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Issue 63.2 of the Review for Religious, 2004. ; 2004 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to holiness by making available to them the spiritual legacies that flow from the charisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° St. Joseph's Provincial House 333 South Seton Avenue ° Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2004 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 permissign will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religigus. view for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES 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 Tray Gramn~ Judy Sharp Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin QCarm Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ QUARTERLY 63.2 2004 contents 118 134 143 spirituaO wisdom Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation Brian V. Johnstone CSSR proposes that some form of active vocal prayer may well go together with contemplation. Faith Seeking Understanding: Spiritual Direction's Sapiential Function Dennis J. Billy CSSR explains how spiritual direction is a divine (but also human) art that helps us "pray in truth" and come to an intimate personal knowledge of God. Windows of the Soul: Walter Ciszek SJ George Asehenbrenner SJ relates the incident in the life of the Jesuit Walter Ciszek that gave him the faith-filled freedom to survive twenty years of Communist prison. 148 158 men oring Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials Fred Herron proposes Merton's retrieval of the riches of the Benedictine Rule as a spirituality for the millennial generation. Paradox in the Monastery: Lessons from Two Ammas Laura Swan OSB reflects upon the paradox that oft-told stories reveal more about us and our current struggles than about the subject of the story. Review for Religious 169 Viewing Chapters as "Authorizing" Our Congregations' Narratives Patrick Sean Moffett CFC presents various aspects of religious-life chapters that emphasize the storytelling nature of these ecclesial events. 182 ignatian tradition Our Lady's Presence in the Spiritual Exercises J. Thomas Hamel SJ helps us to review the subtle, but penetrating, presence of our Lady to the prayer exercises of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. 192 The Spiritual Power of Matter: Teilhard and the Exercises Kathleen Duffy SSJ shows how the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius helped Teilhard de Chardin to synthesize the science of evolution with his Christian knowledge of God. departments 116 Prisms 204 Canonical Counsel: Mergers, Unions, Federations, and Confederations 211 Book Reviews 63.2 2004 Pentecost is the traditional birthday of the Christian church, and its mis-sionary effort began simultaneously with its birth. As we read in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, Peter stood up "with the Eleven, raised his voice, and addressed the devout Jews of every nation staying in Jerusalem at the time. 'Jesus God has raised up, and we are his witnesses. Exalted at God's right hand, he first received the promised Holy Spirit from the Father, then poured this Spirit out on us. This is what you now see and hear'" (Ac 2:32-33). As a result of Peter's preaching on this first Pentecost day, some three thousand were bap-tized. This is the story of the church's birthday. After centuries of identifying mission just as one of the activities of the church, we now are returning to the church beginnings at Pentecost to realize how church and mission are a single reality. We might claim, then, that Christian theology has its beginnings in our reflection on mission. In the U.S. bishops' 1986 pastoral let-ter "To the Ends of the Earth," we read: "To say church is to say mission." Our way of theologizing about our Trinitarian God--Father, Son, and Spirit--is in terms of their active relationships, in terms of their mission. In Genesis, God pours forth the Spirit, and creation and life happen. In the Gospel of St. John, Jesus describes himself as the One who is sent. And, in that same Gospel, Review for Religious Jesus describes anew a sending of the Spirit from the Father and himself. Both creation and redemption can be described as salvific acts because God as "missionary" is always involved in being a saving presence in creation. As the Body of Christ, sharing in divine life, we the church also share in God's mission. The church, then, like our Trinitarian God, is missionary in its very being. The word missionary cannot be restricted only to those sent to evangelize in countries or cultures not their own. In fact, mission cannot be defined by geography, especially in our globalized world. Mission is not driven just by the zeal to expand the boundaries of the church. To be missionary, however, does call us to step out beyond the boundaries of our fears and our traditions and our cultures. If being church is being missionary, what does mis-sion mean for us? We Christians, members of Christ's Body, are missionary in our very baptismal being. Jesus has extended his mission to us all--proclaiming the reign of God (close around us) and so making people aware of the nearness of a saving, loving God. Just as the mis-sion of God is found incarnated in Jesus' life mission, we realize that our mission today must be exercised in the way we live and deal with others. It is the way that God respects and dialogues with us human beings. Only with such dialogue and respect can we make ourselves one with God's mission. As missionaries, like St. Francis of Assisi, we live, and sometimes we have to preach. There is a traditional saying, "You can only convert what you love." In an analogous way, we might need first to be "evangelized" by those that we intend to evangelize. But today we are being called anew to be who we are baptized to be: missionaries, made in the image and like-ness of our Trinitarian God, our Missionary God. David L. Fleming SJ 63.2 2004 spiritua wisdom BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation Some time ago Ernest E. Larkin OCarm pub-lished an article titled "Today's Contemplative Prayer Forms: Are they Contemplation?" After reviewing the different meanings given to "meditation" and "contemplation," he conclu-ded: "In this frame of reference, we see that centering prayer and Christian Meditation do not fit handily in the category of either meditation or contemplation. They are something new in contemplative practice.''1 The present article offers an account of what is different in these contemporary prayer forms and seeks to show how they are nevertheless related to tradition. The discussion will focus primarily on Christian Meditation. Meditation and Contemplation Contemplation itself, as understood for example by St. John of the Cross, is "pure Oft"; there is no place in it for active collaboration. Brian V. Johnstone CSSR, new to our pages, writes from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma; Italy. Review for Religious Thus, Larkin concludes, "John's contemplation is not the immediate horizon of contemporary contemplative prayer forms.''2 In his writings, the Benedictine monk John Main, who is recognized as the original exponent of Christian Meditation, does not enter into lengthy, detailed analysis of the higher states of prayer such as we find in St. Teresa or St. John of the Cross. In his account of Christian Meditation, John Main says: "I am using the term meditation as synonymous with contemplation, contemplative prayer, meditative prayer, and so forth.''3 We do not find in his writings a sharp distinction between contemplation in the classic sense and the forms of prayer that entail the active engagement of the person praying. Is there an issue here? Perhaps the most practical question is whether Christian Meditation is to be regarded as a form of contemplation in the classic sense, that is, a type of prayer that is believed to be given freely by God, but usually only after a long process of many steps. In particular, for John of the Cross, contemplation begins with the passive, dark night of the senses. This would mean, at least in a commonly accepted interpretation of contemplation, that it would be a miraculous supernatural event reserved for an elite. Christian Meditation, as described by John Main, is not like this. It is a form of prayer in which, after some simple instruction, beginners can join. He is concerned to impart to interested persons a simple method which, being simple, is available to many. Participants are not encouraged to think of themselves as moving from stage to stage along a precisely delineated path towards a "higher" level of prayer. It is recognized that meditation over a long period, many years in fact, is usually necessary to acquire facility and skill, but experienced meditators are not considered as having attained a level of prayer with different requirements from those that are appropriate and possible for beginners. 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping a Balance A fear of mistaking "doing nothing, with nothing happening" for genuine contemplation has a long history in Christian prayer. This raises an important practical issue. In the traditional theological analysis, it was important that persons engaged in prayer recognize clearly the stage they had attained. A director was to assist discernment in this matter. Since there were particular rules and expectations for each stage, a mistake could have serious spiritual consequences. The issue is mentioned in Larkin's article; he cites James Arraj as warning that without "express contemplation" (which I take to mean contemplation in the sense of "infused" or passive contemplation) the person should continue to make acts of faith and love rather than be "simply idle in the prayer." 4 The practical problem seems to come when people think they have been given the pure gift of contemplation in the proper sense. Then, since this level is essentially passive and excludes the making of acts, they think they should drop such activity. But they may be mistaken. Having stopped making acts of faith and so forth, they may then just "hang out," doing nothing, thinking they are enjoying the gift of passive contemplation when they are merely being passive. They would be doing nothing, and nothing would be happening. This would be unlikely in the case of people following John Main's Christian Meditation. He insists on the continuous, quiet repetition of a short prayer that he calls the mantra; if persons at prayer should momentarily lapse into inactivity and find themselves Review for Religious doing nothing, they should immediately begin repeating the mantra again. A fear of mistaking "doing nothing, with nothing happening" for genuine contemplation has a long history in Christian prayer. On the one hand, it would be a serious mistake to lead people to believe that the hours they are spending in "contemplation" are just a waste of time, mere wool gathering. On the other hand, if a spiritual guide such as John Main strongly recommends that people continue to make acts during meditation, does this imply that in this form of meditation there is no place at all for contemplation in the classic passive sense? In offering an answer to this question, I will examine a prayer form recommended by St. Teresa and accepted also by some who followed her. As I will seek to show, she had a less restrictive notion of contemplation than the previous analysis suggests. This broader notion of contemplation, furthermore, may well have a parallel in Christian Meditation. Active Recollection Larkin takes note of St. Teresa's "active recollection," a form of prayer that she developed from her own experience,s He describes it as a "transitional prayer form that is very similar to modern contemplative prayer.''6 "Transitional" indicates that this way of praying is followed by those who are passing from simple meditation to the "higher" levels of contemplation, but have not yet arrived. St. Alphonsus de Liguori (+1787), in addition to his works on moral theology, wrote extensively on the spiritual life, and in particular on prayer. Following St. Teresa, he gives special mention to "active recollection," which he links closely to "contemplative repose," an expression he takes from "the mystics.''7 Contemplative repose, he explains, is vi.rtually the same as active recollection; it refers to a spiritual condition in which 63.2 2004 ,~obnstone * Keei~ing a Balance "the soul is focused on some spiritual thought and, absorbed in itself, feels gently attracted to God." I will analyze this type of prayer, "active contemplation," and compare it with Christian Meditation. Such a comparison will, I believe, serve to show the continuity of Christian Meditation with tl~e older tradition, and also bring to light those new features which it has to offer. What did St. Teresa mean by "active recollection"? She was familiar with what is called "discursive meditation." This form was promoted in the Dominican Luis de Granada's famous Book of Prayer and Meditation, which St. Teresa actually recommends in her con-stitutions. She herself, however, did not find this way of prayer suitable. About such works she wrote, "There are so many good books written by able persons for those who have methodical minds and for souls that are experienced and can concentrate within themselves that it would be a mistake if you pay attention to what I say about prayer" (19.1). But her own method is for those persons whose minds, like hers, are "wild horses" (19.2). How does St. Teresa deal with this mental rodeo in the context of prayer? She recommends .the Lord's Prayer. One would recite it phrase by phrase, slowly and attentively. In her view, vocal prayer does not exclude contemplation. She calls her method "active recollection." in this kind of prayer, she says, "the soul collects its faculties together and enters within itself to be with God" (28.4). This entails a centering of attention, plus awareness that God is near, fully with us at all times (29.5). We are to be fully present to God and to gaze upon him. Teresa uses the sight metaphor several times. It is not a matter of constructing arguments with concepts. She writes: "I'm not asking you now that you think about Him or that you draw out a lot of concepts or make long and subtle reflections with your intellect. I'm not asking you to do anything more than Review for Religio~ts look at Him" (26.3). She calls this a "method," and the one praying is required to make an "effort." This form of active prayer does not exclude contemplation, but promotes and may include it. From Teresa's experience she can affirm that this method disposes a person to the prayer of quiet (that is, a more passive kind) more readily and quickly than other methods. During this form of prayer, she writes, the soul will at times feel a passive quieting and be drawn gradually to a greater silence (30.7). For Teresa, the experience of passivity, that is, of contemplation in the proper sense, is not reserved to some final stage at the end of a long progression, nor is it reserved for spiritual experts. Is there a conceptual difference between the "prayer of quiet" and contemplation in the classic sense? St. Teresa refers to the former as "the beginning of pure contemplation" (30.7). But it still entails active recollection and may include vocal prayer. She insists that it is a mistake to believe that vocal prayer cannot go together with contemplation. There are no clear psychological gaps between vocal prayer, the prayer of quiet, and the beginning of contemplation. One fades into another as the felt need to initiate new effort yields to the sense of being moved by the impetus of the process one has already begun. This itself, of course, was begun as a response to the stimulus of grace, which in turn, as it emerges into consciousness, yields the awareness of being taken over completely by God. St. Alphonsus dealt specifically with the nature of the "prayer of quiet." According to his view, since in active recollection one's will is dominant, it will bring the imagination under control without any further effort on the part of the soul.8 There is, then, control, but it is the kind of control that follows the momentum of the earlier activity; there is no need for the further effort of making 63.2 2004 Jobnstone * Keeping a Balance new acts. This is a-form of quiet, but it is not completely passive. St. Alphonsus insists on some acts, those to which God is gently attracting us. The impetus of the divine initiative begins to emerge into consciousness, but this is not to say that the same initiative was absent before one's becoming conscious of it. The assumption that active and passive prayer are essentially different levels of prayer begins to appear as abstract theory that does not necessarily correspond to actual experience. For St. Teresa, the reason for active recollection is to become aware of Christ's presence. For example, we can be present to him in joy, being with him as risen. Here Teresa seems to imply reflection on the Gospel accounts. She has a theological support for this conviction: "Although risen, he still influences us through his earthly mysteries, by which he draws close to us in a more tangible way" (26.4,5,8). St. Alphonsus, as has been said, followed St. Teresa closely with respect to "active recollection." He is St. Alphonsus insists on some acts, those to which God is gently attracting us. perhaps more insistent than she is that the person at prayer continue to make acts. There may have been historical reasons for this emphasis, apart from A1- phonsus's own energetic personality. Pope Innocent XI in 1687 condemned the Quietists. This group taught, or is supposed to have taught, that making one intense act of love of God and never withdrawing it would assure union with God, and that no further effort was needed either in prayer or in living. It may be as a reaction against this that St. Alphonsus stresses the need for acts and more acts. Review for Religious However, while he emphasized the need for activity, it was certainly not his intention that the active contemplation become obsessively busy. Consider the following description of active recollection: "Without conscious effort, untroubled by external distractions, and totally absorbed within itself, experiencing at the same time a deep sense of serenity, the soul is able to concentrate on the mystery or the eternal truth in question.''9 These words would, on the whole, not sound alien to one familiar with Christian Meditation. But, to explain the differences between Christian Meditation and the active recollection of the Teresan tradition, a more detailed description of the former is needed. Christian Meditation John Main's account of Christian Meditation begins with an acknowledgment of the inveterate confusion of the human mind. While St. Teresa invoked the image of wild horses, John Main compares this condition of the mind of the would-be meditator to a "tree full on monkeys." Whether described in terms of horses or monkeys, the mental experiences are clearly similar. There is also a similarity in the way these two writers recommend that we deal with the problem. St. Teresa favors the Lord's Prayer; John Main also proposes a form of vocal prayer. The prayer he recommends is an attentive, mindful repetition of a phrase, a mantra. He recommends, in particular, Marana tha, an Aramaic expression which means "Our Lord, come." St. Paul ends his First Letter to the Corinthians with this invocation, and the Book of Revelation ends with the same prayer. The prayer is eminently Christian. For both St. Teresa and John Main, the aim of cultivating attention so as to make space for the experience of the presence of God is essentially the same. Main once wrote: 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping aBalance St. Thomas Aquinas says that "contemplation consists in the simple enjoyment of the truth." Simple enjoyment! Now it is true that thinking, analyzing, comparing, and contrasting all have their place in the various disciplines, including theology. But contemplation, as St. Thomas calls it, meditation as we would call it, is not the time for activity, for the activity of thinking, analyzing, comparing, or contrasting. Meditation is the time for being. Simple enjoyment. And the simplicity that St. Thomas speaks of, its oneness, union.1° Here no clear distinction is made between contemplation in St. Thomas's sense and meditation. The experience of oneness or union, however, seems to belong to contemplation in the classic sense, that is, something beyond active meditation; the soul is completely passive. For John Main, though, these distinctions do not seem to matter. There is a notable difference between the Weresan prayer of "active recollection," at least as understood by St. Alphonsus, and Christian Meditation. The first entails reflection on a "mystery" or "eternal truth," while the latter aims at a sense of union, without passing through the penetration of a "truth." In Christian Meditation, one does not concentrate, for example, on the meaning of the phrase "Lord, come," but repeats it as a way of focusing awareness on the presence of God. As we have seen, St. Teresa, and St. Alphonsus as well, would immediately affirm this goal. The point of difference is that they would include a concentration on a particular mystery or truth within the meditation itself. Truth in a more general sense, however, is intended as an element of Christian Meditation. John Main wrote: "Meditate every morning and every evening, faithfully, simply, and humbly. Contemplation consists in the simple enjoyment of truth.''11 This statement suggest two facets of the one event: the active meditation (that is, the Review for Religious repetition of the mantra) and the simple enjoyment that accompanies it. This is not all that different from St. Teresa's and St. Alphonsus's notion of "active recollection." Christian Meditation should not be misinterpreted. It is not antiintellectual or antitheological. It does not downplay the importance of truths. It merely leaves reflection on such truths outside of meditation itself. Indeed, within the movement there is available to meditators an extensive body of writing that offers ample reflection on the mysteries of faith. Because it is a popular movement, the reflection is generally not presented as systematic theology, but then neither are the reflections of St. Teresa or St. Alphonsus. I have noted above the particular place that St. Teresa gave to the resurrection; the same theme occurs frequently in the writings of John Main.~2 It would be a mistake to think that Christian Meditation plays down doctrine. Rather, we might say, it is presumed that study and reflection lead to a background awareness which, while not consciously evoked in the meditation itself, continues to support spiritual awareness. There can be no doubt that many people, growing numbers of them, have found Christian Meditation a most satisfactory way of prayer. Is there any compelling reason to choose between St. Teresa's more extensive use of words during meditation--in particular, the words of the Lord's Prayer--and the brief word recommended in Christian Meditation? There are many ways of praying, and people may be led by the Spirit along different paths. Some, perhaps because of different cultural backgrounds, have found the older approach rather too insistent on Christian Meditation is not antiintellectual or antitheological. 63.2 2004 Johnstone * Keeping aBalance repeated acts and a good many words. As I have noted previously, however, neither St. Teresa nor St. Alphonsus had in mind a multiplication of acts or a mechanical proliferation of words. For whatever reason, though, in our time the verbal austerity of Christian Meditation seems to appeal to many. The limited use of words, or even the deliberate renunciation of them, in Christian Meditation is connected to its nature as conceived by John Main. Spiritual authors in the past often spoke of "conversation" in their accounts of prayer. This conversation was to be a two-way affair, even if carefully structured. When God speaks, we listen attentively; when God does not speak, we engage actively in the conversation through acts of faith and love.~3 This "traditional" element John Main includes in his own words, although again with a significant modification: "Prayer is not a matter of talking to God, but of listening to him, of being with him. It is this simple understanding of prayer that lies behind John Cassian's advice that, if we want to pray, to listen, we must become quiet and still, reciting a short verse over and over again." ~4 Active Recollection and Contemplation At this point I move to a more theoretical discussion, but one with practical implications as well. The issue is the relationship between active recollection and contemplation. St. Teresa, from her own experience, taught that active recollection disposed to contemplation, but she also anticipated that contemplation itself might well arrive during the time of active recollection. The 4th-century monks of the Egyptian desert also expected that "higher" forms of prayer might suddenly break through more normal forms of meditation. During their periods of praying the psalms together, they were to curb their spitting, coughing, yawning, groaning, and Review for Religious similar noises. The only sound that was accepted was a spontaneous sigh of ecstasy.15 It was anticipated, apparently, that moments of "contemplation" would emerge within more ordinary prayer. St. Teresa seems to have had no difficulty in recognizing when such special moments occurred in her own prayer. For one whose spiritual sensibilities were as finely tuned as hers, there would probably be no reason to have any doubt about the presence of contemplation. What are we to think, then, of the advice of Arraj, mentioned by Larkin, that, until "express contemplation" is present, one should continue to make acts (of faith, love, and so forth)? The practical problem is how to know that such contemplation is present, and how certain we should be about it. To clarify the question, we could accept Karl Rahner's theological explanation, namely, that the experience of God in meditation, in human activity, or in classical spiritual doctrine's "infused contemplation" arises from the one same gift of God at work within us.16 Indeed this must be the case. To speak of "passive" contemplation as a pure gift must not be allowed to suggest that active recollection is not a gift, but somehow a product of our own efforts, before or apart from grace. We may say that recollection "disposes" us to the prayer of quiet, but we may not claim that recollection is the product of our initiative, which somehow, of its own power, engenders or earns the further state. "Pure," as applied to the gift of contemplation, does not imply that prayer such as active recollection is somehow impure, because contaminated with human activity. Nor can it be philosophically accurate to say that in "passive" prayer we are not active in any sense. The pure gift of God's grace cannot but raise us to the highest level of actuation. Our conscious experience may be one of pure passivity, but when God takes over completely our 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping a Balance The more intense the power of grace, the more we are fully active. 1-30J capacities are not simply extinguished. As is always the case with grace, the more intense the power of grace, the more we are fully active. The more God intervenes, the more empowered we become and the more free we are. Similarly, I would have difficulties with an explanation of infused contemplation according to which "the infused light and love go directly to the object without any return to the self.''17 In the "modern" philosophical era (that is, from the 16th century onwards), there has been a dissociation between subject and object)8 This seems to have been reflected in Catholic theo-logy, so that some traditions focus on the subject and others on the object. In these circumstances the interpretation of the spiritual experience involved here may tilt excessively towards the object. Perhaps such thoughts as these are ¯ improper philosophical intrusions on discourse about spirituality, but I would suggest that cutting or leaving the subject completely out of the picture is metaphysically impossible. Further, I would point out that what is interpreted as an absolute certainty of the presence of God, or of the state of "passivity," is a certainty on the part of the subject. When someone says "Whenever I experienced contemplative prayer, there was absolutely no doubt that I was in God's presence,"'9 we would need to add after "doubt" the words "in my mind." Without this qualification the interpretation veers too far towards the subjective. Such a state of consciousness is not a proof that God is present, or that the pure gift of prayer of quiet has in fact been granted. We cannot know definitively whether we have reached this "stage" or not. Review for Religious Such certainty as we have rests ultimately on the certainty of our faith, not on the felt quality of our experiences. This is not to return to a theory in which grace is beyond experience. We may indeed experience grace. But our conscious certainty cannot establish that grace is in fact present. What I am suggesting here is that the traditional language used in speaking of contemplation, meditation, and levels of prayer has problems. At least part of the difficulty with the older formulations is that they presupposed a rigid distinction between "natural" and "supernatural," and hence between "acquired" (or natural) contemplation and "infused" (or supernatural) contemplation. "Natural" meant what we do; "supernatural" meant what God does. Such a sharp distinction is understandable when we recall the theological disputes of the time (especially the controversies about grace), but we would express that difference somewhat more flexibly today. Perhaps we could say that it was and is a mistake to reify the various categories of prayer which the classic authors have named for us. Probably it was not so much these authors themselves, but the theological commentators who interpreted them, who made the mistake. To reify would mean to consider the distinct kinds of prayer as if they were things like quantitative blocks of consciousness that we could, as it were, line up one after another on a conveyor belt and then run the belt through our minds. Following on this thought, we might suggest that saying the petitions of the Lord's Prayer, as St. Teresa did, or repeating.the mantra, as John Main did, can dispose us to quiet and contemplation. But it is not necessary to turn them off, as it were, so that we can really appreciate the quiet. If we do so, the wild horses of our disordered minds are likely to gallop back again, or the screeching monkeys may well return to the 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping a Balance thickets of our consciousness, and quiet would be no more. In these reflections I am suggesting that the classic fixed distinctions between different forms of prayer may not be so important as they .were once thought to be. I suggest that it would not make a great deal of sense to say to oneself, "I have not yet arrived at the experience of passivity and received the pure gift of contemplation, and so I must continue with active prayer." Nor would the reverse be any better, namely, to convince oneself that one has indeed been given this gift and so to drop active prayer. The best solution, I suggest, would be to accept with St. Teresa (and St. Alphonsus) that some form of active, vocal prayer may quite well go together with contemplation. At root this is what John Main believed: the repetition of the mantra may accompany contemplation. We do not need to be scrutinizing our consciousness so as to find whether contemplation has occurred or not. The prayer of quiet, or gift of contemplation, may be given by God at any moment within that active prayer. We need not be surprised if this happens, and we may welcome it if or when it is given to us. To conclude, the form of meditation in which one repeats a short prayer continuously with the expectation that a prayer of quiet (with a sense of oneness and rest) may supervene has strong roots in the Catholic spiritual tradition. This is true not only of the earlier tradition, where we find Cassian commending this practice, but also of the more recent tradition, as expressed in particular by St. Teresa. The description of prayer in the texts on Christian Meditation does not include a description of contemplation in the classic sense, but who are we to say that the latter may not supervene? It is indeed God's gift--and may be given whenever God chooses to do so. Notes t Ernest E. Larkin OCarm, "Today's Contemplative Prayer Forms," Review for Religious 57 (1998): 83. Review for Religious 2 Larkin, p. 84. 3 Cited in Larkin, p. 78. 4 Larkin, p. 87 n. 12. 5 The Way of Perfection, in Vol. 2 of The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980). p. 140. The relevant passages are chaps. 28-29. Hereafter all references to Teresa will be to this work and edition, by chapter and section(s) given in the text thus: (19.1). 6 Larkin, p. 83. 7 Alpbonsus de Liguori: Selected Writings (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1999), p. 170. The putting together of this "active" recollection with "contemplative repose" may seem perplexing. The essential point is that it still involves acting, as distinct from "infused contemplation," where there is no acting on our part. s Alpbonsus, p. 176, citing St. Teresa. 9 Alpbonsus, p. 170. ~0 John Main, The Inner Christ (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1987), p. 203. " Main, p. 205. ~2 Main, pp. 116, 119, 132. '3illpbonscts, p. 171. ,4 Main, p. 22. ,5 Owen Chadwick, John Cassian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1950), p. 69. ~6 Larkin, p. 81. ~7 1 refer here to the citation from Max Huot de Longchamp, Saint Jean de la Croix: Pour Lire le Docteur Mystique (Paris: Fac-editions, 1991), p. 164, cited by Larkin, p. 87. ~8 See Charles Taylor, The Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge: Harva~:d University Press, 1989), p. 188. ,9 Larkin, p. 78. 63.2 2004 DENNIS J. BILLY Faith Seeking Understanding: Spiritual Direction's Sapiential Function ~;l~you are a theologian, you will pray in truth; and you pray in truth, you are a theologian." 1 These words of Nilus of Sinai (+450), a 5th-century monk from Ancyra in Asia Minor who lived in the wilderness of Sinai for more than sixty years, remind us of the inti-mate connection between conversing with and under-standing the mystery of God. A true knowledge of God involves an experience of the divine mystery, not simply knowledge about it. Such experiential knowledge comes, not through rational analysis, but from a living rela-tionship with God nourished by prayer. This under-standing of theology emphasizes knowing God by participating in the intimate community of divine love. It values the living reality of God over theological constructions of that reality. That reality is closer to us than we are to our own selveS. We are invited to be pre-sent to God's pr.esence in us. Spiritual direction can help us become present to this reality. It is a divine (but also human) art that helps us "pray in truth" and come to an intimate personal knowledge of God. ._~,, ~ ~,~4_J 2D45e8n;n iRs oJm. Bai l0ly0 1C0S0S; RIt awlyri.tes again from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. Review for Religious Praying in Truth The theologian, in Nilus's eyes, is one who knows how to "pray in truth." To do so, we must strip off the old self and put on the new. Only then, by being renewed in the image of our Creator, will we gradually progress toward true knowledge of the divine (see Col 3:9-10). To pray in truth is to pray in Christ, the way, the truth, and the life (see Jn 14:6). Praying in truth means open-ing our hearts and being present to God as we really are. It means not being afraid to look inside ourselves and confront the various masks and self-deceptions we find there. It means bearing our souls to God so that God may bear his soul to us. Intimacy with God first requires intimacy with oneself. We cannot communicate with God in truth if we are unwilling to know the truth about ourselves. Coming to an intimate knowledge of ourselves, how-ever, is no easy task. Most of us cannot go it alone and are in dire need of help. We find facing our inner wants and insecurities much too threatening. Left to our own resources, many of us would end up rationalizing away our fears and discounting our deepest hopes about who we are and want to become. Spiritual direction helps us confront ourselves and open our hearts to God. It gently points out the voice of the Spirit manifested in the nitty-gritty circumstances of our lives. As the prophet Elijah reminds us, often that voice is found, not in whirlwinds, earthquakes, and fires about us, but in the small whisper that can only be heard in the solitude of our hearts (see 1 Kg 19:11-13). Spiritual direction seeks to settle our hearts so that we can rest in this solitude and become ourselves in our faith? Focusing on our conscious and unconscious inter-action with the divine, it helps us to follow the flow of troublesome and often conflicting personal narratives in our life and then to make responsible iudgments about 63.2 2004 Billy * Faith Seeking Understanding what we are being called to. It pays special heed to our prayer life, helping us to discern authentic prayer from its mean and paltry imitation. The goal of spiritual direction is for us to "pray in truth." We receive help to confront ourselves and thereby to discover our authentic voice. That voice alone will lead us to intimacy with God. We must be patient, how-ever, and ever so silent. We must listen to our heart and not be afraid to hear what it has to say. When we speak from the heart, we soon discover the gentle voice of the Spirit yearning within us. To pray in truth is to pray in the Spirit, the re-creative presence of God that hovers over and revives the primal forces within us. We know we are praying in the Spirit when our lives manifest the Spirit's various gifts and fruits (see Is 11:2-3, Ga 5:22-23). Spiritual direction helps identify these spiritual riches and let them do their quiet work within us, the work of gradual divinization, of greater sharing in the eternal love of the Godhead. Solitude of Heart The primary means by which the Spirit accomplishes its task is by nurturing in us a deep desire for solitude. As we empty our hearts of unnecessary attachments, we make room for the divine indwelling. Solitude of heart is the precondition for our experience of the fullness of life. "The glory of God," says Irenaeus of Lyons, "is a liv-ing human being."3 We who are created in the image and likeness of God become ourselves only by allowing God to be himself in us. Spiritual direction helps us open our hearts to the heart of God. It helps us by fostering a contemplative attitude toward life, enabling us to see all that happens in the light of God's providential plan. By offering their directees the hospitality of a lis-tening heart, directors set the tone for all that happens during the session. By being present in silence and with Review for Religious their full attention, directors affirm the seriousness of what is taking place and often form lasting friendships. These bonds spring from their reflective gaze upon the directees' unfolding experiences, from this sharing in their solitude. Three persons share in this solitude of heart: the director, the directee, and the Holy Spirit. In direction, directors and directees gradually turn their attention to this quiet partner in their midst. They discern the signs of the Spirit in the nar-ratives that directees share with their direc-tors. The Spirit leaves traces of its presence in the threads of people's lives. When we look at our lives prayerfully, these slight vestiges gradually become noticed and fit into conscious awareness. This is the time for directors and directees together to interpret these signs so that the directees can respond appropriately. One of these signs is peace. After his resurrection Jesus comforted his disciples with a message of peace that stemmed from his immediate and unquestioning trust in the Father's love (see Lk 24:36, Jn 20:19, 21). Today this same message comes to us through the yearn-ing of the Spirit in our hearts, who intercedes for us to the Lord with unutterable groaning (see Rm 8:26). Directors help their directees to recognize the factors in their life that contribute to peace. Such peace comes not from the world, but by giving ourselves whole-heartedly to the one thing that ultimately matters--the love of God dwelling in our heart. "The paradise of God," says Alphonsus de Liguori, "is the heart of man.''4 The peace of Christ works its The primary means by which the Spirit accomplishes its task is by nurturing in us a deep desire for solitude. Billy ¯ Faith Seeking Understanding way outward from within. Rooted in the love of the Lord, it eventually finds outward expression in our striv-ing to form right relationships with others on every level of human society (such as family, country, community of nations). Peace, "the tranquillity of order" as Augustine of Hippo refers to it, possesses personal, com-munal, and transcendent dimensions.5 For us to find it in our lives, solitude of heart is necessary. Spiritual direc-tion, in turn, is an important instrument given us by God to help in that discovery. Faith Seeking Understanding If theologians are persons who pray in truth, spiritual direction facilitates such prayer. Theology, we are told, "denotes. far more than the learning about God and religious doctrine acquired through academic study. It signifies active and conscious participation in or percep-tion of the realities of the divine world--in other words, the realization of spiritual knowledge.''6 To be even more specific, theology has to do with our attempt to reflect upon our experience of the indwelling of the Trinity in our hearts. When seen in this light, the classical Western understanding of theology as "faith seeking understand-ing" (tides quaerens intellectum)--which was developed by Anselm of Canterbury under the influence of the Latin Vulgate and Augustine of Hippo--needs to be rescued from the overrationalizing of later centuries and exam-ined in relation to acquiring Christian wisdom.7 When understood as a sapiential (as opposed to a narrowly ratio-nal) enterprise, theology's true task comes to the fore. All of us are called to reflect upon the meaning of our lives in the light of the gospel message. To accom-plish this task well, we must reflect on the experience of God in our hearts and try to ascertain what exactly is being asked of us. When understood sapientially, theol-ogy as "faith seeking understanding" tries to discern the Review for Religious movement of the Spirit in our lives so that we can bet-ter understand how to live out our call to discipleship in mature and responsible ways. Spiritual direction is an important place for acquiring spiritual wisdom. It helps us talk to God, listen to him, and engage in discernment that leads to deeper intimacy with him. Spiritual direction achieves this goal whenever there is an honest, sharing relationship between the two per-sons. This relationship, while complex and manifold, focuses primarily on the relationship of the directee with God. Directors help directees to understand their inter-action with God better and then to draw closer to God. This process is both challenging and consoling. Directors challenge directees to be honest and to identify areas for future growth. They also need to comfort directees in times of discouragement and imminent loss. Knowing when to exercise this dual role of challenge and comfort is one of the primary skills that directors need to have. Faith seeking understanding in spiritual direction calls for directors to have flexibility and strength. They need to adapt to changing times and circumstances and to withstand the adverse challenges that may occur. The fruits of the process become evident. To believe as one searches for meaning in life leads to a deeper under-standing of one's life situation, of one's relationship with oneself, with others, and with God. Spiritual direction, in its many forms, seeks to empower us to affirm our faith and in the process become ourselves more fully. Becoming Holy Becoming ourselves in our faith is but another way of speaking about our desire for holiness. Spiritual direction is not simply a matter of gaining greater insight into our relationship with God. It has very much to do with turn-ing those insights into concrete practices that lead fur-ther along the path of conversion. These practices must 63.2 2004 Billy ¯ Faitb Seeking Understanding Becoming ourselves in our faith is but another way of speaking about our desire for holiness. not be imposed from without; they must arise from within. They must correspond to a true assessment of our needs based on insights that spiritual direction has facilitated. A truly wise person is also a holy person, and vice versa. According to Thomas Aquinas, wisdom is the gift of the Spirit that corresponds to and is guided by and is a perfec-tion of charity.8 The sapi-ential function of spiritual direction leads us beyond simply knowing God to loving and serving him. "Faith seeking understand-ing" through spiritual direction leads not only to insights into divine things, but also to incorporating those insights into the way we live our daily lives. This close relationship between "being" and "action" is important for the sapiential function of spiritual direc-tion. The virtuous actions performed by people striving to be virtuous contribute to making them even more vir-tuous. When directees ask their director what they should do, they are ultimately asking about what kind of person they themselves wish to become. When prop-erly exercised, spiritual direction helps people see this important connection and encourages them to make "communion with God" the motivating force of all of their actions. Living in communion with God is another term for becoming holy. It is a primary concern of the direction process, helping people become themselves in their life of faith. As an element of "faith seeking understanding," spir-itual direction seeks to help us not only to discern but also to act. By far the most important thing any of us can ever do is pray. Prayer is "the great means of salva- Review for Religious tion.''9 Our manner of prayer--its frequency, its form, its content--is and should always remain a vital subject in spiritual direction. During direction we need to ask if our prayer addresses every dimension of our human makeup: the physical, emotional, intellectual, social, and spiritual.~° With the help of our director, we should try to identify what we may be neglecting in prayer and make appropriate changes. How we pray says a great deal about our own self-understanding and our rela-tionship with God. By examining our prayer carefully for ways to improve it, we demonstrate our love for God and our longing for holiness. Spiritual direction helps us to understand and prac-tice true prayer. It accompanies us on the way to self-knowledge and invites us to deeper intimacy with God. Such experiential knowledge transcends the conceptual world of the professional theologian. By it we share consciously in God's love and develop an intuitive aware-ness of the mind of God. By helping us to "pray in truth," spiritual direction assists our understanding and enables us to become ourselves in our faith, to live in the Spirit, to grow in wisdom and in the knowledge of God, to grow in charity throughout our lives. By help-ing us listen to the movement of the Spirit in our hearts and respond wisely and generously, spiritual direction enables us to see the world around us with something of God's zealous compassion, God's .intense longing to dwell in the hearts of us all. Notes 1 Nilus of Sinai, IY3 Texts on Prayer, no. 61 in Early Fathers from the Philokalia, trans. E. Kadloubovsky and G.E.H. Palmer (London: Faber and Faber, 1954), p. 134. 2 See Jean Laplace, The Direction of Conscience, trans. John C. Guinness (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967), p. 26. 3 Irenaeus of Lyons, Against the Heresies 4.20.7, in Vol. 1 of The Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925), p. 490. 63.2 2004 Billy * Faith Seeking Understanding 4 Alphonsus de Liguori, The Way to Converse Always and Familiarly with God, in Vol. 2 of The Complete Works of Saint Alphonsus de Liguori, ed. Eugene Grimm (Brooklyn: Redemptorist Fathers, 1926), p. 395. s Augustine of Hippo, The City of God 19.13, in Vol. 2 of The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, ed. Philip Schaff (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1903), pp. 409-410. 6 The Philokalia: The Complete Text, ed. and trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware (London: Faber and Faber, 1981), Vol. 2, p. 389. 7 See Anselm of Canterbury, The Proslogion, chap. 1, in Vol. 1 of Anselm of Canterbury, ed. and trans. Jasper Hopkins and Herbert W. Richardson (Toronto and New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1974), pp. 91-93; Biblia sacra vulgata, ed. Robert Weber (Stuttgart: Wiirttembergische Bibelanstalt, 1969), Vol. 2, p. 1103 (Is 7:9); Augustine of Hippo, On the Trinity 8.5.8, in Vol. 3 of The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, ed. Philip Schaff (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1900), pp. 119-120. ~ See Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, I-II, q.68, a.8; II-II, q.45, in Vol. 20 of Great Books of the Western World, ed. Robert Maynard Hutchins (Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1952), pp. 95-96, 598- 606. 9 Alphonsus de Liguori, Prayer, The Great Means of Salvation, in Vol. 3 of Complete Works (1927), p. 23. 10 See Dennis J. Billy, Evangelical Kernels: A Theological Spirituality of the Religious Life (Staten Island: Alba House, 1993), pp. 167-184. Gift I am stunned by the gift you gave me. Not a sun or stars, not the sea or a pebble rounded to perfection. Not even forgiveness, although this was wrapped into the gift. You gave me love. Some day I may regard your gift indifferently, as something I deserve. For now, I know nothing but astonishment. Patricia Chaffee OP Review for Religious GEORGE ASCHENBRENNER Windows of the Soul: Walter Ciszek SJ T e eyes are often windows into the soul. A mother ows this as she gazes quietly into the eyes of her newborn child, dreaming and hoping about its future. Lovers and friends know this too. Gazing into each other's eyes opens a whole world, wide and deep beyond words. Most of us are unaware of how revelatory our eyes are. The grumpiness of discontented people lurks in their eyes for anyone to see. So, too, the limpid kindness of truly guileless people sparkles in their eyes. Yes, in many instances our eyes are windows into the soul. In fact, our eyes convey more and deeper messages as we grow through life. Forty years ago,. on 12 October 1963, BOAC flight #501 from London landed right on time at 6:55 a.m. A man in his late fifties wearing a heavy green overcoat shuffled down the stairway from the plane. A big floppy Russian hat concealed a lot of his face. But, under the brim of that hat, like beacons of a profoundly wise soul, George Aschenbrenner SJ has written for this journal every couple of years since 1966. His current address is Campion Hall; University of Scranton; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. r~l!4~a --- ~ 63.2 2004 Ascbenbrenner ¯ Windows of rise Soul two lively grayish-blue eyes greeted sights not seen for twenty-seven years. At least ten years before, his Jesuit brothers in the New York Province had offered for him the customary two Masses for deceased Jesuits. Now Father Walter Ciszek of the Society of Jesus had risen from the dead. Those dancing guileless eyes, those soul-beacons, told a stoW immediately that it would take years to get into words: two books written painstakingly with the gracious competent help of Father Dan Flaherty, a brother Jesuit. But, if you ever had the chance to meet Father Ciszek, you got the whole stoW in those eyes. My experience of Walter was that those lively eyes, those bottomless wells of love, joy, and humble confidence, conveyed more than any hand gestures ever could. Dramatic gesturing was not his way of communicating. Like a diamond those eyes sparkled with a wisdom, a peace, a humble confidence, but first and foremost a startling freedom. On that October day at New York's Idlewild airport, Father Walter was free, free from KGB surveillance, free from restriction on his priestly min-istry, free from the brittle cold, free from his starvation diet, free from the threat of death at almost any moment. But freedom was something he had known truly and profoundly for the last twenty-one years--ever since that time in the dreaded Lubianka prison, a time that marked his soul for the rest of his life, a time that he would never forget. (It was a soul-changing experience, too, for oth-ers when they met him: something smiled in and leapt out of those eyes to greet you.) Early in his captivity, solitary confinement and intense interrogations night and day were wearing him down. Knowing he was not guilty of the espionage charges, he thought that all he had to do was explain this clearly and definitely to his questioners. But a combination of forces--first the repeated questionings like a pile driver hammering into Review for Religious his head and heart and then the cold deaf ear to his labored and elaborately explicit defense--became too much for him. He gave up. He quit. He signed an admis-sion of his guilt--just to get it over with. Back in his cell, however, and all by himself again, it hit him. He had given in to free himself of this harass-ment of his soul. His motive had been selfish, filled with ego, and had lost much awareness of God's love and care. He felt ashamed and confounded. In that disheartened state of mind, though, he felt relief that, during the fif-teen years of hard labor in Siberia to which he had been sentenced, at least the solitary confinement and the mad-dening questions would stop. This relief was short-lived. Soon he was told that there would be four more years at Lubianka to "clarify" some of the issues to which he had confessed. The deaf-ening, soul-splitting interrogation began again. It seemed more than he could handle. What he had hoped to get out of by signing the paper was beginning all over again. An overwhelming despair descended upon him, a loss of hope and faith. He felt absolutely helpless. He was at rock bottom. You and I have sometimes felt helpless; we know that even brief moments of helplessness are fear-some. But most of us have never plumbed the depths to which he fell at that moment, all alone, in Lubianka. But, at this moment of feeling bankruptcy of soul, at this lowest point in his whole life, something happened. He stepped across a boundary line. No, to be more exact, he did not step across: he was lifted across. In that moment of despair, he remembered an olive grove some two thousand years ago. Jesus, Son of Mary and Son of God, having chosen to be faithful to his identity and mis-sion in the face of looming certain death, had collapsed in helplessness, had hit rock bottom (Mk 14:32-42). Through his surrender, through his self-abandon-ment, Jesus was rescued, he was freed. The impending 63.2 20O4 Aschenbrenner * Windows of the Soul Walter Ciszek's contemplation of Jesus" agony in the garden gave new meaning to his own despairing helplessness. horrific suffering and death were not taken away, but something shifted deep inside. A freedom, a humble con-fidence, lifted his soul because the eyes of a dearly loving, caring Father were still gazing on him, even in his utter helplessness. In fact, now he knew it in some new way: no depth of helplessness could ever be beyond the loving, life-giving gaze of those eyes. Those eyes, there in Gethsemane, both looked deep into his soul and also revealed a bottomless love and care deeper than any doubt or frustration. Walter Ciszek's contemplation of Jesus' agony in the garden--a prayer that just came upon him, he did not reach out for it--gave new meaning to his own despair-ing helplessness. As in the case of Jesus, Father Ciszek's fear was transformed into freedom, and his feelings of danger and despair became confidence and happiness. Now nothing seemed to worry or trouble him anymore. At an apparent depth of no return, he had learned that God would never leave him, but would take care of him even if he were killed. Astonishing, simply amazingm talk about a new heart and a new freedom! He could say with St. Paul: "I am ready for anything through the strength of the One who lives within me" (Ph 4:13). That prayer along with Jesus in the garden marked Walter Ciszek for life right into eternity. He would never forget that prayer. Yes, Walter Ciszek became profoundly free in Lubianka twenty-one years before he stepped off a plane in the United States. The Word of God had leapt off the page anew in the person, the presence, the eyes of the Review for Religious risen Jesus. Now nothing he did, nowhere he was taken, nothing that happened to him, absolutely nothing could separate Walter Ciszek from the risen Jesus. In his own agony of despair and helplessness, he had been gifted with a very special awareness of God's love. This gave him an invincible trust, whatever the future might hold. Nothing could really hurt him now because he was in God's loving hands, more than he had ever realized before. Yes, the eyes are windows into the soul. But the eyes of holiness are also reflectors. Holiness reflects the radi-ance of Someone Else's loving eyes. Just as Jesus knew the gaze of a dear Father's eyes, Walter Ciszek experi-enced God's loving gaze in the depths of his despair and helplessness. That same loving gaze blesses us all, each and every one, with a freedom and a trust that does not take all suffering out of our lives, but does enliven our hearts, our souls, and our eyes. It is no surprise that, whenever my friends and I met Father Ciszek, we felt we were meeting more than just that courageous, peaceful little man. Those lively, gray-ish- blue, dancing eyes were windows glistening with the wisdom, the freedom, the love of his soul. Those eyes mirrored the steady gaze of Jesus' love--a love that moti-vated everything Walter Ciszek did, a love that got him through fifteen years of undeserved hard labor in prison and five years of undeserved solitary confinement, a love that burned in his soul and left him unscarred by bitter-ness, anger, revenge. The eyes of Walter Ciszek told the story of his soul, a story of courageous love in incredible suffering and of invincible trust against all odds, because the most impor-tant story of love always glistens in the eyes of the risen Jesus. 