loves life dearly. And out of the pain or loss, the bitter ecstasy of brief knowing and having, comes the glory of a single moment and the creation of a song for joy. In creative loneliness there is an element of separation, of being utterly alone, but there is also a strange kind of related-ness-- to nature and to other persons and through these ex-periences, a relatedness to life itself, to inspiration, wisdom, beauty, simplicity, value. A sense of isolation and solitude is experienced, but a relatedness to the universe is maintained. Only through fundamental relatedness can the individual de-velop his own identity. The individual's loneliness is an ex-perience in growing which leads to differentiation of self. The person's identity comes into relief as he breathes his own spirit into everything he touches, as he relates significantly and openly with others and with the universe. Without any deep and growing roots in the soil of loneli-ness, the individual moves in accordance with external signals. He does not know his place in the world, his position, where he is or who he is. He has lost touch with his own nature, his own spontaneity (p. 50). Paradoxically it is only in the creative experience of our aloneness that we can come to realize the gift which we alone can bring in relatedness to those we love. It is true that only the love of another opens us up to the acceptance of our own worth (a point which must be emphasized to complete the picture, necessarily limited by Moustakas' perspective); but it remains true that the actual experiencing of our unique worth is our own act, one which inevitably isolates us even from the lover who stands outside en-couraging us to seize our own goodness and value, to create our true self: In actualizing one's self, one's aspirations, ideals, and inter-ests, it is often necessary to retreat from the world. One must have strength enough to withstand the temptations which arise when one is completely alone. This does not mean becoming uprooted or alienated. It means accej~ting the existential na-ture of man's loneliness and seeing Its value in the creation of being, in the emergence of self-identity, and in a more fundamental, genuine life. Cast in this light, loneliness be-comes an illuminating experience and it leads to greater heights (p. 50). The Christian should be the first to recognize the deep truth in this phenomenological description. Is it not simply another of the myriad rich forms in which the paschal mystery presents itself? All genuine life is life-through-death. In proclaiming His way Christ was also disclosing the inmost law of human life. The freedom of vocation is not the freedom to evade this law, but the freedom to choose where we will experience it. We may be alone within a religious group or alone alongside a marriage partner or simply alone in the midst of the human crowd. But alone we shall be. Whether this death of aloneness becomes the resurrec-tion of love and relationship is the real issue. That will depend in any case on our willingness to accept the loneliness and in the acceptance to be raised beyond ourselves: Loneliness is as much a reality of life as night and rain and thunder, and it can be lived creativ~ely, as any other experience. So I say, let there be loneliness, for where there is loneliness there is also sensitivity, and where there is sensitivity, there is awareness and recognition and promise. Being lonely and being relatedare dimensions of an organic whole, both necessary to the growth of individuality and to the deepening value and enrichment of friendship. Let there be loneliness, for where there is loneliness, there also is love, and where there is suffering, there also is joy (p. 103). We all need acceptance and warmth and intimacy. Our religious group should at least make it possible for us to achieve it or else it is not a community at all, much less a Christian one. But the group can no more supply for the painful task of passing through the loneliness of self-acceptance, which is the price of self-transcendence, than could any marriage partner. That cup, and that privilege, is ours. Except that by an awesome mystery Christ has also made it His. + 4- 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 ]5 GERALD~A. McCOOL, S.J. Commitment to One's Institute: A Contemporary Q estion Gerald McCool, S.J., is visiting asso-ciate professor of philosophy at Bos-ton College; Chest-nut Hill, Massa-cusetts 02167. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 16 The* question whether his institute as it concretely exists retains its right to bind his conscience is no longer a rhetorical one in the mind of many a religious subject. Directors of conscience who have been con-fronted with this question by religious of diverse ages in many different congregations are aware of this fact. They are also aware of their own increasing difficulty in finding satisfactory answers to the problems posed to them by religious concerning the nature, extent, and duration of the commitment to a concrete religious institute which even perpetual vows entail today. The origin of these problems is in part sociological. In-stitutes have changed radically in the past few years, and the rate of change has been uneven. Different groups in the same congregation look on the Church, the world, and religious institutes quite differently and entertain what seem at times irreconcilably diverse hopes for their future. Communal agreement is hard come by, and the unity in life and work which in the past contributed to a religious' sense of peace and se-curity no longer manifests itself on the empirical level. Naturally directors of conscience are not ignorant of the efforts being made by almost every institute to reach agreement on their basic religious and apostolic goals. They have learned during the past few years the im- * This article is a revision of a paper presented at the Seventh Biennial Institute in Pastoral Psychology, held at Fordham Uni-versity, June 16-20, 1969. In its present form it is focused more sharply on the current problem of commitment to one's own institute. The original paper, entitled "The Conscience of the Religious Subject," will appear in the forthcoming volume, Con-science: Its Freedom and Limitations ed. William G. Bier, S.J. (New York: Fordham University, 1970). portance of urging patience and charity on religious of all ages and persuasions. As defection rates increase, however, and morale problems become more grave, even in institutes which are going through the process of renewal, directors are becoming painfully conscious that much more is needed than exhortations to faith and supernatural hope in the future. Too many religious are beginning to question the assumption which under-lies such exhortations--the connection between God's personal call to them and their commitment to their institute. A genuine doubt 'is ~growing in their mind as to whether total commitment to their institute in the traditional sense is the more perfect form of Christian life today. Some may ask indeed whether the form of life led in their institute as it is, or promises to be in the immediate future, represents a truly moral way of living. These questions, of course, have been raised in the past. They recur at every period of trouble, re-newal, and reform in the Church and in religious life.1 That they should recur again today is in itself a cause for neither surprise nor disturbance. What is troubling, however, is the discovery on the part of religious and their directors that trenchant answers to them are so difficult to find. The New Situation in Religious Lile This inability to find a clear and persuasive answer to the contemporary difficulties concerning a religious' commitment to his institute does not come from simple failure of nerve, unimaginitive rigidity, or impatience at the rate of change, although these factors are opera-tive in the present crisis in religious life. It is rather the resultant vector of two forces whose interplay has still to be examined with sufficient care and penetra-tion: (1) the effect of institutional change on a subject's commitment to his institute in a period of open ended ecclesial evolution and (2) the powerful impact upon religious life of the theological pluralism which now exists, and will in all likelihood continue to exist, within the contemporary Church. The interplay of these two forces has created a new situation in religious life in which it is no longer possible for the individual re-ligious subject or his director to determine the nature, value, and obligation of his commitment to his in-stitute and to his fellow religious through a simple x St. Thomas replied to d~fficulties of this sort in his Summa contra Gentiles, III, 130-8. Suarez produced a similar defense at the time of the Counter-Reformation; see William Humphrey, Fran-cisco Suarez: The Religious State. A Digest o] the Doctrine Con-tained in His Treatise "De statu religionis'" (London: Burns and Oates, 1884). Commitment VOLUME 29, 1970 ]7 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18 application to his individual situation of the theology of the religious life which carried religious safely through the early years of the post-Vatican renewal.2 The existential development of religious life and the rapid evolution of theology have confronted the individual religious with a problem of conscience with which they cannot cope alone. The individual religious and his director require the aid of theologians and the help of their own institutes. And they will receive that help only if firstly institutes and theologians together accept the fact that the early post-Vatican period is over and that a new religious and theological situation is in existence now, and if secondly the institutes, with the careful help of theologians, make clear and definite decisions about their life and work based on an in-telligent commitment to a theology of the religious life which they accept. In the early years of post-Vatican renewal, the director of conscience found in the post-conciliar theology of the religious life a clear grounding of the supernatural value of the life of the counsels and an exposition of the relation of institutional structure to personal vocation. With their help he was able to work out a ~ For the influence of process thought on Catholic philosophy, see Leslie Dewart, The Future o] Belie] (New York: Herder and Herder, 1966) and the stimulating and provocative article of Eugene Fonti-helle, "Religious Truth in a Relational and Processive World," Cross Currents, v. 18 (1967), pp. 283-315. Its influence upon highly respected theologians can be seen in three important articles which appeared recently: Wilhelm Kasper, "Geschichtlichkeit der Dogmen," Stimmen tier Zeit, v. 179 (1967), pp. 401-16; Avery Dulles, "Dogma as an Ecumenical Problem," Theological Studies, v. 29 (1968), 397- 416; and George Vass, "On the Historical Structure of Christian Truth," Heythrop Journal, v. 9 (1968). For the newer approach in moral theology which will affect religious life, see George Curran, Christian Morality Today (Notre Dame: Fides, 1966) and Absolutes in Moral Theology (Washington: Corpus Books, 1968). The Catholic theologian whose name is closely associated with the new theology of hope, esehatology, and earthly realities strongly influenced by the independent Marxist philosopher, Ernst Bloch, is Johannes B. Metz; see his Theology o] the World (New York: Herder and Her-der, 