6~.2 2004 mentoring FRED HERRON Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials Young people who grew up in the late 20th cen-tury, sometimes called millennials, easily relate to Thomas Merton as someone not entirely comfortable in any one place. Like him, they find it hard to root themselves in one "abiding place.''1 They are more comfortable describing themselves as "spiritual" rather than "religious." For them the paradigm shift that Merton illu-minated in his lifetime seems a dramatic release from the moorings of the stable past and an optimistic embarkation on a journey. By high-lighting such a change in his life and thought, Merton managed to offer direction and some cautions to those who would follow. Dwelling and Seeking Robert Wuthnow has argued convincingly that a major change took place in the spiritual Fred Herron is chairperson of the religious-studies depart-ment at Fontbonne Hall Academy and a member of the Department of Theology and Religious Studies at St. John's University, Staten Island. He may be addressed at Fonthonne Hall Academy; 9901 Shore Road; Brooklyn, New York 11209. Review.for Religious practice of the last half of the 20th century. He suggests that "a traditional spirituality of inhabiting sacred places has given way to a new spirituality of seeking." He con-trasts these two viewpoints this way: "A spirituality of dwelling emphasizes habitation: God occupies a definite place in the universe and creates a sacred space in which humans too can dwell." On the other hand, "a spiritual-ity of seeking emphasizes negotiation: individuals search for sacred moments that reinforce their conviction that the divine exists, but these moments are fleeting.''z Both forms of spirituality have found their place in the history of religions, and the world religions have sup-plied rich imagery for both. Wuthnow points out that, "in settled times, people have been able to create a sacred habitat and to practice habitual forms of spirituality. [However,] in unsettled times, they have been forced to negotiate with themselves and with each other to find the sacred." Settled times evoke an imagery of dwelling, and unsettled times one of journeys. In the former, "the sacred is fixed, and spirituality can be found within the gathered body of God's people; in the latter, the sacred is fluid, portable, and spirituality must be pursued with a sense of God's people having been dispersed.''3 A habitation spirituality is suggested by the Garden of Eden and a land of milk and honey. A spirituality of seeking, on the other hand, is illustrated by the taber-nacle and the tents of pilgrims and travelers. The first form can be seen in the secure routine of the monastery, the cloister, while the latter is seen as an ongoing journey. The story of the Shulamite woman draws the dis-tinction between these two spiritualities. At first she revels in the security of her spiritual home: "Our bed is green, the beams of our houses are cedar, and the rafters of fir" (Sg 1:16-17). Later, however, she wanders, seek-ing the warmth she has lost: "I will rise now., and go 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Mertion and a Spirituality for Millennials about the city. In the streets and in the squares, I will seek the one I love" (Sg 3:2). Merton's metaphors of the "citadel" and of the "wide, impregnable country" point to similar visions.4 Note that both are images of security, but the former suggests secu-rity and the latter.openness and freedom. In the citadel there is isolation from others, whereas in the wide coun-try there is room for an indefinite number of people seeking God. A spirituality of dwelling seems to be more secure, while a spirituality of seeking seems less constraining. Both offer freedom, but quite different kinds of free-dom. Familiar places offer the freedom of not having to worry where the next meal is coming from, since both caring people and known resources are available. Anne Truitt describes this experience as "the lighthearted feel-ing of being in a litter of kittens.''5 That understanding of freedom is comparable to not worrying about achiev-ing any particular objective, that is, not feeling "bound by an inexorable result [but being] like the birds or lilies ¯. without care." 6 Seeking and Freedom The fifth volume of Thomas Merton's letters, VVitness to Freedom, suggests that there are three stages in his understanding of the growing freedom that is central to a spirituality of seeking.7 In Merton's youth, freedom meant doing whatever he pleased. The second stage came with his entrance into the monastery of Gethsemani in 1941. Merton recalls that, when Brother Matthew met him at the monastery gate, led him through that gate, and then locked it, "I was enclosed in the four walls of my new freedom." s This was the freedom of the citadel, the freedom to do what he was told and to keep the rules. Freedom here became obedience, one portion of the monastic Rule. Review for Religious Keeping the rules is central to both of these stages. In the first, the rules are the problem. In the second, the rules are the solution to the problem. The third stage led Merton to view freedom in a very different light: freedom as an inner reality guided much more from within than from without. In con-templation, Merton realized, we meet God, and in meeting God we discover our deepest freedom. People achieve this third level of freedom, a sense in which their deepest selves are in God and express God, to the extent that they rid themselves of the illu-sions that distort reality for them.9 Merton wrote to Jacques Maritain of these illusions: "There are great illusions to be got ridden of, and there is a false self that has to be taken off. There is still much to be changed before I will really be living in the truth and in nothingness and in humility and without any more self-concern." 10 The road to true freedom is strewn with idols: the false god, the false self, and the false image of God's crea-tures. A false vision of God causes us to see God as one among many, not as absolute, the Hidden Ground of Love, from whom all things come and in whom all things are sustained.ll From this arises the false self, for, instead of being an image of the true God, the self tends to become an image of the false god. Finally, to be fully free, we need to be liberated from the illusions that mark our relationships with other human beings and with the rest of God's creation. What, then, is the freedom that Thomas Merton con-siders essential to this spirituality of seeking? It is the freedom to choose the good and not to choose "freely" In contemplation, Merton realized, we meet God, and in meeting God we discover our deepest freedom. 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials between two realities such as good and evil. Merton argues that "the free man is the one whose choices have given him the power to stand on his own feet and deter-mine his own life according to the higher light and spirit that are in him.''12 He says: "The mere ability to choose between good and evil is the lowest limit of freedom, and the only thing that is free about it is the fact that we can still choose good. To the extent that you are free to choose evil, you are not free. An evil choice destroys freedom . Perfect spiritual freedom is a total inabil-ity to make any evil choice." 13 St. Benedict's Rule and the Spirituality of Seeking The contrast between a spirituality of habitation and a spirituality of seeking is evident in the 6th-century Rule of St. Benedict. The Cistercian monk takes three vows: stability, obedience, and conversatio. Stability emphasizes setdedness, a "permanent and lifelong attach-ment to the monastery of one's profession." 14 Conversatio connotes the changeable life of the spirit. It is "a com-mitment to live faithfully in unsettled times and to keep one's life sufficiently unsettled to respond to the chang-ing voice of God." ~5 It involves a commitment to con-stant progress in virtue. The monk can never say that he has done enough. It is "the vow to respond totally and integrally to the word of Christ, 'Come, follow me,' by renouncing all that might impede one in following him untrammeled, all that might obscure one's clarity of intent and confuse one's resolve."16 As such, it is a source of peace. Peace comes when there is a "willingness to renounce our petty selves and find our true selves beyond ourselves in others, and above all in Christ." 17 Obedience here suggests a commitment to both sta-bility and conversatio. This is an obedience to God in all things. The monk uses this obedience as a means to grow closer to God. It is the obedience of faith in the context Review for Religious of love and discipleship. The wisdom of St. Bernard is that dwelling and seeking, stability and conversatio, are both part of what it means to be human.18 The desire for a dwelling, for a citadel or fortress of solitude, is evi-dent in the fact that people associate God with churches, synagogues, and temples. It is intimated by the feelings that are aroused by memories of the house in which we were raised or by the uprooting we feel when we need to move. A human habitat takes on sacred meaning, becom-ing a home that has a "heart and a soul," an abode that can be lived in with grace and in "the power of bene-dictions." 19 Merton spoke about Gethsemani, especially in his early years there, as a "sign of Christ.''2° Thomas Merton and a Generation of Seekers Americans live in increasingly complex and perilous times. We face conditions that appear to be spinning wildly out of control--terrorism, environmental pollu-tion, worldwide hunger and poverty, AIDS, crime. A spir-ituality of dwelling may appeal to many people, especially when reli-gious leaders promise secure space in which to worship God in famil-iar ways. For some, the purpose of any congre-gation will be to pro-vide a haven amidst the uncertainties of modern times. A spirituality of seeking, however, will appeal to more of the American people, precisely because it lets them choose their own understandings and their own ways of worshiping. For them, the believing community is less a haven than a supplier of spiritual goods and services. Neither style is entirely satisfactory. Both arise out of our conversation with our past. While earlier genera- The believing community is less a haven than a supplier of spiritual goods and services. 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials tions found some peace and security in a spirituality of inhabiting, later ones take pride in being on a spiritual journey. This shift has roots in our immigrant history.21 Until the beginning of World War II, when Thomas Merton entered the monastery at Gethsemani, ethnic groups were still influenced largely by their immigrant experience. They had come looking for a better life. Together they built institutions. They came in search of both physical and spiritual homes. After the war they worked feverishly at the task of building new houses. Levittown came to symbolize that desire, and the Cold War represented a threat to that dream. The decade of the 1950s was to be an ending as well as a beginning in that regard. The world has changed substantially since the pres-idency of Dwight Eisenhower. Change has become a general condition of every part of modern life. The 1950s gave way to an era of racial unrest, political turmoil, and environmental havoc. The children of the 1960s seemed out of control and all too willing to question authority. That changing world is the world that Thomas Merton inhabited and somewhat came to personify. But the later Merton was firmly rooted in the earlier one. That is, his willingness to stand on his own two feet was not the mark of a radical individualist undertaking a ruggedly individualistic spiritual journey. Rather, it was the mark of a "free" human being dedicated to living faithfully in unsettled times as a person firmly in "one dear perpetual place." Stability, for Merton, was rooted in his relationship to his monastic family and his work within the monastery. It was the dedication of one who had come to grips with the allure of worldliness and won, leaving it behind in search of greener pastures. Merton was not claiming an "abiding place," for the Spirit of God did not let him put a mere place above the call of fidelity. His commitment was not simply to a commu- Review for Religious nity, but ultimately to the God who told him, "Come, follow me." A portion of Merton's enduring legacy to the mil-lennial generation rests precisely in his understanding of the Rule of St. Benedict. He cautions the next gener-ation about undertaking a journey for its own sake or in search of illusory goals. Better to live firmly in a com-munity that demands your constant focus on growth. If that involves a journey, so be it. But the journey, the "road trip," is not an end in itself. It needs to serve a greater truth. The challenge of conversatio for today's young people is to be constantly open to going where God takes them and not where the illusory goals of a consumer culture or a warrior culture might lead them. The call of obedience is to cling tightly to God and to the gift of true discipleship. Like the gyre that William Butler Yeats describes in his poem "The Second Coming," Merton struggled in his personal life and on his spiritual journey to find a way for the center to hold, to find a way toward some form of final integration[ The point where stability and conversatio meet was, for him, in obedience. Obedience holds both together, insisting that both are essentials in the spiritual life. Merton not only illuminates the dra-matic upheavals of our recent past, but points a way to our future. Notes ~ Dean Hoge, William Dinges, Mary Johnson SNDdeN, and Juan Gonzales, Young Adult Catholics: Religion in the Culture of Choice (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001); James L. Heft SM and James D. Davidson, "The Mission of Catholic High School and Today's Millennials: Three Suggestions," Catholic Education 6 (June 2003): 410-422; T.P. Waiters, "Millennial Youth: Facts, Figures, and Priestly Vocations," in T.P. Waiters and B. Crawford, eds., The Millennial Generation: Hearing God's Call (St. Meinrad, Indiana: Abbey Press, 2001), pp. 15-25; and James D. Davidson et al., The Search for Common Ground: What Unites and Divides American Catholics (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor, 1999). 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials 2 Robert Wuthnow, After Heaven: Spirituality in America since the 19YOs (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), pp. 3-4. 3 Wuthnow, After Heaven, p. 4. 4 Donald Grayston, Thomas Merton's Rewriting: The Five Versions of Seeds/New Seeds of Contemplation as a Key to the Development of His Thought (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1985), p. 371. See also Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1948), p. 33. s Anne Truitt, Daybook, the Journal of an Artist (New York: Pantheon Books, 1982), p. 22. 6 Thomas Merton, "Elias--Variations on a Theme," in his The Strange Islands (New York: New Directions, 1959), p. 233. 7 Thomas Merton, Witness to Freedom: The Letters of Thomas Merton in Times of Crisis (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1994). 8 Merton, Seven Storey Mountain, p. 372. 9 Thomas Merton, Turning toward the World: The Pivotal Years, Vol. 4 of The Journals of Thomas Merton (HarperSanFrancisco, 1996), p. 146. ~0 Thomas Merton, The Courage for Truth: The Letters of Tbomas Merton to Writers (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1993), p. 39. ~1 Thomas Merton, The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters of Thomas Merton on Religious Experience and Social Concerns (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1985), p. 452. ,2 Thomas Merton, The New Man (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Cudahy, 1961), pp. 178-179. 13 Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions, 1962), p. 199. 14 Thomas Merton, The Monastic Journey (Kansas City: Andrews and McMeel, 1977), pp. 66-68. is Wuthnow, After Heaven, p. 6. ~6 Merton, Monastic Journey, p. 110. 17 Merton, Monastic Journey, p. 40. ~8 Timothy Fry, ed., The Rule of Saint Benedict (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1982); Brian C. Taylor, Spirituality for Everyday Living: An Adaptation of the Rule of Saint Benedict (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1989); Joan Chittister, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of Saint Benedict Today (New York: HarperCollins, 1991), Eviatar Zerubavel, Hidden Rhythms: Schedules and Calendars in Social Life (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981). 19 Mark Twain, cited in Witold Rybczynski, The Most Beautiful House in the World (New York: Penguin Books, 1989), p. 171. Review for Religious 20 Michael Mott, The Seven Mountains of Thomas Merton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1984), p. 208. 2, Oscar Handlin, The Uprooted (New York: Little, Brown, 1951). Class Reunion The women, this fiftieth June after June Graduations, have buried the men: at this Table for ten, there are two husbands, Their two wives, a nun, and a quintet Of well-dressed, well-coiffed survivors, Not one a mere relict, but all Junoesque, Carrying Junoesque handbags at arms" ends. The nun carries nothing. The pair of men Draw together, only to be drawn apart Again by the women who treasure their presence: All that is left as stand-ins for the children. Amiably passed from widow to widow and back To spouse, they are lost, hosts at a table With too many partners, until saved, saved By the nun whose last name no one can Remember, sistering them with shy veiled Smiles, her innocence bridging the gap Between that June and this, seeming fifty Years younger than all the rest. The banquet Is served . Could Sister please bless? Nancy G. Westerfield 63.2 2004 LAURA SWAN Paradox in the Monastery: Lessons from Two Ammas Mwost of us have grown up with family stories that e have "always" been "familiar" with. This is oral tradition. Certain stories get told over and over, recalling the colorful, poignant, even troubling members and events of our families and congregations. Stories are retold among friends, families, and religious communities because the memory of them touches us deeply. They tell us something of who we are and where we have been. Stories unpack the mystery of the present and give us guidance into the future. We pass particular stories on because they have shaken something awake within us and we desire to share this awareness with others. We want to remember the lessons learned. Vowed religious remember stories retold about religious over the centuries along with the stories of their own monasteries and congregations. Which stories are dusted off and retold (and embellished) often says much about who we are and what we struggle with. Stories contain and sustain our cultural values. They assist in Laura Swan OSB, author of The Forgotten Desert Mothers, is prioress of St. Placid Priory; 500 College Street N.E.; Lacey, Washington 98516. Web page www.stplacid.org, and email to lswan@stplacid.org. Review for Religious passing on the traditions of our monasteries, congre-gations, faith communities, and families. In the desert of the early Christian movement, stories were collected, remembered, and passed on. Even today stories preserve the memory and teachings of the desert ascetics, the ammas and abbas who lived at the beginning of Christian monasticism. They sought the desert, a place of intense solitude, in order to focus their pursuit of the Holy One with single-minded devotion and limited distractions. Their goal was union with God. These stories formed an early oral tradition now known as Sayings (apothegms, apophtheg~nata). Side by side with this movement into the desert was a movement toward an evolving Christian monasticism. The desert ascetics were often associated with monastic communities. Eremitic communities were little more than groups of cells in the desert where the seekers occasionally met for teaching, prayer, and exhortation. There was no standard monasticism at this period. Religious life was quite diverse in all its expressions; every monastic community had its own rule and traditions. Two leading figures in the development of monasticism in Egypt were Pachomius (ca. 282-346) of Tabennisi in upper Egypt and Shenoute (ca. 348-464) of Atripe, also in upper Egypt. Writings of their followers, often called Lives, give us insight into the struggles and aspirations of early religious life and of Christianity itself. Many stories from the desert reflect the tensions of diverse expressions of Christianity and tensions between those seeking to articulate statements of belief, as in the Arian and Trinitarian controversies. The Holy Drunken Woman I would like to look at two stories. They confront us with paradox, and their themes are repeated in other stories from the desert) As the first story goes, on the feast 63.2 2004 Swan * Paradox in the Monastery of Abba Apollo, Abba Daniel went to the Upper Thebaid, visiting first the monastic community of men and then the monastic community of women. The community of three hundred women was called the Monastery of Abba Jeremiah, led by a "mother archimandrite.''2 In this story the women "violate" the tradition of not permitting men in their monastery in order to welcome a particularly venerated and beloved elder of the desert. In the tradition of desert hospitality, these monastic women welcome Abba Daniel and his companion into their monastery chapel and wash their feet. The women then bless themselves with the water used. Then they ask for a blessing and a word of teaching or exhortation. As the women seek a wise word from Abba Daniel--a common trait of desert stories--the scene shifts to an anonymous member of the women's monastery who remained away from the rest of the community. This anonymous nun believed to be drunk is asleep in the forecourt of the church, wearing clothing that is in shreds. Abba Daniel asks the mother archimandrite who this nun is, and he is told: "She's a drunk and we don't know what to do with her; we're afraid to take the responsibility of throwing her out of the monastery, and if we let her stay she demoralizes the sisters." 3 The community then redirects Abba Daniel to their refectory for a shared meal. Interestingly we are told that the women served the men simple vegetarian fare while they themselves ate well. When Abba Daniel inquires about this seeming disparity and violation of hospitality, the mother archimandrite responds: "You are a monk, and I served you a monk's food. Your disciple is a monk's disciple, and I served him a disciple's food. We, however, are novices, and we ate novices' food.''4 By example the women have exalted the venerable teacher by lowering themselves in an eccentric yet enticing paradox. Before leaving, Abba Daniel again concerns himself Review for Religious with the "drunken" nun, who was seen sleeping by the toilets. The men had been watching her. As the monastery retired for sleep, the woman rose and stood in a position of tearful supplication or prostrated herself in contrition. Whenever a nun came out to use the toilet, she would throw herself on the ground and snore. Abba Daniel calls the mother archimandrite, who joins him in observing this behavior. Realizing that the nun is merely feigning drunkenness and remembering her own mistreatment of her, the mother archimandrite confesses her own sin with deep conviction and contrition. When the "drunken" nun realizes that she has been discovered, she cleverly steals Abba Daniel's cowl and staff and disappears into the desert. The story concludes with Abba Daniel and the mother archimandrite declaring the "drunken" nun to be one of God's hidden servants. The woman rose and stood in a position of tearful supplication or prostrated herself in contrition. The Woman Who Feigned Madness From Palladius we learn of a women's monastery at Tabennisi in which a member feigned madness and demon possession.5 She was treated with contempt, and the other nuns avoided her company. This "mad" nun voluntarily worked at the most menial jobs in the kitchen. She wore a rag on her head while other members cropped their hair short and wore a cowl. She ate the scraps and leftovers only. She was never angry and never grumbled; she rarely spoke--all in the midst of being treated with contempt. She was insulted, cursed, and loathed by the other nuns. 63.2 2004 Swan ¯ Paradox in the Monastery An angel appears to Abba Piteroum, another venerated desert ascetic, inviting him to meet someone more holy then he, and a mere woman at that! The angel sends him to Tabennisi with a challenge: This woman is continually mistreated by her community and yet never takes her heart off God, while our venerable abba dwells in his cell yet wanders about the cities in his mind--a theme found throughout desert teachings, including the Sayings ofAmma Syncletica.6 For his angelic lesson, Abba Piteroum arrives at the women's monastery to see this holy woman, whom the nuns call "touched." She resists meeting him, but is physically forced into his presence. He immediately recognizes her as spiritually mature by an intuition of mind and heart. He falls at her feet seeking her blessing, and she responds by falling at his feet seeking his blessing, both vying to express their humility. The nuns are aghast. Abba Piteroum declares the touched nun to be the community's true spiritual mother. The nuns recognize the truth of his words and immediately begin to confess their mistreatment of this unknown amma and elder. Now elevated to "venerable," she cannot tolerate the place of honor and disappears from the community-- another common theme of the desert. The Paradox Most of us have experienced difficult people--in our congregations and monasteries, in our professional lives, in our faith communities and families. These are the people who know our buttons and hooks well. They have an innate ability to stir up our anger and impatience and frustration. These are the people who can make day-to-day living exasperating and an exercise in profound patience. Our inner reactions to these difficult people tell us more about ourselves than we care to admit. They gift us with all this opportunity for asceticism--and are Review for Religious usually quite unaware of it. While our history as religious seekers and as vowed religious includes eras of health-damaging fasts, hair shirts and nail beds, my Irish forebears standing for long periods in freezing cold water, and whips--these are all self-imposed ascetical practices of dubious value. These false ascetical practices betray our neo-Pelagian and neo- Jansenist hearts.7 Desert ascetics remind us that life hands us authentic asceticism: meetings, deadlines, "smallness" of income in the midst of aging, the ministrations that frail members call for, authority and obedience in tension in our individualistic culture, and difficult community members. Families have difficulty building and sustaining relationships in a culture that undermines those values and commitments. Desert ascetics sought to The desert tradition was intended to force the seeker to face self without distractions, illusions, or barriers. disappear, taking their wisdom with them. We know that the greater challenge is to build healthy communities and a healthy church. To us it seems the easier thing to disappear, to seek hiddenness. Yet the desert tradition was intended to force the seeker to face self without distractions, illusions, or barriers. Today's desert ascetics are, first and foremost, students of the desert and the spiritual difficulty encountered there. The desert teaches them self-knowledge and self-awareness. It teaches them to listen deeply and intensely. Daily they come to know a bit better who they are before God. While growing in awareness of who they are and who they are not, they detach themselves from reputation and any need to 63.2 2004 Swan ¯ Paradox in the Monastery defend themselves from those who may attack it. In the old and colorful stories, ascetics go beyond detachment from reputation to distancing themselves from others in order to live alone for God. We savor these stories because they invite us to multiple meanings, because they do not allow us a simplistic answer. Contemporary religious life recognizes--and painfully grows more aware of---fragile, disturbed, and disrupting members. Our call is to handle these troubling members wisely and compassionately, and at times firmly. We try to minimize the disruptions that wounded unruly members are capable of; we listen and ask ourselves what they are here to teach us. Often the stories we have retained and repeat pertain to the graced insights we have been given, the humor and lessons we have learned. Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann speaks of the capacity of the Psalms to move us from orientation, through disorientation, to a new position of re-orientationf We experience times of disequilibrium, yet when God is there with us beautiful psalms can be birthed. In many ways this experience occurred in the lives of the desert ascetics. They were thrust into disorientation by accepting the gospel and striving to follow its earnest call by living in the desert or monastery. After each new experience of reorientation, the desert ascetics would be thrust again into disorientation through continued ascetical practices that could bring them to ever closer union with God. This rhythm stripped the seekers of all that separated their truest selves from God. The nun who feigned madness and the holy "drunken" woman open up the paradox that troubled members, nonconforming members, and the mentally ill confront us with. These women speak to us of the paradox of ultimate detachment, of letting go of all that keeps us from an intense relationship with God and our truest selves. And they are paradoxes because their pursuit Review for Religious of interior freedom causes disruption for others. These women certainly speak to us of ways that God is found outside our concept of "normal." And yet these women of old both challenge and help us to provide pastoral care for our nonconformist members who struggle with the daily reality of living out their vowed commitment or are mentally ill. We anguish on behalf of troubled members around questions of ability and willingness to live the demands of our life calling. Careful discernment is demanded of us. Is this person confronting a systemic problem in the monastery or community? Is she a prophetic element? What does the fruit of her behavior tell us? These women remind us that our teachers and mentors may come in the form of Balaam's ass--or a holy "drunken" woman or a woman who feigns madness. Indeed our troubling members call forth the strength of compassion and steadfastness and vision in ways we did not ever foresee. Sometimes we discover our best selves-- and sometimes our worst self comes out. These stories clearly teach the paradox of who was actually troubled: the woman or the community? The holy "drunken" woman and the woman who feigned madness behaved in disturbing ways, but were revealed to have pure hearts intent on God, while others manifested conformity and even appropriate conduct (not always the same thing) but inwardly lacked something even to the point of behaving badly. We are presented with a paradox, with a teach-ing/ learning moment. Discernment is necessary. What appears as "bad" is shown to be "good." What is in us-- our purity of heart, or our lack of it--is exposed. We are presented with classic stories of the desert, stories that support the desert goal of apatheia. Apatheia is the interior state in which people no longer have to struggle against inordinate attachments. Through 63.2 2004 Swan ¯ Paradox in the Monastery The desert ascetics taught all to deliberately let go of whatever keeps us from the single-minded pursuit of God. profound interior freedom, they are not pulled hither and yon by various worldly, desires. Apatheia is a mature mindfulness, a sound sensitivity, and a keen attention to one's inner world and to the outer world in which one has been living. Apatheia is purity of heart. The desert ascetics taught all to deliberately let go of whatever keeps us from the single-minded pursuit of God: feelings and thoughts that bind us or others, cravings and addictions that diminish feelings of worth, and attachments to self-imposed perfectionism. The paradoxical questions are: Does my purity of heart support my fellow seekers' own interior journey? Is it inappropriate if my purity of heart disrupts your journey? How do we discern this together? Desert ascetics faced suffering with determination and courage. They understood that suffering often has roots in their own attachments to thoughts, attitudes, motives, relationships, and reputation. Suffering was the avenue towards freedom, and detachment the avenue towards maturity and humility. And yet there are innumerable stories from desert monastic communities--possibly Shenouteand the White Monastery being the most famous--where misbehavior and harshness were too common.9 Benedict of Nursia's own Rule reveals a monastic leader purified by the fire of members' unruly misbehavior and matured by his attempts to curb it. The "mad" nun and the "drunken" woman remind us that the pursuit of holiness is a lifelong journey. Review for Religious As in all good stories, we are not given easy answers to hard questions. Paradox lives on and calls for discernment. We need self-awareness in order to understand what power the stories have and why we repeat them in our dining rooms. The "mad" nun and the "drunken" woman confront us: Who are our teachers? From whom are we willing to learn? At whose feet do we sit to receive the wisdom of desert cell and monastery? Are we alert to unexpected opportunities to learn? What do we do when our presumptions, prejudices, and expectations are exposed and thwarted? How do we discern? With whom do we discern? Who are our wise elders? Notes l I am drawing from Tim Vivian, "Witness to Holiness: Abba Daniel of Scetis," Coptic Church Review 24, nos. 1 and 2 (Spring and Summer 2003): 2-52. See also L~on Clugnet, "Vie et R~cits de l'Abbd Daniel de Sc~t~," Revue de l'Orient Chr~tien 5 (1900): 67-70. See also Witness to Holiness: Abba Daniel of Scetis, ed. Tim Vivian (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, forthcoming). z Archimandrite is a term usually used only in the Orthodox and Coptic Christian traditions, referring to a leader of the monastery. 3 Vivian, "Wimess," p. 36. 4 Vivian, "Witness," p. 36. 5 Primarily I am using Palladius, Lausiac History, ed. and trans. Robert Meyer, Vol. 34 of Ancient Christian Writers series, ed. Johannes Quasten (New York: Newman Press, 1964), pp. 96-98. 6 Palladius, p. 97, and see The Life of Blessed Syncletica by Pseudo- Athanasius, ed. and trans. Elizabeth Bryson Bongie (Toronto: Peregrina Publishing, 1995). 7 Pelagius's name is given to the heresy that denies original sin and claims that human beings can choose the good on their own and thereby effect their own salvation. We see echoes of this in the posunodern North American and western European culture. Jansen's name is given to the heresy that human nature is so flawed by original sin that special grace is needed to follow Christ. His teachings around determinism are quite similar to Calvin's teachings on predestination. Jansenism was a rigorous and austere movement. I suggest that much of our perfectionist drive comes from the Jansenist influence on our culture. 63.2 2004 Swan * Paradox in the Monastery 8 See Walter Brueggemann, Praying the Psalms (Winona: St. Mary's Press, 1986). 9 See Susanna Elm, Virgins of God: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), and Rebecca Krawiec, Shenoute and the Women of the White Monastery: Egyptian Monasticism in Late Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001). They Who Sow in Tears. These are not hollow hours that the spirit spends in tortured wrestling with a loneliness trenchant and piercing. Even this ache that rends our subtlest calm beyond each day's regress with sharp-toothed gnawing at the being's core is heaven-sent, is calculate, is more than all our orisons, presaging joyous yield. This is the "sowing in tears" within His field. Agnes Margaret Humbert CDP (nursing home, age ninety-one) Review for Religious PATRICK SEAN MOFFETT Viewing Chapters as "Authoring" Our Congregations' Narratives ~hSU~S offers us his story. While walking the streets, lls, and lakesides of his homeland, he authored in Spirited word and action the initial chapters of the defin-ing narrative of Christianity. All eyes were on him in his hometown synagogue as he proclaimed that the words of Isaiah were being fulfilled in their hearing: "The Spirit of God has been given to me and has anointed me. God has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight" (Lk 4:18-19). Chapters have a unique function in the lives of reli-gious congregations and their members and in the wider church. They merit re-viewing and re-hearing from a number of vantage points. Here I present a perspective that emphasizes the storytelling nature of these eccle-sial events. Stories We Live By In the stories people tell about themselves, psychol-ogists find a manifestation of two great motivational forces: agency and communion.~ Agency refers to behav- Patdck Sean Moffett CFC writes again from Christian Brothers, Central Harlem; 74 West 124th Street; New York, N.Y. 10027. I.LJ~K.~'O"~ 63.2 2004 iors that individuals perceive as uniquely their own: I think, I feel, I do. Communion refers to people's percep-tions of relatedness, of belonging, of being integral mem-bers of a group that they experience as us or we. In chapter preparations, various "Emmaus Walks" have gained favor as ways of fostering shared discern-ment. They are making a reappearance, displacing a pre-vious decade's preference for evaluations and sorting exercises' designed to evoke an exchange on personality types or styles of human interaction. Gospel based and focusing on people's unique life journeys, Emmaus Walks facilitate personal narration. Participants are usually assigned a partner randomly. After a time of reflecting by oneself (perhaps on a given theme or a text of Scripture) or checking in on one's own current affect, the pair simply take a walk during which they express what is happening within them. These exchanges are sometimes followed by testimonies within small or large groups or by a period of shared silence and a concluding blessing or hymn. The Emmaus Walk serves as an example of the story-telling which begins anew with the announcement of a coming chapter and characterizes much of what happens throughout the time of chapter. Individual members are invited to reflect on the movement of the Spirit within their individual and. communal experiences and then to share their observations with their sisters or brothers in local, provincial, and eventually congregational contexts. "Time of chapter" is the full period extending from the first announcement through, the preparations, the prechapter gatherings, the formal opening, and the issue and voting sessions to the chapter's formal conclusion. Consecrated Life in a Time of Chapter "Why is this day different from every other day?" The child's question opening the Hebrew Passover ritual Review for Religious might be applied to the time of chapter. Consecrated life in the Christian tradition is nourished by daily atten-tion to the Spirit of Jesus working in and through the individual and the community. A call to chapter is an invitation to each and all of the members to engage in discernment that goes beyond the usual daily praxis. In personal reflection, in personal and communal prayer, in speaking and listening, the focus in the time of chap-ter is our unity within our brotherhood or sisterhood in Christ. Our individual stories are narrated within the communal story. We attend individually to movements of the Spirit that may be intended for the whole community. I attend within myself, within the community, and within the people we are called to serve. I willingly risk asking if there is something in our shared life that I am called at this time to affirm, to question, to challenge, or to propose. I risk accepting a call to prophesy, a call to speak to my brothers or sisters in the name of God. I listen with special attention to those who speak in ways that challenge me, that call me to deeper levels of relationship with them and with our God. I test the spir-its that are stirring among us. I listen with mind and heart, noting particularly what evokes strong signs of passion, dissonance, or consent. Collectively, the members of the congregation under-stand that a general chapter is a defining moment in the ongoing story of their institute. Canon law is quite explicit: In an institute the general chapter has supreme author-ity in accordance with the constitutions. It is to be composed in such a way that it represents the whole institute and becomes a true sign of its unity in char-ity. Its principal functions are to protect the patri-mony of the institute . . . and to foster appropriate renewal in accord with that patrimony. It also elects the supreme moderator, deals with matters of greater importance, and issues norms which all are bound to obey. (c. 631, §i) 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing Cbapt~ The New Testament offers what might be considered models of chapter. Stories within a Story The New Testament offers what might be considered models of chapter. Jesus gathers the disciples on the return from their first mission. They share stories marveling at all they had done and taught (Mk 6:30). Jesus chooses a committee consisting of Peter, James, and John to wit-ness the transfiguration. As Jesus approaches the time of his passion, he gathers the full group as friends at a meal in an upper room. He ritualizes his role among them as one who serves, and he enjoins them to follow his example. He speaks with great intimacy of his rela-tionship with his Father and with them, and of their incor-poration into his continuing story. He announces a new commandment revealing the defining characteristics of their agency and their commu-nion. "As I have loved you, you love one another. By this all will know that you are my disciples" On 13:3 4). Several postresurrection encounters are similar. Peace, self-reve-lation, and a shared mission are the recurrent themes. In the Acts of the Apostles, as the members of the early church confront issues of leadership, community management, and inclusiveness, there is a coming together to consider what is happening among them, to recall the story of tlieir mission, and to decide--"we and the Holy Spirit"--where to go from here. Religious hold as a treasure, but also as a memory of painful moments, the chapter stories of their congrega-tions- times of jubilee, special fervor, and renewal, but also of schisms, suppressions, and even denunciations of their founders. In the treasures of Franciscan lore, the gathering of the friars in 1217 at Pentecost continues to suggest Review for Religious images and hopes for new generations of the sons and daughters of the Poverello. He writes to those who were to gather, encouraging them to have a listening heart and to be "cleansed and enlightened interiorly and fired with the ardor of the Holy Spirit": Listen, then, sons of God and my friars, and give ear to my words. Give hearing with all your hearts, and obey the voice of the Son of God. Keep his com-mandments wholeheartedly, and practice his counsels with all your minds. Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; extol him in your works. This is the very rea-son he has sent you all over the world, so that by word and deed you may bear witness to his message and convince everyone that there is no other almighty God besides him. Almighty, eternal, just, and merciful God, grant us in our misery that we may do for your sake alone what we know you want us to do, and may always want what pleases you; so that, cleansed and enlightened interiorly and fired with the ardor of the Holy Spirit, we may be able to follow in the footsteps of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and so make our way to you, Most High, by your grace alone, who live and reign in perfect Trinity and simple Unity, and are glorified, God omnipotent, for ever and ever. Amen.2 In 1976 Eduardo Cardinal Pironio, in his role as pre-fect of the Sacred Congregation for Religious, offered a vision that anticipated many of the directions that chap-ters have taken during the past quarter century: A chapter is not a mere study meeting, a superficial gathering or a short-lived revision of life. A chapter is essentially a paschal celebration. For this reason it is above all a "penitential" celebration which aims at liv-ing two things deeply: a sincere attitude of conver-sion and a deep and painful search., for God's will in the present necessities of consecrated life. But, since it is a real paschal celebration, it is not just the penitential aspects that interest us in a chap-ter. It is the whole extent of paschal newness, a fresh- 63.2 2004 ness in the church and a good dose of pasc.hal opti-mism. If the chapter has been celebrated well, in poverty, prayer, and brotherly charity, it is a re-cre-ation of the institute, and its spiritual riches overflow upon the church and the world. Because of all this, the chapter is a salvific event, an ecclesial event, a family event. (L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 16 September 1976) For many congregations the "time of chapter" has become increasingly inclusive of individuals and groups with whom they are associated in life and ministry. Coworkers and those served are invited to share in many aspects of the chapter preparations and celebrations. They respond with helpful and often challenging insights, genuine affirmations, and earnest testimonies to possible applications of the congregation's charism. They clearly have a role in the story of the institute. As the chapter moves into its more formal role of supreme authority with respect to the congregation's members and its choice of leaders, the various associates join with the universal church in prayerfully awaiting, outside closed doors, the moment of a new Pentecost. The church, historically the chief beneficiary of these charismatic moments, is most attentive in protecting the members' rights and asserting their duty to discern among themselves the movement of the Spirit. J Planning the Chapter Groups engaged in chapter preparations, when asked what outcomes are most desired, readily speak of a greater unity--unity in who they are and what they are about in the name of the Lord. "By this they will know that you are my disciples." A steering committee approaches the design of a chapter with the guidelines of canon law and with the congregation's constitution, statutes, directives, and cus-toms, but also with aspects of the "Zeitgeist" or cultural Review for Religious climate of contemporary religious congregations. Resources, facilities, travel possibilities, witness, means of communication, inclusiveness, ministerial pressures, and solidarity are some of the issues that have evoked creativity and diversity in the conduct of chapters. The Spirit has been called on to adjust to a great variety of venues. Faith is supported by Jesus' promise that, wher-ever two or three are gathered in his name, he will be around for whatever will be happening. Canon law offers chapter planners two notes: § 1. Participatory and consultative bodies are faithfully to carry out the task entrusted to them, in accordance with the universal law and the institute's own law. In their own way they are to express the care and par-ticipation of all the members for the good of the whole institute or community. §2. In establishing and utilizing these means of participation and consultation, a wise discernment is to be observed, and the way in which they operate is to be in conformity with the character and purpose of the institute. (c. 633) The initial request for community members' sug-gestions about the chapter tends to elicit many concerns about content and process that go well beyond what a large gathering could address within the limited time available, and so standing or ad hoc committees are assigned the tasks of: ¯ sorting through the initial input, ¯ performing or commissioning the research necessary for a more thorough study of stated expectancies and issues, ¯ developing preliminary drafts of papers or pro-posals, and ¯ offering opportunities for the members to share an emerging story in a variety of ways. (Letters, emails, calls, community and intercommunity gather-ings, retreats, liturgies, and assemblies become part of an extended effort to incorporate into the "time of chap-ter" the experiences and issues that may not find space and time in the formal chapter gathering.) 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing Chapters A sacred history informs the narrative of our times. All recent retellings of the story of "consecrated life" make reference to defining characteristics articulated in the Vatican II Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life, Perfectae caritatis. Religious hear a call to be faithful as men and women of our times, as followers of Jesus and his gospel, as members of the people of God sharing the mission of the church in the world, and as religious gifted with the charism of our particular congregation? The specification of a "time of chapter" is an invita-tion for members of a congregation to become more intensely engaged in sharing stories about the action of the Spirit in our personal and communal lives. My sisters and brothers encourage me: ¯ to attend to revelation I am receiving for the group, ¯ to share that truth in love, ¯ to attend to the prophecy of my sisters and brothers, ¯ to explore the differences, and ¯ to seek in faith the light, the direction, and the leadership that will guide our shared lives and mission toward the next chapter. When the members of the congregation or their del-egates come together for the formal affairs sessions and elections, it is a time for refinement, affirmation, and actualization of a consensus that has been emerging dur-ing several months of prayerful discernment, prophetic sharing, thoughtful listening, and rearticulation of the group narrative. In the process it is the movement of the Spirit that matters. The concluding chapter sessions, in their distinct moments, are a point of arrival and a new departure. Having clarified a shared vision for the life and mission of the congregation over the next few years, the members select those who will have a leadership role in helping Review for Religious membership remain attentive to the Spirit as together-- membership, leadership, and Spirit--they author the beginning lines of a new chapter in the continuing story of the congregation. The Zeitgeist and Some Dangerous Ideas As men and women of their times, members of reli-gious congregations, especially those working at the mar-gins of society, have a special vantage point for observing the surrounding culture, but also the risk of being affected by it. Much of what once happened only at general chap-ters has become part of congregations' ongoing admin-istration. Instant communication, travel opportunities, greater exposure to global issues, international and inter-cultural exchange, shared ministries, and increased col-laboration with governmental and nongovernmental organizations have broadened our ministerial vision and reduced our corporate response time. In the process, congregations have been exposed to prevalent cultural influences; sometimes they have regressed in search of past glories and a lost sense of security. Marist Father Gerald Arbuckle sounds the alert for "Avoiding Cultural Seduction in General Chapters" (Human Development 23, no. 3, Fall 2002). Recent terrorist activity has heightened awareness and concern about what propels groups toward conflict. Researchers are examining belief systems that seem to be fueling intergroup hostilities. Psychologists Roy and Judy Eidelson, in a review of the growing body of liter-ature, have identified five belief domains particularly important for further study: superiority, injustice, vul-nerability, distrust, and helplessness.4 They suggest a consideration of what happens as these ideas are incor-porated into the self-definition of individuals and then of the group to which they belong. 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing Chapters Extraordinary times offer obstacles and opportuni-ties for evangelization. As in all instances of empathic ministerial response to hurt and evil, we are called to find within our own stories traces of what we seek to address. Our own sinful history attunes us to what makes Congregations sometimes have regressed in search of past glories and a lost sense of security. others particularly vulner-able to prevalent cultural influences, to what the Eidelsons call "dangerous ideas." Religious need not be suicide bombers or look beyond their own congre-gational experiences to have an initial insight into the dynamics of such ideas: "I and we are the superior ones. I and we have been the victims of injustice. I and we are particularly vulnerable. I and we cannot trust those who are not like us. I and we cannot do anything to change the situation." Significant insights become apparent in the telling of our stories. Chapters in an era of world conflict are called to attend afresh to the cry of the poor within and beyond the congregation. Those whose daily ministry affords them intimate interaction with the suffering Christ have stories that can lead to new life in the con-gregation. So can the stories of those who feel the dull pain of not having such opportunities. The challenge of chapter is that of evoking and attending to all these voices and recognizing the promised Spirit within them. From Our Stories to Our Story The current ages of those telling their stories can affect the themes that arise within the group. For exam-ple, a congregation that has numbers of older members and fewer young ones may find itself discussing genera- Revlew for Religious tivity (vs. stagnation) and integrity (vs. despair) and may be left with little time or energy for issues of identity, ministry, and intimacy, issues likely to concern the younger members. Accommodations may need to be made to assure that the group story will include the graces and struggles of all the members, not just the majority. Erik Erikson was in his eighties when he published a revision of his influential description of the life cycle. He focused on the way that personal identity, the "I," becomes ever more fully integrated into a "we." He said, "The sisterhoods and brotherhoods of the 'we' come to share a joined identity experienced as most real.''s A chap-ter needs to hear the congregation story as it is expressed anew in the lives of individuals and groups within the congregation. Not all the results will accommodate tran-scription onto paper or into electronic storage. Certain matters need to be transcribed. Constitutions and statutes govern the lives of the congregation's mem-bers. The approval process needs to be enlightened with all of the knowledge, wisdom, and grace available to those whose vote on specific matters will affect the future of all of their brothers or sisters. Records of valid voting procedures legitimate the transfer and continuity of lead-ership. Accounts and decisions concerning the patrimony of the congregation affect mission feasibilities and mem-bers' welfare, and they require skilled attention. All such matters are guided by canon law and by the law and cus-toms of the congregation. The experience of chapter, of specially shared broth-erhood or sisterhood and of the participants' careful pro-cedures and conscientious voting, is not easy to share with those who were not present. When words no longer adequately describe the lived reality of our being and doing, we struggle to find new words. We have a shared understanding of our collective story, about which words 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing ~hapten The experience of chapter is not easy to share with those who were not present. fail, but the story is accurate. We measure other stories against that one. We likewise have intuitions of ourselves and of one another. By such intuitions we know for our-selves and others what is individually appropriate or not. Some words could be mine but not yours, some clothing would be comfortable for you but not me. In music, art, recreation, and so forth, in some way all that we become engaged in carries our unique signatures. Our collective images are shared. We can identify what is Franciscan, Dominican, Jesuit, typically Christian Brother, Mercy, or CND. Every document that is "ours" will have to fit within the domain of this collective vision. No document will ever capture it fully. As most of us sur-vive quite well without a definitive autobiography, so too our congregations. While described in a plethora of his-torical documents, as long as the congregation lives in its members, the story remains "in process." On the mountain Peter offered to capture in a build-ing project the brilliant manifestation of Jesus with Moses and Elijah. John probably had in mind a first draft of the account he never needed to write. James? For cen-turies great numbers of pilgrims to Compostela in Spain have touched into stories of this apostle's own manifes-tations. They speak of conversion and special graces. Yet all we know with some degree of certainty is that this James earned the crown of martyrdom in Jerusalem early in the story of the infant church (Ac 12:1). The words of Jesus reported in the synoptic accounts of his transfiguration suggest that each of the chosen delegates took from the mountain something to be cher-ished unspoken until it was time to proclaim the Son of Review for Religious Man's resurrection. Their privileged vision was not of something that was to come, but rather of that which always is. Together they beheld for a moment the light of the one God in whom they live and breathe and have their being. Such are our chapter stories. Notes t Dan P. McAdams, The Stories We Live By (New York: Wm. Morrow and Company, 1993); David Bakan, The Duality of Human Existence: Isolation and Communion in Western Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966); P.S. Moffett, "Promoting Agency among Children and Adolescents at the Margins" (invited address, American Psychological Association), Journal of Pastoral Counseling 30 (1995). 2 Taken from The Writings of St. Francis of Assisi, trans. Benen Fahy OFM (London: Burns and Oates, 1964), pp. 104 and 108. 3 Perfectae caritatis, Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life; Instruction on Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Life as Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of the Apostolate, Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, 31 May 1983; lHta consecrata, apostolic exhortation of Pope John Paul II, 1996; Ytarting Afresh from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium, CICLSAL, 19 May 2002. 4 Roy J. Eidelson and Judy I. Eidelson, "Dangerous Ideas: Five Beliefs That Propel Groups toward Conflict," American Psychologist 58, no. 3 (March 2003). s Erik Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed (London: W.W. Norton and Co., 1982). May Drunk on the wild plum, heady with endless stretches of bluebells surrendered to the woods (such are spring's goods, not to sell, but to sate novice eyes so long accustomed to the late gray winter's moods); all, all is given from these places where you, 0 Trinity, hide your faces. Eileen Haugh OSF 63.2 2004 J. THOMAS HAMEL Our Lady's Presence in the Spiritual Exercises gnatian tradition The first mention of our Lady in the Spiritual Exercises is in the first exercise of the First Week. "Preamble 1. This is the composition, seeing the place., the material place where the object I want to contemplate is situated . By 'mate-rial place' I mean, for example, a temple or a mountain where Jesus Christ or our Lady is to be found, according to what I want to contem-plate." ~ Is it by chance that the two examples given are a temple and a mountain? Major events took place in the temple (finding the lost twelve-year-old there) and, twenty years later, at the mount called Olivet (Jesus' ascension)--and who can doubt that our Lady was among the disciples there? (Lk 24:50-53; Ac 1:12-14). As a young child Mary was presented in the temple accord-ing to legend, even as later she presented her newborn to the Lord (Lk 2:22). Temple and J. Thomas Hamel SJ does spiritual direction and lives at College of the Holy Cross; 1 College Street; Worcester, Massachusetts 01610. Review for Religious mountain bring to mind what scripture scholars have long noted, that Mary was the only human person pre-sent to Jesus' life from beginning to end. The same is eminently true of her presence in the Spiritual Exercises. The first contemplation of the first day of the Second Week, on the incarnation, not only embraces the sacred event itself, but even invites retreatants to speak to "the eternal Word [so altogether newly] incarnate" in Mary's womb (§109). All of a sudden her womb is sacred space, a living temple. On the same first day, the presence and activity of our Lady is highlighted in the three points on our Lord's birth (§264). The second point simply quotes St. Luke: "She bore her firstborn son and wrapped him in swad-dling clothes and laid him in a manger" (Lk 2:7). In the third point the angelic choir sings "Glory to God in the highest" for Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger. (Ignatius conveniently forgets that the angels sang to the shepherds.) Putting her Son in a manger is our Lady's way of presenting him to the world. We can assume that Ignatius thought of that, and that the thought included a loving gaze at Jesus' entire life, the Life of the world. So aware of Jesus' birth in utter poverty, Ignatius recalls the arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Ignatian contemplation is the exercise of being present first of all to details of some material things: the width of a road, its length, its smoothness or roughness, the width and depth of a cave, the size of a manger or trough, the height of a hill like Calvary. Imagined details about the route to Bethlehem invite us to be aware of the child pre-sent in Mary's womb on that long and arduous journey-- a prelude to journeys from Bethlehem to Egypt, and back to Galilee, later to the Jordan, to Samaritan territory, to Judea and Calvary. Jesus in the manger under his mother's care was the visible beginning of our finding our Savior 63.2 2004 Hamel ¯ Ou~ Lady's Pre~ence present everywhere in the world. Such is the way of the Holy Spirit at work in Ignatian contemplation. Our Lady's offering of her Son to the shepherds and to the world was a revelation, the source of Ignatius's own mysticism of apostolic gervice. Ignatian retreatants are invited to serve the needs of the mother, of Joseph, and the servant girl (§114) and, following the contem-plative gaze of Ignatius, are led on a journey that includes Christ carrying his cross to Calvary (§ 116). The mys-tery of the birth of Christ our Lord, or rather the mys-teries surrounding his birth, glow with something mystical. How else explain what Ignatius did when it was no longer possible for him and his first companions to go to the Holy Land? Thirteen months after his ordination to the priesthood, he celebrated his first Mass in the Church of St. Mary Major on 25 December 1538 at the altar of the manger in which Christ was said to have been placed. Once again Ignatius was reliving that sacred moment when our Lady placed her Son in the manger. Was the manger all along a kind of mystical manger which later prompted that long-standing desire of Ignatius that our Lady be pleased to place him with her Son? It is no sur-prise that her response was the mystical vision of La Storta in November 1537: He had resolved to remain a year, once he became a priest, without saying Mass, preparing himself and praying our Lady to be pleased to put him with her Son. And being one day

Issue 61.1 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; ,2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER'1 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faitlsful to God's universal call to tsoliness by making available to them the spiritual legades tbat flow from the cbarisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be consi~tered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. .for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisot7 Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Jame~ and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymohd Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hen,sell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeriti~ CSJ JANUARY FEBRUARY 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 1 contents 6 religious culture Teresa: Story Theologian and Transforzner of Culture Mary Frohlich HM provides a different lens for reading The Book of Her Foundations by Teresa of Avila in order to find some of Teresa's most profound teaching about the potential fruits of the contemplative life. 23 Instilling Christian/Religious Culture: Instinct and Connaturality Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR envisages a rationally planned and directed program for the transmission of the "subculture" of religious life and the "culture" of the Christian life to new entrants. 39 Conversion: A Summons from the Word of God 51 Kathleen McMpin RSM explores how the word of God comes to us through daily life experiences, calling us to an ongoing conversion that leads to mercy as justice. Seminary Formation and Lonergan's Conversion Theory Steve Wlusek uses Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions to illuminate personal development in seminary formation. Review for Religious 57 moral insight The Workers in the Vineyard: Insights for the Moral Life Patricia Ann Lamoureux and Paul Zilonka CP reflect on one Gospel parable as an example of how to develop moral theology in accordance with biblical vision. 70 Creative Response to Racism Mary Alice Chineworth OSP shares her experiences of racism within the religious-life context. adaptive prayer 75 Lectio Divina: A Means to Wholeness Mary Ren~e Nienaber SND reviews the six parts that make up the practice of lectio divina, which fosters a spiritual-life wholeness. 84 St. Albert's Method: 19th-Annotation Retreats at Parishes and Schools Hank Hilton SJ shares an adaptation of the retreat method according to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius for larger group settings in a parish or school situation. departments 4 Prisms 97 Canonical Counsel: Transfer 104 Book Reviews January-February 2002 prisms ¯ I .l.s we enter into the second year of this new millennium, the world presents us with a different face. The September 11, 2001, events that took place in the United States brought about a coop-erative stance of many of the world's nations against a terrorism grown to huge and horrendous proportions. Many agree in perceiving that terrorism breeds in behav-iors that denigrate others, in poverty that dehumanizes, and in politics that canonizes a status quo. Throughout history, there have been wars of religion, but today peo-ple question whether any war can be valued as religious or justified as just. No one could have suspected that the call which Pope John Paul II made only a year ago in his apostolic letter "At the Beginning of the New Millennium" would ring out with even greater challenge. The pope signaled our approach to this new age in the gospel words of Jesus "duc in altum," "put out into the deep" (Lk 5:4). He saw the new millennium as a vast ocean onto which the world's peoples were setting sail. We needed to hear God's call to set forth--fearlessly--because we often prefer to live with what is known, the past and the pre-sent. It is truly difficult, and sometimes fearful, to move into a future unknown and uncontrollable. Beyond our imagining, this is where we find ourselves as we begin the new year. John Paul II talked about a new face of Christ with which we refamiliarized ourselves as we entered into this Review for Religqous new millennium--a face that we had been contemplating in three preparatory years. When the pope had us focus on the face of Jesus in sorrow, we little realized that we would see that face in image after image during the final months of this past year. Where the pope turned our attention also to the face of Jesus who is risen, we found many weary faces of hope and help that became a part of our international drama. Beyond all our imaginings, we have been given a Pauline conversion moment in seeing Christ. This face arouses no fear, but rather leads us only to new ways of living, loving, and working. The pope challenged all Christians to be, and so to act as, "agents of communion." Being agents of communion is a necessary identity of being Christian in this age calling for a new evange-lizatiofi. The continuing public cooperation of many leaders of the various world religious traditions, especially Christian, Jewish, and Muslim, concretizes for us what an agent of communion attempts. Never have Jesus' directions about praying for our ene-mies and for those who do us wrong been writ so large and clear on the screen of our consciousness. Religious services, both in the public forum and in the neighborhood .church, have incarnated Jesus' injunction and continue to feed personal ways of praying. Humanitarian efforts to help the Afghan people in the midst of a wartime effort against their nation's ruling power are also an action of agents of communion. If images played out so vividly on the world stage call forth such prayer and action, we cannot fail to examine ourselves anew in our own little world of prayer and relationships. How does our prayer need to be enlarged beyond our narrow focusing on self, those dear to us, and our local concerns for well-being? What are the deeds we do that bring about a greater sense of community, of people working together, of a reaching out to the forgotten and neglected? Yes, the face of our world has changed, we say. But does this new face not give us the opportunity to see the face of Christ more clearly and to act, like Christ, as agents of communion? The Greek word kairos signified not ordinary measurement of time (chronos) but rather the special time of encounter with God. This kairos moment challenges us to set out fearlessly into the deep, "duc in altunl. " David L. Fleming SJ January-February 2002 MARY FROHLICH Teresa: Story Theologian and Transformer of Culture Even among fans of Teresa of Avila, comparatively few have read The Book of Her Foundations. Why has Foundations been comparatively neglected in relation to Teresa's other works? Probably because it has a rather different character. Although Teresa can never be accused of being a "systematic thinker," her other three books (the Book of Her Life, the Way of Perfection, and the Interior Castle) offer more or less organic overviews of contemplative life and development. If one looks for the same in the Foundations, one is likely at first to be disappointed. Here, however, I will pro-pose that, by reading with a different lens, we may find in this book some of Teresa's most profound teaching about the potential fruits of the contempla-tive life. ¯ Through the lens I experiment with here, Teresa can be seen as what Terrence Tilley calls a "story the-ologian." In 1972, when Teresa was named one of the first two female doctors of the church, the question arose how someone who was clearly not a systematic theologian, but rather an image-smith and a story- Mary Frohlich HM is associate professor of spirituality at Chicago Theological Union; 5401 South Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615. Review for Religi'ous teller, could attain this title. Since that time, awareness has grown that, in fact, stories and images are at the grass roots of all the theology that has ever been created and communicated. The example par excellence of "story theology" is the Bible. In his book Story Theology, Tilley proposes that theology in this genre has three major tasks: (1) to tell new and flesh stories which show a new era what the key Christian words mean, (2) to transform creatively the narratives handed down by tradi-tion, and (3) to proclaim and manifest the Good News in a way that speaks to and transforms the heart of a culture) In this article I explore Teresa's Foundations as an example of story the-ology that has a remarkable capacity to transform the heart of her culture and, as a classic, all cultures. The Text and Its Context The thirty-one chapters of the Foundations recount, in vary-ing degrees of detail, the circumstances and efforts pertaining to the founding of seventeen Discalced Carmelite monasteries. The text consists mainly of stories--some humorous, some poignant, some edifying, some pretty incredible--interspersed with shorter or longer asides of sage advice for her nuns and especially for her prioresses. Other features include several hagiographical accounts of the remarkable lives and deeds of individual nuns, friars, and benefactors and, of course, a good deal of autobiographical information about Teresa's attractions, friendships, physical sufferings, and moods. In short, the Foundations is decidedly not an organic presentation of spiritual principles, but rather more of a "down and dirty" chronicle of what happens when one tries to do God's work in this raucous and resistant "real world" in which we live. And that, I think, is why at this time in my life I am so strongly drawn to the Foundations. It is certainly not because I am any less interested in the interior life, but because I am now even more interested in what difference it makes. By that I do not mean taking a utilitarian approach to prayer, as if it has no value unless one can immediately see its fruits. I mean something more like what Teresa says at the end of the Interior Castle (VII.4.6): "This is the reason for prayer, my daughters, the pur-pose of this spiritual marriage: the birth always of good works, January-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian The Foundations is the "first fruit" (literarily speaking) of Teresa's spiritual marriage. good works." In the Foundations we see what that statement meant, concretely, in Teresa's own life. Like the apostles in Acts, Teresa in the Foundations is a woman of mission, sent forth into the hurly-burly of the real world to Fooperate with the Holy Spirit in the construction of multiple "dwelling places of God," places that are not only interior but also physical and social and political, places in which deep interiority can find a home and can continue to be propagated far and wide. In view of this, it is helpful to note where the writing of the Foundations occurred in Teresa's life. Teresa was forty-seven years old when, in 1562, she made her first Discalced founda-tion at St. Joseph's in Avila. Over the next four years, she wrote her Life and the Way of Perfection and ¯ then began the whirlwind of founding activity that would continue until the end of her life. Nine new Discalced monasteries had already been established by the time Teresa received the grace of spiritual marriage on 18 November 1572 at age fifty-seven. It was about nine months after this breakthrough spiritual event that she began to write The Book of Her Foundations. Work on this text con-tinued intermittently until November 1576, by which time she had completed twenty-seven chapters and made four more foundations. Between June 1577 and November, right in the midst of one of the most intense periods of squabbling and harassment related to her reforming activity, she wrote the entire text of the Interior Castle. Finally, between 1580 and 1582, she made four more foundations and added their stories to the text of the Foundations. Chapter 31 and the epilogue were completed only a few months before her death on 4 October 1582 at age sixty-seven. Two things are interesting to note here. One is that this book, the Foundations, is the "first fruit" (literarily speaking) of Teresa's spiritual marriage. The other is that the first and last parts of the Foundations form a kind of sandwich around the Interior Castle. These two books are closely related to each other. Together--not separately--they are the fully developed fruit of -o°-j Teresa's human and spiritual maturity. And so, before delving Review for Religqous more deeply into the Foundations, let us review what Teresa says about the spiritual marriage in the Interior Castle. Spiritual Marriage: At One with God, Sell and World In the Seventh Dwelling Places of the Interior Castle, Teresa teaches that the soul that receives the culminating grace of the spiritual marriage is brought fully into its own center, where God alone dwells. Like a river that has flowed into the ocean, the soul now is completely and unchangeably at one with God. This differs from earlier stages of union and rapture in that here the faculties are not lost. That is, one retains the ability to understand what is happening and to carry on external activities even while in this form of union. This latter is especially impor-tant: Teresa repeatedly emphasizes that the purpose of the spir-itual marriage is not rest and delight, but to be joined to the sufferings of Christ and to spend oneself on behalf of souls. She describes the typical condition of such a person as consisting of deep interior peace while enduring extremes of exterior per-secution, struggle, and hard work for the sake of the gospel. When we put the stories told in the Foundations next to this, Teresa's astute but rather decontextualized description of spir-itual marriage takes on life. The stories reveal to us how Teresa's transformed interior self was united not only with God, but also in a transformative way with the physical, social, cultural, and ecclesial world in which she lived. In other words, the stories both depict and enact the way persons in spiritual marriage gain the capacity to transform their cultural world at its heart. Most obviously, the stories about Teresa herself depict a union of the divine and human, played out in this feisty, witty, and indomitable woman's adventures in living her gospel mission amidst the gritty reality of business affairs, human squabbles, stress, and struggle that looks a lot like what we all deal with in our day-to-day lives. But it is in Teresa's minibiographies of holy Christians--most of them women--that she expresses most fascinatingly for the heart of her culture the explosive truth of the gospel. It is by a deep reading of these stories that we may begin to get a glimpse of what it means to call Teresa a "story theologian and transformer of culture." January-February 2002 Froblicls ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian A "Little Story": The Testimony of a Female Infant Let us listen, then, to Teresa's stoW about Dofia Teresa de Layz, founding benefactress of the monastery at Mba de Tormes. As the fifth daughter of parents who desperately wanted a son, she was such a disappointment to them that--although they took care to have her baptized at once--they left her alone all day "as if she mattered little to them." The stoW continues: When at nightfall a woman came who was taking care of the baby and found out what was going on, she has-tened to see if the child was dead . Weeping, the woman took the baby into her arms and, complaining of the cruelty, said: "How is it, my daughter, are you not a Christian?" The baby girl lifted her head and answered, "Yes, I am," and spoke no more until reach-ing that age at which all children begin to speak. (20.4)2 At first glance we may find this story a bit. incredible. It is what Alex Garcfa-Rivera, in his recent book about the mulatto saint Martin de Porres, calls a "little story.''3 While "big stories" aim to speak universal truth and are acclaimed by those belonging to dominant cultures, "little stories" like this give the appearance of just being naive or superstitious tales aimed at the poor and uneducated. For example, many "little stories" about St. Martin de Porres tell of the saint healing animals and speaking with them as if they were human persons. Garcfa-Rivera shows how, despite their lowly appearance, "little stories" like those may actually convey potent gospel messages of the reversal of values. In a culture where those (such as Martin) with Indian or African blood were regarded as "like animals," the stories of him treat-ing animals "like humans" imaged a shocking upending of all-too- common assumptions. Garcfa-Rivera shows how in such popular "little stories" marginalized people not only express their conflicted position within cultural and religious systems of power, but also challenge and reinterpret those systems within a faith context. Tellers of "little stories" are ci'eatively working out painful personal struggles for meaning and identity and at the same time are offering their culture something new and potentially transformative.4 In view of this, there may be a lot more being conveyed by Teresa's "little stow" of the abandoned infant who speaks up Review for Religious for herself than we would see with only a superficial reading. Teresa is graphically expressing what was probably the most painful fact affecting her own struggle for meaning and identity, namely, the extreme devaluing of the female sex within the Spanish culture of that time. This poignant story of child aban-donment impresses readers with the death-dealing consequences of that devaluation more than any bare assertion ever could. There is more, however, in this story. The newborn female child miraculously speaks, testifying that she is a Christian. Teresa expresses deep irony here, for within the cultural mentality of the time it was as incredible for any female to speak in the name of the gospel as it would be if a newborn infant spoke intelligibly. Thus, through her "little story," Teresa artfully but quite potently affirms women's God-given vocation to proclaim the gospel. In fact, she is claiming that females and others who are cultur-ally regarded as valueless may be even more gifted by God than those who have been accorded an approved voice.5 Tellers of "'little stories" are offering their culture something new and potentially transformative. The Challenges of Teresa's World The stow, then, indirectly but powerfully presents a gospel perspective on the sociocultural and historical situation in which Teresa found herself.6 Let us review the characteristics of that situation and the very serious risks it posed for Teresa and her mission. Throughout the 16th century the Spanish Roman Catholic hierarchy was becoming increasingly rigid and con-trolling towards a series of perceived thi'eats to its authority. The first perceived threat was that of "judaizing" tendencies among those whose ancestors had been forced to convert from Judaism to Catholicism in 1492. Teresa came from such a con-verso family, a fact she always had to conceal, but which was probably known or suspected by many of her contemporaries. In this milieu those with Jewish blood were always considered sus-pect, regardless of their personal belief and behavior. Teresa, January-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian The pain that led to Teresa's transformative storytelling was the spiritual anguish of one with a soul-hunger for God. therefore, was deeply sensitive to all forms of marginalization. The story of the child unwanted by people but gifted by God is about women, but it is. also a basic gospel message applicable to all who are devalued in human eyes. The second perceived threat of that era was the so-called "Lutherans," a category that expanded to include anyone who appeared to express any lack of respect for the pope, the priesthood, or the sacraments. It is noteworthy that, in the story of the infant Teresa de Layz, Teresa makes a point of saying that she was baptized, thereby depicting the child's amazing testi-mony not as a random outbreak of the supernatural, but asthe miraculous fruit of sacramental initiation. This is an important nuance, and typical of Teresa's careful balance in relation to the concerns of her environment. The third perceived threat of the time was a growing wave of illuminists or alumbrados, who claimed special spiritual author-ity on the basis of their mystical experiences and visions. Many of the alumbrados who were prosecuted by the inquisition were women; in the mentality in Spain at the time, women's assumed inferior intelligence made them particularly susceptible to being seduced by the devil. This pr6blem was exacerbated by the Index of 1559, which made most Spanish-language books on prayer and spirituality unavailable and thus prevented women--very few of whom were trained in Latin--from having access to the technical vocabulary and the theology of the spiritual life. Thus, throughout her life but espe.cially during the peak period of her activities of founding and writing, Teresa faced a huge personal and political challenge. Her culture insisted that no mujercita or "little woman"--particularly one of converso back-ground-- should be teaching others about the spiritual life, let alone doing so on the authority of her own spiritual experiences. In view of this, the.seemingly innocent "little story" of the baby Teresa de Layz speaks volumes to those who can read between Review for Religious the lines. Far from being merely a cute and improbable anec-dote suited to the low intellectual capacities of the mujercitas, it is a subtle and explosive parable aimed directly at the very heart of the antigospel forces that impinged upon Teresa's vocation to live out the full effects of her spiritual marriage. What Fueled Teresa's Imagination? In the story of Teresa de Layz, we see Teresa doing exactly what Terrence Tilley describes as the mandate of "story theol-ogy," namely, creatively telling the gospel story for her own culture. But where did Teresa's creative genius as a "story theologian" come from? Elaine Scarry's book The Body in Pain proposes that the basic motivator of creative imagination is pain? A simple, everyday example is the pinch of hunger, which moves us to creatively find a way around any obstacle that is preventing us from getting food. Several recent feminist inter-preters have taken a similar perspective on Teresa, proposing that her creative activity as writer and foundress was primarily a way of subverting the painful limitations imposed on her by her status as a woman in a repressive patriarchal milieu.8 There is an important element of truth here, yet it only goes halfway. The pain that led to Teresa's transformative sto-rytelling was not only social and cultural; it was the spiritual anguish of one with a soul-hunger for God. Above all, Teresa felt herself called to pursue the life of mystical union in its fullness, and to cooperate with God in creating the best possible condi-tions and guidance for others to do the same.9 Yet, as we have seen, there were many serious cultural obstacles to her doing this. She contended, then, with two sources of pain: both the interior rending that resulted from her hurtling into God and the exterior conflict stirred up by her determined efforts to live out her call to be a woman of God, a preacher of the gospel, and a foundress. Let us look at another story to see bow Teresa wrestled creatively and imaginatively with these inner and outer conflicts. "Uppity Women": Catalina Godlnez and Teresa This is Teresa's account of the sudden conversion of Catalina ~1~3~ .~anuary-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian Godfnez, founding benefactress and one of the first to enter the monastery at Beas: [Catalina] had been thinking of a marriage that was being sought for her, which was better than she could have hoped for, and saying to herself: "With what lit-tle my father is content, that I.become connected with an entailed estate; I am thinking of becoming the ori-gin of a new line of descendants." She was not inclined toward marriage, for she considered it demeaning to be subject to someone; nor did she know where this pride came from . The moment she read the inscription [on a nearby crucifix], it seemed to her that, just as sunshine enters a dark room, a light came into her soul by which she understood the truth . Thus she began to despise herself, to have .great desires for penance, which after-ward she put into effect. She at once promised chastity and poverty and wanted to see herself so subject that she would have rejoiced to be carried off then to the land of the Moors and remain there. All of these virtues lasted in her, so that the experience was clearly seen to be a supernatural favor from our Lord. (22.5-6) The story continues on for many pages, recounting an uproar of demons disturbed by Catalina's conversion, then her conflicts with her parents, who refused to give her permission to become a nun, her extreme penances and illnesses, and finally her dra-matic challenge to her relatives and to God that, if she were healed by a certain day, she should be permitted to become a nun. Sure enough, on the appointed day she rose from her bed, ready to assist Teresa in founding the monastery of Beas. Some feminist interpreters have pointed out the fascinat-ing tension he?e between Teresa's delight in portraying Catalina's feisty statement of her desire to "found her own lineage" and not to be subject to anyone and her equal delight in portraying Catalina's conversion to fervent desire for suffering and sub-jection. The dramatic tension between willfulness and obedi-ence continues to play out in the story as Catalina steadfastly refuses to be subject to the wishes of her parents or relatives and then endures years of extreme physical suffering while stub-bornly holding out for fulfillment of her personal vision. It is a Review for Relig4ous great story in itself, and it is a prime illustration of a tension, at the heart of Teresa's story theology, between her culturally sub-versive claim for female authority and her acceptance of abso-lute obedience to God. In the eyes of her culture, Catalina Godfnez was, like Teresa, an "uppity woman." When Catalina dares to say in so many words that she wanted to "found her own lineage" and be sub-ject to no one, one can hardly help hearing Teresa behind her saying, "And look at me! In making these foundations I am actually doing it! I am founding my own female lineage!" Yet, in the next few lines, Teresa successfully dissociates her-self from the "pride" of such a statement as she affirms that God has supernaturally transformed Catalina so that she now desires to be subject to everyone and to be humiliated with Christ cruci-fied. It is as if Teresa is saying, "This is the way my new female lineage will be founded: not in pride, but in humble union with God." While some feminist interpreters have presumed that Teresa's frequent protestations of humility and obedience are largely a smokescreen thrown up to obscure her real goals of female power, my interpretation would be that her commitment to humility and obedience in relation to God was indeed radi-cal. For example, at the heart of all Teresa's stories about her founding activities is the conviction that God is the real founder. She repeatedly says things like "I want our Lord to make known to everyone how in these foundations we creatures have done next to nothing. The Lord directed all by means of such lowly beginnings that only His Majesty could have raised the work to what it now is" (13.7). Although her words about doing "next to nothing" are somewhat hyperbolic, her core conviction is clear: both the initiative and the ultimate success of her found-ing activity come from God. Indeed, it is exactly because she believed her commission for this work came from God that she was willing and able to take such great risks on behalf of estab- At the heart of all Teresa's stories about her founding activities is the conviction that God is the real founder. January-Februa~y 2002 Froblicb * Teresa: Story Theologian lishing the authority and lineage of women. Radical Obedience and the Lineage of Women The next story is one example of these linked commitments to radical obedience and to the spiritual lineage of holy women. In chapter 28 she recounts at great length the story of Dofia Catalina de Cardona,who left her life among the nobility for a hermitage, where she wore coarse cloth, ate only every third day, took the discipline with a heavy chain, and practiced many other harsh austerities and virtuous acts. Later on she suffered greatly in order to found the Discalced friars' monastery at Pastrana. One day Teresa, after Commu'nion in the church there (which was on the site of Dofia Catalina's original hei'mitage), experienced a "suspension." She states: In this suspension, through an intellectual vision, this holy woman appeared in a glorified body and some angels with her. She told me not to grow weary, but that I should strive to go ahead with these foundations. I understood, although she did not indicate this, that she was helping me before God. She also told me something else, but there is no reason to put it here in writing. I was left very much consoled and with a great desire to work hard, and I hope in the goodness of the Lord that with help as good as these prayers of hers I will be able to serve Him in some way. (28.36) In this story Teresa not only explicitly claims the patronage of a holy female spiritual ancestor in her work of founding, but also implicitly affirms what Gillian Ahlgren calls the "visionary epis-temology" that, for at least four centuries before Teresa's time, had been the primary path to spiritual empowerment for women,l° A visionary epistemology asserts that real knowledge of God and real wisdom in relation to the world are conveyed through visionary experience. Throughout the Middle Ages, when women were systematically denied access to theological education and to positions of ecclesial power, the main route by which women could gain religious status and voice was by claim-ing to have visions or locutions in which God communicated directly with them. This was always a dangerous path, subject to suspicion and curtailment from powers that felt threatened. But Review for Religious in Teresa's time it was even more dangerous because of the inten-sive inquisitorial campaign that was being waged against the alumbrados, who claimed special religious experiences. It is quite remarkable that Teresa and her claims to special knowledge through visions not only survived in this atmosphere, but actu-ally thrived. To see how she did it, let us look again at her account of her vision of Dofia Catalina de Cardona. Teresa states, first, that the vision took place immediately after Communion, thus affirming an intrinsic connection between her experience and the church's sacraments. She states, second, that it was an intellectual vision, not an imaginative or bodily one. Although all visions were suspect, those involving less of the sensual component were slightly less so. Over time Teresa became increasingly adept at making this kind of tech-nical distinction, helping to allay the fears of her learned cen-sors. Third, her main emphasis in this story is on the good effects of the vision: it encourages her to dedicate herself even more firmly to serving God and building up the church through making monastic foundations. Gillian Ahlgren notes that, while in her earlier writings Teresa lingers longer over the experien-tial aspects of her visions, in later writings she focuses much more on how to discern their authenticity; and her key test was usually to note their effects)1 Thus we see in this story, written very near the end of Teresa's life, the masterful way in which she tiptoes through the minefields of criticism that could easily have doomed her and her projects. And once again we see how she manages to accom-plish two seemingly contradictory goals at once: reaffirming her humility and obedience to the purposes of God and the church and presenting herself as a uniquely favored female apos-tle and heir to a powerful female spiritual lineage. Troubling and Transforming the Status Quo With hindsight we kntw that, despite her radical and auda-cious vision, Teresa not only succeeded in her life's mission but even became a canonized saint and a doctor of the church. Yet, as the Foundations makes abundantly clear, Teresa's founding activities faced formidable obstacles and often stirred up intense opposition. There is high drama in the stories of Teresa push- January-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian ing indomitably forward while bishops and religious superiors balk, wealthy people or town councils demand conditions she cannot accept, the owners of desired houses refuse to negotiate or their tenants refuse to vacate the premises, nuns and friars lose heart or get into squabbles with one another, and even the weather, the roads, and her aging body seem increasingly to conspire against her. In all this, Teresa usually attributes any form of suffering or resistance to the devil's opposition to her "good works." But, as Alex Garcfa-Rivera notes in relation to St. Martin de Porres, stories about troublesome demons always seem to appear exactly at the place where the symbols most cherished by cult-oral and political powers are being challenged. In Teresa's case, as we have seen, both her activity of founding and her written works artfully contested some of the key assumptions of the cultural and ecclesial status quo: namely, that women cannot teach or lead, that knowledge of God must come in an institutionally approved package, and that money, pedigree, and "pure blood" are the determinants of honor. It seems that in her spiritual marriage Teresa's ability to speak troublesomely and transfor-matively to the very heart of her culture came to fullness. "Water for All Our Needs" As a way of summing up the gist of the perspective pre-sented here--and, more importantly, of Teresa's key spiritual insights--let us listen to one more "little story" from the Foundations. Teresa recounts what transpired when, in the newly founded monastery at Medina del Campo, the nuns suffered from lack of good water: When I called some workmen to dig a new [well], they laughed at me as though I were wanting to throw money away. I asked the sisters what they thought. One said that it should be tried, that since our Lord would have to provide someone to bring us water as well as food, it would be cheap.er for His Majesty to give us the well on the grounds of the house and that thus He would not fail to do so. Observing the great faith and determination with which she said it, I became certain. And, contrary to the opinion of the Review for Religious one who understood all about founts and water, I went ahead. And the Lord was pleased that we were able to put in a conduit which provided enough water for our needs, and for drinking, and which we now have. (1.4) Once again, we see the mujercitas, the foolish little women who have nothing but their faith, being justified over those who sup-posedly "understood all about founts and water." But there may be more in this "little story," particularly when we recall the importance of the imagery of water, wells, and founts in each of Teresa's major books.~3 Given my original premise that the Foundations needs to be interpreted as a sort of"first fruit" of Teresa's spiritual marriage and as having a special relation to the Interior Castle, around which it forms a sandwich, I think we need to place Teresa's "little story" of the well next to this text from the Seventh Dwelling Places: For from these divine breasts where it seems God is always sustaining the soul there flow streams of milk bringing comfort to all the people of the castle. It seems the Lord desires that in some manner these oth-ers in the castle may enjoy the great deal the soul is enjoying and that from that full-flowing river, where this tiny fount is swallowed .up, a spurt of that water will sometimes be directed toward the sustenance of those who in corporeal things must serve these two who are wed . For just.as a great gush of water could not reach us if it didn't have a source, as I have said, so it is understood clearly that there is Someone in the interior depths who shoots these arrows and gives life to this life. (VII.2.6)14 This text from the Interior Castle is clearly talking about the mystical life. Teresa mixes several biblical images with long his-tories of use by mystical writers, such as the "divine breasts," "streams of milk," and "arrows." But Teresa's central image for the welling up of God's lif( in our interior depths is, as usual, water. Here she proclaims that the water of mystical union does not simply remain in the center of the soul, but gushes abun-dantly outward to sustain, enrich, and heal the whole bodily and psychological person. Yet I believe we can take the image one step further, especially if we understand the human person as an intrinsically relational and social being. After all, it is only January-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian a few pages further on that Teresa makes her well-known affir-mation that the purpose of the spiritual marriage is not simply to rest in delightful interiority, but to share those riches with others through "good works." The "little stow" of the well at Medina del Campo is a very concrete, down-to-earth vignette of how the life of mystical union which it is Teresa's mission to promote bears fruit. Here it is physical water that gushes up because of the nuns' faith, providing abundantly for their bod-ily needs. The "spiritual marriage" is complete: divine and human, mystical and physical, are at one. Yet this reading of the Foundations suggests that the outflow of the spiritual marriage goes even further. The nuns' miracu-lous well is also a public testimony to the presence and activity of God in those whom society regards as mere mujercitas, foolish little women. The water of God that gushes up in the spiritual marriage works to sustain, heal, and transform not only the indi-vidual person, but her whole social and cultural world as well. For a perspective on this that is from a completely different tradition, yet is remarkably consonant with Teresa's spiritual insight, listen to this poetic text fromthe Chinese Tao-te- Ching:ts The highest motive is to be like water. Water is essential to all living things, yet it demands no pay or recognition. Rather it flows humbly to the lowest level. Nothing is weaker than water, yet, for overcoming what is hard and strong, nothing surpasses it. It seems that in The Book of Her Foundations Teresa teaches, through her consummate "stoW theology," that the gift of union with God in the ~piritual marriage indeed makes a person like water. Such a person flows humbly to the lowest level and is rad-ically obedient to the direction of her own and others' thirst for God. In this way she unites herself intimately with the heart of her culture and can ov4rcome that in it which is hard and strong. Notes Terrence W. Tilley, StoO, Tbeolog~ (V~lmington: Michael Glazier, 1985), pp. 11-16. All quotations from the Foundations are from The Collected Works Review for Religious of St. Teresa ofAvila, Vol. 3, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriguez (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1985). 3 Alex Garcfa-Rivera, St. Ma~-tin de Porres: The "Little Stories" and the Semiotics of Culture (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995). 4 As several commentators have noted, Teresa's style of rhetoric is "women's language"; that is, not only is it the vernacular instead of Latin, but it is conversational, imagistic, elliptical, and aimed at the general populace rather than an elite. See, for example, Elias R. Rivers, "The Vernacular Mind of St. Teresa," Carmelite Studies 3 (1984). In recent years feminist analyses have revealed how this "women's lan-guage" is far more sophisticated than it first appears; it often functions as a sort of "Trojan horse" strategy that lets Teresa speak in places and ways that would otherwise be closed to her. See especially Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), and Carole Slade, St. Teresa of Avila: Author of a Heroic Life (Berkel.ey: University of California Press, 1995). s See Antonio P~rez-Romero, Subversion and Liberation in the Writings of St. Teresa of Avila (Atlanta: Rodopi, 1996). 6 For an overview of these trends, see Te6fanes Egido, "The HistoriCal Setting of St. Teresa's Life," trans. S. Payne and M. Dodd, Carmelite Studies 1 (1980); also Gillian Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics of Sanctity (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), especially chap. 1. 7 Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Maki~zg and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985). 8 See Weber, Slade, Ahlgren, and P~rez-Romero. 9 Among the above commentators, Ahlgren and P~rez-Romero offer an interpretation of Teresa's motives that is similar to my own. 10 Ahlgren, chap. 7. On the tradition of women visionaries, see Elizabeth Alvilda Petroff, Medieval Women's Visionary Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). 1, See Ahlgren, especially p. 10 I, for discussion of Teresa's devel-oping theology in relation to visions. ,2 Garcfa-Rivera, p. 36. ,3 In the Life, chaps. 11-22, she wrote of the "Four Waters," and in the Way, chaps. 19-21, of the "fount of living water." In the Interior Castle the same imagery appears, most prominently in the First, Fourth and Seventh Dwelling Places. 14 The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, Vol. 2 (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1980). ,s Having been given this quotation on a prayer card, I consulted several English versions of the Tao-te-Ching without being able to locate this specific translation. I was able to determine, however, that .~anuary-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian the first half of the quotation comes from poem 8 and the second half from poem 78. The Beast of Contemplation I walked past someflattened grass behind the house this morning, where an animal had lain in the night, touching a mystery by touching the fringe of the turf where something wild had passed and paused and passed again. What did the animal lying in that place think (or not think) in the otherness of its sojourn there? I ask this, even as I know the wild creature lying behind the house to be none other than myself. This, after all, is the patch of grass where I sprawl under the stars each night, sometimes lost in contemplation, other times in sleep. Them is an animal of God that makes its lair in me, some distance, often,from my mind. It comes as stranger, glimpsed in a vestige of presence, a pressed-smooth swath ofunmowed lawn. I marvel at the wildness of this elusive beast, leaving only the bay of its body at the place where God has passed and paused and passed again. Belden C. Lane Review for Religious NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Instilling Christian/ Religious Culture: Instinct and Connaturality At on the Internet, there is a link to Chimpanzee Cultures Website. Accustomed to speaking of culture as a human creation, one wonders how it might apply to the animal world. In fact, given that there are certain characteristics common to an entire species in the ani-mal world and that there are variants identifiable within the species, there is some evidence that one animal's "discovery" can gradually spread to other animals of the same species) The key words here--common, variants, spread--contain concepts to consider in discussing culture in human societies. The pre-sent article will use those concepts in looking at the culture of religious life. Religious or consecrated life has not been of a single mold through history. Common to it always and everywhere is the following of Christ in accord with one's baptismal commitment. Variants include hermit life and common life, enclosed monas-tic life and mendicant life, institutes of apostolic life and secu-lar institutes. Religious life that sprang up in one set of circumstances has often spread to other circumstances, and today religious life cannot hold itself entirely aloof from the many rapid changes occurring differently all over the world. Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR wrote for us twice in 1999. His address is 454/9 Piachaud Gardens; Peradeniya Road; 20000 Kandy; Sri Lanka. ~-2~ --- 2- January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture The present article makes two proposals. First, if there is transmission of a common way of life all through a group and if innovations can be spread within a given species in the animal world, one can envisage a rationally planned and directed pro-gram for transmitting to new entrants the culture of the Christian life and the subculture of religious life. Second, I pro-pose certain "settings" where new entrants might be placed, where their religious instinct and sense of connaturality could be fostered. How Transmit Culture? Culture can be considered as the behaviors, skills, and knowl-edge that you acquire from and share with others of your species, but that differ from the way of life lived by members of your species elsewhere. This culture is neither acquired genetically nor compelled by the environment, but neither can it be taught-- it has to be caught. In odaer words, there is a memory (one could call it "institutional memory") that the older generation of a species embodies and carries. In associating with that genera-tion and experiencing various of its devices, the younger gener-ation comes to share in the culture. These younger members do so not by compulsion, but because that way of doing things is "connatural" to them. They do it because they want to do it. John Henry Newman (1801-1890) suggested "that our most natural mode of reasoning is, not from propositions to propo-sitions, but from things to things, from concrete to concrete, from wholes to wholes.''2 He says that, as regards "the great fun-damental truths of religion, natural and revealed, and as regards the mass of religious men, these truths, doubdess, may be proved and defended by an array of invincible natural arguments, but such is not commonly the method in which those same logical arguments make their way into our minds. The grounds on which we hold the divine origin of the church and the previous truths which are taught us by nature--the being of a God and the immortality of the soul--are felt by most men to be recondite and impalpable, in proportion to their depth and reality.''3 Animals seem to have this concrete kind of "reasoning." Endowed with a natural sense, they learn their "culture" by liv-ing it and doing the things that accord with it. People are born Review for Religious with natural instincts and reason; they learn to be human beings within a culture somewhat as animals do. But, because of their reason and free will, they are not determined by their instincts. Yet--and here we enter the sphere of religion--the human being cannot be satisfied with the material. "Our hearts are made for you, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in you" are the famous words of Augustine of Hippo (354-430). Religion provides for the restlessness of the heart. Some indi-viduals experience that restlessness more intensely, and often with particular nuances. This leads them to seek rest for their restlessness not only in Christian living within the broad framework of the church, but along a specific way of following Christ closely. This they find instinctively in a par-ticular religious congrega-tion. When asked why they entered this one and not that, they have their own idiosyncratic modes of saying so. But most impor-tant is that they feel at home in the institute and are happy in its life and apostolate. Today's religious come from a different social background from the religious of the first half of the 20th century. Ministering to Today's World Feeling at home and happy does not mean that they have reached the end of their journey. In fact, they have only begun. And that is why I suggest that there must be some way in which they can be helped to grow. Instinctively and by way of con-naturality, they should be assisted to grow, incorporating what is in accord with their quest and rejecting what is contrary to it. Today's religious come from a different social background from the religious of the first half of the 20th century.4 They bring with them a certain culture and the popular piety with which they have grown up in their homes. During the training period they are filled with a whole range of knowledge. But, once the period of training is over, they try to use as the basis of their ministry the popular piety they carried with them at their entrance.