1967). These books and articles are simply a random sample of recent publications by serious and influential writers. There is no doubt that we are in a period of rapid and profound theological development. We must realize, however, that the process epistemol-ogy and metaphysics which are winning increasing favor with serious Catholic theologians does not simply call into question the philosophical grounding of the traditional Christian wisdom spir-ituality associated with the names of Augustine, Bonaventure, and Thomas, which underlies so many classics of the spiritual life; it also challenges the epistemological and metaphysical foundations of some of the most influential post-Vatican theology of the religious life, notably that of Karl Rahner. Ignorance of ~his fact can cause woe to an unwary retreat director, especially in communities of younger religious. It can also be a source of trouble for congrega-tions which are rewriting their constitutions. satisfactory understanding of the mutual obligations of subject and institute with which he could handle per-sonal problems of commitment in congregations as they then existed. This theology also enabled him to cope with the personal problems of the early post-conciliar years when many congregations dragged their feet in implementing the Vatican II reforms. It proved a rea-sonably satisfactory instrument for solving the prob-lems of individual religious in the later and more dif-ficult period of communal involvement in renewal in which community division with its consequent fear and hostility became a problem for many institutes. If we simply review the history of those stages in the evolution of religious life we may be able to see why the re-ligious and his director were able to deal with the question of religious commitment as an individual prob-lem then and why it is that today they are no longer able to do so. Post-Vatican Theology: Nature and Value o] Reli-gious Life Post-conciliar theology defended the value of the counsels as an integral part of the Church's eschatologi-cal witness and indicated the role which religious in-stitutions play as visible signs of her holiness,s In doing so it clarified the reasons which justify the renunciation of fundamental human goods through the three vows. It also explained the ecdesial basis for the authorita-tive specification of the religious life in institutes in which a life of rule is lived under the direction of re-ligious superiors. Religious belong to what Karl Rahner has called the charismatic element in the Church. Their conviction that God has called them to follow Christ in the re-ligious life is based on a non-formal process of in-ference which Saint Ignatius has called the discern-ment of spirits. Their decision to follow the divine invitation is freely taken. "Its motive is growth in the service of God and their neighbor and in the intimate union with God which Christian writers from patristic times have called holiness. The renunciation of earthly goods which the vows entail is justified because it is the manifestation of the Church's eschatological faith and hope. Through this renunciation religious institutes give living public witness to the Church's certitude that life's significance does not rest exclusively on the encounter with God in the use of His creation but on the lived 8See Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations, v. 3 (Baltimore: Helicon), pp. 58-104 and SchriIten zur Theologie:. v. 7 (Einsiedeln: Benziger, 1966), pp. 404-79. See also Ladislas M. Orsy, Open to the Spirit (Washington: Corpus Books, 1968). ÷ ÷ ÷ Con~mltraent VOLUME 29, 1970 19 4, Gerald A. McCooi, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~0 hope of an encounter beyond the limits of space and time.4 A religious community in the visible Church is a response to a common charismatic call in which its members participate and which is the supernatural bond of their union. Since that call is given in the Church as a summons to give stable social witness to her holiness and hope, communal life of the counsels acquires visible form in the diverse religious institutes. Thus the interior charism unique to each institute finds the external expression through which it can be thema-tized and communicated; and the interior bond of charity which binds its members to God, to the Church, and to each other receives verbal expression in its con-stitutions.~ Consequently religious vows are not taken in vacuo. They are always taken in a specific institute whose constitutions thematize the charismatic vocation to which each religious commits himself. Through her approval of the constitutions the visible Church commits her-self to the religious as authentic witnesses of her life and hope. On the basis of this theological justification of the nature and value of the religious life, the religious sub-ject at the beginning o[ the post-Vatican renewal was able to set down some general principles for the forma-tion o[ his conscience in relation to his commitment to his institute and to the legitimate demands on him which followed from it. (1) His decision to follow the religious life is morally justified through its public eschatological witness and through its service to God in the life of His Church. Its nature is distorted and its moral value compromised if it degenerates into an irresponsible flight from par-ticipation in the world through fear or dislike of God's creation. From the theology of the free person in the Church it follows that an individual call to manifest her sanctity through the public witness of the counsels should come in every generation to a number of generous Christians. Not only may Christians be religious, some of them should be. (2) Although the constitutions of a religious institute are not identified with its common charismatic call, its inner spirit, and its internal bond of charity, the con-stitutions cannot be separated from them either--a fact * Rahner, Schrilten, v. 7, pp. 404-34. r We notice here the strong similarity between the relation established by Rahner in his spiritual theology between institutional structure and charismatic call and the relation established by St. Ignatius between religious rule and the interior law of charity in the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. which Saint Ignatius saw most dearly. The constitutions of an institute are not purely juridical regulations with little or no relation to its interior spirit. They are the medium through which the religious vows can specify and maintain a perduring commitment to a common way of life. Consequently, superiors, in fidelity to God and to the Church, have an obligation to see that they are observed. For, if a way of life is allowed to grow up within an institute which is at variance with the specific manifestation of the. Church's holiness which it has been called to manifest, that institute has lost the supernatural justification for its existence. Thus com-plete freedom to follow individual decisions cannot be permitted to a subject in a religious institute. A Christian called to religious life is called to accept a limitation on his freedom through obedience to his institute and its superiors. ($) Furthermore, since he shares in a common charismatic call which is incorporated in a specific in-stitute, indications of the divine will should ordinarily come to him through his institute and its superiors. Although there can be legitimate conflict at times, it is hard to reconcile a religious vocation with the convic-tion that the subject must make every important decision on his own responsibility and that the moral authority of a religious superior is restricted to his right to offer counsel. As one religious order recently expressed it: "A man who, time after time, is unable to obey with good consdence, should take thought regarding some other path of life in which he can serve God with greater tranquility." 6 The theology of the religious life which flourished after the Council not only gave the religious subject a dearer picture of the nature and value of the religious life than he had previously possessed; it also provided him with the principles through which a number of the problems arising from the conflict between obedi-ence and his moral conscience could find an answer. A proper understanding of the theology of the religious life made it clear not only that the constitutions of an insitute specified the obligation of the subject but that they also specified and restricted the legitimate authority of his superior. Superiors may rule only in accordance with the constitutions; and, in an institute whose reason for existence is to manifest the Church's sanctity and supernatural hope, they must rule religiously. Through his vows the subject has acquired a claim upon the conscience of his superior. For he has received a per-sonal call from God to a life of individual witness and Society of Jesus, Documents of the Thirty.First General Congre-gation (Woodstock, Md.: Woodstock College, 1967), p. 55. 4. Commitment VOLUME. 29, 1970 21 + 4. 4. Gerald A. McCool, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS service within a specific community. Not all of the de-mands which God makes on him can be determined by following uncritically in a quasi-automatic way the gen-eral orders of superiors. A number must be determined in-dividually by the discernment of spirits. Since the subject's vocation has been entrusted to his institute, he has the right to the personal direction and understanding of his superior in his efforts to discover God's personal will for him. The superior in turn has the inescapable obligation to provide it, and to provide it as a religious superior and not as the director of a secular enterprise. Further-more, a religious institute is a community of free in-dividuals within a visible Church to which they have a definite responsibility. God will inspire them through thoughts and desires to move their institute to greater service to His Mystical Body. As they are bound to communicate these thoughts and desires to their superiors, superiors, because of their responsibility to their institute and to the Church, are bound to listen to their subjects and to consult them individually and collectively. The "Relectant'" Stage oI Post-Vatican Renewal In the period immediately after Vatican II these principles were not the commonplaces they have long since become. Older religious can still recall the thrill of their discovery through personal reading or through the conferences of retreat masters. Government at that time often left much to be desired in many a religious institute. Superiors, who were at times quite ignorant of the theology of the religious life, ruled impersonally and on occasion gave the impression of a political mode of action which did not show the proper regard for the rights of the subject and the true interests of the universal Church. The problems of conscience which this mode of government created for intelligent, sensitive, and far-seeing religious are too well known to call for repetition here3 Nonetheless the informed religious subject or his di-rector felt that they could chart a reasonably clear course of action through which a subject could fulfill his personal call to genuine Christian life and activity in true commitment to his institute. Most of .the problems of that time, after all, were simply the result of a subject's living in an institute whose life and government were not in accord with