~ This does not work. ~tanuary-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture Change (rapid, radical, in almost every sphere) and diversity (abundant and bewildering) are unavoidable present-day reali-ties, but Christians have no cause to fear them. By baptism (see Rm 6:3-11) we are participants in the most radical of changes, the death and resurrection of Christ, phenomena that express themselves in a never-ending variety of ways. This reality, how-ever, needs to be instilled more and more into the life and min-istry of religious. In other words, in their response to problems related to all the change and diversity in the world, Christians and especially religious are continually called to return to the Christian mystery of Christ's death and resurrection. Popular piety is inadequate to face the modern world. Popular piety can be seen as "contractual": if one fulfills certain set obligations, then one will grow as a Christian and attain sal-vation. Sometimes this piety may border on the magical: if one does certain things in a certain way, then various desirable results will follow. This approach, still present in the life of many peo-ple, has helped many on the path of holiness. But is it the answer to today's problematic of change and diversity? Is going with the practices of many a help or a hindrance for religious in their life and work with and for others? Today's change and diversity have far-reaching effects. The Christian perspective on this situation might be stated briefly as follows: Human freedom is used and abused, but, no matter what, God remains faithful. The death and resurrection of Christ shows this, and Christians share in it. Their share is in what they do, not merely what they talk about. Jesus, knowing who would betray or deny him, shared a special meal with them. The church continues to remember that, on the night he was betrayed (by his disciples and by us), he took bread and said "Take and eat . " This meal shared with his betrayers--and continued by the community of believers--is the place where we learn how to handle the world in which we live. We learn, not by study, but by doing.We learn, not bj~ logical reasoning so much as by a kind of instinct and connaturality. This doing (in memory of him) is the source of knowledge, knowledge of a unique opportunity for us to turn to the pure victim of our betrayal and find both salvation for ourselves and cordial reciprocity with one another. If we learn by what we do, it follows that there can be no Review for Religious predetermined curriculum. We can only seek or provide set-tings where connaturality and the religious instinct can be evoked and then try to adopt or inculcate a "rationalized asceti-cism," that is, a commitment to continual self-control and dis-cipline over what does not serve our vocation as religious--in other words, engagement in ongoing discernment. The religious instinct and discernment need to work in har-ness. In a variety of settings, rationalized asceticism is only a means. What is primary is the goal, namely, following Christ according to the particular focus of one's institute. A kind of rationalized asceticism, however, could function, not so much by logical reasoning as by instinct and connaturality. The one who joins an institute feels "at home." In that situation, one is helped to rationally understand and discern one's way in the actual world where one lives. Gradually, feeling at home takes on a focus and content. Settings Where Connaturality Can Function By a setting I mean something on the lines of the Santiniketan, the school established in 1901 by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). That school was meant to be a place where students could absorb the Indian spirit. It was out of the ordi-nary; it had eminent teachers, but few pupils. Yet those few learned something which others did not and made a contribu-tion to India as a whole. Times have changed, but the need remains for us to experience the world existentially and to work out our response in accord with the gospel and the charism of our institute. The extraordinary, if it happens, is something to be thank-ful for. Normal growth takes place in the ordinary situations of life. Growth in religious life occurs best, I think, when religious envision their own life stories (with their own memories, behav-iors, skills, and knowledge) against their faith-vision of their baptism--which made them sharers in the mystery of Jesus Christ dying and rising again. A certain interpretation and synthesis of his own life can perhaps be detected in Pope John Paul's first encyclical, Redemptor hominis (§ 14): Man in the full truth of his existence . . . --in the January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture sphere of his own family, in the sphere of society and very diverse contexts, in the sphere of his own nation or people, and in the sphere of the whole of mankind--this man is the primary route that the church must travel in fulfilling her mission: he is the primary and j~tndamental way for the church, the way traced out by Christ himself, the way that leads invariably through the mystery of the incarnation and the redemption. In 1979 (within the first year of his pontificate), during the Mass celebrated in the Oswiecim-Brzezinka (Auschwitz- Birkenau) concentration camp, he said: Can it still be a surprise to anyone that the pope born and brought up in this land,, the pope who came to the See of St. Peter from the diocese in whose territory is situated the camp of Oswiecim, should have begun his first encyclical with the words Redemptor hominis and should have dedicated it as a whole to the cause of man, to the dignity of man, to the threats to him, and finally to his inalienable rights that can so easily be trampled on and annihi-lated by his fellow men?6 John Paul II lived and was educated in the West. Naturally his categories of thought are derived from the Western tradition. Is it not possible, though, for people of the East as well as the West, to see beneath these thoughts of his the process by which he worked through various situations and reached a synthesis that was connatural to him? That is, to see his experience of life in Poland (as worker, stage actor, writer, and so forth), the experience of the concentration camps, the search for the "causes" of the concentration camps, the articulation of the principles of his life, and finally, the synthesis of Christ, the church, and man as all interrelated.7 And this in the first year of his papacy! And now the evening of his life is filled with sym-bolic gestures flowing from that same synthesis--attempts to bring about reciprocal relations among human beings, Christ, and the church--a visit to a synagogue in Rome and to a mosque in Syria, asking pardon of God and of fellow human beings for the sins committed by the church and tendering apologies to the Greek and Ukrainian churches. Review for Religious Experience and Exemplary Religious Behavior Popular piety, as I have said, cannot respond to the present world with its change and diversity. No matter how much one repeats this to new entrants, the response is to point to how well popular piety is doing in pilgrimage centers, among a high percentage of regular churchgoers, among the Christian right, and in various emerging movements. Perhaps they are correct. The majority of Christians are rooted in popular or traditional piety. But is that the climax and high point of the following of Christ? Hardly. Without the interaction of popular piety with its roots in the Christian tradition in a context of continual conversion, does popular piety not dete-riorate into the justification and ratio-nalization of the baser instincts? Well-known preachers advocating a pop-ular and populist piety have been dis-covered to have been leading double lives. Corruption and violence are known as much among "practicing" Christians as among the general population. Religious, too, may experience a dichotomy between their piety and their work, between what they do in church and what they do outside. It can be valu-able to experience it, to have an ordinary job while at the same time trying to fulfill the obligations of a religious.8 This is a common situation for ordinary Christians-- the need to combine work with family life. In ordinary work-places, individuals claim no privileges, but simply share the lot of the others. In such circumstances, people discover the pres-sures that flow from the pace of change and the range of diver-sity that has to be confronted. Confronting the real world of jealousy, fraud, cutthroat com-petition, and intrigue provides an opportunity to reflect care-fully on one's behavioral response in the light of one's Christian commitment. In a study of the attitudes of people working in several private-sector companies in Sri Lanka, the following atti-tudes were measured (on a scale of ten): Among superiors: authoritarian 8, egalitarian 2, and permissive 5; among subor-dinates: rebel i0, cooperation 1, ingratiator 5.9 It is highly likely Popular piety, as I have said, cannot respond to the present world with its change and diversity. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Cbristian/Religious Culture that Christians and religious in similar work situations have adopted similar behavioral patterns. How does such behavior fit in with gospel norms? Is equality not implied in baptism, the root of the religious vocation and of cooperation in the mission of a religious institute? Does the high score for authoritarian attitudes not imply that Jesus' exhortation about the greatest and the least, about the master washing the feet of his disciples, has been forgotten? The question arises: Can a process of"con-scious reflection" for religious be initiated on these lines? Conscious Reflection When young people tell Archbishop Rembert Weakland of Milwaukee that they are having a difficult time understanding what it means to be a Catholic,-he tells them to participate in the Eucharistic celebration with the same parish community every Sunday for six months and, during the same six-month period, to work in a soup kitchen. If they follow these two prac-tices, they will see for themselves what it means to be a Catholic.1° The question posed is conceptual ("understanding"); the remedy suggested is an existential commitment (the Eucharist in the same community, the same soup kitchen, for six months). It leads to a realization that Christian life is about worship and service. Commitment to the same group--but why? Because then one works one's way beyond immediate emotions (sense plea-sure), beyond the true-false dichotomy (intellectual pleasure), and beyond control-or-be-controlled situations (the pleasure of power), towards accepting realities for which no words can be found and tasks which are not directly pleasurable--but all of which, at a deep level, give satisfaction and joy. Following that advice, one avoids a "shopping" mentality; one learns through the drudgery and happiness of one's commitment. Oliver Goldsmith implies this about the parson in his "Deserted Village": "All his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. / As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, / Swells from the vale, and mid-way leaves the storm, / Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,/Eternal sunshine settles in its head" (lines 188-192). The "eternal sunshine" 6f a holiness that brings joy and fulfillment is for all. Religious are meant to pursue holiness Review for Religious with great intensity in the service of all Christians. In the Middle Ages, religious were more prominent in the guidance and accompaniment of the faithful in holiness than priests were.~L "All the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the holiness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity" (LG §40). "Mother Church rejoices at finding within her bosom men and women who more closely follow and more clearly demonstrate the Savior's self-giving by embracing poverty with the free choice of God's sons, and by renouncing their 6wn wills . . ." (LG §42). The point of the "specialized" pursuit of holiness is to bear witness among the followers of Christ that everything should not be cut down to the size of the self, but rather that the self needs to be expanded to recognize and embrace the glory of God man-ifested in the world, in one's fellow humans, and in Christ. Religious Cultural Literacy In the Catholic tradition, faith is a personal adherence to God that involves, inseparably, "free assent to the whole truth that God has revealed" (tides quae). It differs from faith in the Reform tradition, which emphasizes trust and commitment (tides fiducialis). Sometimes the distinction is forgotten. It is important to maintain the difference if one wants to remain rooted in the Catholic tradition. Thus a first requirement would be cultural literacy~2 within the Catholic tradition--in church doctrine, in religious life in general, and in one's own institute in particular. What is needed is a clear and accurate understanding of the truths that one's community shares and the standard of behavior that community members together endorse, as approved by the church. This is not expert knowledge, but simply accurate knowledge. Accuracy is, I think, not too much to ask in an age of computers, where email addresses and Web sit~s have to be keyed in without an error of even a single letter. Beyond an accurate minimum, one can and should, of course, increase one's knowledge, while not necessarily claiming that one always practices the behavior that one endorses. This knowledge and these standards of behavior must, however, be understood as constituting the bottom line without which the present collectivity will not survive as a group. January-February 2002 Abeyasingha ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture This minimum has to be learned by rote. "Learning by heart" is one of the most popular techniques of education in Asia. It has to be tested not just once but periodically. This knowledge and these behavioral standards should be the content of discussions, decisions, and vision statements. Otherwise, indi-viduals might interpret the words to mean exactly what serves their own personal interest within the existing network of roles and relationships. Before entering the novitiate, candidates should be able to move easily and accurately within the idiom and grammar specific to the Catholic tradition. Afterwards, in the novitiate, they can learn the idiom, grammar, and standard of behavior specific to the institute. The Eucharist as Cultural Activity The great formative influence in Christian living and a for-tiori in religious life is the Eucharist and the other sacraments. There is a constant danger in Asia that these sacramental rites may be reduced to the level of popular religion and sometimes even of magic. Two aspects of the Eucharistic celebration are relevant here. First, people should have a basic knowledge of the elements that come together in the liturgy.~3 Second, but far more important, is the actual celebration of the Eucharist. Every Eucharistic celebration includes the great metaphors and images of Christianity. Every celebration has at least seven points of reference--assembly and gathering, table of the word, memo-rial, sacrifice, food for the journey, eschatological reality, and cosmic transformation.~4 Every celebration cannot highlight all these, but the meaning of the celebration is in the reality that is done by the group of believers. The liturgy is not an act of per-sonal piety or a situation for personal devotion. It is of its very nature community building. Even these ordinary actions and realities are sacred, binding the group together in Christ as they do. In Christ, the Eucharist makes the church and the church makes the Eucharist. This imposes a certain style and spirit on the participants.~5 Linked to this style and spirit is a rationalized asceticism, a renunciation of self in order to share the celebration with others. This elementary structure, idiom, and grammar of the liturgy needs, then, to be understood and the liturgy's forma- Review for Religious tive process realized. This formation is also a journey. Its out-line is the Rite of Initiation of Adults,16 which consists of our personal pilgrimage to know ourselves, reflection on the story of other Christians, purification and enlightenment, accepting the mystery, reflecting on the mystery and renewing our lives. Here, in the context of the metaphors and images of the Christian faith remembered and celebrated in the liturgy, can-didates move to total conversion: intellectual (without which there is no growth in under-standing the Christian mystery), moral (with-out which one does not seek to improve one's life), and religious (without which one makes no judgment about the condition of one's own faith). One learns from what one does (the way of action). This has a knowledge dimension in which the memory is recalled and cel-ebrated, a pledge of future glory is given, and devotion is nour-ished for continued Christian living. Christian cultural literacy provides one with the language and communication needed to be part of the Christian tradition as it is at this time in history. Lamentation about what might have been serves little purpose. What possibilities exist within the Asian tradition for carrying the Christian tradition further? While the idiom and grammar of the Christian tradition can be stated and understood briefly, there is a richness of imagery that aims at evoking faith beyond some brief concepts. Take the language of the creed: "I believe in Jesus Christ, [the Father's] only Son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead." Clearly, this profession of faith includes more concrete images than abstract Before entering the novitiate, candidates should be able to move easily and accurately within the idiom and grammar specific to the Catholic tradition. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture concepts. It is perhaps, in this area that Asia would be most com-petent to make a contribution. Possible Asian Enrichments The "text"--the idiom and grammar--remains untouched. Without denying the text, Asia is supremely gifted to enrich the imagery. Jacome Gonsalvez (1676-1742), who is considered an important writer in Sinhala (the local language of Sri Lanka), did not try to reexpress theology in the Sinhala idiom: his the-ology repeats the Scholastics. But, relying on the apocryphal tradition (as regards details of Mary's early years) and on an abundance of imagery drawn from local sources, his work evokes an attitude of respect for the Christian faith even among read-ers of other religious persuasionsY Given the technique of learning the idiom and grammar by heart, the specific Asian contribution would be faith reflection in love--not by negating that idiom and grammar, not by lamenting the shortcomings of history, not by challenging or seeming to defy authority, but by being rooted in our tradition and proposing to our countrymen, especially fellow believers, images and perspectives that serve to enrich their faith. Another element of enrichment is the liturgy. Here we are to find meaning in what we do within our community of believ-ers. But there is the danger of making the liturgical action (com-munitarian of its very nature) an act of private and personal devotion. This is a real danger, and not only in the Christian religion. In Sri Lankan Buddhism, certain innovations, espe-cially the inclusion of the vernacular in a form of devotion (Bodhi Piija), have become popular in a short time. But other (quasi-magical) rites and patterns of popular thinking that were in no way in the mind of the innovator have found their way into the rite.L8 This development has taken place within some twenty-five years. Similarly, Christian Asian religious can offer new perspectives. Most p~:obably, in the Eucharistic prayer of Addai and Mari, there was no narrative of the institution. Would evi-dence of such a liturgical tradition give indication (for the uni-versal church) that the meaning of the liturgical action is in what is done? Asian celebration could give the liturgy an enrich-ment (and sometimes, unfortunately, a deformation). Review for Religious If cultural literacy is an "understanding that follows love and commitment," the liturgy is the celebration that "faith and promise are correlative." The word of God proclaimed to the liturgical assembly is received in faith; its promise is fulfilled today in the midst of the assembly. It is not a question of con-cepts so much as the reality of the commitment. Ever Searching for God The present article considers religious life as a search for God. That search is intense--as intense as the desire of a drown-ing person for air. Growth in the religious life is giving focus and content to that desire in accordance with the Christian tradi-tion (particularly the idiom and grammar of doctrine and litur-gical celebration) and th~ specific charism of the religious institute. The process is within the realm of the ordinary, and the manner is by way of instinct and connaturality. The search occurs in a world permeated by both sin and grace. The vision always involves the death and resurrection of Jesus. In this search, reli-gious in Asia, after identifying the specific contribution they can make, need to make it with courage without jeopardizing com-munion with the universal church. As St. Irenaeus (c. 130-c. 200) wrote, "though languages differ throughout the world, the content of the tradition is one and the same. The churches estab-lished in Germany have no other faith or tradition, nor do those of the Iberians, nor those of the Celts, nor those of the East, of Egypt, of Libya.''19 Yet there has to be a distinct element in the manner in which the faith is lived, celebrated, and expressed as spirituality. As Francig de Sales (1567-1622) has said, "the prac-tice of devotion must differ for the gentleman and the artisan, the servant and the prince, for the widow, young girl, or wife. Further, it must be adapted to their particular strength, cir-cumstances, and duties: . True devotion never causes harm, but rather perfects everything we do."2° Notes ~ It was reported in Newsweek (21 May 2001) that scientists dis-covered in 1981 a humpback whale creating waves with its tail to trap fish. That innovation of a single reported case is now said to have spread to half the humpback whale population. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture 2 John Henry Newman, An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (Garden City: Image Books, 1955), p. 260. Some examples provided by Newman of how this sense of natural inference works are worth recording: "A peasant who is weather wise may yet be simply unable to assign intelligible reasons why he thinks it will be fine tomorrow; and, if he attempts to do so, he may give reasons wide of the mark, but that will not weaken his own confidence in his prediction. His mind does not proceed step-by-step, but he feels all at once and together the force of various combined phenomena though he is not conscious of them. Again, there are physicians who excel in the diagnosis of com-plaints, though it does not follow from this that they could defend their decision in a particular case against a brother physician who dis-puted it. They are guided by natural acuteness and varied experience; they have their own idiosyncratic modes of observing, generalizing, and concluding; when questioned, they can but rest on their own authority, or appeal to the future event" (pp. 261-262). 3 Newman, Grammar, p. 264. Thi~ "feeling" of which Newman speaks is "a feeling in the human mind., allied perhaps to that sense of danger which animals exhibit when placed in the vicinity of natu-ral enemies of their race, and which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air, and beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the desert" (p. 264; read pp. 260-299 for a better understanding of this natural inference and illative sense, as propounded by Newman). 4 See N. Abeyasingha, "The Next Generation of Religious in Asia" in Review for Religious 58, no. 6 (November-December 1999): 621-629. 5 Some years ago I was asked by a boy whom a religious in a lead-ing Catholic school was preparing for First Holy Communion whether it was true that, if he were to bite the host, it would bleed. In fact, he asked me this after he had observed me biting the host at a Mass I cel-ebrated. 6 L'Osservatore Romano (English edition, 16 July 1979), p. 6. 7 "In recent times--particularly during the Second Vatican Council--there have been long discussions whether this relationship is theocentric or anthropocentric. There will never be a satisfactory answer to this question if we continue to consider the two terms sep-arately. In fact, Christianity is anthropocentric precisely because it is theocentric, and simultaneously it is theocentric, thanks to its extraor-dinary anthropocentrism. But it is just the mystery of the incarna-tion which, in itself, explains this relationship" (John Paul II, L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 7 December 1978, p. 1). 8 I am the only Catholic priest working in a state university that has a large majority of Buddhists among staff and students. Over the years I have had to make certain decisions and adopt certain behav-ior patterns in order to practice a minimum degree of Christian wit-ness. Review for Religious 9 See Gunapala Nanayakkara, Public Administration: The Socio- Cultural Milieu (Study Series: Public Administration 88-2, Jayawardenepura: Postgraduate Institute of Management, 1988), p. 10. 10 Cited in William C. Spohn, "The Need for Roots and Wings: Spirituality and Christian Ethics," Theology Digest 47, no. 4 (Winter 2000): 329. 11 See the Catechism of the Catholic Church, §927. See also Sacramentum Mundi, Vol. 4, p. 394: "In Palestine, for example, in the 6th century, the abbot of a monastery exercised penitential discipline even in regard to capital sins. Sometimes little attention was paid to whether the monk-confessor was a priest or layman (as early as the 5th and 6th centuries), but this drew protest from Pseudo-Dionysius. After the Iconoclast controversy (8th century) only the priest-monks had in practice the right to hear confessions." ,2 See E.D. Hirsch Jr., Cultural Literacy (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987) and The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy (1988). 13 See Dennis C. Smolarski, Liturgical Literacy from Anamnesis to Worship (New York: Paulist Press, 1990). ~4 See Kevin Irwin, "Models of the Eucharist," Origins 31, no. 3 (31 May 2001): 33-44. ~s See Aidan Kavanagh, Elements of Rite: A Handbook of Liturgical Style (Bangalore: NBCLC, 1996); Dennis C. Smolarski, How Not to Say Mass: A Guidebook for All Concerned about Authentic Worship (New York: Paulist Press, 1986). 16 See J.D. Dunning, "The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults: Model of Adult Growth," Worship 53 (March 1979): 142-156. See N. Abeyasingha, Towards Contextualizing Theology with a CSsR Bias (Bangalore: Joint Secretariats, 1990), pp. 80-95. ~7 There is a precedent for this kind of reading, reflection, and interpretation of the Christian tradition. Very early in the New Testament, there was a Christological interpretation of the Exodus (1 Co 10:1-4). Aphraates (260/275-345), the oldest Syrian father, wrote: "Jesus the son of Nun led the people over to the promised land. Jesus our Savior promised the land of life to all who, passing over the true river Jordan, have believed and are circumcised in their hearts" (Dem 11, 12). The title "physician" is applied to Jesus by Ignatius of Antioch (+ c. 110): "There is one Physician, who is both flesh and spirit, born and not born, who is God in man, true life in death, both from Mary and from God, first able to suffer and then unable to suffer, Jesus Christ our Lord" (Letter to Ephesians 7.2). The early fathers were so rooted in their faith and commitment that their understanding and interpretation of Scripture and doctrine fol-lowed that faith and commitment. Perhaps their interpretation of the January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture Scriptures and the tradition may not be endorsed by modern exege-sis, but they still remain a "faith reading in love" of the Scriptures and the Christian tradition. Through narrative, drama, allegory, allit-eration, and other literary devices, they contributed to the faith by evoking it in their fellow believers. It was in this particular and lim-ited way that they contributed to the enrichment of the tradition of other churches. It was a "pedagogy" in the sense that "nothing exists except what God causes to be. "There is nothing, therefore, that is hated by God, nor is there anything hated by the Word. Both are one, both are God" (Instructor of Children 1.8.62.3-4). 18 See Richard Gombrich and Gananath Obeyesekere, Buddhism Transformed: Religious Change in Sri Lanka (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 348-410. 19 Adversus Haereses 5.20.1. 2o Introduction to the Devout Life, Part 1, chap. 3. "Attentiveness is the natural prayer of the soul" Nicolas de Malebranche A new resident in the yard: pink stars, in clusters, growing in the hollows of the lawn where the old copper beech roots sank. Four-petaled blossoms, a tube, perhaps, slit four ways and splayed to points, each crayoned pale magenta on the vein, centers barely green, white stamens half an eyelash thick, white pollen feet in the air, visible only an inch from the eye. The buds are tight pink dots, slightly gray, sand-grain small. Alone they'd be invisible. They grow in clusters, three or four rising frrom a claw of six petals, green and spiked as cosmos seeds, opening like orange slices around the straight, slightly furred stem. Doretta Cornell RDC Review for Religious KATHLEEN MCALPIN Conversion: A Summons from the Word of God All conversion happens through a summons from the Word of God. There is an intensity about the word summons ("called with authority or urgency"l) that heightens it beyond a simple call. It poises us to respond. In this instance the summons calls us to a journey of conversion. God's Word comes to us in special moments and in ordinary and unlikely places. The word of God comes in Scripture. It summons us as a personal and communal call to encounter the Mystery of God. The gospel readings abound in calls to deeper faith and more confident hope and to ever effective love of God, neighbor, and all creation. The word of God is God's self-communication, God's love.2 The ultimate word of God's self-communication is the paschal mystery--the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ--a mystery that remains in God's ongoing self-communication. The Letter to the Romans assures us that God's love is poured forth in our hearts (Rm 5:5). We know this mystery as grace, a pers6nal encounter with God. Grace is the word of God, the self-gift of God, telling us of a God with us and3'br us.3 Kathleen McAlpin RSlVl works with theological students at Regis College in its integration-for-ministry and spiritual-direction programs: Regis College; 15 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario; M4Y 2R5 Canada. January-February 2002 conversion process . 40 McAlpin ¯ Conversion The Word of God in Ordinary Places How does the word of God have its origin in natural events and forces? The movie Chocolat offers a good example of how conversion comes in ordinary and unlikely places. For the inhabitants of a storybook town in France, conversion comes in the form of the stranger who opens a chocolate shop. This myth is set in a sleepy but rigidly conservative village in southern France in 1959. Vianne, a young woman of multiethnic background (Latin American and French) arrives in town, her young daughter in tow, hoping to establish a chocolate shop using some secret Mayan chocolate recipes with strange mystical properties, recipes handed down to her by her mother. Vianne has a great compassion for people and a capacity to listen to them. She becomes a catalyst for change. For some in the village, she becomes a healing presence. In others' eyes, however, because she does not share in the Jansenistic spirituality of the Catholic community, she appears scandalous and represents temptation. The word of God has summoned Vi~nne to conversion--in her relationships with the townspeople, through her involvement in the joys and sorrows of the lives about her, and through love. For Vianne also finds love and support in Roux, yet another stranger, whose arrival in town is a further catalyst for conversion not only for Vianne but also for the townspeople. The word of God comes from love. It calls people to love. The word of God came to me in a similar way. At a liturgy at Romero House, a center for refugees in Toronto, I met a refugee couple from Uzbekistan, a country of the former Soviet Union, near Afghanistan. They left because of the extreme religious and political persecution they suffered. Circumstances forced them to leave their two teenage daughters behind. They hoped to bring them to North America soon after their own arrival, but were unaware of all the protocols involved. They now realize they may have to wait for more than a year--if the plan works at all. The deep empathy I felt was a call to be in prayerful solidarity and close community with this couple as they wait in their political dark night. As we prayed at Mass, their presence, their story, haunted me. I united with them as whispers of translation occurred between them during the liturgy. The word of God comes to us in the everyday world of our relationships, in society, and in the mystery called church. The Review for Religious summons to conversion comes in the word of God: from a friend asking for prayers during struggles, in the news of family grief, in the snow falling on cedars, in the call to be patient with an irritating person, in delight at the sun breaking through darkness, in the efforts of racial reconciliation, in the call to reuse and recycle, inthe faith exerted in a trial of doubt, in the hopeful efforts of a community trying to respond to the reign of God. The summons is God's self-communication that reveals what we love. The summons to conversion is a call to find God in all things, and to fall forever in love. "Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.''4 In finding God, in falling in love, our lives hope to be changed in a permanent way. In times of doubt and anxiety, we may have many questions about the darkness or seeming nothingness of the world, and the powerlessness of our lives. In times of hope and joy, we often find it simple to seek and to know the living God and discern our response to God with full hearts. In other words, "what you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evening, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything." s What or whom do we love? What seizes our imagination as women and men, as religious, in the church, in the world? What gives us hope in our relationships and in our decisions? Falling in love is more about relationships than it is about issues or agendas. We are seekers of God on a mission. Our God is a living, loving God. Our mission is the dream of God, the reign of God. Our very lives reveal what we have found and with whom we have fallen in love. In grace, a living and loving God is present with us when our hearts are encouraged to respond in trusting relationships. God is with us when our hearts are broken over the unending wars and disasters that envelop our world, the universal suffering of women and children, the oppression of the Our mission is the dream of God, the reign of God. January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion earth, and the prejudice regarding those who are "other" by race or culture, poverty or status. God is with us and for us as we endure personal grief with our families and friends. Grace abounds in sorrow and in the amazement of love. God embraces us as we embrace others and our own conversion in the unfolding events of our daily life. Conversion in the Experience of Religious Life The history and the wisdom of our Christian tradition have led us to believe that the only reason for religious life is the experience of God. This experience can come through other forms of life, and ~o there is wisdom in being mutually supportive in our search for the living God. We search for this mystery explicitly in relationships with associates and partners in ministry. This can be done only with oil in our lamps. In her recent book Finding the Treasure, Sandra Schneiders reminds us that religious life is about our quest for God. Our life is about the "one thing necessary":6 being in a loving relationship with God, living our sorrows and joys in the embrace symbolized by the religious vows. As I understand it, the early vow formulas of religious were simpler. Women and men dedicated their lives to the love of God and neighbor and professed this love in one vow. For almost a thousand years, the vow for this self-donation-in- love was "ongoing conversion of life." This vow was a deepening of the first call to conversion, baptism. .Religious life has always been influenced by developments in the world community. By the high Middle Ages, the centuries-old practice of special dedication to God as hermits or cenobites was being carefully studied by Scholastic theologians. They focused especially on three principal practices that had long been identified with that special dedication: celibacy or chastity, poverty or unpossessiveness, and obedience or consciously seeking God's will in one's life. Some of this study went into much detail, sometimes enough to distract people from the original intent of their dedication, namely, seeking God exclusively or following Christ closely. Consecrated life itself came to be thought of and ceremonialized as the life of the (three) vows. For almost eight hundred years now, most orders and congregations have expressed their consecration in terms of those vows. In the early history of Review for Religious the Sisters of Mercy, a fourth vow, service, was included--a vow to care for the poor, the sick, and the uneducated. Similar modifications have occurred in other congregations. Over time the idea of the ongoing conversion of life was lost in some communities of religious life. Or was it? Ongoing Conversion Religious life is an ongoing drama of individual and communal experiences of conversion. Most religious have had numerous experiences summoning them to conversion. They have known the limitations and graces of ministry, personal prayer, friendships, deaths in families and communities, political struggles, retreat experiences, natural disasters, personal and community griefs and joys. In communal conversion they have known the power of the whole gracing them with more ene.rgy than any individual could have imagined. They have experienced a call to a deeper awareness of the connection between Christ and the cosmos. They have known chapters calling for renewed faith in the paschal mystery. They have experienced charisma and resistance in this continuing mystery. Each event summons a response to new life. The life, death, and resurrection moments of our lives continue to reveal the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ. An early example of my particular experience of this mystery was the use of the word justice in our community. It was quite a political term in the 1960s and early 1970s; born of revolutionary stands, it was quite controversial. At a 1975 prechapter meeting, a vote was taken on the issue. By the grace of God, the acceptance of justice as a topic slipped through by a narrow margin. It was a resurrection moment: the chapter document was ritled "Mercy Looks at Justice." More than twenty-five years later, we gathered to reimagine a new justice structure. It is clear now that justice is not a peripheral issue, but rather the heart of the matter for us. Justice is the very term for the slow, developmental process of conversion in our life of faith. The paschal mystery is interwoven with the conversion of the community. Our current chapter is calling us, as women of the church, to ongoing conversion at the very roots of the spirituality of .~anuary-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion religious life. We are called to our own conversion as we face the concerns of the earth: multiculturalism, racism, solidarity with the poor. This call comes from no other source but the Source of life, of wisdom, of sophia. Our response connects us with all the religious figures who have gone before us; through them we seek courage and grace. The Spirit of God desires integrity of word and deed even more than we do. We are called and graced--and we are limited by our own weakness--to renew the very structures of our community with the wisdom of justice. Conversion is initiated by God and given as gift. A gift presumes a giver, and for persons of faith the giver is ultimately God. The initiative, the invitation, the summons to conversion is with God. Simply stated, conversion is the movement away from evil and toward good or from one good to a greater good. We trust that through discernment we will learn how to move away from such evils as racism and consumerism and grow in appreciation of all creation and of other cultures, grow in compassionate and just relationships in society and with creation. Three images found in theologies of conversion are helpful when reflecting on a desire for conversion: conversion as God's flooding of hearts through the Holy Spirit, conversion as the awakening of the gifts of the Spirit, and conversion as the loving, compassionate life of Jesus. All three images lead to radical religious conversion of Christian conscience, which ultimately leads us to the loving compassion of the life of Jesus. 44 God Flooding Our Hearts Bernard Lonergan uses the image of God's love flooding our hearts through the Holy Spirit given us in Christ (Rm 5:5).7 He considers conversion as the heart of the Christian life. Conversion, through the work of the Spirit, enables persons to make new judgments and decisions and to .move beyond established horizons into new horizons of knowing, valuing, and acting. Conversion transforms and affects all relationships. "It is not merely a change or even a development; rather, it is a radical transformation on which follows, on all levels of living,~ an interlocked series of changes and developments. What hitherto was unnoticed becomes vivid and present. What had been of no concern is a matter of high import. So great a change in one's Review for Religious apprehensions and one's values accompanies no less a change in oneself, in one's relations to other persons, and in one's relations to God." 8 These changes can be dramatic or slow, intimate but never solitary, concrete and communal, dynamic and ongoing.9 This is consistent with our experience as a community of faith and of the reflections of many of the people encountered in ministry. Conversion "can happen to many, and they can form a community to sustain one another in their self-transformation, [to] help one another in working out the implications and in fulfilling the promise of their new life. Finally, what can become communal can become historical. It can pass from gen-eration to generation. It can pass from one cultural milieu to another. It can adapt to changing new situations, survive into a different age, flourish in another period or epoch." 10 This conviction about conversion engenders hope in current experiences of communal conversion--as a community, among our associates, and with our collaborators. We trust that this grace influences all those in relationship with us from one generation to another. Conversion is initiated by God and given as gift. Awakening to God The second image of conversion is the awakening of gifts of the Spirit that challenge relationships to be mutual and courageous. Awakening is the empowerment of the Spirit of Wisdom. Sophia releases the capabilities of giftedness in the individual and in the communal experience of conversion. Elizabeth Johnson places empowerment and relationships central to her understanding of conversion: "A permanent process of both turning away and turning inward--turning away from all that intellectually, morally, and spiritually keeps one mired in abusive relationships characterized by domination, inti~nidation, fear, or dishonesty and turning toward the unlimited grace of God ever calling us to relationships characterized by mutuality, respect, courage, and truthfulness." ~ January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion In this image, conversion is empowerment and affirmation of one's strength and responsibility. It is rooted in women's experience of an excess of self-denial in following the call to conversion. Conversion is the movement toward the discovery and appropriation of the potential gifts within an individual, group, or society. As women of the church, we are summoned to discover the gifts necessary to be converted in solidarity with the poor, to value multiculturalism, to eliminate racism, and to act in harmony with all of creation. Our summons is a word of God calling us to appropriate our gifts in the name of Christ for the sake of the reign of God. The Loving, Compassionate Life of Jesus From the conversion experience of Thomas Merton, it is clear that Christian conversion reorients a person's whole life to the truth, value, love, and experience of God as brought to us in Christ. The fruit of conversion in the life of Merton was a transformation of conscience to loving compassion. As Walter Conn says, "the personal measure of Christian living, therefore, is the conscience which has experienced a Christian conversion at once cognitive, affective, moral, and religious. Only a person thus converted is fully and concretely sensitive to the loving life of Jesus. In Merton's life we discovered again the fundamental gospel truth that lies at the heart of Christian tradition: The radical religious conversion of Christian conscience finds its fullest realization in loving compassion--the self-transcending perfection of human empathy and justice. In its total surrender such religious conversion radically relativizes the moral autonomy of Christian conscience." 12 As followers of the gospel, we are summoned to a life of self-transcendence lived in a life of empathy and justice. In the life of Merton, we see that contemplation liberates the conscience for conversibn. Self-transcending love is found to be at the heart of the holistic development of the converted Christian. The fruit of conversion is compassion born of reflection on the life of Jesus. In community we hear of many who are willing to surrender to the needs of the others and thus be a part of the struggle for world freedom. The mystery of Christ is seen through contemplation of suffering and through reflection on the cross Review for Religious and the resurrection of Christ. Though we retain the freedom to refuse God's summons, any movement toward conversion is already the movement of God's grace within us. As I listen to stories in ministry, I frequently hear of how people are changed through events not of their own making, through persons and situations that were beyond their control. Conversion is grace. Conversion as Grace In Sacred Scripture we see grace offered in the prophetic calls to repentance and intimate love. John the Baptist made such calls, and, of course, Jesus did too. In Mark the first words of Jesus are a proclamation of the good news and a call to conversion: "The time is fulfilled and the reign of God has come near. Be converted and believe in the good news" (Mk 1:15). Matthew speaks of "seeking" God, or the reign of God, as the beginning of conversion. Jesus may have sought this experience at his baptism: "Jesus was not renouncing his sinfulness, but was taking his place with all those in. Israel who were saying: 'We are ready, Lord; please make this the moment of your Messianic salvation.'" ,3 In this, Jesus may have been responding to a call to a kind of conversion: "Jesus' experience at his baptism, so far as it can be recovered from the gospel records, seems in many respects akin to the effects of a sudden conversion. There was a sudden and intense personal experience of God. There was a new awareness of personal status with God, a call to a new way of life and acceptance of that call. There was, in fact, a reorientation of his whole personality.''14 Such an experience of God can have a transforming effect on a person's life.'5 While contemplating his baptism, Jesus heard the Spirit of God assuring him, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased" (Lk 3:22). Through this prayer, Jesus experienced an unconditional acceptance of God. Grounded in this religious experience, Jesus reorganized his life for the sake of Matthew speaks of "seeking" God, or the reign of God, as the beginning of conversion. January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion the .reign of God. He moved from one way of living to another: "He gave up an earlier aiad long-standing way of life as no longer satisfactory, in order to take~ up a new and perilous way of life that now seemed to him imperative.''16 Through the conversion at his baptismal experience, Jesus turned to his mission of public ministry by affirming the reign of God. Elaine Wainwright notes that the reign of God is "the just and righteous purpose of God for all humanity.''~7 She says that after his baptism Jesus continued the mission of announcing this vision of God, which entails hearing, understanding, and doing God's word (Mr 13:23). Jesus enfleshed this vision in his compassionate encounters with those considered least (Mt 25:40).18 Called to a prophetic role, Jesus proclaimed a confidence in God's activity and lived within the reign of God. Jon Sobrino describes his acts and gestures: "His most fundamental gesture is taking sides with human beings in a concrete situation where the existing political religious structure has dehumanized people . Jesus does all he can to concretize and make present real love as the quintessence of the kingdom." 19 The story of the Canaanite woman illustrates a conversion in Jesus' public ministry (Mt 15:21-28). This woman is an ethnic and religious outsider in Israel. She pleads with Jesus for mercy for herself and healing for her daughter. At first Jesus does not respond to her; he understands his mission to be to the Israelites. The disciples, lacking understanding and compassion, want Jesus to get rid of her. Persistent, she continues to appeal to Jesus for help. As he listens to her, he is moved to enter into deeper discussion and uses a familiar parable to oppose her request. He refuses her plea for help with the image of the family's bread not being meant for dogs. Picking up on the image, the woman asks for crumbs from the master's table, thus boldly claiming a share in the reign of God that Jesus proclaims. Jesus is moved by her faith and expands the boundaries of his ministry to include the Gentiles. And so it is that Jesus, through dialogue with an outsider and a woman, sees his God-given mission changed to a greater inclusiveness. This decision of compassionate love comes from a summons through relationship. God is revealed through-others. In relationships we know and experience God. In his relationship with the Canaanite woman, we see Jesus Review for Religious emotionally engaging the spirit of the woman as she challenges his position. He realizes that he has to be responsible to this new interpersonal relationship. His decision is a moral choice within a sociopolitical and religious setting. His discernment is based on a wider understanding of the reign of God. This story gives evidence that even Jesus had a kind of conversion upon receiving a word-of-God summons through someone else's plea for mercy. The Principle of Conversion When we engage in a life of merciful love, when we place ourselves in situations where we work for and develop relationships with others, such relationships begin to include compassion. As this compassion deepens, it leads us to a greater justice. When systems and strategies meet an impasse, we are led into the deeper mystery of Christian love. Conversion to mercy is not primarily about doing specific works. It is an attitude, a horizon of being, or what Jon Sobrino calls a principle. The "principle of mercy is a fundamental attitude at the root of every human interaction," which then "affects all subsequent interactions." The principle of mercy "becomes justice" by engaging all levels of energy: intellectual, religious, scientific, and technological.2° Mercy animates a conversion that leads to changes in relationships, changes in thinking, acting, and believing. Sobrino learned an amazing truth through the martyrdom of his brother Jesuits and the women who worked with them. He now believes that nothing is as "vital in order to live as a human being than to exercise mercy on behalf of cn~cified people, and that nothing is more humanizing than to believe in the God of Jesus.''21 The exercise of mercy becomes a quality of being in all who engage in merciful justice. In discerning mercy as justice, we are summoned to share in the life of the Word of God, to fall in love, and, through ongoing Christian conversion, to live forever. Notes Gage Canadian Dictionary (Toronto: Gage Publishing Co., 1983). Karl Rahner, Foundations, trans. William V. Dych (New York: Seabury Press, 1978), p. 127. January-February 2002 McAl~in ¯ Conversion 3 Karl Rahner, Nature and Grace (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), pp. 24-26. 4 Attributed to Pedro Arrupe, superior general of the Jesuits from 1965-1983. s Attributed to Pedro Arrupe. 6 Sandra M. Schneiders, Finding the Treasure (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 37-39. 7 Bernard J.E Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), p. 105. 8 Walter E. Conn, Conversion: Perspectives on Personal and Social Transformation (New York: Alba House, 1978), p. 13. 9 Conn, Conversion, p. 45. 10 Conn, Conversion, p. 45. 11 Elizabeth Johnson, She l.Vho Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1993), p. 64. 12 Walter E. Conn, Christian Conversion: A Developmental Interpretation of Autonomy and Surrender (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), p. 268. 13 Demetrius Dumm, Flowers in the Desert: A Spirituality of the Bible (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), p. 28. ~4 Donald Gray, "Was Jesus a Convert?" Religion in Life 43 (Winter 1974), citing Hugh Montefiore, Awkward Questions on Christian Love (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1964), p. 449. ,s Conn, Conversion, p. 215. 16 Gray, "Was Jesus a Convert?". p. 449. ,7 Elaine Wainwright, "The Gospel of Matthew," in Elizabeth Schiissler Fiorenza, ed., Searching the Scriptures: A Feminist Commentary (New York: Crossroad, 1994), p. 636. ~8 Ibid, p. 637. 19jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (New York: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 92. 20 Donald L. Gelpi SJ, The Turn to Experience in Contentporary Theology (New York: Paulist Press, 1994), p. 134. 21 Jon Sobrino, The Principle of Mercy: Taking the Crucified People from the Cross (New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 10. Review for Religious STEVE WLUSEK Seminary Formation and Lonergan's Conversion Theory i~arpe~P diem! Seize the day! Make your lives something ~ remarkable!" With these words Robin Williams's char-acter in the movie Dead Poets' Society begins to inspire his students not to just go through the paces of the educational system, but to make something of their time in school and of their very lives. He evokes their conversion from apathetic docil-ity to active participation in their own education. At turning points such as this, people begin to discover their own identity and mission. Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions can illu-minate such personal development, anyone's, but here my focus is on seminary formation. Lonergan identifies four main conversions in life: moral, affec-five, critical moral, and religious.1 Each of these conversions opens people to a deeper awareness of their true self and brings about greater self-transcendence, allowing true relationships to develop with other people and especially with God. Lonergan bases his theory of conversions on the concept that everyone is self-cen-tered to some degree and that everyone's growth must begin from that point.2 From my perspective of ministering to many people in both parish and seminary, I have seen a number of degrees of self-centeredness. Steve Wlusek, a diocesan priest, is a faculty member of his diocese's St. Peter's Seminary; 1040 Waterloo Street; London, Ontario; N6A 3Y1 Canada. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation A brief description of these conversions of Lonergan's will, I think, elucidate the validity of his theory for the ministry of seminary formation. Lonergan defines conversion as a fateful call to a dreaded holiness, an about-face by which we move into a radically new horizon, a personal entrance of God into our life and history, a communication of God to us.3 A person's con-version does not just happen; rather, it is a fundamental choice: "Conversion is a change of direction and, indeed, a change for the better. One frees oneself from the unauthentic. Harmful, dangerous, misleading satisfactions are dropped. Values are apprehended where before they were overlooked. Scales of pref-erence shift."4 Moral conversion is "choosing value as the criterion of one's life.''s In undergoing this form of conversion, one realizes that there is more than oneself that needs to be protected and respected. One's sensitivity is changed from wanting one's own life to be fair, to wanting justice for others and realizing that one has an obligation to work toward providing that justice. Moral conversion, therefore, is an impetus to move outside of oneself, which stretches that self to becoming other-conscious. Lonergan likens affective conversion to falling in love. Whereas moral con-version moves a person to be concerned for the well-being of others, affective conversion arouses one to be so moved regard-ing the other's well-being that one's entire orientation shifts to a concern which is expressed in action. Affective conversion involves not only the possibility of committing oneself to a course of active servi~e of another, but also the ability to execute that decision over the long haul.6 Lonergan identifies critical moral conversion as changing one's standard for personal orientation. Those who undergo this conversion come to a healthy sense of the sacred within themselves. They do not need to look somewhere else beyond themselves to discover what is real or valuable; they accept the validity of their own judgment. During the gradual process of their personal development and their prudently increasing autonomy, they reach a crucial point. They discover that their own judging and deciding affect them no less than the objects of their judgments and decisions. They realize that they are respon-sible for what they make of themselves, and that their choices are crucial in the process of becoming authentic persons.7 Review for Religious Through religious conversion, one falls in love with God and surrenders oneself completely to God. This conversion moves one to live with this attitude: "Whatever you want for me, God, I want it too." Lonergan portrays the one who has been trans-formed through this religious conversion as being "a subject in love, a subject held, grasped, possessed, owned through a total and so an other-worldly love.''8 Religious conversion creates a basic consciousness that enables one to appreciate all as gift from God. This consciousness impacts how one views oneself, one's situation, and one's role in the human condition.9 In mov-ing out of oneself to embrace God in religious conversion, then, one also lovingly em-braces other people, sensing their Beloved dwelling therein. Lonergan's theory of con-versions can have constantly renewed application, for the Christian life is one of ongoing conversion, with people's lives seldom following his theory once and for all, neatly, step-by-step. Ongoing conversions, relevant as they are for people in general, are relevant also for seminar-ians and those who assist in their discernments on their path toward the priesthood. Using composite portraits of three sem-inarians, I hope to show how Lonergan's theory may be of help. The first of these three, John, had a sense of conversion at around the age of twelve. He had for several years been a server at parish Masses and had a deep admiration for his parish priest. John saw in him a man of Eindness and deep faith and love for God. As John served at the altar with this priest, and watched him minister, he came to a growing awareness that he wanted to be a priest just like his pastor, dedicating his life to serving God. His parents were eager about the prospect of their son becom-ing a priest. John entered the minor seminary at age thirteen. John has completed his college studies and is now studying the-ology in the major seminary. Although John is ardent in his prayer and during liturgies, he seems deficient in some of his relationships. He comes late for class and other formation group Lonergan identifies critical moral conversion as changing one's standard for personal orientation. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation events, and he shows little respect for his peers. He and a friend from his hometown talk exclusively to each other at meals, ignoring the other seminarians nearby. Lonergan's theory reveals that John may have experienced a moral conversion, which set him on the path to serving God as a priest, but he still seems to need an affective conversion so as to have much more respect and compassion for others. Peter, another seminarian, was very much involved in his parish before entering the seminary. He experienced conver-sion through youth retreat weekends, which seemed to change his life. Since these weekends, he has served in many ways through his parish youth ministry: visiting nursing homes, vol-unteering at a soup kitchen, and packing boxes in his local food bank. In his seminary activities he does tremendous service at his field-education placement. His supervisor reports that he is looked up to by everyone at the center and that the physically challenged people he works with look forward to his visits with them. Although all of this is true and highly commendable, Peter's behavior in the seminary community is less than could be desired. He forgets his duties to read or serve at Eucharist, he gives people who disagree with him the silent treatment, and he snubs those who are not in his select group of friends. Peter seems to have undergone moral and affective conversions: he has been moved to work for the care of others and for justice towards them. Peter, however, has compartmentalized this awareness; it pertains only to those outside his immediate com-munity. He is eager to go out of the building to do outreach, yet he fails to recognize opportunities for outreach right in the hall-way where he lives. The third seminarian, Mark, entered the seminary after graduating from university and working in a respected career for several years. While engaged in this career, which involved help-ing others, he came to a realization that what he was doing was not enough. Even though he was helping pgople, he felt he could help them only materially. He came to understand deeply that God was calling him to use his intelligence and ability to help people not only materially but spiritually. Currently, in the seminary, Mark quietly serves others and looks after the needs of sick seminarians and those overly stressed by their studies. He does so in a quiet manner, seeking no recognition or praise. He Review for Religious goes to his parish field-education placement eagerly, seeing an opportunity for the kind of service to which he feels God is calling him. While others complain around the meal table about the food or about the workload they are under, never is "heard a discouraging word" from Mark. He has lived on his own and has done plenty of work in his former career. In the chapel he is often found in prayer or reading books from the spiritual masters. Mark is a man of self-assuredness, maturity, and desire for God. He seems to have undergone moral, affective, and crit-ical- moral conversions. I believe that Mark and the other semi-narians mentioned have experienced different degrees of religious conversion as well. All of them, however, still need further growth toward a complete yes to God (as we all do). Understanding the level to which seminarians have under-gone these conversions is crucial in the role of seminary for-mation. Part of the role of seminary formators is to discern, with other faculty members, candidates' readiness to progress further in the formation program. Lonergan's theory of con-versions can help tremendously in this work. Awareness is the first step towards action. By being more aware of the levels of seminarians' conversion, we will be able to identify areas in which we can help them grow. The saying that "faith is caught and not taught" is good to remember when reflecting on our seminarians' conversions. It is not simply the teaching of the-ology that will evoke a personal about-face. We need to foster various circumstances wherein conversion may be experienced: in supportive and nurturing encounters of spiritual direction, in open and mutually respectful formation-group dialogues, in teaching filled with dynamism and conviction, in field education and theological reflection which help students reflect on the needs of people in their community, in experiences of working with the poor, and in celebrations of liturgies that are inspiring and affectively moving. The teacher in Dead Poets' Society took seriously his respon-sibility to motivate his students to make their lives remarkable. Through the insight gained from Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions, we can appre.ciate in a new way our role in priestly formation to discern the status of candidates' conversion life and to present them with opportunities for deeper conver-sion, so they can make of their lives what they were made for. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation Through these experiences of faith, nurture, and co~nmunity, seminarians will be able not only to come to deeper conver-sion, but to embrace more fully their true identities in union with God. Notes 1 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), p. 238. 2 Walter E. Conn, The Desiring Self(New York: Paulist Press, 1998), p. 67. 3 Lonergan, p. 113. 4 Lonergan, p. 52. s Conn, p. 118. 6 Conn, p. 121. 7 Mary Kay Kinberger MSC, Lonergan on Conversion: Applications for Religious Formation (New York: Peter Lang, 1992), p. 38. 8 Lonergan, p. 240. 9 Kinberger, p. 46. January January blizzards on the heels of Christmas. Winter grips the snow-encrusted land with the iron determination Grandma whipped egg whites into stiff miniature Alpine peaks. The time of rushing has passed. No birds sing joyously. Nor do dogs bark with gusto. Last year's wild roses have long gone into seed. It is a season for me to listen: maybe to a heartbeat, an old man fingering his worn beads. Or, in my moments of stillness, hear the whisper of the Epiphany Child inviting me go out into the cold and visit those who are old, grieving, sick, and forgotten. Richard Heatley Review for Religious PATRICIA ANN LAMOUREUX AND PAUL ZILONKA The Workers in the Vineyard: Insights for the Moral Life Bracelets with the letters WWJD are popular these days. They are meant to remind the wearer and others to keep asking What Would Jesus Do? This practice assumes that we can fairly quickly see or reason to what Jesus would do in response to the moral dilemmas of life in 2 lst-century America. It ought not surprise us that these bracelets are promoted more by evangelical groups than by those who take more seriously the challenge of modern biblical exegesis and hermeneutics. In light of the Second Vatican Council's call to develop moral theology in accordance with the biblical vision, Catholic moral theologians have given the relationship of Scripture and ethics increased scholarly attention.1 Increased knowledge, however, has led to greater appreciation for the complexity of the task. Although constructive proposals for relating Scripture and ethics are still only being tested, many people nowadays are better prepared to avoid facile answers and improve inadequate ones. In this essay we try to discern ethical implications of the parable about the workers in the vineyard (Mt moral insight Patricia Ann Lamoureux teaches moral theology and Paul Zilonka CP teaches Scripture at St. Mary's Seminary and University; 5400 Roland Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. ~tanuary-February 2002 Lamoureux and Zilonka ¯ The Workers in the Vineyard In Galilee at that time, there were three types of relationship pertaining to work: patronage, exploitation, or cooperation. 20:1-16). The story disconcerts many people's sense of jusfce. We undertake this task with recognition of the danger of selecting one text from "a rich symphony of literary forms . . composed of a chorus of voices speaking out of a variety of historical and cultural contexts and a number of theological perspectives and addressing a broad spectrum of moral questions.''2 While focusing on the vineyard parable, we are not attempting to reduce this "rich orchestration" to a "simple melody line.''3 Nor are we suggesting that this story somehow contains all that Scripture has to say about morality in general or justice in particular. We approach the parable in three steps: (1) investigating the original set-ting and meaning of the parable (the exegetical task); (2) assessing how to appropriately employ this parable within the various levels of moral reflection (the methodological task); (3) interpreting the meaning of the parable for our contemporary situation (hermeneutical task).4 Let us begin with the parable: For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o'clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, "You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is just." So they went off. When he went out again about noon and about three o'clock, he did the same. And about five o'clock he went out and found others standing around, and he said to them, "Why are you standing here idle all day?" They said to him, "Because no one has hired us." He said to them, "You also go into my vineyard." When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, "Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first." When those hired about five o'clock Review for Religious came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, "These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat." But he replied to one of them, "Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous? So the last will be first, and the first will be last." (Mt 20:1-16) Exegetical Task In this section we explore what the parable meant to the people who first heard or read it. It is possible and even likely that Jesus' original audience, and Matthew's community too, included people of the social class of the vineyard .owner (landholders, merchants, entrepreneurs) as well as employed and unemployed workers. In lst-century Galilee, harvest time in a vineyard was fraught with tension. When the crop was ready, there could be no delay. All hands were needed to bring in the fruit at the peak of maturity. Also, the condition of day labor in the Hellenistic-Roman world was dreadful. The employer of the ancient world was master of his money; he could do with it as he chose. Commonly, employers looked in the marketplace of the city for unemployed men hoping to be hired. The agreement with those called at dawn was for "the usual daily wage" in that agrarian context. These men worked for whatever the employer was willing to pay, usually subsistence wages at the lowest level for a day's work. As the day went on, more laborers were needed. Thus we can understand the repeated excursions of the owner of the vineyard back to the town square seeking extra workers, even as the day waned. These others were promised what was "just," but the amount remained unspecified.5 In Galilee at that time, there were three types of relationship pertaining to work: patronage, exploitation, or cooperation. The January-February 2002 Lamoureux and Zilonka ¯ The Workers in the Vineyard latter would seem to explain the parable in regard to the workers of the first hour and those of the subsequent hours too. They agree to cooperate in doing the work for a stipulated amount, "the daily wage" for the first group and "what is just" for the latter groups. They are day workers rather than those enjoying the pati'onage relationship, which has a more permanent quality. Nor are they being exploited as slaves.6 Yet they grumble when workers hired at the 'end of the day receive the full daily wage. Over the years many people have been upset by the logic of the landowner, startled by what seems to be his "unbusinesslike" behavior. Those hired in the last moments of the workday could hardly have hoped for more than a small fraction of what the first would receive. After all, they had worked so little. The vineyard owner's payments take

Issue 57.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1998. ; Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all wbo find ~bat the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives~ Tge articles in the journal are meant to be inforntative, practical, bistorical, or inspirational, written front a tbeological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-mouthly 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: FOI~PI~MA@SLU.I~I)U Manuscripts, hooks for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious - P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for informatiou on subscription rates. ~1998 Review for Religions Permission is herewith gra,ated to cop}, any ,naterial (articles, poe,ns, 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 li,nits outlined in Sectious 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this per,nission 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 relig i ous Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial S~aff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. FischEr SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth.McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm J~an Read James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bis.hop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR ' Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 6 contents 566 578 religious vocations Common Threads: Are We Weaving or Unraveling? Catherine Bertrand SSN~D surveys the terrain of apostolic religious life regarding attitudes and concerns about future membership. The Decline in Religious Vocations: ¯ A Weberian Perspective Shanti P~beyasingha cssR looks at effects of the "routinizing" of a foundational charism and then peers beyond them with a hope that embraces new risks in changed circumstances. 588 595 ,life in the spirit Spirithil Maturity John Blake More reflects on some of the qUalities of a spiritually mature person. A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology Dennis J. Billy CSSR explores some of the ways in which a deeper understanding of the relationship between spirit and reason has =oncrete implications for the_future of moral theology. consecr.ated life 605 ~ Consecrated Life: Anointed with Joy Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap presents.ways of understanding joy and its intrinsic relationship to consecrated life. Review for Religious 622 The Future of Authority in the Religious Community John Carroll Futrell SJ describes what authority needs today as it exercises its ministry of making an apostolic community of love. spiritual limitations 628 Ground of Grace Marie Beha OSC uses the parable of ~he seed in looking at the limits we bring to the transforming action of grace. 640 Guigo I 'on Avoiding Suffering Kenneth C. Russell offers us some of the homely wisdom of an early Carthusian regarding the ensemble of this world and the ,next. departments 564 Prisms 650 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Obedience: ConcreteExpression and Practical Consequences 656 Book Reviews 666 Indexes to Volume 57 November-Deconber 1998 prisms T imagery of the Holy Spirit as an iconographer"holds an age-old place in the tradition of the Eastern churches. The Hol~ Spirit is painting us in the image and likeness of Goff~ But, of course, we acknowledge Jesus Christ as THE image of the invisible God (Col 1:15). Consequently, in working with us as a painter does with an icon, the Holy Spirit continues throughout our life to bring out in us another face of Jesus, As we enter the Advent preparation for Christmas, this way of understanding our relationship to the S'pirit seems especially appropriate. The Holy Spirit is always laboring to bring to birth within us a fuller identity with Jesus. Our life can be understood as an Advent season in which we are being prepared over the span of our earthly life for the reality of our life-with-God 'forever in Christ. At the same time, from our meditation upon the Gospels and from our following in Christ's footsLeps, our daily life can be seen as one spent living in imitation of the hidden and public life of Jesus. With every stroke of his painter's brush, the Spirit inspires, encourages, and strengthens us to live "like Jesus," to live as Christ-ians. For the Spirit, according to Jesus' promise, is the one who "remains" with us, the one who will "be within" us (Jn 14:17). From the Gospel of St: John, we learn that the Holy Spirit is a gift to us--Jesus' "gift to us of "another Paraclete" (that is, one who functions just like Jesus him-self, who is our first Paraclete) or, perhaps stated with more theological precision, a gift from the "us" of Father and Son. Fumblingly struggling to say something about Review for Religious the identity and life of our triune God, our theological tradition at times expresses it in this way: The Father gives himself over fully to the Son, and the Son gives himself over fully to the Father, and the fullness of the Love shared between them is a Gift-Person, a Love-Person. As a result, our Trinitarian God is caught up in a life of relationship, of total giving, of total sharing--a God who is Love, a God who is all Gift. The Spirit, whose very relational identity within the Trinity is Gift and Love, plays this same role in God's outreach to cre-ation- for example, the imagery of the brooding of Spirit over the waters of creation and the Spirit's overshadowing of Mary in the' an~aunciation scene. From revelation and from our experi-ence, we know that God relates to us through all of creation as "gifts"--gifts that are meant to help us to know, to love, and to serve God by our proper appreciation and use of these gifts. God relates to us through Jesus as gift of identity with us as human. jesus is called the new Adam because we human beings in the Jesus-Gift have .become truly new and original. God relates to us in baptism, confirmation, and all the sacraments and sacramentals of our Christian life in the gift of the one we~call the Holy Spirit. The process of our growing in grace or~ as the Eastern churches say it more daringly, the process of our divinization continues as God's Spirit-Gift stays with us. We CFiristians, made newly human in Christ, have come to understand God in a new and original way: a triune God, a Gift-God, a God of Love. At Christmas, then, we see again, with eyes of faith, God's gift of identity with us through Jesus. Year after year, all the won-der of this gift seen and remembered as a baby fills the heights and depths of our soul. But, in this year dedicated to the Spirit, we recall anew, especially in this Christmas season, how much the Holy Spirit--God-Gi~---keeps giving us the way to be Christ for our times. We pray to the Spirit to bring forth more fully in us the icon of Jesus each of us is created to be--~.made in the image and likeness of God. David L. Fleming SJ That the Spirit paint his icon more fully across the fabric of your life is the Chris~as wish fro,. all of us on the staff of Review for Religious. .November-Dece~ltber 1998 religious vocations CATHERINE BERTRAND Common Threads: -,Are We Weaving or Unraveling? In the last year, as I have traveled nationally and interna-tionally, tit has become clear that certain "threads" are shared, by a considerable number of congregations of women and men religious, especially those that describe themselves as active or apostolic. This article, examining some of these "threads," asking some questions, and offer-ing some answers, is not the last word. There are no sweeping statements to capture the experience of every religious. Rather, I hope to generate further discussion among congregational members as they together examine their own reality and explore what their own future might look like. Many active or apostolic congregations were founded one or two hundred years ago in .,response to particular ministerial needs in various parts of the world. The found, ing purpose often had'more to do with ministry than with a particular spirituality or rule. These congregations, with some help from Vatican Council II, are struggling with the articulation of their charisms and the interpretation of their founding purpose in light of today's church and world. This has often caused the various congregations to remark more' similarities than differences among them- Catherine Bertrand SSND is executive director of the National Religious Vocation Conference (5420 South Cornell Avenue, Suite 105; Chicago, Illinois 60615). Her article was first pub-lished in its quarterly journal, Horizon. Review for Religious" selves, Given this observation, what are some of the common threads evident in these congregations as they look toward, the future? Deepest Longings , Sociologists have noted that the two unmet desires of our age, the deepest longings expressed to~tay by peopl~ of all ages, are for.spirituality and for a sense of belonging. Vocation ministers in both. women's 'and men's congregations can validate these find-ings in their work with potential candidates. Consistently those considering religious life express their reasons as having to do ,with a longing for God and a desire for community life. Meanwhile, longtime members of these congregations seem to be asking themselves whether this in fact 4s .what religious are about, or what their life has to offer today. A thread common to English-spea.king countries worldwide is discussion of the need to take another look at quality community life. Some religious will contend that it is yet to be discovered what that means for active/apostolic congregations whose very foundation and history were overshadowed and strongly influ-enced by monastic rules and traditions. Be that as it may, not only are new members and potential candidates asking for quality com-mon life, but longtime members as well are saying they need to take another look at this. My guess would be that there are as many ideas of what community life could look like as there are people discussing it. There is no going back to what was, although some members ~ would desire that: Others, who have experienced community life in the past as uniformity and sameness, fear that this could become the case again. Some feel that"the struggle to be in a ministry that Is satisfying and in a living situation that does not take every ounce of energy has been long in coming: "Leave it alone!" Others, especially those who entered after Vatican 11,,came because of the common life and shared ministry, and continue to seek ways to have that happen. Some believe community can happen only under one roof. Others believe that such a configuration of community has nothing to do with the direction for the future. Some question~the value of vowed membership, while the expe-rience of others tells them that only when there is clarity about vowed membership does any other way of associating make sense. November-Decentber 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads Although some oflthese concerns differ.in various communities, and may take on different nuances in men's and women's con-gregations, the common threads, the similar questions, are there. Fundamental Changes and Different Realities Over recent years, some definite realities in religious life have given community.life a whole new look. The following paragraphs attempt to describe some of those changes. Space, or how space is regarded, has changed how ~relikious live in community. Many local communities ofwomen'~ congre-gations suffer from limited living space. For a variety of reasons, including some very healthy ones, there.has been a move to smaller living spaces, with fewer people. Unfortunately, religious often end: 'up--mostly for economic reasons--in crowded places with little common space beyond their own bedrooms. There is no room for guest, s, potential new members, or even one's own community members. There is no space, for common prayer, and no room to welc0m~e groups of guests. Religious congregations are not family; they al:e communities of adults; for whom the family model is not helpful. To live simply does not necessarily mean that there can be .no space. Although men's communities may have more space, rJaey seem to be challenged to look at how eas-ily the members can become independent, developing a board-ing- house mentality. Governance, too, has changed how religious live together. Many local commtinities have been trying a more circular model of leadership wherein various responsibilities of leadership are shared. Men's communities seem to 'be less dialogic, to function more expeditiously. No form of governance, however, seems to go without challenge, and no one model is ideal. , Age has also made a difference in how religious live together and ~relate to each other. There are more older members, and fewer new ones. The tendency to settle in bectmes stronger unless deliberate efforts fire made to retain vitality, ' which has little to do with.,age. New members help a community to keep growing and changing. Difference in community size calls for different skills. The abil-ity to b~ self-discl6sing is critical. Where it may once have been considered the. greatest of virtues to be silent, now it is crucial in community to be able to articulate one's thoughts and feelings in Review for Religious an appropriate manner. The smaller the group, the more essen-tial to have healthy members who are able to enter into this kind of sharing. Professionalism and ministry demands certainly affect community life today. Because urgent needs demand responses and because mission is the ov~rriding concern for many religious congrega-tions, this is where most time and energy are spent. The nature of ministry, especially with many women religious now in parish settings, places new demands on quality time in community. Self-Definition Countless efforts among religious focus on the identity and image of religious today: who religious are and what they are about. It appears that often religious define themselves by the work(s) they do. They seem to fall sho~rt when it comes to know-ing how to share some of the other elements of their lives that grow out of the communal dimension: Is' there clarity about those essential elements? Are the spiritual and communal elements of their lives seen as having the power to attract others, not just to new vowed membership, :but also to the varibus ways people can be in part-nership with religious 4ongregations? To religious who are concerned that potential candidates seem to focus only on God and com-munity and have little Or no sense of mission, I offer this thread. From interviewing and assessing candidates for priesthood and religious life, I have found, that among them service is a given. They deeply desire to be of service~ They may not always understand how to direct that generosity within a particular congregation, but what draws them to religious life is a unique context in which to offer service. Most candidates come assuming that Jesus, the Eucharist, and a link to the universal church are foundational to religious lif~. The community they seek is not a warm nest or surrogate family, but a group that will help them serve in a way that they could'not do alone. New members ,help a community to keep growing and changing, What Attracts Young Adults When two hundred young' adults from all over the United November-December 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads States joined more than five hundred vocation directors at the 1996 National Convocation of religious vocation ministers, they spoke to the questions of what was attractive and unattractive . about religious life today. On their application forms they were asked to describe any of their .current involvements in volunteer work, paid ministry, civic activities, and so~forth.Their responses were both amazing and impressive. The candidates that religious congregations would hope to attract are already engaged in ser-vice. They told us that ministry alone will not draw people to religious life. They come because of the community context in which the ministry is situated. They also see community life as happening under one roof. Many times they have no clear idea of w~hat they are asking for When they speaLof their desire for com, munity, but they clearly do not envision it as a "let's get together now and then" experience. Another thread I see in numerous congregations is the sincere desire of many religious to respond to that desire expressed by young people. Most congregations want to have a future and therefore are serious about attracting new members. A thread that is becoming more common in many congregations is being spun in conversations about being local communities of hospi-tality. Much as congregations would like it, this phrase does not describe every local community. Newer members are~well aware of struggles to find suitable, community situations to live in, Longtime members, too, know all too well thee feeling of panic when it comes to finding a local community upon Changing min-istry locations. Some congregations are creatively encouraging some of~their most "life-giving" members to consider housing situations that would allow for an extra room so that communities of hospitality become realities. These delibera~te efforts by some are invitations to all congregational members to take seriously the responsibil- -ity for hospitality. Community as Ministry Religious take seriously their commitment to ministry. Who can argue with that? But is mission understood as being synony-mous with the work they do? I 15elieve that one of the strongest sections of Vita consecrata deals with this very question. It states that community life plays a fundamental role in the spiritual jour- Review for Religious ney of religious, both for their constant renewal and for the full accomplishment of their mission In the world: [The church] wishes to hold up before the world the exam-ple of communities in which solitude is overcome through concern for one another, in which communication inspires in everyone a sense of shared responsibility, and in which wounds are healed throu~gh forgiveness and each person's commitment'to communion is strengthened. The life of communion in fact "becomes a sign for all the world and a compelling force that leads people to faith in Christ . in this way communion leads to mission and itself becomes mission"; indeed, "communion begets communion: In' essen~.~e it is a communion that is missionary." (§§45-46) Do religious believe that community life itself is key to the mission and their ministries? For active/apostolic congregations it seems to be an ongoing struggle. How do congregations arid individuals integrate or balance that healthy or not-so-healthy tension between ministry and community life? Have religious come to define active/apostolic religious life only by works, and often very individualized ministries at that? In many ministry situations there may b~ only one person of a particular congregation on the scene. A developing scenario seems to be that it is in ministry that one receives the greatest affirmation and.the deepest satisfaction, that one's affective needs are met, and that the most creative energy arises. This poses a sharp contrast to the less than life,giving local community situa-tion that religious often describe. Another dimension in this sce-nario is that today religious~ have less knowledge about or understanding of each other's ministries and therefore have fewer opportunities, to be supportive and affirming, ~ ~" : Another thread deserving further consideration is the amount of time and energy given to ministry. I have heard younger, newly professed religious comment that they came from homes where they were aware that everything, including family, always came second to their parents' dareers. They are often surprised to find that in religious life they have that same sense. They seem to respond in one of two ways. Either they quickly fal.1 into the work mode, or they choose to leave. On one occasion a speaker address-ing an audience of religious suggested that, if a congregation is serious about new membership, it may need to reevaluate its min-isterial commitments. Even to think about it brought an audible gasp from the audience. November-December 1998 Bertrand ~ Common Threads Often religious try to accomplish with fewer people what was once done by many more people. No doubt women and men reli-gious are responding to urgent needs in our church and world in creative and heroic ways. Many times, it seems, the very people who top the list as wonderful community members are also the most overextended in ministry. Where is the balance in all of this? What choices are congregations making in addressing these challenges, not just f~or the sake of new members, but for the sake of present membership? . . Some congregations are responding by honestly saying to each other and to others that they prefer to go onliving and working just as they are. Other congregations see a need for some changes. I have attempted to name some of the common reali-ties in religious life that have had an impact on community life. These include models of governance, ways of praying,' living space, aging members, and ministry demands. I would contend that, to the extent that realities in religious life have changed, religious are. invited to develop new skills for living contemporary religious life, giving new shape to religious community life. Skills Needed What are some of the skills to be considered?~ The following list is neither definitive nor exhaustive, but I offer it as a help toward further consideration and dialogue: ' ¯ The need for self-disclosure heads the list, in part because this element of religious life has changed radically in recent years. The change affects not only how one,share~ in dialogue, but also how one participates in prayer with one or more persons. There is an increased need both for sharing and for keeping a healthy sense of boundaries. . ¯ Skills for other-centeredness are key. It is no small challenge to be able to enter into the reality of another, to be generous, to listen. It means taking time for people and situations in commu-nity that may not always be one's first choice of how to use time and energy. It may mean not allowing ministry demands to always come first. ¯ Hospitality As an "in" word these days, but in some situa~- tions it may be as basic as developing social and conversational skills that make life better as occasions arise for religious to invite others into their homes and into their lives. This is particularly key Review for Religious in attracting new members. People cannot choose or ~upport what they do not know, unders(and, or experience. ¯ Skills for healthy sexuality and intimacy are critical elements in the life of any person, and these impact,community life. They affect the way individual religious express who they are, how "at home" they might be as loving, intimate, sexual human beings. They assist religious in having .a sense of self that can support o~hers in their celibate choice and can help still others under-stand celibacy as a viable option. A healthy sexuality includes developing friendsl~ips within and outside community life. It also involves doing whatever is necessary to be a physically and psy-chologically healthy person, someone with whom others would like to share community. ¯ A healthy spirituality is another key element in quality com-munity life, having both a communal and individual dimension. It means looking for ways to be supportive of the spiritual life of others in community, participating in the liturgical life of the church, and expressing the shared spirituality of a particular con-gregation. It also means finding ways to participate in the ongo-ing revelation of God through individuals and in community. ¯ Skills for shared living involve negotiating living space, being attentive to the little .things that can make or break community liv-ing, These skills make it possible for religious to choose to live with one or more fellow religious when it would be easier to live alone, or they may suggest ways of creatively sharing life with others if particular circumstances' demand living alone for a time. They help one to be open to sharing life with a variety of people, in a variety of ways, ways that are life-giving, not death-dealing. ¯ To be attentive to ongoing learning and enrichment demands that one strive to be updated about religious life, spirituality, the, ology, and so forth, in: addition to fulfilling~"professional" demands for ongoing education. It also means being attentive to one's development as an "interesting" person who can contribute.to community discussions and learning. It means taking time for enrichment, alone and with others. ¯ Friendship in community also involves skills, though no one can make friendship happen. One must look for ways to come to know the people .with whom one shares life, and must do whatever one can to create a community to.which people want to come home. Friendship skills include being able ~nd willing to cele-brate people .and events 4n the company of others. November-December 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads ¯ Leadership ski'lls need to be nurtured in every community member even though such skills will be expressed in many dif-ferent ways on a variety of levels. These skills include taking indi-vidual responsibility within a community of adults, having a voice and being honest and up-front in using that voice for the good of the whole, getting involved in the workings of the congregation ~3n the local level and beyond, and keeping actively in touch with congregational leaders. ¯ Conflict-management skills invite the convictitn that each person is worth the time it~takes to live together well. They involve being honest as well as kind with feedback, being account-able for any effort or lack of effort at being a positive presence in a community. Conflict management calls for a healthy sense of self that allows one to deal with issues, not destroy persons. These are some skills that seem key to living contemporary community life. Some Other Threads .There continue to be questions. Are religious setting them-selves up for failure,and disappointment in taking another look at quality community life, another look at that particular thread? Is this a challenge beyond them? No one can make 'a significant responge alone, not the. congregational leader or any individual member, not a new member or potential candidate, not the voca-tion director. A significant response requires the efforts of as man, y as possible--many interwoven threads. There are people among us who lack either the desire, the aptitude, or both for living community life in this day and age. There are ministerial situations that demand different ways of being community. But in many congregations a substantial group of peo-ple have both the desire and the aptitude to make co.mmunity life work, even under one roof. Community life takes time and energy. There 'is no way around that, even in the best-case scenarios. If congregations want the future to be different, some radical decisions must be made in the present-'if not always big deci-sions, then some smaller ones that are no less radical: These are the ones that touch the day-to-day living of the entire community. How willing am I to be "inconvenienced" for the sake of our future, ~for the sake of not just new members, but also present members? This question is screaming for anoanswer.from indi=' Review for Religious vidual religious and from congregations. The answer may mean reclaiming community as ministry, community as mission. The final thread I will touch upon is perhaps stating the obvi-ous. Vocation ministers, who are some of the most hopeful peo-ple around, indidate time and again that in their work the greatest challenge 4s their own congregational members' lack of aware-ness and response. They do not assume ill will, for they see that people are very busy, involved in many things. How, then, are communitymembers to be made more alert to ways of promot-ing vocations? Congregational leaders are critical players 'in these efforts, b~t congregational members are no less important. Do we pas-sionately desire another generation of religious for the sake of God's people? Are we willing to invite new generations to consider religious life as a viable option, or by our silence have we made the decision for them? The responses to these questions cannot be postponed, to be considered at some other time, Our only time is ,' Questions for Individuals and Communities Something to do now is raise some of the ,following questions in the privacy of your o~n mind and heart--but also to raise them in discussion with other religious in your own congregation, in your own local community, or in any number of other settings.,~ Skills for Self-disclosure What in your life indicates that you have a sense of legitimate boundaries, your own and those of others? What enables .you to express your thoughts and feelings in dialogue and in faith shar-ing? How do you nurture mental and emotional health that allows you to be self-disclosing? How do yob develop healthy self-esteem, self-confidence that allows you to share yourself with others? What gives you the sense that others enjoy being with you? Skills for Other-cehteredness How do you balance self-maintenance with generous pres-ence and service? What gets most attention and energy in your local community? How do you foster local' community life that reaches beyond itself?. What enables you to enter into the re~ility of another? How do you present religious life as a viable option Noventber-Decentber 1998 Bertrand ¯ Common Threads for someone else? How do you share ministry with each other, even if you are in different settings? What sharpens your ability to be a good listener? Skills four Hospitality What do you do to develop social and conversational skills? How are you willing to be inconvenienced for the sake of wel-coming others? What do you do to encourage, potential new mem-bers and to invite them, and others as well, into yo~ur life and into your home? How do you cope with diversit'v? What prevents you at times from being hospitable and welcoming? Skills/:or Healthy Sexuality and lntimaey How would someone, describe your outlook on life? What helps you .to be happy and hopeful? How do you express that sense? How do. you express your celibate choice? How do you describe it? How are you generative in your celibate choice?. What steps do you take to develop and sustain healthy friendships? How does the way you live speak to health and wholeness? Skills for a Healthy Spirituality How :are you faithful to personal and communal'prayer? What other elements of your life indicate a seritusness about your rela-tionship with God? How do you participate in the liturgical life of the church? How does your prayer life reflect the .spirituality of your congregation? How does your spiritual life reflect and support a concern for others? ~ Skills for Shared Living How does the shared living space where you live facilitate quality community life? When are you~generous or territorial in your useof common space and, goods? How are you attentive to the "litde things" that can cause friction or tranquillity in a shared living space? How willing, are you to negotiate, and sometimes settle for conditions that are not to your liking? The persons you live with--what keeps your expectations of them realistic? Skills fo, r Ongoing Learning and Enrichment ~ What steps do you take to keep updated regarding religious-life trends, spirituality, theology? How do you make time for cur-rent reading, awareness of world issues, which can be shared in Review for Religious community? What do you do for enrichment and leisure, indi-vidually and as a local community? What are some of the best ways to "waste time" together? Skills for Friendship in Community What helps you to come to know and appreciate the people with whom you share community life? How do you reflect an openness to potential friendship in community without demand-ing it? What about you would give other people a desire to live in community with you? What about local community makes it a situation to which you want to come home? How do you make choices for quality community time in the face of ministerial demands? How do you celebrate people and events in your local community? How do you share your family and friends with your congregation? How do you give yourself and others a sense of freedom in community relationships? Skills for Leadership What is the role and understanding of leadership in your local community? How do you participate in those responsibilities? What is your expectation of those in congregational leadership in relating to local communities? In what ways do you take ini-tiative in your local community? Sk(lls for Conflict Management , What helps you to be honest and up-front in dealing with conflict in community? How do you give helpful feedback to peers, and how, do you receive it from them? To whom do you hold yourself accountable for trying to live quality community life? For you, what elements of local community can become sources of conflict? What are the most effective ways for you to resolve conflict in your local community? Are you, are we, weaving or unraveling? November-December 1998 SHANTI ABEYASINGHA The Decline in Religious Vocations: : ,A Weberian Perspective y-783 _ religious life, that many who join religious congregations give up halfway, and that some leave even after final profession are things that merit inquiry. For many a religious congregation, vocation questions and vocation promotion are top priorities. A superior of a women's religious congregation told me that she and the sis-ters were trying desperately to get young girls to join because comphter statistics had shown that the congregation would die out if a hundred or more new persons did not come in every year. Deaths each year were outnumbering the entrants, and, accord= ingly, aging.itself had become a more serious~problem too. There are instances where some congregations in the West have come to Asia, Africa, and Latin America (places with more .vocations) in search of candidates. The phenomenon of men;'and women religious coming from the West to work as missionaries also seems to be a thing of the past. In fact, the reverse process seems to be taking place. Religious congregations with branches in Asia, Africa, and Latin America are asking them to come up with volunteers for missionary work in other lands. These instances and others would seem to indicate that religious life is in disarray. Shanti Abeyasingha CSSR has held administrative positions in his order, has done socioeconomic development work in Sri Lanka, and has con-ducted retreats and missions in Sri Lanka, India, and Malaysia. His address is: Redemptorists, Santa Maria; George E. de Silva Mawatha; Kandy, 20000; Sri Lanka. Review for Religious The interesting thing, however, is that the problem of a lack of vocations, which many modern-day religious congregations are facing, was seldom an issue for the founders and foundresses ofireligious congregations~ They do not stem to have had diffi-culty getting people to join their ranks. As their histories often tell us, .people were attracted to the particular work they started and to their commitment and deilication. Many a °person was ready to give up everything and join them. God's Fidelity and Religious Congregations' Continued Existence The Bible speaks again and again about the faithfulness of God. Evenothough we humans are unfaithful, God is shown as the one who is ever faithful to his pr~mises. Along with his faith-fulness, his caring love is always there, ever ready to come to our aid. This' love is brought out clearly in the Exodus experience. The words "I have seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt, and have heard their cry 'because of their taskmasters; I know their suffering, and I have comedown to deliver them" (Ex 3:7- 8) expresses it all. vWhen God makes his covenant with the Israelites at Mount Sinai, the people experience and~ understand their God precisely as one who always intervenes on their behalf to alleviate suffering and oppressiom All through human history we encounter human suffering and misery. These are vestiges df sin and .are manifest in the self-ishness of persons who do not care 'for their brothers and sisters. God continues to care for these unfortunate persons all through history. He continues to prove his faithfulness .and concern by raising up women and men who dedicate their lives in the ser-vice of people whom others oppress or ignore and even history forgets. These charismatic personalities emerge especially in moments of, crisis and,decadeffce in society. They, like Moses, are inspired to do God's bidding on behalf of his people. They are in line'with ~the prophets, who denounced oppression while at the same time announcing to the people the good news of liberation and deliverance. In the line of the prophets, these founders of congregations interpreted the signs of the times and responded vigorously. They highlighted something ~hat answered a need in society. They manifested through their actions the faith~lness andthe ¯ November-DecembD" 1998 L -79 Abeyasingba * The Decline in Religious Vocations caring presence of God as he continues to come down and deliver his people from their bondage. Here we have the actual reason for the beginning and the continued exi~stence of religious congre-gations, namely, t~o be extensions of God's presence in the world. The "Routinization" of a charism Max Weber has something to say about such charismatic lead-ers. He says that charismatic leaders are creative and do things that are not in line with the normal run of things in society. He is quick to add, however, that such charismatic leaders do not last. They are a passing phenomenon in society. They appear at cer-tain times in history to answer particular needs of the time. In the course of time, especially after the death of the charismatic leader, his or her original insight becomes traditi~nalized or ratio-nalized or both.~ Weber adds: "It is only in the initial stages, and so long as the charismatic leader acts in a way which is completely outside every day social organization, that it is possible for his followers to live communistically in a community of faith and enthusiasm.''2 Thus, according to Weber, it is only a question of time before the initial charism of the leader becomes "routinized.''3 Usually this takes place after his or her death. In this transformation into a permanent routine structure, one of the first things altered is the anti-economic character of the original charisma.4The followers pursue security and economic stability (as part of security) to. make up for the absence of the founder. Everyday needs and the ordi-nary details of administration necessitate such an adaptation. This process took place even in the church after the death of the Lord Jesus Christ. With routinization comes an attempt to preserve the leader's thought and way of life. Normally this takes the form of pre-serving his or her letters, instructions,- documents, and sayings, along with eyewitness reports, accounts from the~first companions, and so on. Guidelines are set for the training of future followers. These are usually spelled out in documents such as rules, consti-tutions, and statutes, which are updated from time to time by general chapters and by special commissions appointed by them. The result is a system of organization different from that which existed during the time of the charismatic leader. During the leader's lifetime, the way of making decisions, the way of act- Review for Religious ing, and in short the whole way the group functioned could be said to have been somewhat arbitrary and unpredictable. There was no formal or well-defined way of doing a particular thing. The leader's personality was the key factor, and it overshadowed what-ever structures and procedures were already in place, regarding the community and its mission. Max Weber says that "the routinization of charisma also takes the form of the appropriation of powers of control and of eco-nomic advantages by the followers,or disciples and of regulation of the recruitment of these groups.''5 In other words, the rou-tinization process in a congregation includes the manner and the basis of choosing leaders, the training or tests of eligibility of the new recruits, the way of governing the members, their rights and duties, and so on.6 Also, it is very much akin to the adaptation that constantly takes place in economic life--for the economy is on~ of the principal and continually operating forces in everyday life. In the whole question of routinization, the economic condi-tions play a leading role'and do not constitute merely a dependent variable.7 Bureaucratic Org.anization and Religious Life From the foregoing it will be clear that accompanying the whole process of the routinization of a charism is the attempt to coordinate activities. Weber calls this the process of rationaliza-tion or the process of bureaucratic organizatipn. He goes on to say that this is a distinctive mark of the modern era. Bureaucracy has shaped modern politics, the modern economy, modern technol'- ogy, and modern church life and religious life too. Max Weber considered the bureaucratic organization to be technically supe-rior to all other forms of administration. He says' also that only through this device, namely bureaucracy, has large-scale planning of the modern state and the modern economy become possible,s The main characteristics of a bureaucratic organization are: ¯ It is organized according to rational principles: rules, con-stitutions, and statutes. (This is something that developed in religious congregations.) ¯ The offices are ranked in a hierarchical order. (Religious congregations, too, have a hierarchical order, that is, gen-eral, his or her consulto~rs, the different secretariats, provin-cials, vice-provincials, and so on.) Novetttber-December 1998 Abeyasingba * The Decline in Religious Vocations Efficiency has hhd the effect of making religious congregations inefficient in answering the changed needs of the times. ¯ The operations (of offices) are characterized by imper-sonal rules. (The various offices in religi~ous congregations, too, have clearly defiiaed procedures.) ¯ The members are governed by methodical allocation of areas of jurisdiction.(Today the members of religious con-gregations fire allocdted 'into provinces, vice-provinces, regions, and so on.) ¯ Appointments to offices are generally made according to specialized qualifications. Those who can fit into the bureaucratic administrative set-up are the ones who are normally considered for s~h offices. Just as bureaucracy has its advantages, it also has its draw-backs. Its very strengths are also its weaknesses. Because of its rationalized organization, bureaucracy sometimes becomes unwieldy and even stultifying in dealing with individual cases. Modern rationalized and bureaucratized systems find themselves incapable of dealing with particularities. In other words, the individual's initiative and creativity are submerged under a deluge of reasons that are derived mechanically from the 0 code of behavior.~° Depersonalization is another result of bureaucratization. The organization seems to take precedence over the personhood of the individual." In the last analysis, although bureaucratization and rationalization may have increased the efficiency of the o.r, ga: nization, this very efficiency threatefis to dehumanize its ere-ators. 