the approved theology of the religious life. Subjects who were equipped to do so would work for the reform of their 7 For a well documented and frank account of these problems, see Robert W. Gleason, The Restless Religiou~ (Dayton: Pflaum, 1968). institutes through personal action. Others, while wait-ing [or the coming reform of their institute, could fre-quently solve their problems by using the principles of traditional moral theology concerning the reaction of a subject to an unjust command. Difficult as this period was psychologically, it was not a period in which the religious subject necessarily felt discouragement about the ability of the approved theology of the religious life to solve his present problems and bring about the eventual renewal of his institute. The Period o[ Rapid Evolution and Renewal After this initial period of hesitation and resistance, religious institutes entered into the general movement of renewal and reform to which each congregation was asked to contribute through a revision of its consti-tutions. As it proceeded, that task proved more diffi-cult than most religious anticipated that it would be. It was at that period that the beginnings of the present question of the commitment of the religious to his institute began to manifest itself. Once a movement of evolution and reform gets under way, commitment to the existing constitutions of an institute becomes provisional. It is---or was--assumed that in their re-vised form they will be a more exact expression of the present charismatic call which God is now addressing to the institute. Yet, since the constitutions specify the common commitment of the subjects to the insti-tute and to each other, their sudden mobility, after a long period of stability, has affected the bond of union in the evolving communities. Problems now arise in the conscience of the religious concerning his relation to his community and his fellow religious which were not there before. When the post-Vatican reform began it was rather generally agreed that the period of communal discern-ment of spirits would reach its consummation in a renewed institute to whose revised constitutions the individual subjects could commit themselves with peace of soul. But in a changing world and in a changing Church, who can say when the period of evolution will come to an even relative rest? And now that we are learning to think of God and His revelation in terms of process and event rather than of substance and stable judgment, can we any longer feel that stable constitu-tions are any longer desirable or even possible? Does not that make any set of constitutions provisory and relative? Furthermore, discernment of spirits is not an automatic process whose success is guaranteed. It is a delicate work of grace. Human resistance, weakness, and obtuseness can prevent it or delay it until the 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 4" "4" Gerald A. McCool, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS "~4 kairos, the providential time allowed by God, has passed. Religious, both subjects and superiors, who are con-cerned with changes in the life and work of their institute know very well that the movement of renewal, like every human movement, is not the outcome of a simple impulse of the Holy Spirit but the resultant vec-tor of multiple and complicated forces. Secular ideas and desires are in the heart of every man. Worldliness and spiritual blindness will make their contribution to the movement too. That is why the process is called the discernment of spirits, and that is why, like every discernment of spirits, it is a risky business. In the process of discernment of spirits whose term is still undefined, an ambiguous situation is created concerning the very nature of the life to which the mem-bers of the institute have given their vowed commit-ment. If the present constitutions are to undergo revision, perhaps indefinitely, what is the subject's com-mitment to them in their actual form? If the institute should take a wrong turn or miss its kairos, what will be his commitment to the constitutions in the future? It would appear that the religious subject is invited to enter upon an indefinite process of judging his institute in its fidelity to the call of grace and that his individual judgment will have a radical effect upon his commit-ment. It is not surprising, therefore, that uncertainty about their future commitment to their institute has begun to trouble the consciences of many religious and that divergent hopes and fears concerning the form of its future life and work make them perplexed over the attitude which they are called to take in relation to their superiors and fellow subjects. At a time when the future of his institute is undefined, when should a superior or a fellow subject be deferred to as a religious who is exercising under grace his authentic call as a prophetic leader and when must he be resolutely and uncompromisingly opposed as a traitor to the institute? In what does loyal commitment to one's institute con-sist at the present time? What is charity, and what is selfish cowardly silence for the sake of peace and per-sonal survival? These are the difficult questions which the director of conscience is asked to solve time after time. The task of aiding the religious subject to discern the movement of the Spirit from the distorting influences of human infidelity, complacency, and weakness has been complicated by the rapid evolution of theology in the post-conciliar Church. The theology of the Church, of revelation, of grace and nature, has been the subject of considerable, and sometimes turbulent, debate dur-ing the past few years. The consequence has been a renewed discussion concerning the nature of Christian holiness, the force and duration of the vows, and the value of the witness of the counsels in their tradi-tional institutional form. This lively discussion cannot fail to call into question the fundamental understand-ing of the religious life which is taken for granted by many sets of constitutions. More may be involved than simple adaptation and renewal. Perhaps radical and total revision may be called for in the light of a newer theological understanding of the religious life. Should that be the case, what then becomes the status of loyal commitment to the constitutions of one's holy founder? Nevertheless, working on the principles of classical post-Vatican theology, the director of conscience felt until fairly recently that he was in a position to guide a religious toward the solution of his problems about commitment to a divided and changing institute. Since the Church had invited religious institutes to reform their constitutions, it was a safe assumption that many of them were no longer adequate expressions of the community's charismatic call. Furthermore, since com-munal discussion on various levels was the recom-mended means, there were good prima facie grounds for the assumption that the interplay of different points of view would be the means employed by the Holy Spirit to manifest the form of life and work to which the institute should now commit itself. Classical post-Vati-can theology also gave the reason why this process could be expected to lead to radical changes in some insti-tutes, s The type of religious life suited to monastic-contemplative communities is very different from that demanded by an active-apostolic group. The order and form of life and prayer, the religious virtues re-quired of subjects, the relationship between subject and superior differ widely in these two types of institutes. In the past this essential difference was not sufficiently appreciated, and active congregations, especially of women, received a set of constitutions which were not suited to their active life. In such groups we could an-ticipate great changes. Likewise we would expect that at a period in which the secular institute is coming into its own some institutes or groups within existing institutes would be moved by the Holy Spirit to adopt this form of life for their active apostolate. Church historians during the post-Vatican period of renewal reminded religious and their directors that ~ Orsy, op. cit., pp. ÷ 4- 4. ¢o~t VOLUME 29, 1970 25 4. 4. Gerald A. McCool, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS movements of renewal and reform within religious groups were often the result of the work of charismatic leaders. And often the prophetic action of such leaders led to dissension and ultimate division in their own institutes. The work of the Spirit can be accomplished through bitter disagreement and ultimate division of groups which were once united. This was true of the divisions among the Franciscans and the Carmelites. It was true in the United States when the Paulists seceded from the Redemptorists to form a new congregation. On the basis of these historical and theological con-siderations, which are quite familiar to anyone who has even a general acquaintance with the post-conciliar literature, directors of conscience were able to derive a number of principles to handle problems of religious commitment in divided and evolving institutes. These prindples, which worked successfully and still retain a good deal of their validity, can be summed up as fol-lows. (I) Since it is not inconceivable that the interplay of conflicting hopes and fears which divide an institute may be destined by God to lead either to a painful but providentially destined division or to a dearer under-standing of the future form of life to which a united institute can commit itself, the individual religious sub-ject cannot deny in an a priori way that in the same congregation commitment to the institute and corre-spondence to their special grace may reveal itself in dif-ferent subjects through fundamentally different orienta-tions. Whatever may be the consequence which God ultimately intends, these diverse hopes and fears can be a faithful answer to a charismatic call which, for the moment, remains a common one. If they should lead to an ultimate division, the new institutes will be re-lated to each other through their origin in grace. They will be filial or sister institutes. (2) Therefore the individual religious subjects who find themselves in such an evolving situation are still united by the bond of fraternal charity and justice. Each is still called upon to contribute in the measure of his ability to the clarification of the future options which are emerging now. (3) Meanwhile the subject remains under the obedi-ence of the institute through whose constitutions his vocation is specified at the present time. Its rule, its superiors, and his fellow subjects retain the claim on him conceded to them by his vows. Since its mem-bers are being led to their future vocation through their present institute, ways of acting or of withdrawal from common activity which violate the justice and charity he owes them are not permitted to him. The New Situation in Religious LiIe Today, however, the director of conscience is begin-ning to wonder if it is safe for him to handle individual difficulties about religious commitment on the basis of these general principles. In the first place they are based on the theology of the religious life which is associated with the Constitution on the Church and the Decree on the Renewal o] the Religious Li]e for which he could once assume general acceptance among religious. In terms of that theology religious life is justified on the basis of its witness to the sanctity and eschatological hope of the visible Church. In the second place they rested on the assumption that unless there was striking evidence to the contrary each institute was passing through its providential kairos and was being led by God to its providential renewal or division. In the third place they took for granted that, unless clear evidence to the contrary existed, each religious could be assumed to have given a stable commitment to his institute and to his fellow religious, the nature and extent of which was given accurate expression through the constitutions. On the basis of that commitment, a supernatural bond existed among the members of the congregation. They were a family, a society within the Church with all the rights and expectations which membership within such a family entailed. It is becoming increasingly difficult for the religious subject or his director to make these assumptions as confidently as he did in the past; and if they cannot be made, the whole context within which problems dealing with religious commitment must be solved has been changed. There are many reasons for their present difficulty. To begin with, it is no secret that the movement of renewal is not going well. The defection figures are becoming alarming. Many religious, rightly or wrongly, seem to have reached the conclusion that in the movement of reform their institute has missed its kairos. Either it has failed to yield in time to the move-ment of the Spirit or it has yielded too much to the spirit of the world. In any event, these religious have decided that the form of life and work prescribed by their institute is no longer the way in which they can do the most for God. Other religious have withdrawn interiorly and made no secret of their withdrawal. Even though they remain within .the institute, they are alien-ated from it and leave their fellow religious uncertain about the depth, extent, and duration of their com-mitment to it. The longer the present unhappy stage of renewal continues with its increasing number of ÷ ÷ ÷ ~omm~ment VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ + 4. Gerald A. McCool, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS defections and interior withdrawals, the greater will be the uncertainty of the religious subject concerning the commitment of his fellow subjects and even of his su-periors. And, if he can no longer be certain that their actions are proceeding from commitment to the insti-tute. how should be behave toward them? Should he continue to deal with them in all simplicity as fellow religious? Or should he be prudent and follow the ordinary rules of political morality? Furthermore this disturbing ambiguity concerning his fellow religious' commitment to the institute does not come simply from ignorance of the judgment which they have made, perhaps definitively, about its [actual state. It also comes from uncertainty about the norm which they are using to measure its spiritual health and prospects for the future. Increasing theological di-versity, legitimate enough and even necessary within the larger body of the Church, is beginning to lead to di-versity among the members of the same institute con-cerning the nature and end of the religious life, the virtues which should characterize religious, the hope to which they witness, and the extent and duration of the commitment which they make to the community and consequently to each other through the three vows. That such diversity exists today among the mem-bers of religious groups is clear enough to anyone who has been engaged in the work of religious renewal. Often it lies beneath the surface, dividing religious who are not yet fully conscious of the depth and extent of their division. It shows itself, however, in retreats, in discussions, and in reflections about the formation of religious when different conclusions flow from dif-fering presuppositions which should be analyzed and clarified. Consequently, for many a religious subject his in-stitute has become a very unstable community. He has the uneasy feeling that its constitutions in their present form, even after their revision, and the style of life and work which its superiors prescribe or permit, through uncertainty, expediency, or a genuine desire to "paper over differences" for the sake of peace, no longer ac-curately express the nature, extent, and duration of the commitment which many of his fellow religious are making in reality to his institute in its actual, concrete form. Yet the commitment of his fellow religious creates the bond which makes the institute a living reality. Its duration makes the community a stable family; the depth, extent, and primacy which it occupies in a religious' life determines the depth and breadth of his association with his community and the priority which that association holds among the other commitments, professional and social, in his life. A notable change in the commitment of a significant number of individ-ual religious cannot fail to modify the nature of their institute. Thus, after a certain limit, ambiguity about the object, depth, and duration of its subjects' present commitment places the real nature of their institute in doubt. This doubt in turn creates a second doubt in the mind of the individual subject about his own obli-gation to the organization as it presently exists in the real order, and this doubt cannot fail to afl~ect his own commitment. Obviously this is an escalating process which, ultimately, can lead to a major change in an institute or even to its destruction. This agonizing doubt about the real nature of his institute today as a result of the change in the commit-ment of his fellow religious is the new problem of commitment which is troubling the peace and under-mining the vocation of many religious who weathered the storms of the earlier periods of renewal quite success-fully. This time, however, neither he nor his director can solve the problem by themselves with the resources which they now possess. The nub of the problem is a doubt which the religious cannot resolve himself. Since he cannot read hearts, he must be able to as-sume with reasonable probability that the vows as they are specified in his institute accurately express a genuine and stable union of minds and wills among its subjects. If he cannot make that assumption, he does not know what it is to which he has pledged him-self through his commitment to his community. Neither does he know what communal support, natural and supernatural, he may expect in return. Need to Eliminate Ambiguity To eliminate this ambiguity, or at least to reduce it to the proportions which are compatible with the existence of a viable religious community, existing in-stitutes, especially the larger ones, will have to confront more clearly, and perhaps more courageously than they have done so far, its two major sources: the uncertain relation between their constitutions and the genuine commitment of their subjects and the unanalyzed re-lation between their constitutions and the theology of the religious life on which they rest. Some institutes will be asked to examine more honestly their present state. Does their religious life as it is actually lived conform to the ideal which their institute proclaims? Prolonged compromise and delay of genuine renewal, even for apostolic and economic reasons, inevitably lead to ambiguity concerning the real commitment re-quired of a subject in the institute and can easily lead 4- 4- 4" Commitment VOLUME 29, 1970 29 4. 4. 4. Gerald A. McCool, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS today to discouraged alienation among the young and generous. Other communities are being asked to ex-amine more carefully whether they are called to lead a contemplative or active-apostolic life. Although they are different vocations, both are viable. Is it not possible that in some institutes a division into separate groups following each of these vocations might be a healthy, and perhaps a necessary thing?9 Theological Pluralism and the Constitutions Because of the increasing theological diversity which is already affecting the Church of the present and which will mark the Church of the future even more pro-foundly, it will be necessary for each institute to clarify the theological suppositions which justify its basic choice of life and work. The development of philosophy and theology within the Church, the ihfluence of process philosophy and theology upon Catholic understanding of ecclesiastical structures and the formulation of doctrine, the impact of a newer understanding of the relation of grace and nature, of eschatology and earthly values upon Catholic understanding of the spiritual life have had their effect on religious' attitudes toward prayer, penance, action, contemplation, and service of the Church. That there is a diversity on many of these topics and that such diversity will continue is a fact that we must accept. That there will be and should be a much greater range of free opinions in the Church of the future is a position which most theologians accept today. And if such diversity means, as it seems it does, diverse understandings of the nature and value of re-ligious life, this is a fact which we must accept and whose implications we must analyze. When diverse theological opinions become free in the Church the right to live one's life in the light of them must be respected. If they are solid enough to base the commitment of a total life, the legitimacy of a religious institute based on them can hardly be denied. If, on the other hand, the solidity of opposed theological opinions remains strong enough to ground the commitment of a total Christian life, the legiti-macy of a religious institute grounded on them cannot be questioned either. Thus we may find in all likeli-hood that there will be in the Catholic Church re-ligious living accordingly to theologically diverse under-standings of the religious life. What would not make sense, however, is that they should be endeavoring to do so in the same institute. For it is difficult to under-o For a provocative discussion of this point, see Felix Cardegna, "Future Forms of Religious Life," Catholic Mind, v. 66, (1968), pp. 9-13. stand how constitutions embodying one fundamental conception of the religious life could thematize a com-mitment to an opposed one. Such constitutions would be simply a juridical form concealing basic differences. They could not be the vital expression of communal witness and spiritual unity. Consequently religious congregations, especially the larger ones which have the resources to do so, must examine very soon the theological presuppositions which lie at the basis of their constitutions. Do their con-stitutions express a conception of the religious life which is still viable and to which they wish to give the witness of their lives? I[ not, then they must change the constitutions, even though they express the dearest thought of the holy founder. If so, then they must spell out their fundamental theological position.s, even though there may be other opposed positions which are now free within the Church. If this is done, the individual subject will have a chance to see what it is to which the institute commits itself and to judge whether or not he wishes to make the same commitment. Retreat directors will have a better chance to help individual religious in their endeavor to find the will of God and novice masters will be in a better position to give solid answers to the reasonable questions of the young. This will not be an easy task. It will take openness, skill, and the employment of the best theological talent which a congregation has at its disposal. Its urgency, however, is becoming more apparent every day and we may anticipate that before long the general chapters and congregations of the larger congregations will be obliged to address themselves to it. 4. 