12 In such a setup, 0there is little room for charismatic personalities to emerge. , From what has been said, one sees the implications of bureau-cratization for the functioning~of religious life. While on the one hand it has organized and systematized administration, on the other hand it has stifled some new initiatives and new thinking. Persons who propose changes in hitherto :accepted ways of doing things could very well find themselves isolated or labeled rebel-lious or considered excrescences that need to be removed because they are a hindrance to the smooth running of the ihstitute. Worse still would be the sad refility of some finding themselves outside the institute because their ideas do not find acceptance with the Review for Religious administration. To put it in another way,. this very efficiency has had the effect of making religious congregations inefficient in answering the changed conditions and changed needs of the times. Understanding Vatican II's Renewal Guidelines Something that should not be forgotten is that the intention of these charismatic leaders was to answer particular needs in society. They were answering a local need. What took priority was the need of the people, not the organization of a group with rules and. regulations. Only much later, as numbers increased and in some cases lived far from the original local area, did the group give ,special attention to its own formation. This fact should be kept in mind when we speak of the inspiration of the founder or foundress. As has been explained, with the death of the charismatic ,leader, the routinization process took. over,' bringing .to the now more organized institute a corresponding sense of securityoand stability ,among the members. This in turn created a certain insen-sitivity to the actual needs of the people, espec!ally the poor. It is in this context that one has to understand the appeal made by the Second Vatican Council: The appropriate renewal of religious life involves two simul-taneous pr%cesses: (I) a continuous return to the sources ~ 9f all Christian life and to the original inspiration b~hind a given community and (2) an adjustment of the community to the changed conditions of the times. Clearly, the council envisaged two simultaneous processes for the renewal of religious life. It went on to enumerat.e certain princi-ples in accord with which such renewal was to proceed: to follow Christ, to participate in the life of the church, to seek to identify the institute's,particular character and purpose, and to be aware of contemporary human conditions and of the needs of the church. Renewal in the Context of Max Weber's Routinization With such an impetus given by the council, one could have noticed certain initiatives taken by various communities. Many congregations set up commissions to study their roots, going into the history of their founding inspirations. General chapters made it their chief objective to redraft their respective rules and con- Novonber-Dece~nber 1998 Abeyasingba * The Decline in Religious Vocations stitutions according to the mind and spirit of the documents of the Second Vatican Council. That the various congregations made a sincere effort to adjust themselves to the changed conditions of the times cannot be denied. In the renewed constitutions one could notice that provision was made for individual initiatives. Furthermore, units of the congregation in various countries were given the freedom to adapt and change according to their par-ticular situation. These were praiseworthy changes indeed, which by and large were done after a general consultation of all the members. One could not help noticing, however, that the final outcome was worked out within a bureaucratic setup.which was hierarchical in its composition. Any new efforts were to be tried out within a certain organizational framework of the congregation. Furthermore, the starting point of such ventures was a position of economic security. This meant that the inSecurity, the uncertainty. the risk--very much a part of the life and experience of the fouflders when they first set out to answer the need of the hour!- was not there. Also~ the Vatican Council's guidelines for adjusting the com-munity to the changed conditions of the times were not followed fully. There was a general move towards a more simple lifestyle. Institutes made changes in their religious garb, in food customs, in their cloister regulations, and so forth. There was, however, no sign of a change of structures in keeping with what the founders had had during their lifetime. Changes took place only within confines that ensured that the boat would not be rocked too much. It had to be so, inasmuch as the process of roudnization was firmly entrenched. Adjusting to the changed co.n.ditions of the times (at the coun-cil's direction) was, then, not an easy task. In practical terms, con-gregations, in spite of all their goodwill and efforts to be relevant in the present day, found themselves up against a bureaucratic system incapable of providing room for the charismatic figures who might have renewed them by making the necessary paradigm shifts. By and large this could be attributed to the routinization of the charism that religious congregations underwent after the death of their founders. As a result, the religious-life renewal that the council proposed could not be realistically achieved. If the needs of people in the various areas had been met, there would have been no dearth of vocations in the religious congregation. In Review.for Religious other words, there is no need for advertising a product that is selling and is in demand in the market. Efficiency or Effectiveness ~Max Weber's sociological observations, when applied to a reli-gious institute, do indeed seem to throw some light on the reasons for the'almost universal decline in religious vocations. As long as a bureaucratic way of life governs religious congregations, they will almost always manifest a certain efficiency in whatever work they do. The work, however, ma3i not be effective, for such a system of administration does not always respond in a vigorously prophetic manner to the urgent and crying needs of the people. ' The history of the church shows that ~hange has often come from areas off the beaten track, where some indi-viduals had found a way for themselves. In modern religious cong.regations, organized in the way they are, it is almost impossible to accommodate such trailblazing elements. It can be noted historically that only the dark eras of history witness the emergence of new religious congregations. Critical times almost always bring about a breakdown of existing systems, but it is .in these chaotic and confusing situations that charismatic per-sonalities seem to apEear out of nowhere. The late Mother Teresa's Missionaries of:Charity were such a response to a chaotic situation in one of the most populated and crowded' cities in the-world, Calcutta. Her prophetic voice of compassion and kindness to the poorest of the poor cut through such barriers as caste, religion, and class. Her living witness and work proclaimed to all people the dignity of each and every per-son, which a world had lost sight of in its quest for power and wealth. Her response had a universal and global character. Her message is clear, something that religious congregations could ponder as they rethink their charisms while they and the world step into the 21 st century. The decline in religious vocations is not an entirely negative thing. A search through the crisis will make us see the reasons It is in chaotic and confusing situations that charismatic personalities seem to appear out of nowhere. L5"_S.5"__ Noventber-December 1998 Abeyasingba ¯ The Decline in Religious Vocations why such a situation has come to pass. Instead of looking at pres-ent- day confusion with tunnel vision, one should see it in.a global perspective and as a precursor of growth. Mother Teresa's e~tam-pie could help towards such a rethinking. So also could the obser-vations made by Max Weber. They can facilitate taking stock and analyzing the present situation of religious congregations. From thls starting point religious congregations could proceed to make the drawbacks and weaknesses that are found in current struc-tures irrelevant. They could make themselves ready to face the challenges of tomorrow. Weber's.Ansights, by helping us learn the truth about ourselves, can ready us to proceed to generatiye and creative actions. They can challenge us to do some honest and humble soul searching about our present situation, In St. Paul's words (2 Co 12:10), "When I am weak, then Iam strong." Notes l Max Weber, The Theory of Social and Economic Organizqtion, trans. A.R. Henderson and Talcott Parsons (U.K.: William Hodge~ and Company, 1947), p. 334. :2 Weber, Theory, p. 337. 3 "Routinization" is Max Weber's term for the phenomenon of an original idea (here, that of the charismatic leader) becoming organized a~d conceptualized in the course of time. This is the result~of the interpret-ing, analyzing,, rationalizing, and so forth that take place when congre-gations study the writings of their founders, the accounts, of' their immediate companions and a.ssociates, the recollections of others Eho knew them, and so forth. 4 In their initial insight, almost all charismatic leaders are anti-eco~ nomic; they set t~p almost no economic system for collecting or raising funds. It is the personali.ty of the leaders that attracts others~' td them and also brings in donations and gifts. The aim of charism~itic le'aders is to achieve a special goal (filling a need of the society at that time, usually serving the poor), not to meet their own day-to-day needs. SWeber, Theory, p. 337. 6 The original basis of recruitment was the founders' personal charism. A .charism is something that can only be ;'awakened" and ".tested," not something that can be taught and learned. Novitiates arid houses of for° marion, however, tend to assume a teaching stance. See W~eber, Theory, pp. 337-338. 7 Weber, Theory, p. 342. s When religious congregations spread beyond their original geo-~ graphical area and the routinization process had been set in motion, there was no preventing a bureaucratic organization. Review for Religious o Lewis A. Coser, Masters of Sociological Thought: Ideas in Historical and Social Context (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1971), pp. 230- 231. 10 Reinhard Bendix, Max Weber, An Intellectual Portrait (Garden City, N Y.: Doubleday, 1960), p. 421. ~ Bendix, pp. 421-422. 12 Coser, Masters, pp. 231-232. ,3 Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis), §2. the departed say we are not dead see ohr faces hear ohr voices when you leadt expect like neighbors visitihg unhnnounced we are'some~lace ~ withih view within earshot like others in your house but we are, at liberty to come and go without weight.or circumscription like winds in harp strings like real answers to your real questions Avis Kunca Kubick Novetttber-Decetttber 1998 JOHN BLAKE MORE Spiritual Maturity ife.in the spirit Reading my first Thomas Merton book back in my early twenties, I came across the phrase "spiritual maturity," an expression that delighted and fascinated me even though I had no clue of what it was designed to express. I won-dered about it for several months and even reflected on its possible meaning, but then it receded into the less acces-sible regions of my consciousness and enjoyed untroubled slumber for some time. But not forever. Over the years, as I have become more life-mature and more di'scernibly chronologically mature, the phrase "spiritual matur!ty" has--through reading, conversation, and simple observa-tion- returned to my sight and consciousness many times, to haunt me but also to stimulate me to explore further its possible meanings and its probable connections to every-day life. What would.a spiritually mature person look like or act like? Am I a spiritually mature person? Is it possi-ble for me to become one? Do I know any spiritually mature persons? All this questioning and thinking over the years has led me to formulate tentatively some answers, some ideas that I think have helped me and that I want to share with others. Some of these ideas are derivative: I got them from other folks. Others are either original or synthetic, fash-ioned from items found in reading and conversation and from observing the behavior and attitudes of people I meet. John Blake More, new to our pages, writes from Tejtn 34 - Sm. 20; Cancfin Quintana Roo; 77500 Mexico. Review for Religious A spiritually mature person is probably creative. At least one religious tradition holds that we are made in the image and like-ness of God, and, if we ask ourselves in what this image and like-ness really consist, we naturally come up with the notion that we are like God because we are creative as he is creative. We are ere- ~tive because God made us that way. He made us free and there-fore creative. As humans we show our creativity in at least three 'important spheres (and here I follow Paul Ricoeur): having, power, and valuing. Having. In the exercise of creativity all people, even the spir-itually mature, need to have some material.goods for their own use. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. But the major religious tradi-tions and the spiritual values they represent do not seem to place much importance on the acquisition of wealth, do they? In fact, they see great riches as a disvalue. So spiritually mature persons are not much concerned with acquiring wealth and possessions beyond what they need to get along decently in life. On the other hand, people who have lots of possessions have greater opportu-nities to be creative. They can create new jobs for others, build libraries ~nd museums, or Simply give some of their excess money to .people who need it to survive. In itself; possessing wealth really seems to be spiritually neutral. If one sees possession as steward-ship, it can be something positive. If, however, people believe they are the outright owners without considering that God has entrusted them with these possessions and that they must appor-tion them responsibly, then they are probably not much con-cerned with growth in the Spirit. ~ 0 Power. Spiritually mature persons are probably aware of their own need for power, but are also conscious that everyone else has the same need. We need, in the first place, power over ourselves: self-determination to decide where to live or work, who our friends and associates will be, what kind of lifestyle we will adopt or develop for ourselves. We also need to be able to exercise power over others, but this must be legitimate power, the kind of power society assigns to us and expects us to exercise intelli-gently for the cbmmon good. We have to make choices for, our children. We have to determine the ~activities of our employees if we have any. But, in these activities and others like them, if we allow strength and power to become force and coercion, we can be pretty sure we are not much interested in becoming spiritually mature. We are dismayed when we read of dictatorial aggression, November-December 1998 More ¯ Spiritual Maturity ruthless kidnappings, tribal wars, but force and coercion can occur in little things of daily life and they can have the appearance of being extremely civilized and in the best of taste. :Valuing. In the sphere of valuing, we show our creativity by making determinations about the relative worth of things and activities. Nowadays it is out of fashion to be what people call "judgmental" "because, if you tell p6ople they are doing some-thing wrong, like putting a round peg into a square hole, the~ may feel threatened or embarrassed, feelings which may be owing to a kind of paranoia rather than to comments one may offer con-structively. Spiritually mature persons seldom if ever "condemn," but th.ey must in certain situations be judgmental.Th'at is why ¯ we':haSte crii:ical faculties: to make decisions about what is worthy and what is not, to be ab!e.to distinguish between the junk and the good stuff. And that is what prophecy is all about: shouting from the housetops when you see injustice and abuse.The spiritually mature person, then, distinguishes between healthy and modest criticism done in a spirit of love, and foolish or malicious remarks made in some other spirit. We must evaluate or criticize our cul-ture, our government, our friendships, and of course ourselves. While smiling permissiveness is no virtue, it is also true that unwavering tolerance and spiritual maturity have .always been on the closest terms. One good sign of spiritual growth is a weakening of our most cherished prejudices. When we hate, fear, or feel threatened by another person simply because he is different from us, then we are failing to appreciate the image and likeness of God in that person. These are three general areas that merit consideration as we ponder the nature of spiritual maturity, but other things, too, should be looked at. Frie.ndship is of great importance in the spir-itual life. All the grea( figures of the .important religious tradi-tions, those who had the ,primal mystical experience that gave .rise to those traditions, had friendships with other people. They loved their friends dearly and openly. We, too, are right to treat, our friends lovingly, with tenderness. We look forward to seeing them and spending time with them. We talk with them about'our desires and aspirations, and we confide to them our fears and failures. We inspire them and corisole them.Sometimes we revive ~them when their spirits droop. ,Some people who are mature in the spirit experience some' difficulty in maintaining, friendships for reasons of transport, distance, or schedule, but such difficulties are ! Review for Relig4ous not insurmountable. People can ha-be a firm and meaningful frien'dghip by correspondence. Sure, by mail. Why not? If you know someone whose values and outlook are compatible with yours, you can have an ongoing correspondence with him or her that will be significant for both your live~, and also enriching. You do not have to write anything world-shaking or mind-bog-gling. Writing takes a little more time and effort than a face-to-face chat, and it does not offer the same consolations and pleasures as real face-to-face togetherness, but it is still something of great worth. Growth in the spirit is closely connected to skill in the ~ine art of listening. When I told a friend that some-one had said I was a good conversationalist, he answered that what she really meant was that I am a good listener. I wonder how right he was.'The plain fact, though, i~ that people do like to be listened to, and the spiritually mature person is a master at listening lovingly, corn-" passionately, but also selectively. By this I do not mean the kind of selective listening that'~ filters all I hear through my own ego supports in order to register only those things that satisfy or interest me. Although an interchange between friends may involve a recounting of events or a descrip-tion of facts, when I listen to a friend I am not trying to acquire factual information. I am trying to get a sense of his or her state of mind and soul. This is not always easy, in view of personality differences and of people's varying ability to articulate their inner dispositions. But~ When we listen, we need to care mostly about the person we are listening to. Spiritually mature persons have a delightful sense of child-like wonder that makes everything new. Sophisticated people who have seen it all and done it all, or just do not want to get involved, area lov less fun to be with than men and women who have a deep spiritual sense of wonder. Wonder leads to openness and surprise, contentment and faithfulness, curiosity and enthusiasm. It also brings an appreciation of the uniqueness of each person along with a sense of brotherhood and equality. " Surprising as it may seem, spiritually mature people are hardly ever highly disciplined people. This is because they are loving persons. They do everything that has to be done, they do it at the appointed time, and they 'do it right--not because they have discipline, but because they have love. They are.motivated to read Friendship is of great importance in the spiritual life. November-December 1998 More ¯ SpiritualMaturity Surprising as it may seem, spiritually mature people are hardly ever highly disciplined people. books and wash floors and get to work on time because they live out Augustine's dictum "Love and do as you please." A sullen-faced p4rson probably has too much discipline and too little love. When the persons I am talking about look out at the world, they-see a lot of ambiguity and they embrace it heartily as a major component of human life. If the Creator is good, why does he allow us to suffer so much? Why should I help the poor if poverty is not eradicable? This kind of ambiguity is embraced and accepted by mature .persons of all spiritual tradi-tions, and in the case of Christian spir-ituality there is the model of the ambiguity of the cross. Why should I forgive these people if they are killing me? Why should I ask my Father for help if he has abandoned me? And, putting the two questions together, why should I ask my Father to forgive these people who are killing me if my Father has already abandoned me? For the spiritually mature these are actually non.questions, even as they represent realities that have to be faced. Not because maturity pro-duces historical or social blindness, but because serious consider-ation of such issues leads to acceptance of reality. Such questions, when formulated as questions, are not answerable. And even here ~here is a further ambiguity: how can I accept the reality of drug abuse, teenage pregnancy, rampant poverty and ignorance, and on and on, and still work to change all these social ills, to provide some alleviation to all the suffering they cause? Does "That's the way the world is" mean "why try to change it!"? Language use, too, has to be considered in connection,with spiritual maturity. As little children we learn to use language as an instrument to further our own designs and to get others to behave in ways that promote our own interests. If we learn this skill well as children and then refine it as adults, we become wonderful manipulators or even politicians, and this is why. spiritually mature people hardly ever go into politics. They lack skill in using lan-guage instrumentally. They say what they mean and they mean what they say. They use language to inform or to persuade, but never to.manipulate. Modern societies view independence as a positive andhighly desirable virtue. Mos't parents say they want their children to Review for Religious become independent. We admire the "independent spirit." Actually, such independence is a fiction and a most undesirable one. In reality, each of us is highly dependent on at least a few other humans, and we should be. Living in human society means being interdependent: I depend on you and you depend on me. This is an important ingredient in the cement that holds human society together and promotes the development of culture. Instead of~insisting on their independence, spiritually mature persons consider themselves autonomous--which suggests the ability to live and act in freedom from outside control, coercion, or manip-ulation. That is different from independence because in my free-dom I acknowledge that I depend--sometimes radically--on others, and they on me. In our day most of us are aware (sometimes painfully aware) that the subject matter of life (the real business of human exis-tence) is change and that, in the best case, change takes the form of transformation of the person into an ever more human creature. Being human is a good thing and does not mean, as the cynic 'believes, unremitting egotism and venality. Before he started feel-ing hi.s oats, Adam was so perfect that he had conversations with God as they walked "in the cool. of the day." Being human should mean changing arid becoming perfect, as our Father is perfect. Since most of us consider such perfection an unrealizable ideal, persons who think about becoming spiritually mature prob-ably have a set of unattainable goals that they take quite seriously and adhere to assiduously. They have probably formulated a set of precepts which relate to these goals and which articulate their creatureliness and humanness during their inner conversations with themselves and with' the Spirit of God. In my own thinking about becoming mature in the Spirit, I have come up tentatively with three precepts that reflect my own human creatureliness, but are also ordered toward my capacity to become a "partaker of the divine naturE." I use them to talk to myself. Let me offer them here. Deepen your understanding of reality. Try to get a good grasp of reality by asking the ~right questions. The right questions always have three distinguishing characteristics: they.are unanswerable, they always lead to other and better questions, and they almost always begin with why. Acquiring knowledge requires study and learning from good teachers and good books, along with the will-ingness to undergo the suffering involved in replacing stale beliefs November-December 1998 More ¯ Spiritual Maturity with new data. It also dem'ands increasing connectedness to the culture in which I live and awareness of how life is lived in other cultures. What I should be looking for are meaning and connec-tion: the ultimate unity of all being and its essential oneness with the Absolute. ' Refine your tastes. Begin by distinguishing the merely attractive or pretty from the truly beautiful. If you were brought up on rock music, Mozart probably leaves you cold. Praxiteles probably has little to say to you if you think Schwarzenegger and Stallone are beautiful, Biat we should perhaps not consider ourselves less wor~ thy humans if we are drawn.to the merely attractive or pretty. ' This happens in the best of families, doesn't it? As young peo-ple, when we are most curious about the world and our place in it, we are bombarded with sounds and images and esthetic val-ues from the popular culture. Butwe eventually grow out of that; we ~"put away the things of a child," as St. Paul says. Evil is, of course, the ultimate ugliness, and our involvement in it dimin-ishes our humanity and tarnishes the image of God in us. ~ Formalize your ethics. Here we make a distinction between for-mal and material moral norms. Material norms deal with specific actions and decisions such as killing, steal!ng, and lying (not rec-ommended); and with praying, respecting authority, and being faithful (highly approved and even urged). There is only one norm for those who follow the way of formal ethics: Always seek the good and avoid what is evil. This norm is assimilated and interi-orized by spiritually mature persons to the ext~nt that it becomes part of their nature. In all their decisions and actions, attitudes and dispositions, they keep both eyes on the truly good: good for themselves, their family, their society, their nation, their 151anet: The more this single norm gets imprinted on their souls, the less they have to run through a mental checklist of material norms (do's and don'ts) to see what is prohibited and what is approved. "Seek what is good and avoid what is evil." 'Finally, spiritually mature persons are surely happy persons who radiate to o~hers their joy at living in this world with other people and at spending periods of time in prayerful silence com-muning with the Absolute. Their joy is increased by the knowl-edge that whatever spiritual maturity they may have attained is in fact a free gift from a loving and gracious God. Review for Religious DENNIS J. BILLY A "Spiritdal Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology MGY first encounter with Bernard H~iring,'ithe renowned erman Redemptorist who wrote such significant w. orks as The Law of Christ (1954)~and Free and Faithful in Christ (1978- 1981) and whom many have hailed as the father of contemporary Catholic moral theology, came during a' congress of Redemptorist moral theblogians held at Aylmer; Quebec~ 26-30June 1989. Or/ the second day of the congress,, after he had given an insightful presentation to the general assembly on the state of moral theol-ogy since Vatican Council II, I found myself sitting next to him at lunch as hemused out loud in his weak, barely audible voice (from his long and difficult battle with throat cancer) on the future of moral,theological reflection within the Catholic tradition. Then, as now, a single thought stood out from all the rest: "We have lost sight of the Holy Spirit. In the future, moral theology must give more emphasis to the role of the Spirit. Otherwise, all is lost." Hiiring was so insistent on ~his point that he stated it out-right .at a later session in a rare personal intervention from the floor, For more than eight years, I hav~ been p~ndering the mean-ing of these quiet, unassuming words perhaps in ways which he himself might not have accepted. Retrieving the Spirit Given the vast varieties of pseudo-mysticism in the history of Christianity and the great facility with which the name of the Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor, writes again from Rome, where his address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. November-December 1998 Billy * A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology Spirit can be and has been invoked as a way of avoiding critical moral reflection, it is easy to understand how, quite early on, within orthodox circles a latent (and sometimes overt) suspicion grew of anything that even vaguely resembled a charismatic ren-dering of truth by a small "Spirit-filled" elite. To a large extent the church's magisterial structure (that is, its emphasis on apostolic succession and the role of tradition) took shape as a result of its struggle against the esoteric (and sometimes laxist) tendencies of Gnostic mysticism, on theone hand, and the rigorist tenets of Montanist spiritualism, on the other (to name two of the more prominent examples). Historians point to the church's institu-tionalization of the Spirit in the office of the episcopacy and its subsequent control of the sacramental life of the Christian faith-ful as the predominant means by which, down through the cen-turies, it has safeguarded itself from similar threats. One of the unfortunate by-products of this process of insti-tutionalization was the gradual marginalization of the Spirit from the inner workings of Catholic theological reflection. As the mag-isterium became more and more centralized, it consolidated its hold over what it considered the "authentic" utterings of the Spirit and helped to create an atmosphere in which theologians were constrained to pursue their goals within increasingly limited notions of rationality. The gradual shift in Western hermeneuti-cal thought from allegory to syllogism to induction gives evi-dence to this effect, as does the roughly parallel movement in rational theory from analogy to univocity to equivocation. By most counts, this momentous restructuring of the rational pro-cesses of Western thought was as much a function of rising mag-isterial control of the sacred as of an ever changing philosophical terrain (as witnessed in the successive preeminence of Neoplatonic, Aristotelian, and Nominalist thought patterns). Localizing spiritual authority in ecclesiastical institutions, in other words, had the unforeseen .effect of gradually .disassociating ratio-nal discourse from its roots in the intuitive dimension of human existence, that side of human nature most likely to sustain a close experiential rapport with the Spirit. To speak in broad historical terms, the "despiritualization" of human reason had barely begun in the patristic and monastic traditions of late antiquity and the early Middle Ages (when the centralization of ecclesiastical power was hardly underway in Rome), had made recognizable progress during the early Scholastic period (near the time of the Gregorian Review for Religious Reform and the Investiture crisis), was in full swing with the rise of Nominalism in the early 14th century (not long after Boniface VIII's proclamation of Unam sanctam in 1302), and had reached its highest stage of development during the Age of the Enlightenment (just before Vatican Council I's proclamation of papal infallibility). Putting aside the more difficult task of discerning which histor-ical progression was influenced by which, and recognizing the probability of a circular relationship between the two (as well as the likely involvement of other discernible historical factors), one cannot help wondering if the present-day postmodern disillu-sionment with human reason--itself a reaction against the failed hopes of Reason's .coming of age--will herald an attempt to retrieve reason's lost association with the spiritual. If so, one would also have to wonder if the present tendency in the governing structures of Roman Catholicism toward increased centralization is nothing more than a momentary stay in a larger process of decentralization, the forces of which were at work long before the opening of Vatican II and will probably continue. An Anthropological Turn t Such a retrieval or "reinvestment" of reason's ties with "things spiritual" must proceed from the ins'~ghts of a sound Christian anthropology. In the present circumstances, the Pauline body/soul/spirit arrangement as formulated in 1 Thessalonians 5:23 proves especially helpful: "May the God of peace himself sanctify you wholly; and may your ~spirit and soul and' body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." Here Paul provides an anthropology that construes the human person as a union of three distinct (albeit intimately related) ele-ments: body (soma), soul (psyche), and spirit (pneuma). These ele-ments exist together in the human person and cannot be isolated one from another (as if a human body can be separated from the soul and spirit and still be examined intact). So closely are they related, in fact, that one cannot speak of spirit outside the context of soul and body, and vice versa. Since Paul proposes these anthro-pological terms while addressing the community of believers in the church at Thessalonica, care must be taken not to isolate his understanding of human existence from either its inherent social context or the life of faith. Account must also be taken of the fact that, although he insists on their intimate union in the human m Noventber-Decentber 1998 Billy * A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral Theology person, he actually says precious little about how body, soul, and spirit relate to one another in the concrete circumstances of daily living. Given these significant contextual details (or lack thereof), the following claims appear generally continuous with the main lines of Paul's anthropological vision and offer correctives to pres-ent- day exaggerated emphasis on the rational. (1) In addition to body and soul, a person can also experience his or her spirit. ,(2) A retrieval or "'reinvestment " of reason's ties with "things spiritual" must proceed from the insights of a sound Christian anthropo!ogy. The mutual relationship between body. and soul suggests a similar rapport between soul and spirit. (3) The spirit touches ~he body through the medidtion of the soul.~(4) Generally speak-. ing, the Holy Spirit touches an individual by communicating its grace first to a person's spirit and then through the .spirit to the person.'s soul and body. (5) God and the human person can enjoy a close interpersonal rapport by.virtue of their communing spirits. (6)People relate to one another on the level of body. soul, and spirit. (7) The Spirit unites the Body of Christ, the church, not only theologically (that is, to God), but also anthropologically (that is, among its members). (8) It does so primarily on the .level of human spirit and only secondarily on the other dimensions of human existence. Elicited from the Paulin4 anthropology of 1 Thessaloni~ns 5:23, these anthropological claims provide the parameters by which a discussion abo,ut reason's "spiritual renewal" may pro-deed. Key to this discussion is the need for all theologians (and moral theologians in particular) to recognize the competence (and the limits) of reason's rule. Just as reason extends to the body through its ordering of the passions (and is thereby "enfleshed"), so the spirit extends to the soul (the seat of the rational faculty) by means of its quiet in.tuiting presence. Clearly, both movements have moral significance that must be taken into account for the future of moral theology. The Criteria of Reason's Spiritual Rebirth What,might such limits be? Without exhausting the possi-bilities, the following list provides some guidelines for discerning Review for Religious the genuine ways in which reason and spirit mutually influence one another. 1. An anthropological relationship of circularity exists between spirit and reason; that is, the insights of one complement the scope and competence of the other in such a way that, when taken together, their interaction generates a field of understanding unique to themselves and which neither would be fully capable of penetrating on its own. Spirit .brings intuition and moments of keen insight to the movement of discursive thought; reason artic-ulates through language something of the inexpressible utterings of the human spirit. Authentic theological reflection taps into this relationship of circularity and allows it to open up for each succeeding generation the meaning of the symbols of the Christian faith, ~. 2. The spirit influences the mind through prayer, and vice versa. When a person.'s spirit communes with God's Spirit, there is a natural reverberation (however slight) in the other, anthro-pological dimensions of human existence. This subtle influence, which will become a veritable overflowing (redundantia) in the beatific vision, strengthens the transcendent orientation of an individual's rational operation. A "spiritua!" person tends to Con-centrate on holy things and seeks to view all things with th'e mind of God. The person?s prayer (contemplative prayer in particular) plays a transforming rather than merely ancillary role in reason's spiritual homecoming, 3. The human spirit is not "irrational," but "supranational." It does not ask reason to go against its own internal principles, but seeks continually to broaden reason's, scope by providing intu-itions that challenge previously unquestioned (and possibly falla-cious) arguments. When reason is in tune with wholesome human spirit (and even more so whefiit is in touch with God's Spirit), it is. constantly prompted to reach beyond itself and to stretch the boundaries within which it normally functions. This extended x~ange is a welcome corrective to that narrowing univocity which nowadays often masquerades as the sole legitimate face of ratio-nal inquiry. ~ 4. Theologians who reintegrate spirit and reason demonstrate a guarded yet profound respect for church authority. The gradual marginalization of spirit from the center of theological reflec-tion, which came at least in part as a result of magisterial cen-tralization and control of the sacred, does not mean that a November-December 1998 Billy ¯ A~'Spiritual Turn"for Catholic Moral TheoloKF .--7- 600 "respiritualized" reason will ignore or, worse, openly disdain the valuable hermeneutical role the magisterium has played in the history of the Catholic tradition. On the contrary, a reintegra-tion of spirit and reason should bring about an even closer work-ing relationship between theologians (in. their concern for reasoned clarity and the e.xploration of' the faith) and the magis-terium (in its concern for the preservation and purity of the faith). While neither will always agree with the other, a close working relationship between them will provide helpful correctives against the extremes of overrationalization and pseudo-mysticism that can all too often get in the way of and even obscure sound theo-logical reflection. 5. A closer working rapport between spirit anal reason will require a reintegrated understanding of the various theological disciplines, especially dogmatic, moral, and spiritual theology. The unfortunate breakup of theology in recent centuries into sep-arate and highly specialized disciplines can itself be understood as a symptom of reason's ongoing despir, itualization. A renewed or "respiritualized" understanding of reason will operate success-fully only in a context ~at seeks to preserve the unity of theology in the midst of its highly specialized and sometimes .seemingly disconnected parts. 6. Renewing reason's link with the spirit will also move a per-son's sense of vocation to the center of theological reflection. No longer will theology, be construed as something existing "in the abstract," as if proceeding outside the theologian's own personal and communal faith experience. Any presentation and consequent systematization of the symbols~of the faith will be valid only to the extent that it remains faithful to and. authentically expresses the deepest sense of a,person's call in life before God through the church and in the world. One's reflection on God, in other words. must tak~ place in the context of one's sense of self in the presence of God and the community of believers. 7. The reason/spirit relationship sheds greater ligh~ on the importance of there being a continuity between theologians' pro-fessional work and their moral behavior. Sound theological reflec-tion stems from a stable interplay between spirit and reason. It reflects the contours of individuals' calls from God in this life and reaches its fullest expression when it is enfleshed in the con-crete circumstance~ of their daily existence. This cannot happen, however, if reason is deprived of all access to the nourishing roots Review for Religious of the spirit, where the human person communes with the Spirit of God through a grace that is freely given and freely received. Sound theological reflection challenges the theologian to int~- grate reason and spirit, theological discourse and personal sanc-tity. The church needs theologians who want to be saints, who admit this desire without false humility, and who bring this desire to the forefront of their theological inquiry. 8. Finally, a reintegration of spirit and reason would sustain within theological reflection a healthy tension between "theol-ogy as science" and "theology as art." Reason's desire to ver-ify corfipl~ments the spirit's yearning for m3?stery, and vice versa. Together they provide useful correctives to the ten-dencies of overrationalization and exaggerated rhetoric, which lessen theology's scope by seekings to turn it into something it is not and should not be, Theology is more than science and mole than art, It Future moral,theological discussion will have to develop a greater sensitivity to the ethical content of humanity's symbolic xpressions. is science and.art, a rare "field-encompassing" discipline which touches all areas of human knowl-edge in its attempt to convey the meaning of the Christian faith to each successive generation.1 By preserving this tension, theo-logical reflection retains a ~.ay of expressing the faith ever anew yet always ina~cord with th~ church's theological tradition. New and creative insights emerge from the tradition precisely in this way, .thereby allowing it to expand its theologic.al horizons and to move 'forward. Implications for Moral Theology The above criteria represent just some of the ways in which a deeper understanding of the relationship between spirit and reason would change ~he way in which theology itself is conceived and carried out. As one might expect, they have very concrete implications for the future of moral theology. 1. Moral theology would be challenged to break out of its hylomorphic rendering of the human (that is, moral) act that has "get the parameters for serious discussion within the Catholic tra- Noventber-December 1998 Billy ¯ A "Spiritual Turn" for Catholic Moral TbeoloKF ~dition since the time of Aquinas. A human action is more than just an expre~ssion of body (as the object of the external action) and mind (as the internal movement of deliberated will). Greater sen-sitivity mu~t be given in futur, e moral-theological reflection to the influence which a person's spirit brings to moral action. A good place to begin would be to apply the insights of Aquir~as's teaching on grace (which, intere~stingly, he considers under the New Law at the end of his treatment of the fundamental princi-ples of morality, that is, Summa tbeologiae, I-lI, qq. 109-114, to the Pauline rendering of 'human anthropology as body (soma), soul (psyche), and spirit (pneuma). 2. Eor ~this to occur, a shift must take place in the under-standing of the nature and role of rationality in current moral-the-ologiEal reflection. In its attempt in recent years to model itself after the empirical and social sciences, theology in general (and moral theology in particular) has adopted a univocal understand-ing of rational inquiry that prevents a balanced interplay of rea-son and spirit from entering into the legitimate bounds of serious theological refledtion. The result has been an unfortunate nar-rowing (some would say "impoverishment") of theology's rightful scope. The current deadlock in the deontologist/proportionalist discussion is but one symptom of this reductive theological under-taking. 3. Since the spirit expresses itself more .through images than in the "clear and distinct" ideas of rational discoul:se, future moral~ theological discussion will have to .develop a greater, sensitivity to the ethical content of humanity's symbolic expressions. To modify Aristotle's definition: Man is not just a rational but also:a symbolic animal. In developing this sensitivity, moral theology will draw closer to the arts than ever before (at least within recent memory) and begin to effect a transformation of the genres and literary style in which it expresses itself. It will also spark a renewed interest in the ethical Content of the images and sym-bols found in the Scriptures and the church's liturgy. 4. Future moral-theological discussion will develop close ties with the three levels of Christian spirituality: (1) the experien-tial, (2) the sapiential, and (3) the analytical.2 Ethical kngwledge will be understood as something to be-garnered from the whole of human experience (that is, throughout the body/soul/spirit continuum) with special emphasis given to the social .aspects of human moral-spiritu.a! discourse and to the role of prayer and~ Review for Relig4ous discernment in moral decision making. This heightened awareness Of the spiritual aspects of its theological heritage will give moral theology a deeper awareness of its own most distinctive traits and enable it to make serious contributions in discussions with other ethical traditions. 5. Given its decision to approach moral knowledge through a reintegrated understanding of the rapport between spirit and rea-son, Catholic moral theology would do best to enter into future dialogue with other ethical traditions--be they philosophical or theological--not by seeking a least common methodological denominator (usually fully acceptable to neither side), but by maintaining without compromise its position on the close anthro-pological (and hence ethical) connection between human reason and human spirit. It is precisely on this level that an answer to the question of the existence of an autonomous Christian ethics will be found. An I~tegral U, nity, a Spiritual Turn" No longer can the Christian life be artificially divided into the way of the law and the way of ~erfection. Precept and coun-sel, .commandment and beatitude, virtue and gift are,all bound together in an integral, inseparable unity. If moral theology is to give more emphasis to the role of the Holy Spirit (as H~iring sug-gests), it must first retrieve' its lost ti~ with the inner movements of the human spirit--the place within the person where the divine and human meet. Only by including th~s neglected anthropolog-ical dimension in moral-theo!ogical reflection will the human perspective of those concerned be broad enough to allow foFa proper discerfiment of the divine. The future orientation of Catholic moral theology will depend to a large degree on how its spokesmen, both magisterial and pro-fessorial, construe (or perhaps "reconstrue") the relationship between rationality and spirituality. Reintegrating these key aspects of the tradition would have two important theological and institutional effects. On the one hand, moral decision making would evidence a notable swing toward prayer and spiritual dis-cernment in helping to solve the dilemmas of conscience that arise among the faithful. This marked "spiritual turn" would move Catholic moral theology away from its present fascination with the problem-solving machinations of quandary ethics to a relational November~December 1998 Billy ¯ A "Spiritual'Turn"for Catholic Moral Theology paradigm rooted in the divine-human encounter. Bishops and theologians, on the other hand. would move away from their all too often adversarial positions to a more collaborative, mutually supportive stance. The changed dynamics would show the impor-tance of rooting moral-theological reflection in the fullness of human experience (that is, body, soul, and spirit) while at the same time highlighting the complementary ways in which the magis-terium and church theologians elucidate the tradition. What is the future of moral theology? The answer to this question is as elusive as time itself. For the moment, let it simply be said that, while the moral theology of the~future will invariably include many things, it cannot afford to exclude or marginalize "the life of the Spirit." In the present context the latter phrase refers to rational theological reflection rooted in a profound awareness of the human spirit as it opens itself up to God's Spirit and allows the word of God to take shape and utter itself, however softly, within the cor~fines of the limited words and deeds by which ¯ we construct our human exp, erience. Such a word, however spo-ken, would resonate with authority and not return in vain. Notes t The notion of a "field-encompassing" discipline comes from Van A. Harvey, The Historian and the Believer: The Morality° of Historical Knowledge and Christian Belief(Philadelphia: Westminister Press, 1966), pp. 81-82. A similar application to spirituality appears in Sandra M. Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 692. 2 These levels of spirituality are developed under a slightly different nomenclature in Walter H. Principe, "Toward Defining Spirituality," Studies in Religion/Sciences religieuses 12 (1983): 135-136. See also The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, ed. Michael Downey (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), s.v. "Spirituality, Christian,", by Walter H. Principe. Review for Religious REGIS J. ARMSTRONG Consecrated Life: Anointed with Joy A passage once "noted with pleasure" by the New York Times Book Review was one by Albert Camus, whose writings express a strong current ofthe, pessimism in EuroPe in the wake of.World War II. It contains these words: "One of the temptations of the artist is to believe himself solitary. But this is not true. He stands in the midst of all, in the same rank,' neither highe~ nor lower, with all those who are working and struggling. His very vocation is. to give a voice to the sorrows and the joys of all."~ . Artists whose vocation is "to give a voice to the sor-rows and joys of all"--this could well be a description of consecrated persons standing with "all those who are working and struggling." It is a description of people called to identify deeply with the mission of Jesus, who came among us and stood in. the midst of all,,.giving voice to their sorrows and joys. How does one assume the stance of "artist" of some-thing so elusive, inexpressible, paradoxical, and fragile? To become such an artist demands entering into the pathos of life and experiencing compassion deeply, that is, as com-passio, suffering or feeling deeply with another. How does one give voice to joy at all? "Silence is the perfectest her-ald of joy," Shakespeare's Claudio says wisely in Much Ado Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap presented this paper (here some-what revised) at the annual conference of vicars of religious held in San Antonio in March 1998. His address is St. Fidelis Friary; 7790 Country Road 153; Interlake6, New York 14847. consecrated life November-Decentber 1998 Armstrong * Consecrated Life About Nothing.2 Joy, thenl is perhaps best ex~pressed transparently, whether one's focus on so paradoxically universal and personal a subject be psychological, sociological, cultural, philosophical, the- 916gical, spiritual, or liturgical. Perspectives From a biblical perspective'~ joy is an incredibly rich theme. In the Old Testament, profound joy is the chosen people's response to Yahweh's redemptive presence or, in the lager tradition, to Yahweh's ever present hesed or lovi'ng mercy. Various forms of the word joy appear in the Old Testament well over a hundred times, giving an inkling or anticipation of the New Testament, of Mary's proclamation of joy in "God my Savior'; and Paul's dramatic exhortation to the Philippians "Rejoice in the Lord always." Over and over agaifi Luke colors his Gospel and Acts with joy:'"To the poor he proclaimed the good news of salvation . and to those in sorrow, joy." If Yahweh is the supreme joy and the greatest delight for the pegple of the Old Testament, the self-giving of God in Christ provides those of the New Testament an essential quality of life, joy. The Holy One of Israel is now incarnate in the person of Jesus: the unfathomable, ineffable joy at the heart of God is now tangible. The Dictionnaire de Spiritualit~ Asc~tique et Mystique offers a variety of perspectives from which to reflect on joy. In its entry on joie, the reader can find, in addition to biblical considerations, summaries of the different theologies.3 There are considerations ' of people such as the early theological giants Origen .and Augustine, the. medieval mystics Bernard of Clairvaux and Francis of Assisi, and the much later doctors of the church Francis' de Sales and Thdr~se Of the Child' Jesus. Each of these writers, the author maintains, offers a different interpretation of the same reality. For Origen, knowledge of the gospel was a source of joy, a joy epitomized in the reaction of the aged Simeon when hd had the Infant in his arms.4 Augustine found joy in the Lord's ever-for-giving mercy, but saw its fullness in the eternal bliss of heaven;5 while Bernard repeatedly disEovered it in God's love.6 Francis of Assisi sang its praises in' hiE descrip.tioia of True Joy,7 and Francis de Sales urged his audienc~ to find joy by putting aside the plea-sures of this world and focusing on those of heaven,s Thdr~se wallowed in the joy of faith when her Beloved seemed most Review for Religious absent,9 From that vantage point alone, Franqois Bussini, author of the Dictionnaire's study, offers a variety of rich ways of study-ing joy, that is, through, the different traditions of,spirituality that provide insights into the meaning and gift of joy. ~' Gaudete in Domino Bussini might easily have added one significant name to his list of "theologians of joy": Paul VI, the author of the first papal doc-ument on the mystery of Christian joy, Gaudete in Domino, 9 May 1975., From his days as cardinal archbishop of Milan to the address of hi~ very last audience on 2 August 1967; four days before his death, joy was a leitmotif of his, a theme to which he continually returried. He offered an insight into the reason for this when he rhetorically asked the people of Milan:: "Have you ever met a saint? And, if you have, tell me: What is the characteristic you found in that soul?" His response to those questions suggests how closely he associated joy with~ the pursuit of happiness: "It will be joy [that you have found], a happiness so tranquil, so pro-found, so simple, but so true. And it is this transparency of joy that makes us declare: That is truly a good soul, because he has joy in his heart.''1° It is not surprising that as pope he took the opportunity to write a major statement on the Christian pursuit of joy. In addition to being an exhortation to pr~y for tile gift of joy, Gaudete in Domino expre~ssed in the mid- 1970s the pope's firm belief that peoples throughout the world desperately desired this "fragile and threatened" gift. ¯ Paul VI introduced his apostolic exhortatiori with a simple description of the need for joy in the contemporary ~orld (GD §1) and con'cluded with three others describing the cry of humanity, especially of the young, for the gift of joy. "We should be atten-tive to the appeal tliat rises from the hearts of humanity," Paul exhorts, "from the age of wondering childhood to serene old age, as a presentiment of the divine mystery" (GD §1). From this atten-tiveness or focusing on the joys of our hearts, Paul discovers an While never losing sight of the fact that joy is a ~timension of human life, Paul Vl found that the mystery of the Incarnate Word transformed its meaning. November-December 1998 Armstrong ¯ Consecrated Life energy and enthusiasm to share the reason for our joy with oth-ers. "In no way," he says, "can [joy] encourage the person ~vho enjoys it to have an attitudd of p.reoccupoation with self. [It] is the result of a human-divine communion, one that aspires to a com-munion ever more universal." In retrospect, Gaudete in Domino provided an insight into the call of Evangelii nuntiandi issued seven months later, which many. consider the Magna Carta of Paul VI'S papacy. There he dramatically exhorted all Christians, and espe-cially religious: "The privileged means of effective, evangeliza-tion" is to proclaim with joy "the joyful news of the fulfillment of the promises of the covenant offered by God" (EN §§69 and 6)~ At the core of the seven brief chapters of Gaudete in Domino, written in his elegant poetic style, Paul sketched the biblical foun. dations of both the Old and New Testaments and the enduring heritage bf Christian joy found in the lives of the saints. The pope may well have had Bussini's article before him,.