4. 4. VOLUME 29, 1970 SISTER M. TERESANTA RYS, C.S.F.N Recreation, and Relaxation in Religious Life ÷ ÷ Sister Teresanta writes from Marian Heights; 1428 Mon-roe Turnpike; Mon-roe, Connecticut 06468. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Psalmist says: "Have leisure and know that I am God" (Ps 46:10). Recreation and relaxation presuppose leisure time. The term leisure will be used repeatedly in this paper and hence must be defined. The concept of leisure cannot be expressed in simple synonymous terms. To do so would be to risk misinterpretation. The explanation of the con-cept will form the introduction to this paper. Leisure, it must be clearly understood, is a mental and spiritual attitude--it is not simply the result of external fac-tors, it is not the inevitable result of spare time, a holiday, a weekend, or a vacation. It is, in the first place, an attitude of the mind, a condition of the soul, and as such is utterly contrary to the ideal of "worker" in each and every one of the three as-pects under which it was analysed: work as activity, as toil, as a social function. Leisure is a form of silence, of that silence which is a pre-requisite to the apprehension of reality: only the silent hear, and those who do not remain silent do not hear.leisure is a receptive attitude of mind, a contemplative attitude, and it is not only the occasion but also the capacity for steeping one-sell in the whole of creation. - Leisure is not the attitude o[ mind o[ those who actively intervene, but o[ those who are open to everything? From the outset it can be seen that leisure is meant to lead us to God. This is not to imply that time, activities, and negative aspects as off-duty time and non-work activi-ties are not related to leisure.2 But these are not of its essence. Regarding the elements of time and activity, ". 1Josef Pieper, Leisure the Basis ol C, ulture, trans, by Alexander Dru (New York: New American Library, 1963), pp. 40-1. a See Roll B. Meyersohn, "Americans Off Duty," in Free Time: Challenge o] Later Maturity, ed. Wilma Donahue and others (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1958), pp. 45-6. leisure is unobligated time which can be spent in any way one wishes. It is supposed to be refreshing, diverting, and enriching, and what set of activities provides for such qualities is to be a matter of personal taste." s Philosophers, spiritual writers, and psychologists throughout the ages have acknowledged the predomi-nance of the divine motive in leisure, but at the same time they have emphasized the physical benefits as well. Plato, for instance, says: But the Gods, taking pity on mankind, born to work, laid down the succession of recurring feasts to restore them from their fatigue, and gave them the Muses, and Apollo their leader, and Dionysus, as companions in their feasts, so that nourish-ing themselves in festive companionship with the Gods, they should again stand upright an~erect.' One author paraphrased Thomas Aquinas' position on leisure by stating that the man who reasons and contem-plates "must occasionally relax the tension of reason by resting the soul. This rest of the soul is a form of pleasure.''5 Currently, Father Kevin O'Rourke, O.P., notes that man is a composite being--body, soul, mind, emotions. These work as a unity. Just as a body has need of refreshment, the emotions and mind need it, too. This refreshment they get from recreation.6 Because the world in which we live places so much value on work and activity, many persons, including religious, determine the worth of an individual by how much and how well she produces. Whatever is done must have a utilitarian purpose or it is worthless. The individual be-comes a functionary. This, in spite of the fact expressed by Alexander Reid Martin: So the poets and philosophers for thousands of years have agreed upon the supreme importance of leisure. But modern man apparently cannot avail himself of this blessing. With more leisure time available, there is a lessening capacity to en-joy it and to use it creatively and constructively. Modern man finds that he cannot relax to order.7 As religious who are pressed for time, zealous to do all we can to further God's glory through our various apostolates, we must beware of the fallacy of overwork. Throughout the Christian centuries we have become imbued with the idea that work is noble and good, and that it is through work that we will help achieve our sal-vation. Many of us have, as stated, accepted the fallacy of 8 Ibid., p. 48. ' Plato as cited by Pieper, Leisure, p. 19. ~ e Father Emmanuel, O.C.D., "The Need of Relaxation," Spiritual LiIe, v. 7 (1961), p. 222. ~ See Kevin O'Rourke, O.P., "Recreation in the Religious Life," Acta Records (Chicago: Acta Foundation, 1964). 7Alexander R. Martin, "The Fear of Relaxation and Leisure," American Journal o] Psychoanalysis, v. I1 (1951), p. 45. 4" VOLUME 29, 1970 + + 4. Siste~ Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the worth of an individual based on her ability to work. We have allowed ourselves to believe that unless we are occupied, we are wasting our time, we are allowing our-selves to be idle, and idleness is a breeding ground for the devil's wiles. Even our recreations have taken on a functionary air--the knitting to be done, the stockings to be darned, the papers to be corrected--all, so that we wouldn't waste timel Sixty years ago, Bishop John L. Spalding noted: We are too busy, we do too much. And the temper our rest-less activity creates makes us incapable of leisure, which is the end of work. The man is worth, not what his work is worth, but what his leisure is worth. By his work he gains a livelihood, but his leisure is given him that he may learn how to live, that he may acquire a taste for the best things, may acquaint himself with what is truest and most beautiful in literature and art, in science and religion, may find himself, not chiefly in the nar-row circles of his private interests, but in the wide world of noble thought and generous emotion? (emphasis added) There are some people who feel that leisure must be justified, for example, we relax or take recreation in order to work more efficiently or in order to restore our strength and energy. This is to revert to pragmatism. Joseph Pieper, a philosopher of our day, notes that how-ever much a person may restore health and energy through leisure, this is not primary, because leisure, like contem-plation, is of a higher order than the active life, and this order cannot be reversed. No one who looks to leisure simply to restore physical, mental, or spiritual powers, will ever enjoy the real fruits of it. He states: The point and justification of leisure are not that the func-tionary should function faultlessly and without a breakdown, but that the functionary should continue to be a man --and that means that-he should not be absorbed in the clear-cut milieu of his strictly limited function; the point is also that he should retain the faculty of grasping the world as a whole and realizing his full potentialities as an entity meant to reach wholeness? The philosopher elaborates this point and states that celebration is the soul of leisure and that since it is so, the justification and possibility of leisure is the same as that of celebration of a festival--and that basis is divine worship.1° The history of religions concurs in this judge-ment: whether in the days of Greece and Rome or in the Christian era, the "day of rest" was a day reserved for divine worship. This time was withdrawn from any specif-ically utilitarian ends: Separated from the sphere of divine worship, the cult o| the s Bishop John L. Spalding, "Work and Leisure," Spiritual Lile, v. 10 (1964), p. 78. ~ Pieper, Leisure, p. 44. lo See ibid., p. 56. divine, and from the power it radiates, leisure is as impossible as the celebration of a feast. Cut off from the worship of the divine, leisure becomes laziness and work inhuman. The vacancy left by absence of worship is filled by mere kill-ing of time and by boredom, which is related to inability to enjoy leisure; for one can only be bored if the spiritual power to be leisurely has been lost.~ Fear of Relaxation Before proceeding to the practical application of the above stated principles, it may be well to examine more specifically why religious tend to have what amounts to a fear of relaxation and recreation, why they tend to be so utilitarian in their outlooks. Many pre-Vatican II constitutions, in the chapters deal-ing with recreation, did stress the importance of partici-pation. Many encouraged religious to occupy themselves with handiwork, which supposedly gave them a sense of satisfaction in contributing to the common good even dur-ing hours of recreation (as though their conversations, their interest in fellow religious were not a form of contributing to the common good). One may ask how a person could give undivided attention to another when she was busy darning or embroidering? Father Kevin O'Rourke notes that individual religious must contrib-ute to community recreation--it is a time of giving our-selves to others and hence an obligation in charity,x2 Although the Vatican Council did not say a great deal about the recreation of religious as such, it did note in the Decree on the Ministry and Life o[ Priests that they should "readily and joyfully gather together for recreation." 13 And Pope Paul, in Ecctesiae sanctae, ex-plaining Per[ectae caritatis, notes that with regard to the order of the day: "Religious. should also have some periods to themselves and be able to enjoy suitable recrea-tion." 14 Nevertheless, it must be admitted that our novitiate training, the customs of communities, and the consti-tutions have taken their toll regarding attitudes toward recreation and relaxation. Because of these influences, many religious experience guilt feelings regarding the use of leisure: When we are not busy, we feel guilty. We are torn between hours spent efficiently organizing our lives and the minutes we set aside to waste. For many regard recreation as a waste of time ÷ and have devised ways of relaxing while washing the car or en- + 4. u Ibid., p. 59. ~ O'Rourke, "Recreation." ~ Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents o! Fatican H (New York: Guild Press, 1966), p. 551. "Paul VI, ~tpostolic Letter Ecclesiae Sanctae (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1966), p. 34. Leisure VOLUME 2% 1~70 35 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS gaging in strenuous exercise. Indeed we are still men who lead lives of quiet desperation. Perhaps I should feel guilty not because I have done too little but because I have tried to do too much. Unlike the poet, I have been so busy that I have lost my playful sense of wonder. I have forgotten to accept myself as I am and have been driven to exhaustion by futile strivings to be someone else. That is why I cannotpray, forprayer involves, a turning of my whole being toward the Lord~(emphas|s added). Some people can rest and relax on holidays and during rest periods set aside for this purpose, only when they are told to do so. They cannot permit themselves to stop, bu~ rely 'on outside authority--they are victims of a com-pulsive, authoritative regime, which can be either inner or outer or both. "In any case, a system of bargaining develops. Work and play become part of a reward and punishment philosophy. Rest is something that has to be earned. All of this smacks of a philosophy dominated by a God of vengeance Of the Old Testament and not of the God of mercy of the New Testament." 10 Some individuals relax only when they have some physical illness, because then they feel justified. The problem of retirement is closely allied to this. Some persons refuse to give up, because they feel they are letting the community down. When they are all but forced to retire, there may follow a rapid disintegration of the whole personality--organic, emotional, intellectual, and moral, because the person's phil6sophy of life prohibited true, healthy relaxation and the creative use of leisure time.17 To return to generalities, there always exists the dan-ger of allowing the sister's work to dominate her life; this isespecially true when she likes the work she is engaged in. Everything is controlled by the task to be performed--even when she recreates, she does so in order to function more effectively, and recreation otherwise becomes meaningless (as does prayer, incidentally). Be-fore long, her specialty pervades every aspect of her life, and she becomes enslaved to one view. Such a sister must take care to place work in its prdper perspective in the totality of her religious life. Work may lead us to God, but it may also distract us from Him. To maintain this proper perspective, prayer and meditation are essential,is Those who tend to be busybodies would also do well to recall a study made by E. D. Hutchinson on the bio-graphical data of many creative minds--poets, authors, composers, and so forth. He found . that the experience of sudden creative insight never oc- ~Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. 114-5. Martin, Fear of Relaxation, pp. 43-4. See ibid., p. 44. Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. 116-7. curred during the peak of mental effort, but always during a period of relaxation . in general, Hutchinson f,o, und that following a long period of what he calls "obsessional preoccu-pation with a problem, during which nothing was accomplished and there was considerable frustration, the creative thinker relinquished the problem completely. After he had relinquished this compulsive preoccupation for a period of weeks or months, the whole answer would come to him out of the blue. Hutch-inson calls this period of relaxation the period of renunciation of the problem.~ Scripture supports this contention: "The wisdom of the scribe cometh by his time of leisure; and he that is less in action, shall receive wisdom" (Sir 38:25). The pejorative significance of the inability to be leisurely and to relax is also impressed on the person's inability to rest, even in sleep. Some people feel they always have full command of their senses, which causes tension. When sleep is related to this compulsive feeling of having to be alert, it surely cannot be a means of re-laxation. It may also be pointed out that the fear of relaxation is typical of people who are unwilling to depend on others for anything--their independence becomes compulsive, and it is sometimes paraded as the virtue of self-reliance or .individuality. Such compulsive independence is indi-cative of self-distrust, actually, and of the inability to truly relax because of the imminence of intense emo-tional conflicts,a0 Those who feel that they must always be busy in some "useful" activity are the ones who subscribe to the idea expressed in the saying: "Satan finds mischief for idle hands to do." The idea of keeping busy to keep out of trouble expresses it similarly. This attitude shows itself in the person's inability to play and to ~,ork in a leisurely way. Again, those who are dependent upon a fixed routine or schedule indicate the presence of internal conflicts. The routine is self-imposed and they either comply or defy it, but they are not free. Hence, they. are unable to truly relax and use leisure time creatively. To them, leisure is always freedom [torn something, not freedom [or something.21 Such persons put themselves into straigh~ jackets and do not want to be free, to act on their own, because in doing so, they set inner conflicts into motion. Leisureliness in Work Binding ourselves to work is binding ourselves to a utilitarian process in which our needs are satisfied. Our whole lives are consumed by this process. We must ask ~Martin, Fear o[ Relaxation, p. 44. ~See ibid., p. 46. ~See ibid., p. 48. 4. + 4. Leisure VOLUME 29, 1970 + 4. 4. Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~8 and answer the question: What causes a person to be so bound, and how can she free herself? Joseph Pieper an-swers: . to be tied to the process of work may be ultimately due to inner impoverishment of the individual: in this context everyone whose life is completely filled by his work (in the special sense of the word work) is a proletarian because his life has shrunk inwardly, and contracted, with the result that he can no longer act significantly outside his work and perhaps can no longer conceive of such a thing~ (emphasis added). And now, what can be done about the problem? Much, of course, depends upon the willingness of the individual to admit to herself that she is so addicted, to whatever de-gree. Without this admission, there can be no cure. Once this is made, the individual must enlarge the range of interests she has. She must learn to make leisureliness a part of her life and not limit herself only to work-related interests. But "the provision for an external opportunity for leisure is not enough; it can only be fruitful if the man himself is capable of leisure, and can, as we say, 'Occupy his leisure' or. 'work his leisure'." ua Of course, it does little good to tell a person, or for a person to tell herself, that she must not have guilt feelings or fear of relaxation. There must take place concrete efforts at relaxation and recreation--the way to develop a sense of leisure is to be leisurely. Initially, the guilt feelings will remain and may, indeed, occasion more guilt and fear. But it is only in repeated efforts and with the encouragement of someone who appreciates the value of recreation ". that I can hopefully come to appreciate the need for worthwhile recreation to sustain the religious values upon which I have grounded my life." ~4 When one is able to recreate well, one is able to pray and work well. A well-balanced, mature personality will be the conse-quence. Finally, "when the individual is able to say and to feel that convention, schedule or routine is his slave, then the compulsive needs to defy, comply, or rebel do not arise, and healthy relaxation and leisure become possible." :5 Prayer and Education Throughout this paper thus far, it has been stated that leisure is a spiritual attitude, that leisure is of a higher sphere than activity, that leisure is justified by divine worship, and that prayer is necessary to maintain a proper balance between work and leisure. It would seem from this that leisure is closely related to our prayer life. Per- Pieper, Leisure, pp. 50-1. Ibid., pp. 54-5. Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. 117. Martin, Fear o/Relaxation, p. 48. haps as religious we ought to delve more deeply into this aspect of leisure. "Prayer requires leisure, and it ought to become our leisure." ~0 Again, this presupposes that we know what leisure is. Here especially we should note that neither prayer nor leisure are utilitarian. Both prayer and leisure are those times when we need not try, but simply be hu-man, as perfectly human as possible.27 During these times we can simply be ourselves, and not be striving to be someone else, or to be striving to measure up to some goal. Forcing artificial prayers into our minds is not praying in a leisurely way. We must learn to allow the Holy Spirit to pray in us as He wills. Prayer affords us with the opportunity to get rid of preoccupations. Simply going over the day or some plans, while keeping in mind that these are for the Lord, consti-tutes prayer, and is an excellent means of banishing pre-occupations. Preoccupation with work, recall, leads to compulsive action and an inability to be leisurely; by the same token, it leads to an inability to pray: "Activism and its roots are as much in a lack of leisure as a lack of prayer." ~s Accepting prayer as leisure will help us to relieve our daily tensions; but this can be only if we do not regard leisure and prayer as a duty or as a means of relieving ten-sion. By just praying or recreating, we ease tension. And, of course, this will redound to the benefit of the commu-nity in which we live. Carrying the idea of prayer as leisure a step further, we can see a relationship between a Mass and a commu-nity recreation well celebrated. For in the Mass there is a dialogue between God and His people. There is commu-nication. Now, recreation to be really recreative must involve communication, too: "It is not stretching a point to see community recreation as the extension and fruit of the festive dialogue of the Mass; in itself it has something of the nature of a ritual and might indeed be considered a sacramental for community." .oa So, if we personalize the community recreation, if we "celebrate" it in a leisurely way, we are preparing ourselves for a personalized celebra-tion of Mass. It was noted that the task of education is to help in-dividuals to an awareness and appreciation of what is best in our culture, because in doing so, we are aiding them in acting more perfectly human. Some authors question -~ David B. Burrell, C.S.C., "Prayer as Leisure," Sisters Today, v. 37 (1965-6), p. 410. ~See the re[erences first given in notes 1, 15, 26. = Burrell, "Prayer as Leisure," p. 413. n Aloysius Mehr, O.S.C., "Community Exercises in Religious Life," REvmw for RE~.lcloos, v. 21 (1962), p. 337. ÷ ÷ ÷ Leisure VOLUME 29, 1970 39 Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS whether we should classify any aspect of leisure, recre-ation, or relaxation as "better" or of a higher type. This is not intended. What is meant is simply that, because appreciating such things as art, music, drama, and litera-ture involves the use of our more perfect faculties, they are of a higher class than those involving the use of less perfect faculties. Nor is it intended to imply that either use of leisure time is to automatically be exclusive of the other at all times. Once. again, leisure time should be spent so as to add to one's total personality--but let us not forget that this includes, most importantly, our spiritual and intellectual stature: "Leisure time, profitably employed, should bring every Sister to a consciousness of the reality of God, whether it be through listening to beautiful music, look-ing at an art object, or reading a literary work that ex-plores the depths of the human heart." a0 The type of education that an individual receives will affect her attitudes toward leisure. Consequently, it ought to be our endeavor to give our Sisters a very liberal educa-tion, both formal and informal. Certainly, in today's world, we need specialists in the field of education. But those chosen as such must be careful lest their specialty become their all-consuming interest. And those not chosen to specialize in a given subject, must avoid the error of not being interested in a given field--be it music, art, literature, or whatever--because then they would fail to enrich themselves. Communities must be sure to provide sufficient opportunities for their members to develop their potentialities and interests, lest these be allowed to atrophy. If the sisters have sufficient leisure time and adequate opportunities, more of them should become more original and creative. They will con-seqfently become more perfectly developed as whole persons. The typ~ of education our sisters receive ".must offer them access to the wealth of thinking and specula-tion, to the arts and sciences, that lie at the basis of the best in our culture . The goal of education should not be so much to teach as to offer the opportunity to ex-perience growth of the total personality, including, of course, exercise of the mind and the aesthetic skills." 