-especially as he reflected on those saints who expressed joy in their lives and writ-ings. But it is striking how, in addition to Francis of Assisi and Th&~se of L!sieux, Paul draws special attention to the joy of the Conventual Franciscan Maximilian K01be, whom he had canon-ized a few years earlier: "His interior peace, serenity, and joy somehow transformed the place of suffering [Auschwitz]--which was usually like an image of hell--into the antechamber of eter-nal life, both for his unfortunate companions and for himself" (GD §4). While never losing sight of the fact that joy is a dimension of human life, Paul vI found that the,mystery of the,Incarnate Word transformed its meaning: Jesus himself knew, appreciated, and celebrated a whole range of human joys. More wonderfully, how-ever, Jesus revealed the s'ecret.of the unfathomable joy of.the "secret life of the Trinity," that is, the joy of living in God's l~ve (GD §3). "The ~ather is seen here," Paul teaches, "as the one who gives himself to the. Son, without reserve and without ceas-ing, in a burst of joyful generosity, and the Son is seen as he who gives himself in the same way to the Father, in a burst of joyful gratitude, in the Holy Spirit" (GD §3). The joy revealed by Jesus of Nazareth, then, "is the reverberation in human consciousness of the love that he has always known as God in the bosom of the Father" (GD §3). As the Incarnate Son of God, Jesus revealed a new, infinite dimension of joy, one that makes the human soul restless and ever eager to partake of its fullness. "In essence," Review for Religious t Paul e~iplains, "Christian joy is the spiritual sharing in the unfath-omable joy, both divine and human, which is in the heart of Jesus Christ glorified" (GD §2). But, more ~than reflecting on the rev-elatory dimension of Jesus' joy, the pope accentuates its paschal dimension as he underscores that by his death and resurrection Jesus poured the Spirit into the hearts of believers. "The Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and the Son and is their mutual love, is henceforth communicated to the people of the New Covenant and to each soul ready for his secret action. Together with him the human heart is inhabited by the Father and the Son" (GD §3). This, then, is experience of a joy that is truly spiritual, the fruit of the Spirit's presence and a characteristic of fill Christian virtue (see GD §3). Shortly before his death Paul VI shared with John Magee, his secretary, "the secret of my spirituality": .I have to recognize God the Father's action in his Son in my regard. Once I acknowledge that God can work in me through his Son, he gives me grace, the grace of baptism. After the grace of being reborn to God's life, my life becomes a tension of love with God drawing me to him-self. Always, in all of us, there is this tension betwe.en my mise-ria and God's misericordia. The whole spiritual life of every one of us lies between these two poles. If I open myself to the action of God and the Holy Spirit and4et them do with me what they will, then my tension becomes ioyous and feel within myself a great desire to come to him and receive his mercy; more than ever I recognize the need to be for-given, to receive the gift of rnercy,l~ This passage offers a m~arvelous insight~in,to'Paul's preoccupa-tion with the gift of Christian joy. That "tension of love" that stretched or expanded his entire life and made him continually aware of his sinfulness and the overwhelming love of God became joyous and made him ever more desirous to possess the joy of God's presence. Evangelica testificatio, Paul VI's apostolic exhortation on the renewal of the religious life, was significant in this regard. It expresses his conviction that the joy radiating from religious com-munities would be proof of the validity Of religious life. Joy, he maintained, would be "proof to everyone that the state of life which [religious] have chosen is h~lping [them] to realize the greatest possible expansion of [their] life in Christ." Moreover, November-Decentber 1998 Armstrong ¯ Consecrated Life it would be a magnet attracting the young to understand the appeal of Jesus, and be "the most effective invitation to embrace ttie religious life" (ET §55). Vita Consecrata Twen~ty-one years later John Paul II published his postsyn-odal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata. Curiously, Vita conse-crata contains only scattered references to joy, fourteen in all. There are certainly echoes of Paul VI's Evangelica testificatio in phrases such as "the joyful witness [of consecrated life] to [God's] loving concern for every human being" (VC §16). Unlike Paul vI, however, John Paul II seems more concerned with the dwelling on the foundations of consecrated life. He only touches on the joy that the consecrated life brings through monasticism (VC §§6, 2.7), virginity (VC §7), and common life (VC §51), rather than off the dynamics of a spirituality of joy. Does .this mean that Vita con-secrata does not assist us in understanding consecrated life as being anointed with joy? No, but Michael Novak's observatior~ into the thought of John Paul II is apropos. The pope, Novak claims, is an artist at home in the world of the intellectual as well as in.that of the poet. To understand these dimensions of his thought, it is important to remember that he is a phenomenologist. "Simply put," Novak maintains, phenomenology is a sustained effort to bring back into phi-losophy everyday things, concrete wholes, the basic expe-riences of life as they come to us. It wishes to recapture ~those quotidian realities from the empiricists, on the one hand, who analyze them into sense data, impressions, chem-ical compositions, neural reactions, etc., and from the ide-alists, on the other hand, who break them 6p into ideal types, categories,and forms.12 -.To understand his thought, then, demands being attentive to both his language and the underpinnings of his thought. In addressing religious communities and consecrated persons "in the introduction to Vita consecrata, the pope writes of the "dif-ficult and trying period" .and of the "time of tension and struggle" in which they live. By referring to,Acts 15:31, he expresses his hope that consecrated women and men will receive the document as 'the Christians of Antioch did; by being joyful at the hope and encouragemen't which it gives. Immediate!y, however, he turns Review for Religious his attention to the entire people of'God and expresses his hope that the document will increase their joy as they become more aware of the consecrated life and, as a result, "thank almighty God for this great gift [of consecrated life]" (VC §13). Does this mention of consecrated life as a "great gift" provide a hint at the underpinnings of John Paul's understanding of what it means to be "anointed with joy"? Even a superficial reading of ¼"ta consecrata reveals John Paul's view of the consecrated life and the evangelical counsels as gifts. This perspective undoubtedly flows from his per-ception of Vatican II's emphasis on the profound reality of ecclesial communion, "in which all gifts ¯ converge for the building up of the Body of Christ and for the church's mission in the world" (VC §4). Seventy-three times he writes in Vita conse-crata of the gifts of consecrated life, of the evan-gelical counsels, of the radical gift of self for love, of the gifts of consecrated communities that com-plement one another, and so on. From John Paul's perspective, then, an awareness of the great gift of consecrated life, an awareness of being gifted; is a source of joy as well as a reason for thanksgiving". Thus Vita consecrata clearly offers an under-standing of conse, crated life that clearly supports seeing it as "anointed with j6y," for consecrated women and men have been gifted, have been sin-gled out as recipients of a special love tha~ brings joy. Fourteen times these gifts are specifically attributed to the Holy Spirit, a reminder that adds an extra note of joy~ Joy'flows from a conscious-ness of being loved--and thereby gifted. The joy of consecrated life flows from a consciousness of being '.'plunged into the fir~ of love which burns in them and which is none other than the Holy Spirit" (VC §26). It implies being gifted with an energy that pushes them beyond any joy this world offers. Like all joy, it leads to two things: a fuller.dove or union and a more profound eagerness or restlessness tha't this love be expressed and known. The joy of consecrated life demands, in the pope's words, that consecrated life "become one of the tangible seals which the Trinity impresses upon history, so that people can sense with longing the attrac-tion of divine beauty" (VC §20). From J~ohn Paul's perspective, then, an awareness of the great gift of consecrated life,. an awareness of being gifted, is a source of joy as well as a .reason for thanksgiving. Novetnber-Decen*ber 1998 Armstron~ ¯ Consecrated Life Were we to attempt a summary of John Paul's understanding of the consecrated life, we might choose this one sentence of Vita consecrata: "This special way of 'following Christ' expresses in a particularly vivid way the Trinitarian nature,of the Christian life and anticipates in a certain way that eschatological fulfillment toward which the whole church is tending" (VC § 14). Expressing those two dimensions of consecrated life--the Trinitarian and the eschatological--seems to form for John Paul lI the challenges of consecrated life and the foundations for joy. To live that conse-crated life as anointed with joy implies doing the same: reflecting in a joyful way the inner life of God in which we are caught up and, at the same time, expressing our restless pursuit 'of the full-ness of joy that will be achieved only in heaven. Our contempo- "rary struggles in rethinking the role of consecrated life in the mystery of-the church suggest two fundamental questions. First, have we plumbed the depth of the gift of the Holy Spirit that ¯ consecrated life is? And, second, have we developed a passion for the ~onsecrated life that makes it "a daring adventure of love" driving us to "that eschatological fulfillment toward which the whole church is .tending.''13 Answering those two difficult ques-tions has not been an easy enterprise. The answers seem to be as elusive as the full meaning of "anointed with joy." The Trinitarian Nature of Consecrated Life The contemporary sensitivity to inclusive language has under-scored a fundamental problem of contemporary Christian spiri-. ,tuality, namely, the failure to pay adequate attention to its Trinitarian underpinnings.14 If this is the case, focusing on the joy inherent in consecrated life through the prism of the gift of the Holy Spirit, which demands reflecting on the Trinity, might bor-dernot on being risky, but on being reckless. Language becomes a mjnefield not only because of images, for example, masculine and feminine, but also because of the elusive, transparent, incon-spicuous nature of the Spirit itself. Wind, power, light--these are some of the poetic images used to express its presence. Never pointing to itself, the Spirit cries,out "Abba!" and "Jesus is Lord!" While it is our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, the Spirit pos-sesses us and catches up our unique spirits as its own. Following the teaching of Augustine, medieval theologians remark that within the mystery of.the triune God there is an Review for Religqous energy or quality expressed in two words: esse ad, "to be to" or "to be for" the other.~5 The phrase is undoubtedly another way of expressing that God is love, but it implies that that love means being present to or for another. Richard 6f St. Victor and the relation-oriented theology of the 12th century paved the way for Bonaventure, who identifies the Holy Spirit as the nexus or the bond joining the Father and the Son, the power of mutually being to or for the other. The Spirit is the love with which the Father loves the Son and the Son loves the Father. Therefore, the Spirit brings to both Father and Son the fruit of its presence, joy. It makes them esse adl present, to and for one another. Bonaventure goes a step further. The Spirit, he maintains, is the love with which the Father and Son love us: It is that power of love or, as Paul vI describes it, that "tension of love" which draws us into the infinite love of the triune God. It is that which enables us to respond to that divine love with the same love. Being overwhelmed by and responding to love--that is the meaning of a graced or gifted life; It makes us restless for the perfectioh of love. It is that which lifts us above ourselves, challenges us to let go of everything and be filled with love. Of necessity it calls all J Christians to a mystical embrace'of God', one that flows from the knowledge that the gift of the Spirit sweeps those who are gifted into the very heart of God. As Thomas Merton writes in Life and Holiness, "To be a Christian is to be committed to a largely mys-tical life,., to live within the dimensions of a completely mys-tical revelation and communication of the divine being." 16 What this means, of course, is dependent on the mystery of the ~ncarnate Word, for he is the revelation of the triune God. What it means to be loved by God is dependent on our knowledge of h~ow Christ reveals he is loved. As John Paul II tells us, "In the countenance of Jesus, the 'image of the invisible God' (Col 1:15) and the reflection of the Father's glory (see Heb 1:3), we glimpse the depth of an eternal and infinite love which is at the root of OUl~ being" (VC ~ 18). What it means to respondto that"love depends on our awareness of the kenosis, the self-emptying of Jesus. It makes our struggle as Christians--and, more to the point, as con-seerated women and men--to be essentially this: being Christ-centered. Understandably, then, Vita consecrata speaks of those called to consecrated life as persons called to "let themselves be seized by this love [to the point of] abandoning everything" (VC §18). He speaks of them devoting themselves "with undivided 1-6-1"November-December 1998 Armstrong ¯ Consecrated Life heart" (VC §1), making a "choice of total ~elf-giving to God in Christ" (VC §2), and expressing themselves "in a radical gift of self for love of~the Lord Jesus Christ" (VC §§.3,.12). This becomes a never ending recognition of philokalia, or the love of the divine beauty revealed in Jesus, and a progressive following of the Spirit's lead,to conformity with Christ (see VC §19). E~chat~logical Dimensidn of the Consecr~ated Life This ~focus onthe revelation of God's love in.the person of Jesus, however, leads John Paul to the secon~d dimension of con7 secrated life: its eschatological charhcter. "It is the duty of,the consecrated life," he maintains, "to show that the incarnate Son of God is the eschatological goal toward which all things tend, the splendor before which every other light pales, :and the infinite beauty which ~alone can fully satisfy the human heart" (VC §16). Here. too the gift of the Spirit is of quintessential importance. It enables "new men and women;to recognize the appeal of such a demanding choice, . . . awakens .the desire to respond, fully, . . . and guides the growth of this desire" (VC §19). "By allowing them-selves to be guided by the Spirit on an endless journey of purifi-cation," the pope maint~ains, "they become, day by day, conformed to Christ, the prolongation in history of a special presence of the risen Lord" (VC §19). In Vita consecrata John Paul II speaks of the Holy Spirit ninety-five times. The Spirit of Vita consecrata is power unlimited (VC §25), ,works without ceasing (VC 921), continually animates (VC §25) and gives strength (VC §30), and shapes and molds the hearts of those who are called (VC §19). The work of the Spirit as it guides us on its purifying journey is clearly one of calling, us beyond ourselv~es and beyond our limited experience of God's love~ Although ¼"ta consecrata clearly expresses this traditional, oth-erworldly spirituality, the pope also sees that the ardent expecta-tions of those consecrated persons demand an expression in the world in which~they live. Since "here we have no lasting city" (Heb 13:14), their longing "expresses itself in work and mission through a spirit capable of giving rise in human society to effec-tive aspirations for justice, peace, sglidarity, and forgiveness" (VC~ §27). These are the ones who "bring.hope to their brothers and sisters who are often discouraged and pessimistic about the future, . . . ~ hope founde~ on God's promise con~tained in the revealed Review for Religious word: the history of humanity is moving toward 'a new heaven and a new earth'" (VC §27). The hope they have discovered in the mystery of God's love, in other words, makes them eager to encourage others. And so their eschatological spirituality calls for active and renewed involvement in programs of systemic social change that are sensitive to the signs of the times, to the prefer-ential option for the poor, and to the promotion of,justice (see VC, §§81, 82). "Eschatological expectation becomes mission," John Paul teaches, "so that the kingdom may become ever more fully established here and now" (VC §27). Above all, however, this eschatolog- ~ ical thrust is oriented toward the future, a theme the pope introduces fourteen times in his exhortation. "By their charisms," he states, "consecrated per- ,~ sons become signs of the Spirit point-ing to a new future enlightened by.faith and.by Christian hope" (.VC §27), Thus the gift of the Spirit:is always prompting (VC §§1, 19, 22, 25), guiding (VC §§19, 63), awakening desire (VC §19), and teaching the hearts of those who are ca!l.ed, ~for it is the "educator par excel-lence of those who are consecrated" (VC §60). The Spirit's role in shaping the~future of consecrated life is perhaps best captured in the phrase "the creative guidance," in a section that speaks of the future (V.C §63). The phrase is similar to another, "creative fidelity," found earlier in the. document where the pope invites consecrated women and men to propose anew and with courage the enterprising initiative, creativity, and holi-ness of their founders and foundresses in response to the signs of the times,emerging in today's world" (VC §37). The Spirit's creative energy, then, flows throughout ¼"taxonsecrata, as the pope sees it, fashioning new expressions of consecrated life (VC §§ 10, 12), pointing to a new future (VC §27), and rejuvenating the Bride of Christ by the consecrated life (VC §64). "You haveonot only a glorious history to remember and recount," he declares, "but also a great history still to be accomplished" (VC §110). There is a built-in dynamic here. Rahner called it "The Dynamic Element in the Church" and suggested that it could very easily be a point of tension between the hierarchy and consecrated religious. Recent The Spirit's role in shaping the future of consecrated life is perhaps best captured in the phrase "the creative guidance.'" November-Decentber 1998 Armstrong * Consecrated Life history has shown us that it can easily be a point of tension among consecrated religious themselves, especially between the more traditional and the more creative brothers and sisters or between those without grounding .in the tradition, frequently older mem-bers, and those willing to "try anything" new without the tradi-tion's guidance. "Proposing anew the initiatives, creativity, and holiness of founders or foundresses" or developing "a dynamic fidelity to their mission" is easie'r said than done. Nevertheless, it is this very energy of the Spirit that John Paul II understands as revitalizing consecrated life and enabling new men and women to recognize its appeal. In this context, too, itis striking that John Paul writes of "the perennial youth of the church" and sees it integrally tied to "the new spiritual and apostolic impulses" of "new or renewed forms of the consecrated life" (VC §12). VChere is joy in all this? Perhaps it is found best in John Paul's image of "the perennial you. th of the church." No one could ques-tion the pope's concern for the young; his repeated meetings with and addresses to young people throughout the world are proof of that concern. The prerogative of the young, he frequently reit-erates, is to be concerned about the future, to dream about its unfolding, and to be excited about its shape. Is it not precisely in their dreaming and excitement that they find joy, a joy that is contagious and that enlivens even the more depressed? An echo of"ad Deum qui laetificat iuventutem meam" may be heard here, "to God who gives joy to my youth." As G.K. Chesterton observed, "The ~arpe diem religion is not the religign of happy people, but of very unhappy people. Great joy does not gather the rosebuds while it may; its eyes are fixed on the immortal rose which Dante saw. Great joy has in it the sense of immortality; the very splendor of youth is the sense that it has all space to stretch its legs in." 17 The pope's eschatological vision wisely notes the perennial youth that flows from the energy of the Spirit and keeps it ever young. With that alone comes joy! Tucked away among the more mystica! passages of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets is one that is appropriate here: "The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is Incarnation." 18 Eliot reminds his readers that the incarnation, is the only prism through which "to apprehend the point of intersection of the timeless with time ¯. something given and taken." A marvelous description of Con-secrated life! The Johannine tradition undoubtedly offers' the strongest Review for Religious :hints about the mystery of joy. The term chara, joy, occurs nine times in the Gospel of John and once each in the three Letters. Of all the references to joy in the Gospel, all but one are in the Last ~Supper discourse (15:17; 16:20-24; 17:13), where it is a future possibility opened up for Jesus' followers by his victorious death and th

Issue 56.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1997. ; Living NUMBER 6 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection ~n the lived experiehce of all who find that the church's rich" he~'m_ges .of spirituality ~upport tbei~ personal and apostolic Christian li6es. . The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirationM, written front a~ tbeoflogical or spiritual or s6metimes canonical poin~ t of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universit3, 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.EI)U Manuscripts, book~ 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 McDonot, gh OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information o,1 subscription rates. ¢1997 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 nse, 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 [br the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages .and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1997 # VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER6 contents virtues Solidarity--More than a Polish Thing Marie Vianney Bilgrien SSND sheds light on the importance of solidarity as a virtue, especially in the preparation of the Synod for America. The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias John L. Barber draws a picture of the disciple Ananias in which the various attributes of his courage guide us in our Christian following. working together 578 587 A Quilt, a Council, and a Church Margaret Mary Knittel RSM proposes that the processes of quiltmaking and the processes of organizations call for an ever active interdependence among equal people before a loving God. Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? Joel Giallanza CSC makes some practical observations about the choices we make for a healthy community life and describes various causes of dysfunction. 599 The Elderly among Us Eagan Hunter CSC reflects upon the importance of the elderly ~x~ among us for the vital continuity of our religious life. Revie~v for Religious 605 614 being missioned Interreligious Dialogue and the Jesuit Mission Thomas Michel SJ explains the beneficial implications of interreligious dialogue and describes the personal transformation that results. Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro: A Survival Guide for North American Religious Annette M. Pelletier IHM pictures the "reason" for hope in the flourishing of consecrated life in North America by describing her experience of the people of the Peruvian pueblo Montenegro. perspectives 623 Itinerancy, Stability, and the Freedom of No-Where Brian J. Pierce oP examines the ascetic freedom common to apostolic itinerancy and monastic stability, the freedom both to go wherever God's Spirit moves us and to stay put wherever we have come to see that God dwells. 636 642 Grass-Roots Religious Jeanne McNulty OCV presents reflections on some new ways of living consecrated life. Jesus, Frogs, and Dancing Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ tells of the rich experience of an ever developing relationship with Jesus that deepens our love of God and love of neighbor. departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Habit and Habitus: Current Legislation Book Reviews Indexes to Volume 56 November-December 1997 prisms Jesus Christ is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, Lord of the new universe, the great hidden key to human history and the part we play in it. --Paul V-I, homily in Manila, 29 November 1970 ~esus presents us Christians with two inestimable gifts: familial intimacy with God and a share in divine vision. St. Paul speaks of God giving us wisdom to understand the mystery, "the plan he was pleased to decree in Christ, to be carried out in the fullness of time: namely, to bring all things in the heavens and on earth into one under Christ's headship" (Ep 1:9-10). Overwhelmed with the vastness of the vision, we rightly focus on the gift of intimacy. But, as we come to the end of each liturgical year, we receive reminders about the twinned vision which our relationship with Jesus entails. The many Gospel incidents of his curing blindness imply our need for Jesus to give us ever greater sight along with a deepening love relationship. One of the Gospel titles which Jesus elicits from us throughout our lives is "Teacher." As we continue to reflect on the Scriptures and receive graced insight into relationships and situations of our daily life, we become aware that Jesus remains our teacher as he was for the people during the time of his public ministry. A teacher provides information, presents new ways of seeing things, and makes connections with previous experiences, allow-ing further insights to develop. Through the gift of the Spirit, Jesus. continues giving all the richness of divine perspective. The Spirit's action gives hope to the church, whose vision is always in process of renewal. Through the focus of scripture readings during this changeover from Ordinary Time to Advent, the church faces each of us with our personal responsibility to examine whether we continue to deepen our relationship with Jesus and Review for Religious whether we allow Jesus to keep expanding our vision. The ques-tion for us: Do we seek out Jesus as our Teacher? If we enter into Matthew's final-judgment scene, how does Jesus find us "seeing" and dealing with our fellow men and women? With our aware-ness of ecological balance, how responsible are we to an envi-ronment given over to our care? Does "all things being created in him" affect our attitude of reverence in exploring Mars or some galaxy in the future? We talk about "getting stuck in our ways." We sometimes car-icature it as a special problem for the older person, but it has no age boundaries. We see children quickly get into certain ritualized ways of playing. We certainly know such patterns in our own behavior. In fact, prejudice is a fixed way of seeing or of relating. In the face of personal and historical evidence, it is a paradox to be engaged in a growing relationship with Jesus and at the same time to cling to prejudice. Does prejudice signal to us that we may be trying to focus myopically on the Jesus relationship without let-ring Jesus be Teacher for us? We may forget that faith vision is a grace always to be prayed for. Perhaps we have placed ourselves more in the position of Peter refusing to let his feet be washed, and we too need to hear Jesus' reprimand that unless we allow him to wash our feet (that is, allow our relationship with Jesus to affect our way of seeing and of acting) we will end up having no rela-tionship with him. We need to be challenged by the Pauline vision to enter into the divine pleasure of reconciling everything--both on the earth and in the heavens--in Christ. At the close of a liturgical year, as we listen to the Gospel accounts of end times and final-judgment scenes and then move on, in Advent, to the careful preparations for God's entering into our human history in Jesus, we realize anew how we are called to play our part in the cosmic vision--what St. Paul called "the mystery of Christ," the divine de, sign of salvation. Like St. Paul, we too want to make Christ known, hoping to make every human being complete in Christ, since in him--the image of the invisi-ble God--we see God's image of what it means to be human. And in our Christmas awe we continue to pray that we may have eyes to see that Mystery Incarnate, "the fullness of him who fills the universe in all its parts.'? David L. Fleming SJ The editors and staff of Review for Religious wish all our readers a most blessed Christmas and New Year! Noventber-Decevnber 1997 MARIE VIANNEY BILGRIEN SolidaritymMore than a Polish Thing virtues For too long, people have equated the concept of solidar-ity with the Solidarity Union Movement in Poland in the 1980s. On the other hand, many people have not paid any attention to solidarity because they thought of it either as a Polish thing or as just a passing event. For a few years solidarity generated written articles and symposiums after Pope John Paul II named solidarity a virtue in his 1987 encyclical Sollicitudo rei socialis. Can one birth new virtues in our religious tradition? I suspect one can, if one is pope and writing an encyclical. So maybe sol-idarity is a Polish thing! In any case, interest in the virtue soon died down. I know this because in 1994, when I was in Rome writing my dissertation tided Solidarity: d Principle, an Attitude, a Duty, or The Virtue for an Interdependent I4rorld, I seemed the only one interested in it--especially as a virtue. Yet there is a new surge of interest, due to the linea-menta prepared for the Synod of America titled Encounter with the Living.Jesus Christ: Vday to Conversion, Communion, and Solidarity. In the lineamenta, solidarity is referred to as a principle, a duty, and a virtue. Individuals and groups are urged to practice solidarity "to channel effective aid to groups and nations which suffer from poverty." Solidarity as a virtue is "a morally necessary reaction to the exis- Marie Viarmey Bilgrien SSND, director of the Hispanic ministry office in the diocese of Baker, may be addressed at P.O. Box 823; Madras, Oregon 97741 Review for Religious tence of injustice in social conditions" that affects many individ-uals and nations. Emphasizing the fact of interdependence, the lineamenta stresses that solidarity must be practiced not only by individual persons, but by entire peoples and nations, inasmuch as the world is economically, culturally, and politically more and more interconnected. What one country does regarding migra-tion, the use of natural resources, the drug trade, genetic manip-ulation, international economic relations, and so forth affects many other countries. The lineamenta stresses that solidarity is part of the church's social teaching and is to be practiced by everyone (§55); it explains as does Sollicitudo rei socialis that, if we want to undo the structures of sin so prevalent in our world, the solution lies in the moral realm. Just as sins of individuals create structures of sin that take on a hideous existence of their own, "an all-consuming desire for profit and thirst for power," so too acts of the virtue of solidarity by individuals, groups, and nations can build up structures of virtue that have a "decisive influence on economic programs and policies, on social communication, on culture, on healthcare, and so forth" not only locally but also nationally and internationally. It will be interesting to see how the idea of solidarity plays out in the meetings and documents of the Pan-America synod. Solidarity has a longer history than most people realize. It appears five times in the Latin of the Vatican II documents: twice in Apostolicam actuositatem, §8 and §14, and three times in Gaudium et spes, §§4, 32, and 57. In reading the texts one can glean that solidarity has an important spiritual dimension. It is a part of charity and has an individual and a universal dimension. It creates a responsibility to act. Jesus' incarnation shows his and God's sol-idarity with humanity. Our response to that gift is the practice of solidarity, recognizing that we are one family, that we have received gifts and talents to be used cooperatively--for the good of the whole family. Paul VI used the idea of solidarity extensively, especially in Populorumprogressio (see §§17, 43, 44, 48, 62, 64, 73, 80, and 84). It also appears in the Italian translation of Pius XII's encyclical Summipontificatus in 1939. He understood solidarity as the unity Jesus" incarnation shows his and God's solidarity with humanity. November-December 1997 Bilgrien ¯ SolidaritymMore than a Polish Thing of the human race, our.common origin from our Creator, sharing a "common habitation, this world of ours whose resources every-one has a natural right to enjoy., as they are needed for preser-vation and self-development." John Paul has been writing about solidarity since 1969. In his book The Acting Person, in describing personal development, he devotes a whole chapter to the necessity of attitudes of both oppo-sition and solidarity for the true and complete development of mature persons. In naming solidarity a virtue, he gives it greater importance. What does that mean? Solidarity as an attitude, duty, or principle only helps people to do the right thing, but as a virtue it helps them to become good. Duty implies decision and action, but virtue implies a disposition, a power, a perfection. Duty asks, What should I do? Virtue asks, How should I be? Virtue helps us do the right thing for the right reason. Solidarity is a virtue not only for individual persons, but also for groups working together and for nations in a world that is ever more interdependent. Solidarity is the virtue that can move society to the good. Solidarity is the virtue that can transform persons and society. In describing the virtue in Sollicitudo rei socialis, John Paul says that it is the response to relationships in a world that is inter-dependent; "it is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good" (§38). He adds that the virtue is valid only when we recognize others as human persons, equal in dignity; when we feel responsible for those who are weaker--the poor (§39). In two paragraphs he lays out the components of the virtue of solidarity: interdependence, the common good, the dignity of the person, the preferential option for the poor. Solidarity recognizes that people, nations, all of creation are interconnected. What happens in one area of the world can have tremendous effects in another part. The actions of individuals, nations, and blocs of nations either increase the structures of sin (thirst for power, all-consuming desire for profit, ethnic wars, unjust wages, inhuman working conditions, patterns of violence and sexual abuse) or can build up structures of virtue (cooperative efforts to bring about a more just world and preserve the integrity of creation: the United Nations, groups concerned about ecol-ogy, peace-and-justice commissions, and so forth). Solidarity as a virtue recognizes people as equal in dignity and worthy of respect. Solidarity as a virtue sees each person as a Review for Religious member of the world family, as an image and likeness of God. Instead of looking at others as simply other, solidarity helps us to see them as neighbors, as brothers and sisters. From this flow the importance and necessity of working together to preserve the human family and the integrity of creation. Some of this can be seen in the work of the U.N. as it sends groups to work with refugees or promote peace between warring eth-nic groups. One sees the virtue in Doctors with-out Frontiers, who work in many parts of the world, and in other volunteer groups promot-ing health, education, and housing in poor coun-tries of the world. In accepting and recognizing the human dignity of each person, there must be a focus on those who are poorest. Both John Paul and Paul VI noted that their eyes were opened to the poor during their travels to Latin America and India. When one stands in a different place, one sees differently. Moving out from the Vatican palace to the streets of Calcutta and the barrios of Rio de Janeiro changes the view. Their eyes were opened; their awareness of people's suffering intensified. After those journeys, both popes talked more and more strongly about the necessity of "an option for the poor." In Sollicitudo rei socialis John Paul explains that a preferential option is not an exclusive option, but is a "firm and irrevocable option." Solidarity with its component of an option for the poor helps us to see the wider issues, the intertwining of systems and structures that oppress the poor rather than raise them up. Somewhere, in solidarity's judgment, the poor have a role. It is not true solidarity if the poor are overlooked or treated with conde-scension. In each judgment that is made, each action taken, one should ask: How will this affect the poor? The real goal of an option for the poor is to move beyond helping them and provid-ing care. The goal is for the poor to be authors of their own actions, to make their own decisions, decisions that are effective in moving them from poverty to participation in society. The goal is for them to be no longer .treated as children incapable of tak-ing care of themselves, but to participate in decision making so that the effects of solidarity are felt by all and begin to reshape the unjust structures that keep the poor poor. Only when the poor Solidarity recognizes that people, nations, all of creation are interconnected. November-December 1997 Bilgrien ¯ Solidarity--More than a Polish Thing are treated with full dignity will the virtue of solidarity begin to flourish in all its splendor. What is at stake is the common good, the good of all and the good of each individual, and solidarity is the virtue that commits everyone to the common good. Solidarity directs nations to sub-ordinate their national interests for the good of the planet, for the good of all. Solidarity directs individuals to transcend their greed and selfishness and focus on the good of the whole. Our years of selfishness, of greed for power and money, have caused havoc in the environment and have placed future genera-tions in jeopardy. No one can quash worrisome questions about the "greenhouse effect," about the dangers of the ozone level in the atmosphere, and about unknown effects of massive deforesta-tion and the continuous piling up of industrial waste. We continue to kill our planet. The widespread experimentation and manipula-tion in the biological sciences has outrun our ability to make moral decisions. Those decisions or indecisions will have for future gen-erations repercussions that we cannot predict. Solidarity is the virtue that can bring us to a greater consciousness of the importance of our moral decisions. Solidarity, by focusing the common good, reminds us that the differences of race, gender, ethnicity, culture, and economic status do not have to be divisive. Solidarity is the virtue for the third millennium. It has the capacity to inform interdependence in such a way that persons, peoples, countries, and nations will relate to each other equally, as members of the same family. Solidarity as a virtue orders actions and relationships towards the common good. It is the virtue that can transform a world of unjust structures, structures of sin, into structures of virtue, structures of justice, family structures. The general secretariat of the Synod of Bishops in its working paper has begun to answer the call of John Paul to unite all peoples of the Western Hemisphere and offers the practice of solidarity as one of the ways to solve the massive problems and inequities of the two continents. Conversion, communion, and solidarity in, with, and through Jesus Christ will be important on the journey into the third millennium. Solidarity is only the beginning. Review for Religious JOHN L. BARBER The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias anlthe pages of the sacred text, we find many courageous, but so human, people. One .such bold, authentic person was Ananias of the Book of Acts. The prelude to his encounter with Paul (then named Saul) is recorded as follows: A disciple called Ananias who lived in Damascus had a vision in which he heard the Lord say to him, "Ananias!" When he replied, "Here I am, Lord," the Lord said, "You must go to Straight Street and ask at the house of Judas for someone called Saul, who comes from Tarsus. At this moment he is praying and having a vision of a man called Ananias coming in and laying hands on him to give him back his sight." When he heard that, Ananias said, "Lord, several people have told me about this man and all the harm he has been doing to your saints in Jerusalem. He has only come here because he holds a warrant from the chief priest to arrest everybody who invokes your name." The Lord replied, "You must go all the same, because this man is my chosen instru-ment to bring my name before pagans and pagan kings and before the people of Israel. I myself will show him how much he himself must suffer for my name." Then Ananias went. (Ac 9:10-16)~ We know very little about Ananias, other than what we glean from this short account in Acts; he was "a disciple" of Jesus and lived in Damascus. Rather than being a longtime citizen of that city, our Ananias may have been a refugee from the persecution of Christians in Jerusalem. Though this is uncertain, we will John L. Barber, a lawyer, married and the father of two college-age sons, is also a lay minister at St. Paul's Episcopal Church. He writes to us from 600 Nokomis Court; Winston-Salem, North Carolina 27106. November-Decentber 1997 Barber ¯ The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias Saul is not only a real person, but also a symbol for the challenge to move from what we know, from safety, into the unknown and risk. --y-72J assume that he was indeed one who had fled from religious oppression. From Paul's address to the Jews of Jerusalem, we learn he was also "a devout follower of the Law and highly thought of by all the Jews living" in Damascus (Ac 22:12). Apparently his name was a common one, for in Acts we meet two other Ananiases. The first appears in chapter 5--Sapphira's husband, who lied to the Holy Spirit--and in chapter 23 we encounter the other, the high priest who ordered Paul struck on the mouth. In the same type of human plight in which our faith is tested, the constancy of Ananias was tried. In this sense Saul is a metaphor for those predicaments into which we must walk, involving a difficult or dangerous person or situation and presenting some risk from which we fear harm. The potential injury we face may not be as grave as the arrest and imprisonment that Ananias dreaded. Nonetheless, to us it feels and seems harmful, and we are afraid. As we journey on our Christian pilgrimage, all of us must face our own fear-provoking Sauls. Who are these Sauls for us? They are those places and people to which we would not go, were it not for God leading, moving, and stirring us and urging us to grow. They are life passages and problems we would not engage in, were it not for God inviting us or interrupting our lives. Saul may appear in life passages such as a midlife crisis or that time when the last child leaving home creates what is commonly called "the empty nest." In these interruptions we lose our bearings. Our "Saul" in them is the challenge of finding our direction again and reorienting ourselves. They might be crises like a divorce or the death of a spouse or loved one, the loss of a job or dissatisfaction with one's career. In these situations we face Saul when we are forced out of our ruts to seek new or renewed meaning for life. Saul is not only a real person, but also a symbol for the chal-lenge to move from what we know, from safety, into the unknown and risk. He is a sign for that time in life when our devotion to God demands concrete but hazardous action. We may find our Sauls in people with whom we have some Review for Religious confrontation, particularly if we are conflict avoiders. On the other hand, the Saul could be a confrontation with our own selves as we meet the challenge of seeing the truth in our own failings and weaknesses, limitations andsins, and dysfunctions and addic-tions. The dangerous Saul might be the challenge of learning healthier ways of relating and living. These types of self-con-frontation, in which we face the painful reality in our own hearts, can require even more courage than conflict with others. Typically, life's Sauls, in the guise of hard and risky challenges, involve both types of encounters: encountering self and encountering another person or some passage or crisis. For both of these, fortunately, we have a guide in the person of Ananias: he faced his own fear and Saul as well. A pattern for a bold Christian spirituality, he presents, when viewed from dif-ferent angles, a multidimensional courage. What, then, were some of the facets of his intrepidity? His Christian courage involved at least five attributes: openness before God, obedience, reluc-tance, calculated surrender, and the gift of grace. Openness before God The characters of the Bible portray many different stances or postures vis-~a-vis God. The prophet Jonah tried "to get away from Yahweh" (Jon 1:3). In Genesis, after Adam and Eve suc-cumbed to temptation, they hid from the Lord God who came to them "walking in the garden in the cool of the day." Ananias, on the other hand, was neither taking flight nor hiding. While he may have fled the persecution in Jerusalem, he did not flee from God. The Lord did not have to say to him, "Ananias, where are you?" as he did to Adam (Gn 3:8-10) or unleash "a violent wind on the sea" as he did against Jonah (Jon 1:4). Instead, Ananias had laid, himself bare before God, saying, "Here I am, Lord. Speak, your servant is listening." This "I-tere I am, Lord" stance in the presence of God is the courageous spirituality. Living "out there," in front of God, is the stalwart posture of discipleship. It is scary to live openly before God. What sins will God allow us to see? How will the glow of his love and the heat of his righteousness feel on our faces? What sufferings that our broth-ers and sisters endure will we, too, be privileged to face? What will the Lord ask us to do? For example, we pray earnestly, longing to hear God as clearly as Ananias did. Then, L.f-73 November-December 1997 Barber ¯ The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias when we do, we are hesitant to do what God has asked of us. We question God, saying, "Lord, did you really say what I thought you said?" or "God, I wanted you to speak to me, but I really don't want to do what you asked." Hiding from God among the trees of the garden is the spir-ituality of fear. Taking flight from God is the spirituality of escape. Openness before God is the spirituality of Ananias. Obedience The obedience of Ananias flowed out of his openness before God. This aspect of courage led to another, that of obedience. Courage for the Christian is different from bravery in other con-texts. For the believer, courage is connected to our obedience to God. An outgrowth of Ananias's openness was his vision in which he heard God speak, a time of intent listening for and to the voice of God. According to author Henri Nouwen, there is a com-monalty between obedience and intent listening. The word obe-dience springs from the Latin ob-audire, which signifies intent listening? Such intent listening is an act of courage in itself. For, if we begin to listen, we may come to know the sound of God's voice. And, if we come to know the sound of the voice, we may actually hear it. And, if we hear what God has to say to us, we are left in a dilemma of response and answer, as was Ananias. Reluctant Courage In our society we tend to view brave people as those who have no fear. In fact, the word "fearless" is a synonym for "courage." Yet, if we wait until we have no fright or consternation before we take a particular action, we will never act; for who among us is never afraid? This, however, is all-or-nothing thinking. Instead of being either valiant or afraid, we are simultaneously both3--valiant and afraid. Bravery, in truth, is action in spite of fear. In the face of the terror which looks us straight in the eyes, courage is a life stance or attitude which enables us to go to that dreadful place where God may be leading and we otherwise would not travel. For Ananias, bravery existed coexisted with his fear. He was obviously afraid of Saul, who journeyed to Damascus "still breath-ing threats to slaughter the Lord's disciples" (Ac 9:1). Having ReviewforReligious heard the Lord, Ananias responded by saying, "But, Lord, let me point out a few things to you. This Saul is a dangerous man. He might arrest me and put me in prison. I've already fled Jerusalem to get away from persecution, and now you want me to walk straight back into it." There is no evi-dence that Ananias ever got over being afraid of Saul. Although he was reluctant in his fear of Saul, Ananias nevertheless responded in faithfulness to the voice of God. He went to Saul in and with his fear. Following the example of Ananias, courage for the Christian exists not in overcoming our human- Courage for the Christian exists not in overcoming our humanity, but in our humanity. ity, but in our humanity. For the Christian, courage lives where there is obedience to the voice of God in spite of a very real dread. A Calculated Surrender For the Christian, courage is also an ambiguous place of ten-sion between knowing and counting the costs of our obedience, on the one hand, and, on the other, surrendering to consequences of our listening to God that are yet unknown. It is action flowing out of a paradoxical wisdom and foolishness. Whatever we might say about Ananias, he counted the cost of obeying God. He knew the risks. About our Ananias, there was a certain sophistication and wisdom. He had a firm grip on life as it really is, including the ugly part, particularly if he was a refugee from the persecution in Jerusalem. As a realistic person, his brav-ery was not a gullible one. Arrest, prison, stoning, persecution-- he knew very well what he might be getting into if he obeyed God and went to Saul. He was regardful of the reality of this man, who "entirely approved of the killing" of Stephen and "worked for the total destruction of the Church" by going "from house to house arresting both men and women and sending them to prison." (Ac 8:1 and 3). While he was well acquainted with the kind of man he was, his encounter with Saul also held a very real terror of the unknown and unfamiliar. Ananias did not know whether he would survive this ordained meeting or be stoned to death. Though we count the costs of our obedience, we still cannot know the ultimate out- Noventber-December 1997 Barber ¯ The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias come. The future cannot be envisioned. An old Jewish proverb says that "man plans but God laughs." Despite our best planning we cannot eliminate all surprises and exigencies. For the Christian, courage involves surrender into the hidden outcome of our obe-dience. In our confrontations we must know the risks we face. We are called to be wise as serpents. At the same time we cannot fore-see all the risks, and so our courage must have some element of surrender in it. In facing others we miglit lose our jobs, endure retribution, or suffer alienation in relationships. In the passages and crises of life, we might be forced from our comfortable lifestyle to one of greater risk as well as service and deeper mean-ing. In discovering ourselves as we really are, we may feel the heat of God's gaze with an intensity similar to the sun shining through a magnifying glass. Discomforting it is to see both the chaff and the wheat of the ripening crop of our own lives. Ananias's intrepidity was not naive, but one rooted in reality. Nonetheless, it involved a letting go of his life and relinquish-ment to God. If we are to be brave Christians, we must enter the place of tension between counting the cost and surrender. Gift of Grace We return to the name Ananias. For actors in the Biblical drama, a name was significant. So it was for Ananias. His name is derived from the Hebrew name Hananiah, meaning "the Lord is gracious" or "the Lord shows grace." For us to hear God's voice, the Lord must speak--which in itself is a special grace. With its limited resources, our own courage can take us only so far. Then, in order to heed the sound of God's voice, we come to the point where our humanity needs a healthy dose of grace. God's gra-ciousness is our access to Christian courage that is required of us if we are to be disciples. Grace is the window through which we step from hiding before God to the presence of God. Grace is the threshold which we cross from a fearful inaction to an obe-dience of reluctant courage. The irony of Christian courage is that it requires both a personal achievement and a gift from God. Living openly before God, Ananias of Damascus exposed him-self to hear whatever the Lord might say. Once he heard the voice of God, he responded in obedience. But his response was a human one of courage in its reluctance and hesitancy in its bravery. Review for Religious Realistic in his intrepidity, he both knew the risk and counted the cost of going to Saul. At the same time, he abandoned himself to the unknown consequences. Then he relied on God's grace so that he might be obedient to his voice. To varying degrees we are all Ananiases, whom William Barclay called "one of the forgotten heroes of the Christian Church." The mystery is that we are persons of paradox--as was Ananias; reluctantly courageous, calculated in our surrender, and obedient through grace--as was Ananias. Notes ~ Scripture quotations are from the Jerusalem Bible. 2 Seeds of Hope: A Henri Nouwen Reader, ed. Robert Durback, p. xxix. 3 I am indebted to Maurice Briggs MA for this insight about "all or nothing" or "either!or" thinking ove? and against "both/and" thinking. Rev. Briggs is a member of the faculty in the Department of Chaplaincy and Pastoral Education at North Carolina Baptist Hospital, Winston- Salem, North Cai'olina. Advent Cave Plato knew about the dark, how we prisoners face the wall in chains, only the fire b~hind us letting us see the m~oving shadows we call real. Far above, looms the door to light, reachable only by those who turn ~ away,from all they know. Wisdom, who lived in the cave at Nazareth where parents made a home and carried water to thefire, sitting at night in quiet, thoughts and the animals dozing near embers, the dying light, after a day of learning the real, calls us to turn and face the door. Evelyn Mattern November-Deconber 1997 MARGARET MARY KNITTEL | A Quilt, a Council, and a Church working together The quilt movement should be preserved as a col-lective enterprise with an ethical concern. If taken seriously as women's art, quilts cannot be perceived and enjoyed as isolated aesthetic objects divorced from the relationships of women to each other and to the rest of humankind. Quilts emin~ently pose the question of how one behaves in the asking and viewing of art. --Radka Donnell, Quilts as Women's Art Twenty years ago I took several tries at developing skills "for the home," sensing at first blush of midlife that my. more productive impulses would require something for my hands to do in my old age. Firs~t, there were the needlepoint classes, ~e.~n quilting. Quiltmaking is not for the faint of heart. As a dropout from Advanced Quilting, I can attest to the shaky feeling in the knees when faced with what appears to be an infinite number of steps. This quiltmaking episode would be instructive. As I have come to understand them, both quiltmaking and organizations involve mutuality and interdependence as essential pro-cesses within their respective collective enterprises. A Collective Enterprise In quiltmaking, the mutuality and interdependence of the women are reflected in th~ final product. Design, tex- Margaret Mary Knittei RSM works as a grants consultant for nonprofit organizations. She may be addressed at P.O. Box 634; Geneva, Illinois 60134. Review for Religious ture, color, and template come together through their hands, through their spirit shaping. "Quilts are healing because they accept the uniqueness, the positive difference, and the mortal limit of each human being."1 A quilt's design, texture, color, and template over a period of time will collect these human beings and express their individualities anew. Design, texture, color, template .become interdependent, one with the others, to bring beauty to the whole. The overall design of a quilt needs a working principle, a template, to express the color and'the texture, to specify the difference. One shape, a tri-angle for example, can be the basic design of countless quilts~ The textures of various fabrics add to color and design, with the template giving the basic shape. Color in all its bold or modest hues as textured by the various materials gets a specific shape and then is pieced'into a growing design. The mutuality and interdependence among the quiltmakers affirm them all. Positive differences go somewhere into a future, not wasting time with empty words of control; rather, they speak of vision. Limit recognizes this is a bordered piece, this quilt, and we its .shapers affirm the grace of the moment~, knowing it could be the grace of a lifetime. .Quiltmaking is a healing image, one that includes authentic conversation, meaning-filled relationships, among the people sharing the brganizational life of a parish, a religious community, a church. "Religion here is the sensation of being one with the whole, of belonging, not of subjection.''