31 Only then can we justly expect them to make good use of their time, both on the job and off it. And we shall be acting to prevent many problems which inevitably arise =Sister Marian, I.H.M.~ "Leisure Time: A Spiritual Asset or Liability," REVIEW FOE KEL~CIOUS, V. 20 (1961), p. 365. =George Soule, "Free Time--Man's New Resource," in Free Time: Challenge to Later Maturity, pp. 75-6. in later years when persons have not learned how to act leisurely. We must be honest and admit that many sisters look upon leisure, recreation, and relaxation as an escape from.the toils of the day or from the monotonous exist-ence some may have to endure for various reasons. And so, it would seem, they quite naturally turn to the ever increasing viewing of television, listening to "light" music, or reading pseudosophisticated reading material found in some current magazines, all of which require little mental exertion. Education plays an important role in aiding sisters to become selective in the type of activi-ties chosen for use in their leisure. Otherwise, the sister ". will never become the educated, cultured woman her profession as educator on any academic level demands; much less will she furn out to be the mature religious woman who can say without any reservation, 'I live, yet it is not I who live, but Christ who lives in me'." as Some may object, stating that they have not been thus educated or trained. The community may then choose to conduct workshops for this purpose, using their own sisters whose profession has trained them to be knowledge-able in the various fine arts. Sisters themselves could con. verse with these professionals and learn to be selective. Not liking to read, listen to good music, or view art is not really reason enough not to engage in these activities. Sisters must learn that they can acquire a taste for them. Granted, this is not easy; it depends upon the willingness of the individual and her repeated efforts. The cultivation of an interest in the arts is as much her responsibility as the understanding and skill she is required to have in her profession. I[ there is a separation between the cultured professional and the zealous religious, the inevitable resuh is a divided personality.33 Finally: Religious women must be women of discernment. They must come to see and be convinced that compartmentalization of their minds interferes with their raison d'~tre--that of trans-forming themselves into souls owned by Christ and changed into Him. Their recognition of the genuine values inherent in the good use of leisure time, will, in reality, bring them closer and closer day by day to an adherence to the truth, and to the One who is Truth Itself.** Once again, this is not to imply that physical activities ÷ are never to be used, nor that leisure is not ever meant for ÷ simpler types of relaxation. These are needed, too, be-cause they fortify both mind and body by not making difficult demands on either. ILei~re, Sister Marian, "Leisure Time," p. 365. See ibid., pp. 370-1. Ibid. VOLUME 2% 1970 41 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Play Under the general heading of "play" we can develop many ideas. ]?or example, our work may become play-- when we aquire a relaxed attitude toward it as opposed to compulsive preoccupation: "Enjoyment comes from doing the best I can without the anxious feeling that I must do everything or be dubbed a failure. The fact that I reserve time for living the inactivity of recreation gives me the presence and peace of mind I need to respond fully to the moments." 36 The Sacred Scriptures have repeated incidents of play: God created the sea, with all its schools of fish and many ships, "to make sport of it" (Ps 103:25-6); exegetes of the Bible apply the passage from Proverbs 8:27-31 describing an observer of creation to Mary who "was delighted every day, playing before him at all times, playing in the world: and my delights were to be with the children of men"; and, of course, there is the famous incident of David playing and dancing before the ark of the covenant (1 Chr 15:29). Perhaps we should take the example, lest we take our work too seriously and it make us its slave and we become proud and self-sufficient. We must be serious about our work to a point--but, then, we must find enjoyment in it.3n Because play involves successes and failures, it helps a person to adjust to these in the more serious business of li[e. Because it teaches the person to "rub elbows" or socialize, play teaches teamplay: The experience and training received in good play are indis-pensable to the well-adjusted individual . Play is training in ajpplication and concentration, and it is training, in socializa-aon. ;. There is no better means o[ turning interest away from self and such unhealthy things as phantasy and self-centeredness toward the objective world of-things and people than absorption in play . Play. is an indispensable train-ing in the serious work oF lifeY The primitive drive of aggression in an individual adult is satisfied for a part in work and education. But not all excess energy and aggression can thus be diverted. Another outlet is found in play. Besides providing such an outlet, play teaches us to overcome dislikes and hatreds which may otherwise develop to unreasonableness. Unless excess aggresiveness and energy are released in some beneficial manner, it will produce mischief and mental illness.3S The discussion on play quite naturally brir~gs to mind a~Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. I13. so Mehr, "Community Exercises," p. 338. S~Arthur Timme, "The Significance of Play and Recreation in Civilized Life," Mental Hygiene, v. 18 (1934), p. 54. ~ See ibid., pp. 54-6. other, more active forms of recreation and relaxation. It should be understood that active leisure applies to all. Some would tend to limit it to chronologically young persons. Perhaps a bit of an explanation would be useful, especially when we recall that Alexander Reid Martin warned that unless a person learns to use leisure properly, she may experience a rapid disintegration of her person-ality once leisure is more or less forced upon her. Actually, it is unfair to label an individual by age, be-cause it deprives her of equality. Thus labeled, a sister is judged, not by her personal qualities or lack or them, but by what is expected of her because of her particular age. George H. Soule notes that no one has yet exactly pin-pointed the essence of aging, either physiologically or psychologically, but that most experts agree that the differences within an age group are far greater than differ-ences between age groups.3~ To be arbitrarily placed in a group often leads to a person's reacting as expected, and this in turn influences the deterioration spoken of, at whatever age level. Generally speaking, however, youth can and does find opportunities for recreation and relaxation. There re-mains the danger of being overzealous and overambitious and of acquiring a sense of responsibility that they must take on added burdens as the congregation's median age rises. Of this, the young must beware--they, too, must develop leisureliness, which will not allow them to be-come preoccupied in any endeavor. The ability to be leisurely and to be able to recreate ourselves should be grasped by middle age, because . by this time most of us have reached a plateau in our jobs or professions. This is not to suggest that, t~or the specially qualified or generally ambitious, there are not further peaks to be climbed. But for the generality of us, I think, we have probably attained the peak of our job or career, and it is time to relax. We can still do our da),'s work, honesdy and competently. But we can also start thinking of our souls. By thinking of our souls I am not speaking purely in a religious sense, though I would not for a moment discount the importance of that. I am thinking rather of a reexamination of ourselves as individuals and of our lives up to this pointwto what extent we have found meaning and to what extent we have failed to find meaning, and then to realize quite soberly that this comparative leisure we have earned may stretch on for us for perhaps another quarter of a century.'° Normally, because an individual has achieved her work goals by middle age, she also derives most satisfactions from it during these years. Thes~ satisfactions she usually shares with the community, and the community should be a~ Soule, "Free Time," p. 62. 4°Clark Tibbits, "Preface," in Free Time: Challenge to Later Maturity, pp. xi-xii. ÷ 4- 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 43 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS an in~entive for the individual to advance herself even more.41 But once again the sister should beware of be-coming too engrossed in her work and her own personal satisfactions, because this. will narrow her other interests. Then, when she later becomes less efficient and no longer gets such satisfactions, she will have little to go back on: "We are told that people stranded without interest goals, who seem to have no rationale of existence, often become frustrated and lapse into physical or mental illness." 42 This applies to any age group, but since satisfactions are greatest in middle age, perhaps this is the most dangerous age in regard to the fallacy of overwork and underplay. The so-called senior members of the community should not, by any means, be excluded from active leisure-time activities. It is most important that these sisters be kept active and creative, since their physical ability to work is limited, as is their sphere of interests. The community must make special provision for an organized leisure-time program for these members above all. It would be well if they had some professionally trained sisters to accomplish this. More and more colleges are providing courses in recreation leadership, because of the demand in society for such individuals. Surely, it would be to the community's advantage to have such trained personnel. These same sisters could conduct workshops for the local homes and offer suggestions as to how recreation periods could be more relaxing and more beneficial: "Sound rec-reation programs may promote good will, tolerance and understanding, and may improve societal relationships, all of which are significant to the maximum develgpment of personality." 4a Concerning the use of leisure time by all age groups, we find that all activities fall into one or more of the following categories: social and cultural advancement, creative expression, entertainment, recreation, personal development, fostering life, creative maintenance, and classification and ordering.44 These groups of activities bring about certain desired effects: diversion, which counters self-center~dness; expression, which reverses feel-ings of frustration; the struggle ]or survival, useful against regression; creativeness, a method of liberating thwarted instincts; membership, which combats feelings of iso-lation and lonesomeness; participation, to maintain a ,1 Nels Anderson, Work and Leisure (New York: Free Press, 1961), p. 180. '~ Ibid., p. 257. *a Raymond A. Snyder and Alexander Scott, Pro/essional Prepara-tion in Health, Physical Education, and Recreation (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1954), p. 5. ~See Maurice E. Linden, "Preparation for the Leisure of Later Maturity," in Free Time: Challenge to Later Maturity, p. 89. sense of self-esteem; social acceptableness, to help main-tain a good self-image; recognition, which counteracts embitterment; meaningfulness, to aid in establishing the true value of nature and life; contemplation, which con-tributes to effective judgmental functioning; sharing, to aid in improving a person's opinion of herself; and simple enjoyment of living.4~ The achievement of the above mentioned effects, certainly, will contribute to a more perfect personality. All of them result from the proper use of leisure activities. All o£ them can be achieved by any individual who de-sires to do so. But some may ask for more concrete exam-ples of how to acquire these abstract values. There are any number of ways, of course, and each way must be suited to the individual, who must consider her own physical and psychological needs. In selecting recrea-tional activities, the sister should always keep in mind that which will give her the most satisfaction at a given time. The activity in which she can best create, achieve, find beauty, fellowship, and relaxation, is of more lasting value than one which yields only one or two satisfac-tions. 46 Following is a list of activities which might be engaged in by sisters. The list is only suggestive, and not all-inclu-sive. It is offered merely to aid sisters in selecting activi-ties to make their leisure time more profitable. Active games and sports: Dodge bail, relays, softball, basketball, bowling, volleyball, rope jumping, bicycle riding, swimming, ice skating, and calisthenics. Social activities: Card games, barbecues, parties for special occasions, puzzles, dancing, and various table games (scrabble, parchesi, monopoly). Music: A cappella choirs, action songs, community singing, instrument playing, composing music, listening groups, music appreciation courses, music study groups, and music instruction. Arts and crafts: Drawing, carving of various kinds (soap, wood, and so forth), needlework, painting, paper craft, and sewing. Drama: Theatre attendance, charades, choral speech, creative dramatization, and song impersonations. Nature and outing activities: Excursions or trips to art museums and to places of religious or historic interest; flower arrangement; gardening; and nature study, col-lection, and identification. Literary, languages, and related activities: Creative writing, lectures, reading, mental games, radio and tele- ~ Ibid., pp. 89-92. ~See George D. Butler, Introduction to Community Recreation, 4th ed. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1967), p. 240. This book is highly recommended to anyone interested in recreation leadership. Leisure VOLUME 2% 1970 45 ÷ ÷ ÷ vision programs° and study groups in literature or lan-guage. Seroice activities: Directing glee club, orchestra, dra-matic groups, assistance in organizing holiday celebra-tions, and assistance in public relations programs. The preceding list should at least indicate the wide diversity of activities which bring satisfaction and re-laxation to various individuals.4; If there is a recreation leader, she should be sure to consider differences in age, interest, skills, place available, time, size of the group, and the funds necessary and available.4s Having a recrea-tion leader, whether on a local, regional, or provincial level, would surely enhance the recreation program. It would be more organized and more e~cient and con-sequently more beneficial to those involved. Special mention must be made of vacations as a form of leisure. Recently, communities have increased the length of vacation periods and have relaxed regulations governing the way vacations are to be spent. Actually, nothing in canon law regarding religious specifies that a religious must have a vacation, but it seems that some kind of vacation is a normal requisite for an individual. It is doubtful that visits to one's family and relatives should be counted as a vacation, because these are often marked by strenuous activity and loss of sleep, so they are not physically relaxing. Even if they provide relax-ation, they can hardly be considered a religious vacation: "A vacation for religious should serve the purpose of intensifying the community spirit.'° 49 A vacation should be taken in a place away from the regular religious houses, where sisters could get together to rest, play games, and get to know one another: "In relaxation and recreation the religious see one another in a new light, and often discover remarkably fine qual-ities that they never knew existed. In my opinion there is nothing like a good community vacation for fostering a good community spirit." 50 It is recognized by superiors and sisters that all of this is true and good, but obstacles, especially financial ones, will always remain. Nonethe-less, everything possible should be done to carry out a vacation program. Regarding the idea of individual religious saving gifts or offerings to pay for the vacation, it would seem con-trary to present canon law which states that gifts received by an individual become the property of the institute. Even if the religious asks permission, the asking of per- Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 46 See ibid., pp. 253-8. See ibid., pp. 264-72. Questions on Religious LiIe (St. Marys, Kansas: R~wEw FOR R~.mious, 1964), p. '112. Ibid., p. 113. missions usually pertains to what the religious needs, not what she desires. It the community permits sisters to make trips and visit their families, the community should pay the expenses. The community ought not insist upon or condone a policy of those who get the money, get the trips:51 Common life also requires that, generally spe.aking, equal opportunities be given to members of a commumty. Hence a superior could allow the members of his community to make a pious pilgrimage provided that he supplied the necessary ex-pense money for such members of his community as do not have relatives or friends who are willing to pay for them.~ However, as witnesses of the poverty of Christ, religious themselves should not desire unduly long and expensive vacations, for poor persons are unable to take such vacations. For Senior Sisters The final part of this paper will be devoted to the area of leisure, recreation, and relaxation for senior sisters. Of course, what has already been stated applies to all sisters, seniors included. But it cannot be denied that these sisters need and deserve special treatment; hence, aspects of leisure which pertain specifically to them will be treated separately. The senior sister as a member of society has, like most others, leaned on her role as worker. All other roles-- friend, citizen, adviser--revolved around her worker role in life. When she retires, she must learn to use her time and place her values differently, because new relation-ships to persons and things develop. "If mental and physical deterioration are to be avoided, new interests and new goals must be found, or old interests and aspira-tions rediscovered . The recreation program offers a fruitful means of satisfying activity for them." 53 As with everyone else, however, the primary responsi-bility for appropriate use of leisure rests with the sister herself. There are some recommendations that will help her to benefit from her new-found role. As suggested by Dr. Maurice E. Linden, these are: (I) Continue to develop your resources. Contrary to popu-lar opinion, the human m~nd continues to develop its capacity well into the seventh and eighth decades. (2) Increase your social effectiveness. Because older people have fewer human drives to contend with, they can channel their energy, thus becoming more socially effective. (3) Enjoy your wisdom. It can be a great source of gratifica-tion now, formerly denied because of inexperience. ¯ t See ibid., pp. 64-5. ~ Ibid., p. 63. ~Arthur Williams, Recreation in the Senior Years (New York: National Recreation Association Press, 1962), p. 18. VOLUME 2% 1970 + ÷ ÷ Siste~ Te~esanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 48 (4) Advance the tenets of human progress. The experience of the older mind gives it the capacity to diStinguish the good from the bad, thus enabling the community to preserve values built up over a period of time. (5) Externalize your interest. As a result of many successes in life, the older person should have the ability to be less selb centered an.d more interested in other people. (6) Place your value in quality. Again as a result of experi-ence, the older mind is capable of seeing the intrinsic value in both persons and things, and those formerly considered insig-nificant now are appreciated. (7) Don't be a spendthrift of time. Maturity enables a per-son to appreciate the value of time and aids her in spending it profitably. (8) Make your human relationships durable, It is a quality of a mature person to be unswerving in devotion to persons and to principles. (9) Don't capitalize on dependency. It is a responsibility of the young to care for the old; but well-adjusted older persons prefer to be as independent as they are capable.of being. (10) Exercise judicious independence. It is unwise to with-draw from the currents of daily life and thus deny the young people the benefit of accumulated experience and knowledge ~" These are just some suggestions that senior sisters may find helpful. It would seem that they are striving to ad-just to their situation. The communities must do all that is possible to aid these sisters, through the establishment of an effective program for the use of leisure. As men-tioned, more than in other groups, there is a definite need for trained personnel for this program. There is a need for a varied program, suited to the individual sister: "Diversity is the keynote of the per-manently successful program." 55 The program should be so planned as to include every sister. And every sister should be encouraged to participate, guarding against the tendency to just sit and watch. But her participation must be voluntary. Only in this way will her real abilities shine forth, and only in this way will she give vent to self-expression. Above all, if the program for the aging sisters is to be successful, it should be designed to improve community living. Those charged with developing the program must have confidence in the senior sisters and must be cognizant that ". older people can learn new skills, but., they learn more slowly and need to engage in recreational activities at their own pace." 56 Dr. Carol Lucas con-ducted a pilot program of study at Columbia University and authored a book in which a recreation program for ~ Linden, "Prep