~ The virtues of quilt-making are the virtues of a healthy human organization. A Demo~cratic and Affirming Mission . Radka Donnell says in her perceptive book: "To the work of piecing quilts I was silently called, and i( took me years to sort 6ut the problems it revealed and the-difficulties it created. The early groups of contemporary quiltmakers were inspired by a sense of mission. If not expressly feminist in each case, this mission certainly was democratic and affirmative of each individual quiltmaker a'nd each quilt. (p. 6) The metaphor of quiltmaking can remind us of the Second Vatican Council's challenge to the church to accept both its divine mission and the human organization called to participate in thLa$t-7-9 November-December 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church mission. Facing problems and difficulties, it is an organization capable of error, of hurt and pain, in search of truth, in sea.rch of healing and grace. During the thirty and more years since the council's call, at times its substantive energy seems depleted and diminished; but ultimately, in the hearts of people, the message will never be muffled or suffocated. The post-Vatican church as organization, as. human organi-zation, seems destined for democratic and affirming conversa-tions. That kind of, change and growth lies in the hands of all believers, as people seated as equals around a corporate quilt. If we are quiet.like the quiltmakers, we still hear, from the heart of the council, that call, that sense of being missioned, to the inclu-sive and respectful goodness of lives lived to the full in the sight of God. Our lives continue on, and as we look desperately for mileposts we acknowledge we are still on the way. Concerns for democratically and respectfully affirming connections become earnest calls for better ways of being together, whether it be in a parish, a religious community, or the church universal. Religious organizations, as human organizations, need to face their corporate humanity. A corporate way of being human is important, whether we admit or deny the fact, whether we like it or not. The foibles of people's human interaction can be acutely felt at an individual level. Often, however, corporate humanity recognizes the problems only after many have been hurt. Words like "low morale" or "uncooperative" become blame tags. The dilemma for leadership is that, when you blame, you do not lead. The nature of bureaucracies is to maintain power, no. matter what the cost. The church needs to ask itself just how bureau-cratic it wants to be. If it chooses to be increasingly pastoral, it will find that parishes, religious orders, dioceses, and the church uni-versal will raise new questions, demand new ways of~behaving. Within a bureaucratic church organization, the individual-- parishioner, ~priest, vowed religious, bishop, employee--will mat-ter less than the maintenance of power: posturing, identifying totally with power, seeking to dominate. To survive, members might feel they must be subservient in one way or another. Within a bureaucracy the common good is co-defined with the maintenance of the organization itself. More time and energy are given to protecting a bureaucratically bungled decision than to thinking through afresh what is happening. Things as we hard known them remain the same. In the face of an entrenched Review for Religious bureaucracy, the better educated, the more aware, may leave. Feeling tokenism and lack of care, they may go off, re,searching for their soul. For those who stay, the mission seems dissolved within the bureaucratic. Doing the task mindlessly and relating to self, oth-ers, and God make it all bearable. Fair Dealing Radka Donnell makes this observation about quiltmaking: To be interested in the theory and practice of quiltmaking means to look for fair dealing between women, as well as between men and women. It indicates a readiness to fight against all obstacles preventing us from creating a better world together. (p. 72) One systems view of organizations sees them as made up of four equal subsystems, mutually interdependent in their rela-tionships. These four separate and different subsystems are called the task, the structure, informal groups, and the individual. These four separate and different subsystems function optimally when all are equal to one another in importance and mutually interde-pendent in their relating. If one of these subsystems puffs up, the whole system is affected. The other subsystems get leaned upon, diminishing their contributions within the whole. If one of these subsystems withers, the functioning whole likewise suffers, gets skewed. Parishes; religious communities, and the church universal as human organizations are distinct systems. Each could be said to consist of the four subsystems of task, structure, informal groups, and the individual. The Task as Subsystem. The task in a. religious community would be its charism, the unique mission of a community as per-ceived within the Catholic tradition in its particular context. Similarly, a parish has a particular local task to accomplish. A contemplative group of religious women varies from an active one, and0an inner-city parish from a suburban one. While each participates in a still larger system, locally they are themselves separate organizations. Over time numerous activities accrete to any organization, but its central mission remains. Confusion, dif-ferences, outright hostilities occur when an important question is not acknowledged or goes unasked: "Just who does the sending, November-December 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church the missioning?" Is it God, a founder or foundress, this hospital, a church, the history of a town or city? The Structure as Subsystem. The second subsystem to be looked at here is structui'e or governance. Within a community or a parish, we all know the persons making up the structure. Vv'hether community government be elected or discerned, it finds itself in Whether community government be elected or discerned, it finds itself in a quandary of expectations from membership, and from itself. a quandary of expectations from mem-bership and from itself. Likewise, a new pastor looking around for the first time feels various expectations arising. Leadership needs to lead, but, when it does, its performance may not fit pre-conceived notions. Then leadership may be tempted to resist the future; to lean back and maintain the present, and hence to end up reissuing the past. Leadership in the ideal sustains the vision of the common good, which in itself is a process both democratic and affirming. A structure ideally assumes lines and processes of accountability that are at .once just and active. Leapfrogging .and micromanaging from a0distant central office can bypass managers and commit-tees on the scene and violate the rights of the organization itself. Again, if local people .spontaneously blurt out their evaluation of an associate pastor at a parish council meeting, they bypass proper procedures and strip away the individual's right to an appropriate evaluation of job performance. The structure, we need to remem-ber, is one of four equal and interdependent, subsystems contex~ tualized within an organization. Informal Groups as Subsystem, The informal groups in an orga-nization would be various clusters of individuals espousing simi-lar norms and sanctions among themselves. They appear neutral in a well-functioning organization, manifesting as they do a nat-ural affinity of persons. Sometimes, however, an informal group skews an organization, a company, a religious community, or a parish by losing sight of the larger task, the mission, the com-mon good, and seeking its own way of goverfiing the whole. The informal group may try to impose its own values on the majority in any number of ways: by inclusion, exclusion, intimidation, and oppression, by pushing to be the most holy, the most dedicated to Review for Religious the poor, the most attentive to keeping the church intact, the most pro-life. Many masks can disguise the will for power over others, and an informal group in any organization can obscure and even obliterate the vision. The Individual as Subsystem. The fourth subsystem within this model of organization is the individual. Individuals and the moti-vations they bring to the organization impact the entire system. The recognition of the variety of motivations at play within any group can be a sobering and staggering realization. From studies on the impact of opportunity in organizations, we know that the "anointed" in organizations, those high flyers who move quickly through ~the ranks, are given life through our desire to observe them as winners. We endow their ideas and words with more credibility. We entrust them with more resources and better assignments. We have already decided that they will succeed, and so we continu-ally observe them with the expectation that they will con-firm our beliefs.3 The anointed individual in this language of organization-as-system distorts the life of the organization, overshadowing struc-ture, informal groups, task or mission, and other individuals. Other members give over their .truth, their experience, and, in thus surrendering their individual dignity, they suffocate the pos-sibility of democracy or the achievement of the common good. The anointed individual becomes a god. Within a church or reli: gious organization the confusion of gods for God needs contin-ued sorting. Self-Healing Among her comments about quilting, Radka Donnell says: The.more the system gets into high gear, the more self-he~ aling is needed. (pp. 126-127) In church organizations, isolation and wrongly constructed obediences sometimes intensifies the claim of the few to be anoint-eds. A particular organization's structure, informal groups, and task or mission could conceivably be dominated by an anointed; in this mix, religious language might be used to cover ambition, to anoint the anointed. A wonderful scene from the movie Richard 111 swipes at the capacity of religious language to cover up. Richard, pretending to be secluded and hard at prayer, emerges to be "convinced." to November-Dece~nber 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church accept the English throne he has serpentinely plotted and mur-dered to acquire, Knowing that people consider him in some way the anointed one, he now considers himself a god. He becomes increasingly foreign to those around him, and later he meets defeat in battle. Have we ever looked on when a locally anointed individual (now apparently feeling godlike as well) strongly inserted irrele-vant and impertinent opinion into a community or parish com-mittee, spilling the work of months down the drain? Numbers of those very committee members, still ~motionally inclined to attribute greater knowledge and perhaps even a cosmic wisdom to the anointed one, may find themselves recoiling in disarray. Can we recall an experience in our lifetime when an individual crashed through the lines of accountability appropriate to structure, manipulated informal groups by feeding them what they want to hear, and used language of mission or church or patriotism to keep the advantage? Is this the call of the prophetic, we. wonder, as we give over our own individual power to this other individual, the anointed? "Prophetic ministry consists of offering an alternative perception of reality and in letting people see their own history in the light of God's freedom and his will for justice.''4 The test suggested is whether the anointed gives space for us to reflect courageously on our 'individual histories "in the light of God's freedom." To con-tinually strive to see one's own history in God's light will be to know our own history, our own experience, anew each time. This is not a blaming game, an unhealed existence, or a quick fix with aphorisms, but a genuine opening in my life, your life, for healing, for Jesus the Christ. Self-healing is not a plastic therapy for believers, but an engagement with a living. God. The question remains: Does the message of an. anointed one leave room for all these variables, for the lights of a freeing God? Margaret Wheadey contrasts the "anointed" individual within an organization to the "dead" individual. Others in organizations go unobserved, irrevocably invisi-ble, bundles of potential that no one bothers to look at. Or they receive summary glances, are observed to be "dead," and are thereafter locked into jobs that provide them with no opportunity to display their many pote.ntials,s A post-Vatican II church unfurled to Catholics a new way of being, and we need to revisit those challenges. Dying to self, we Review for Religious have come to increasingly realize, never meant not unbundling our own gifts, our own graces, as we become acquainted with them. Our own baptismal anointing as Christians, no longer a vague memory, becomes a constant call. But, alas, we knew that struggling to be "undead"--not be to an anointed, just to be undead--would have its own price, Declaring the king to be naked in a bureaucracy brings life-mark-ing, career-reversing implications. A question, a deviation, could bring death-dealing expulsion from the informal life of the group or from the larger organization itself. Each person having and wanting to have influence, each want-ing to "see their own history in the light of God's freedom," becomes incessantly difficult if declared or assumed to be among the "dead." The equality of persons within an organization is the paradigm for the equality of each subsystem in the model offered here. Puffing up one impinges upon all the others. Withering one depletes all. Equality equates to mutuality among members. The Incessant Pursuit The church, embracing sinners in her bosom, is at the same time holy and always in need of being purified, and inces-santly pursues the path of penance and .renewal. (Lumen gentium, §8) The processes of quiltmaking and the processes of organiza-tions call for an incessant pursuit of mutuality and interdepen-dence among women and men equal before a loving God. The Second Vatican Council invited the church of the 20th century to know both its humanity and its wonder. If parishes, orders of women and men religious, and the church universal in a post-Vatican II church accept themselves as corporate human organizations, they will steadily come to under- Stand the strengths and pitfalls that accompany such aggregate groups, The rich heritage of the church cannot afford to forget that it is an organization of human persons. Such forgetting rehearses feudal futility. There is both frailty and strength in its organizational life. At the level of shared humanity, frailties and strengths within any group will always be fa!i'ly evident. To deny this shared humanity is to set up the religious organization as exempt from the foibles and frets that indeed call on God for its life principle. Novetnber-Decentber 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church "The church, or, in other words, the kingdom of Christ now pres-ent in mystery, grows visibly in the world through the power of God" (LG §3). To deny the church's humanness is to deny the power of God. As we continue to unpack that sublimely historic event we fondly call "the council," there is more to do, more to remind others about, more for ourselves to be .reminded about. The Roman Catholic Church as a religious organization, ceasing to gloss over its frail corporate humanity, will come to understand its corporateness at a more profound level. The church as a human organization will come to truly trust in the mystery of its shared life of faith in Jesus the Christ. This living quilt we call "church" calls to a people deeply conversant with a living God. Notes I Radka Donnell, Quilts as Women's Art: A Quilt Poetics (North Vancouver, Canada: GaIlerie Publications, 1990), p. 425. 2 Dorothee Soelle, Theology for Skeptics (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), p. 28. 3 Margaret J. Wheadey, Leadership and the New Science (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 1994), p. 60. 4 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 110. s Wheatley, pp. 60-61. Subscriptions to Review for Religious can now be ordered or renewed by I~AX and.paid for by MasterCardor ~sa. FAX the order form inside the back cov~r~ or CALL our office with, you~r.tcgedit carol numbi~r:.? o. FAX: 314-~-7-7362 ¯ PHONE: 314297727363 Review for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA Communitym Healthy or Dysfunctional? ~or these reflections about community living in religious .~. orders and congregations, I propose what may seem a curi-ous biblical passage, the one that concludes with "Very well, pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God" (Mr 22:21). We are more accustomed to texts on loving one another or bearing one another's burdens or remaining united and at peace among ourselves or reconciling with one another whenever necessary. All those principles and practices are very important for the life of a healthy community. From this text, however, two :practical norms can be drawn which also are impor-tant for life in community: appropriateness and balance. These two norms are tightly intertwined, like a fine weaving; in fact, both can be drawn from those same words of Jesus: "Pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God." First, appropriateness: We do not give to Caesar what belongs to God or to God what belongs to Caesar. In community we can bring realities into~our life together which are not really appro-priate precisely because they are misplaced: for example, unfair expectations of someone or of one another as a group; unwill-ingness to share or communicate something which by our pro-fession we commit ourselves to share and communicate; personal agendas, with their accompanying attitudes and perspectives, and emotions, which may really belong in ministry or to only one of our relationships or somewhere else altogether. Joel Giallanza CSC writes for us once again from: Congregation of the Holy Cross; Via Framura, 85; 00168 Roma; Italy. November-December 1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? Serious personal reflection and realistic self-knowledge bring with them the ability to answer this simple question: Where does what I am experiencing--this issue, this feeling, this concern-- belong? Where will it be most appropriately articulated and addressed? Inappropriate placement of issues, feelings, and con-cerns generates an inadequate response. Then all frustrations sur-rounding them will be intensified as they continue to be unaddressed. Second, balance: We give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God at the same time. Of the two points, balance is the more challenging, even on a daily basis. Most of our time and energy as apostolic religious are invested in ministry. This is important, given who we are as religious com-mitted to continue the mission of Jesus in the spirit of our founders and foundresses. Nevertheless, we do need to remind ourselves from time to time that each of us has only one limited pool of time and energy. Too easily we can fall out of balance by expending the maxi-mum of our quality time and energy in ministry--or on some-thing else--and simply neglect community or prayer. While that might never degenerate into complete negligence; we may grad-ually adopt a very minimalist approach to community. Then, from time to time, we may feel shocked that those with whom we live every day have changed or rearranged this or that without our having been consulted. Conveniendy we might forget to ask our-selves if we were sufficiently present, available, and interested when those decisions were being formulated and then imple-mented. Community life can be joyful and it can be painful; at times it can be the greatest of blessings and at times the heaviest of burdens. But never has there been a guarantee, that it would be easy. As long as we are human, working to live closely with other people, appropriateness and balance in approaching our commu-nity life will continue to be significantchallenges. "Pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God." We may not always make that payment perfectly, but we are responsible for making the effort 'to live community with the appropriateness and balance which can facilitate the love and unity we seek. Though other things must also be included, these are principal ingredients that determine the quality of life and health within a community. Review for Religious Quality of Community: Healthy or Dysfunctional? Very little, if anything, about community is theory.It is work to live with one another. But through our commitment it is meant to be a work of the heart. The alternative is that members care lit-tle about one another and about the space in which they live. Gradually each individual b~comes the center of a personal uni-verse which has minimal contact and communication with the other personal universes in the vicinity. Then all the theories about community and loving one another constitute little more than fine words carried on hot air. , Community life, then, can be healthy or dysfunctional. These present thoughts will focus on some characteristics of a healthy community and on some earmarks of a dysfunctional community. The following sets of contrasting characteristics represent spec-trums present in all communities. They are presented here only as a stimulant for further reflection and discussion vis-h-vis the specific experiences and contexts of actual local communities. The health or dysfunction of a community is evident from its location on the spectrum. Determining that location is not a random, arbi-trary exercise; it emerges from the members' individual and com-munal self-knowledge, hgnesty, self-examination, and willingness to adapt. Only then can the members decide what adjustments will facilitate living more effectively as a healthy community. Community or Computer? Communication, sharing and processing information, has a major influence on the health or dysfunction of a community. Healthy choices and decisions are based on sufficient and appro-priate, information and clear communication. This assumes gen-uine listening, not simply hearing. Attentive listening enables us to analyze and respond to. someone's words with understanding and love. , , The alternative is not :merely a failure to listen, though that will be part of it. Much more, the alternative strips the entire interchange--the information sharing and the personal decision making--of any affective, human quality. We may react mechan-ically to what we barely hear, quickly making preliminary and sometimes permanent judgments. As individuals and as a com-munity, we may focus,only on facts, with little regard for how all this decision or this expressed opinion will affect the people involved. Then we are no longer a community, but a computer. November-Decentber 1997 Whether the members are a "community or a computer depends upon how they share and deal with information among themselves, how they communicate with one another. A healthy community remains focused on people; it puts information at the service of people. A dysfunctional community operates much like a computer, focusing on the precision and,.processing 6f infor-mation; it tends to view people as servants of that information. A healthy community strives always to choose and decide wi.th understanding and love. By contrast, a dysfunctional community may be efficient, but is not likely to be person oriented. What needs to be done gets done, but with little regard for the vari-ables of human personality, for people's preferences and per-spect. ives, for the rich nuances that the talents and experience of the individual members could provide. Efficiency may be an important value, but it is no guarantee against dysfunction; only love can prevent that. The quality of communication among community members colors the atmosphere, the climate, the spirit, of their residence, marking it as either a home or a hohsing facility: In turn, that atmosphere affects the quality of relationships among 'the mem-bers and thus the witness,they present to'the world around them through their presence and ministry. Assessing the quality of com-munication within a community is among the mos~t effective and direct means of improving the overall health of that community. Community or Condominium? When the members actively establish and actually engage in their communal lifel the community's ;health benefits d.ireetly. Several elements are involved: first, common call and mission. The healthy commianity understands its call and articulates its mission. This becomes a source ofenergy and provides meaning and direction, with far-reaching implications for every dimension of religious life, from personal and communal lifestyles, to voca-tion promotion, to decisions concerning ministries and the use of financial resources. By contrast, a dysfunctional community drifts without a clear sense of where it is going or how it wants to present itself to the world around it. As a result, irreconcilably wide gaps develop among the lifestyles and philosophies of the various members and local communities and jeopardize the very fibers holding the com-munity together. Efforts to identify and maintain any common Revie~v for Religious call and mission are not a priority among the members of a dys-functional community. A second element of community health is mutual respect. Members have a certain maturity and respect one another's per-sons, possessions, and perspectives. This is not to imply that there will be constant and. consistent agreement; that is not realistic. Respect has more to do with recogniz-ing, accepting, and even honoring the differences among the members than with arriving at some superficial level of agreement. By contrast, a dysfunctional commu-nity has replaced respect with recipe. Its members work hard to redesign one another according to some image or stan-dard' they hold which may have nothing to .do with the ideals put before them by the life and example of the founder, or the constitutions, or the experience and capabilities of the members. Redesigning one another consumes much time and energy that should be directed elsewhere., ~ Third--this expands the preceding point--a healthy community celebrates " the 'members' giftedness. Rejoicing in one~ another's gifts is a concrete expression of respect. This assumes that we have made the effort to know one another's gifts; further, this effort involves sharing and communicating with one another. The challenge here is to go beyond knowledge toward: affirmation and even promotion of one another's gifts. This is possible only if we are secure and comfortable with ourselves, with our own individual gifts and goodness. By contrast, the members of a dysfunctional community tear down one another, not so much through specific hatred or dislike, but because of personal insecurity, being uncomfortable with one~ self. Jealousy and envy emerge from .low self-esteem and superfi-cial self-knowledge. If we feel and come to believe that Our gifts or talents are insufficient and inadequate, we may be tempted to build up ourselves by tearing down others. This may be quite subtle: a roll of the eyes, .a nod of the head, a sigh that commu-nicates "There he/she goes again!" In time the only comfort zone The quality o.f communication among community members colors the atmosphere, the climate, the spirit, of their residence, marking,it as either a home or a housing facility. Nov~nber-December 1997 Giallanza ." Communi~--Healtb~ or D~Cunctional? we may experience is when we maintain our distance from one another. We are polite, but politic: never disturbing or unsettling one another, but also never challenging and ultimately, never really knowing and loving one another. Fourth, a healthy community does, of course, provide and allow space--physical, psychological, and spiritual--for the mem-bers, as individuals and as a community, to be alone and silent, to pray, think, reflect, and relate to God. Maintaining and respect-ing such space requires a level of maturity and comfort that does not equate community with constant togetherness nor reduce it to comfortable superficiality. By contrast, a dysfunctional community sacrifices environ-ment and atmosphere to organization and structure. Though everyone has space, the community does not seem to be alive. There is no sense of an appropriate ambiance, a balance between the private and public forums of the members. Privacy tends to degenerate into secrecy, and public times together become safely and securely sociable. Shared prayer and significant interaction among the members are minimized or routinized to assure the completion of requirements without the responsibilities of com-mitment. Fifth, a certain spirit characterizes a healthy community. The atmosphere, the spirit, of a healthy community encourages the members to feel at home with one another, with the physical space, and with the rhythm of life. This spirit speaks more loudly to prospective members and occasional guests than any other aspect of the community's life. If our guests do not perceive that we .feel at home in this space and with this rhythm of life, then they are not likely to feel at home either. The questions confronting us are direct: Do we feel at home here? Is this an atmosphere which encourages~us to contribute, to be open, to trust? If not, why?- By contrast, a dysfunctional community has a climate from which members try to escape in one way or another. This is most clearly observable when the balance between presence and absence collapses. Personal activities of the demands of ministry are allowed to expand and overflow so that it becomes difficult if not impossible to be present for the community meetings, common meals and prayer, and other gatherings and celebrations as well. Away from the community, members feel more alive, and they feel a heaviness when it is time to return. They find it emotion-ally and spiritually draining to live in this community setting. Review for Religious Sixth, efforts to preserve unity indicate a healthy community. Recognizing the work and the sacrifice involved, the members enter willingly into one another's lives through appropriate self-revelation and compassionate listening. And they willingly make the time for that work and sacrifice. By contrast, a dysfunctional community no longer invests time and energy in the quality of its life. Its members may be quite civil and sociable, but they do not form significant affec-tive and spiritual bonds with one another. Their residing together is merely a coin-cidence of time and space rather than a reflection of a deeper commitment to one another. Given the importance of these six characteristics of a healthy community, when dysfunctional cl~aracteristics are dominant, we no longer have a commu-nity but a condominium. Everything appears to be in order, well organized, running smoothly, and comfortably .appointed--but the place is merely a habi-tation, not a home. Everyone is self-con-tained. People pass one another and exchange all the acceptable courtesies and If our guests do not perceive that we feel at home in this space and with this rhythm of life, then they are not likely to feel atohome either. appropriate pleasantries, but maneuver away from any deeper sharing. Obviously, a dysfunctional community can neither attract nor nurture healthy vocations. Those who desire to live in this way could easily find what they want in a well-managed and efficiendy operated condominium. Community or Cold Storage? Life in community necessitates some personal and communal qualities. Though any list is somewhat arbitrary, I would suggest that members of any healthy communit~ have some basic quali-fies that facilitate and sustain their relationships with one another. In their personal qualities, the individual members of a healthy community will have a rich diversity. These qualities, moreover, will vary from community to community. They will, however, include mutual affection and affirmation, willingness to apolo-gize and to forgive, fostering friendships, generosity, compassion, and joy. All these and others communicate a distinctively posi- Novetnber-Dece'mber 1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? tive response to two simple questions: Am I / Are we happy in this way of life? Would others perceive that we are happy and enthusiastic as they observe our everyday life? This is not to deny the human reality of the striving of us all, with various ups and downs in community life, prayer, ministry, the vowed life, and personal relationships. Admittedly, these qualities may not always be fully evident in us, but it ig essential that we have a commitment and a willingness to make constant efforts to develop them. By contrast, a dysfunctional community seems only to exist, to survive. It does not give the impression of flourishing with all the warmth and beauty of human relationships. It appears to be merely a group of people occupying the same space together, but never encountering one another on a deeper level that calls them to life. A dysfunctional community does not and cannot commu-nicate that the members are truly happy to be living and carrying out their everyday tasks and responsibilities. Communal qualities do not differ significantly from the per-sonal qualities necessary for healthy community. In fact, they reflect the interaction of those personal qualities among the mem-bers. The health of that interaction is especially evident when community members genuinely enjoy one another's company and are generously hospitable to others. They plan for time together on a regular basis, and they safeguard that time as a priority. VChat they do during that time together is not as important as their tak-ing the time to be present and attentive to one another. That attentiveness will overflow so tha.t guests feel welcome to activi-ties of the members' common life. By contrast, the members of a dysfunctional community find time together to be a chore, and so they reduce it to a minimum, either by unchallenged design or through the deterioration of relationships. It would not be uncommon to find much loneli, ness in these situations, loneliness that is compensated for by hav-ing all or most of one's primary friendships outside the local community. In a healthy context, loneliness can teach us and chal-lenge us to deepen .our relationship with the Lord and sharpen our compassion for and sensitivity to the loneliness of others. In a dysfunctional community, however, loneliness takes a very dif-ferent direction: it tends to breed discouragement and depres-sion which lead to compensatory behaviors. Vv'hen a group gives little or no evidence of these personal and communal qualities, they have cold storage, not community. Review for Religious They live together, but only as if in suspended animation, with-out those human qualities and interactions that bring life and happiness and growth to a community. Even if the members of a local community are not aware of this and do not acknowledge it, their guests will see it, and, most certainly, so will those who are considering a vocation to their way of life. Given the realities, of society,today, many of those considering a vocation to religious life come from environments that have little human warmth, little sense of family. It is. unlikely--if they truly want to live in a healthy way--that they would commit themselves to a life of cold storage in a dysfunctional community. Community or Committee? Community is a straightforward reality. If we do not take the time and energy to create it, if we do not take responsibility for it and take initiatives for it, then it will not really exist. Community is never the result of spontaneous generation, nor does it work by automation. The mem-bers of a healthy community do not abdi-cate their right and duty to make, maintain, and monitor the quality of their common life. They accept the idea that reflection together, sharing, and bonded-ness are key elements in the health of community life. By contrast, a dysfunctional commu-nity seems to drift as the members wait for someone to do something, to take responsibility for moving the community forward. On occasion, some issue or sit-uation becomes a crisis before the members mobilize enough to respond reasonably. For instance, the demands o.f ministry may have been allowed to control the scheduling of regular times together for reflection and sharing, or some members' manipu-lative behaviors may have been left unchallenged for so long that the community now manifests a growing collective passivity. The challenge here is to decide if people's lives together will be a community or a committee. "Committe~" here means a tem-porary group formed for a particular purpose. Its members address an issue or perform a task and then they disperse. Maintaining relationships is not a committee's function; in fact, that could Community is never the result of spontaneous generation, nor does it work by automation. Noventber-Dece~nber'1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? hinder its efficiency and effectiveness. In the case of a community, however, failure to maintain relationships compromises its capac-ity for being a prophetic presence and witness in and for our world. Community or Convenience? There is a genuine asceticism involved in building and sus-taining a healthy community life. This asceticism has some com-ponents. First, the qualities of love and unity in a community must be personal and individual before they can exist commu-nally. If as individuals we take personal responsibility to foster these qualities by helpful activity, then the group we belong to will do so too. In a dysfunctional community there is a wide gap between talk about responsibility and the reality of what is actually done. Everyone may say "we" do such-and-such, but, in reality, only a few take any initiative or action in response to the situation or issue at hand. Second, within a healthy community, care and concern are given generously and appropriately. Generously, because they are directed to each individual within the community. Appropriately, because they are adapted to the particular situations, personalities, and needs of the individual members. The sensitivity and aware-ness at work here are mutual, respectful, and inclusive. Third, individual, active participation is essential to healthy community life. If individuals do not participate in community meetings or contribute to common decisions, they get in the way of healthy community life. Really, there is not much middle ground in this regard. Silence and passivity are not automatically harmless to the quality of community life, Members of a dysfunctional community are passive partici-pants. Every dimension of their consecrated life--prayer, daily interactions, conversation at meals, attentiveness to guests-- reflects a general lack of energy and interest. The members put their energy and interest outside the community. Two means for facilitating this asceticism are personal accountability and effective conflict resolution. Calling one another to accountability is never easy to do, but it does mark the care and concern, the participation and love, of a healthy community. In a dysfunctional community, life together is lived at Review for Religious the lowest common denominator. Community members do not challenge one another, either because of fear or because no one wants to be challenged. Then the whole community will be only as strong as the weakest member; it will make progress only at the pace of the slowest one. Effective conflict resolution is indispensable. A community with absolutely no conflict is not perfect, it is dead!_How con-flict is dealt with in community can weave the members together into a magnificent tapestry of healing and love, or it can tear them into so many scattered pieces of cloth with no common threads. Often a small event or issue, left unaddressed, becomes infected over time, changing a community from health to dys-function, from bondedness to brokenness. If we are unwilling to practice the components of this asceti-cism and use the means that help us do so, we are no longer speak-ing of community, but of convenience. The dysfunctional community protects and promotes and projects a life of conve-nience. Therefore, whatever is inconvenient--whether it is related to prayer or practicalities of living together or personal relation-ships-- never reaches the level of consideration as a community priority. Convenience can assure that no one is upset, but it also guarantees that people will grow in only minimal ways. The Choice before Us The quality of our community is not a onetime choice; we must choose to live in love with one another day in, day out. If we do not make that choice daily and affirm it by our actions daily, we begin to live something else. Eventually our life together becomes ~omething else: a computer, a condominium, cold stor-age, a committee, or a convenience. We become something, but not community. We give witness to something, but not to unity and love. The choice is ours. We know well the words of Deuteronomy 30:19 calling us to "choose life." Sirach, too, .expresses bluntly the choice before us: If you choose, you can keep the commandments, and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice. God has placed before you fire and water: stretch out your hand for whichever you choose. Before you are life and death, and whichever you choose will be given to you. (15:15-17) November-December 1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? Three questions can assist us in reflecting on our individual and communal response to that life-or-death choice which is ever before us. First, what brings us together? VChy are we here? Is it our faith in Jesus and our desire to live that faith through this religious community and its mission? Or is this life simply a way to do a ministry--teaching or nursing or social service or pas-toral work or whatever? Admittedly, our faith in Jesus and the work we do are not mutually exclusive; but the question here con-cerns the foundation of our life's identity and meaning. Second, what keeps us together? Is it our love for one another and our efforts to support one another in living the way of love? Or is it that we have no alternatives and have become comfort-able? Or are we afraid to consider any alternatives? Having no alternatives and being unwilling to consider other options are not good indications that we have made a healthy and mature choice of what we are doing. Third, what flows from our being together? Is it the prophetic witness of our faith in Jesus and our love for one another? Or is it: our accomplishments? The compliment paid to the early Christians was "See how they love one another!" not "See how much they get done!!~ Healthy community is built and sustained by faith and love and witness. Dysfunctional community is concerned only with the work to be done, the status quo, and the results of what is done. Only a healthy community can project Christian life and human warmth and prophetic witness. These thoughts will close with the Gospel te~t which opened them: "Very well, pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God" (Mt 22:21). Because he is referring to a Roman coin, Jesus speaks in terms of payment. His words remind us that healthy community costs something--we will have to pay. A healthy community costs each of us individually because we must constantly give of ourselves,° thus making our commitment to one another real in our attitudes and our actions. COmmunity costs us collectively because we must commit ourselves to make our life together a witness of love and peace and unity. Together we must call one another to this commitment. Dysfunctional com-munity is free of charge. Healthy community costs something. Individually and collectively, we must determine our willingness to make the necessary payment. Review for Religious EAGAN HUNTER The Elderly among Us Tue, we always have had elderly religious among us. But ~ two factors have changed the emphasis. First~ everyone is living longer, in the secular world and in the religious life as well. In 1900 only four percent of the total general population was over the age of 65--one in every twenty-five. By the year 2000 it is projected that as much as thirteen percent of the total :general population will be over 65. Life expectancy has been extended. It is projected that those arriving at age 65 today can expect to live approximately 16.3 years beyond that age. Second, the median age of religious communities is getting older, changing the dimen-sions of the concern. These two factors have made aging in reli-gious communities a more visible, more widely known concern. The problems faced by elderly religious are not necessarily a matter of increasingly poor health. Even though more vulnerable to ill health than in their earlier years, many continue to live healthy lives into very advanced years and some almost until death. Growing old is physiologically and psychologically inevitable, but these changes vary from individual to individual, with no pre-dictable'pattern emerging. Physiologically, advancing years bring problems of lessened mobility, gradual diminishment of the senses (especially sight and hearing), weakened ability to think and remember, Increasingly, heart problems and strokes occur, bones weaken, and arthritic and other impairments increase. Most older religious seem able to adjust more rapidly to various changes in their physiological world than in their psychological one. Eagan Hunter CSC is professor of education at St. Edward's University; 3001 South Congress Avenue; Austin, Texas 78704. Novonber-Deconber 1997 Hunter ¯ The Elderl~ amon~ Us Many times the decline of physical powers causes a brother or sister to remain somewhat isolated within his or her religious house, out of the "mainstream" and interacting less frequently with others. In the religious life we have been taught that one of the major facets of our existence is our contribution to the ministry and apostolate. Our religious formation tends to make us become self-sufficient. When the necessity asserts itself of cutting back on former activities once managed quite easily, older religious may experience feelings of depression, of uselessness. They may feel themselves a burden to others and no longer able to do their fair share. They seek ways and means through which to make some form of contribution to the common life and to the ministry. Sometimes there is a tendency for younger people to assume tasks which the elderly could do if provided sufficient extra time. In the interest of efficiency and effectiveness, we may become impatient and take the tasks out of their hands. Thus for the elderly the depressing feeling of 'not being able to contribute their part becomes magnified. Younger religious must seek ways to continue incorporating the elderly into the community's daily activities. The contemplation of retirement involves a psychological state, a sense of psychological withdrawal from the demands of one's ministry or occupation and the entry into a totally new ori-entation towards oneself and one's work. The taking of this step in our work-oriented society indeed is a milestone event and a very sensitive process. It marks a turning point in one's adult life, a shift from the middle years to old age. The extent to which retirement is viewed as a positive life transition depends much upon the attitudes of the individual. Some have more difficulty adjusting to retirement than others. Some are reluctant to retire, for their work seems to give their lives structure and meaning which is seen as becoming void in the future. What decisions need to be made when facing this stage of one's lifespan? What choices are available to the individual? Such a transitional adjustment incorporates a process of con-templation and evaluation of life's meaning and purpose, one's vocational call to service. It involves integrating the many expe-riences, meanings, and facts of one's life. It brings into focus one of the most incomprehensible concepts of all--one's own human. mortality. Such an adjustment involves acceptance of one's life with dignity and without too much regret for things not done, roads not followed. This reorientation phase of adjUstment should Review for Religious involve exploring new avenues and ways of being involved. The elderly who are well educated and who have enjoyed their work life will desire to continue some type of positive experiences related to that former occupation, but with lessened participa-tion and responsibilities. I had a great-aunt who was a nun. For some sixty years she was a successful teacher and administrator. With the limitations of advancing old age and the resultant physical losses, it became necessary for her to surrender one by one those things which she loved doing and did well. I can remember visiting her in their infirmary before her death. While we were talk-ing, a younger nursing nun entered the room with a tray containing a stack of small plastic cups used to give medication and a small bowl of soapy water. My aunt had insisted that she still could make a contribution, and this was her way. As we talked, she carefully and slowly washed and dried each cup. A contented smile of pleasure filled her face when the nursing nun returned an hour later to pick up the tray and complimented my great-aunt on the help she was to them. Even this litde bit meant much to my elderly aunt. She still was a con-tributing member of her religious community in her own little way. In my own religious community, we have a brother who cel-ebrated his hundredth birthday in 1996. For many years he was an active teacher, administrator, religious superior. In addition to the task assigned him through his ministry, he reached out in other ways to those around him. Before entering the religious life, he had been a member of the Souza band. It was this gift of music he shared with others over the years of his religious life through playing in various civic musical groups and symphonies. After a major stroke, one of his primary goals was to rehabilitate his muscular coordination to the degree that once again he could make joyful sounds to the Lord on his cello. Prayer, music, and his community became the center of his retirement. He continues to have many gifts to share with others, and share he does. Many of us feel the limitations that the ac6ve demands of our ministry place on our personal time. We sometimes feel there is not sufficient time to pray. But, for many of our retired religious, Younger religious must seek ways to continue incorporating the elderly into the community's daily activities. November-Decentber 1997 Hunter ¯ The Elderly among Us time is what they have most of--so we must plug into this spiri-tual "powerhouse." We must stress to the elderly religious that their contribution is to storm heaven in behalf of the concerns and problems being encountered by those in the active ministry. They can pray and are happy to assume this role of petitioner. Seen in the proper perspective, the lives of our older reli-gious need not be brooding or unhappy. We must give them our support and understanding, realizing the emotional tensions, phys-ical trauma, and disease which have become so much a part of their lives. We must remember that these are the community's elderly of today, and that the elderly of tomorrow will be us! How would we want to be treated? Younger religious must be careful not to participate in a form of age stratification within our religious communities. Such strat-ifying may be seen in the general society, with people being divided into classes and castes of various sorts. In such a society it becomes the norm administered to qualify or disqualify indi-viduals for desired roles and positions. Age is a significant variable in such social stratifications and becomes an operative factor in the qualification or disqualification process. Many of our elderly once held leadership roles in commu-nity undertakings. Through age discrimination such religious may feel that their expertise and experiences are no longer sought, that their role in community has been terminated. We must real-ize the symbolic value of their witness roles. It is their footprints that led our various religious communities to the roles we fill today. The elderly hold a vital position in the continuity of our religious life. Vatican Council II speaks, of the heritage of our various religious orders and congregations. We are asked to turn~ to the sources of Christian life, to the inspirations, conceptions, traditions, and ideals of our founders, as well as to those who fol- ¯ lowed later in our histories. We are asked to restore these to our religious life through modifications that meet contemporary reli-gious and social needs. The elderly among us are those who helped mold our particular institute into what it represents today. They,:are our living heritage, our legacy. Thus we must continue to reach out in order to -benefit from their years of knowledge and understanding of our particular mode of living the religious~ life. Their guidance and insights form a treasure which we cannot afford to ignore or'discredit. The elderly religious among us have seen their family mem- Review for Religious bers as well as their religious associates die. More and more of their generation is disappearing. Feeling the loss of these loved ones, they come face-to-face with their own mortality. The pos-sibility of one's own death becomes a factor of life. When young, we tend to believe we are indestructible--death is something asso-ciated with old age, and we are young. Time passes and the pos-sibility of one's death becomes a reality. Our religious beliefs provide us with a solid and positive creed. The Vatican Council stresses that we have been created by God and that, through the passion and death of Jesus, the terrors of bodily death have been conquered. If we live this life fully, we will be restored to whole-ness and a sharing in .the divine life which lies beyond all corruption. "Hence to every thoughtful man a solidly established faith provides the answer to his anxiety about what the future holds for him. At the same time faith gives him the power to be united in Christ with his loved ones who have already been snatched away by death. Faith arouses the hope that they have found true life with God" (Gaudium et spes, § 18). The resultant insights make it easier to develop one's own coping mechanisms for dealing with the future. Yet death remains a mystery. Our goal should be to assist the elderly to reflect upon their life's achievements done in the name of our Lord and to reflect upon the truths of Christianity related to the meaning of life and death. As Erikson points out, the last stage of the human life cycle encompasses old age and the retirement from the pro-ductive years of life. He sees this last stage as ego integrity.versus disgust and despair. The positive outcome of this last stage is an acceptance of one's self and one's life without bitterness or regret. It is a coming to terms with i:he approaching finality of one's life. It incorporates the avoidance of the negative feelings that one's life has been wasted, the avoidance of discontentment about one's limited accomplishments, the "road not taken," the task not done. Upon going blind, Milton feared that God would chide him for wasting talents and gifts that were now lying useless in him. An inner struggle went on until Milton reached the conclusion that, rather than rejecting the role given him by God, he simply needed to accept it. He phrased this acceptance exceedingly well The elderly among us are those who helped mold our particular institute into what it represents today. November-December 1997 Hunter ¯ The Elderly among Us when he said, "They also serve who only stand and wait." This quiet acceptance is difficult, for most people are action oriented. In the declining years of our lives, God is not asking anything heroic. Rather, he is asking for the quiet acceptance of one's infir-mities, one's physical disabilities and limitations, one's sufferings and pains. St. Paul expresses this acceptance when he says, "I find my joy in the suffering I endure for you. In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of his body, the church" (Col 1:24). This submission and acceptance can be raised as one's gift to heaven. This is a task we all can do. These elderly religious have preceded us in the labors of our ministries. The burdens ~they carried frequendy were heavy. They did not trudge; they strode onward, for they were people of faith and hope. Approaching the end of their individual journeys, they need our support, our understanding, and our willingness to assist. This we must be willing to give them in their time of need. Simply this is all they are asking of us. To Mary, Journeying (A Visitation Song) "For all your ways~ are beautiful . " Be with us in the morning as with joyful hearts we travel tq carry Christ within us in silence and in song. Be with us as we labor on the hills and in the valleys with your care and with your mercy to all within our world. And when evening shadows lengthen, be our strength as still we journey to our God whose arms await us in the darkness of your peace. Louise Finn CND Review for Religious THOMAS MICHEL I Interreligious Dialogue and the Jesuit Mission "All good theology is autobiography" is a phrase often repeated today. If theology is a reflection on our faith and its implications, then the personal history of how God has acted and is acting in the life of each of us is the starting point for theological understanding. Moreover, as Jesuits, it has been a part of our communitarian spirituality from the beginning to "share our desires," that is, to speak with each other about the great things we want to do for the Lord. From this starting point I would like to share the spiritual desire that has dominated my relationship with God in prayer and work for the past quarter century. It is the desire for greater understanding and love between Christians and Muslims and my desire to make a contri-bution to that end. being missioned Transformation through Dialogue As a Jesuit and a priest,I am today a product of inter-religious dialogue. The way I live my Jesuit vocation is the result of twenty-five years of sharing life with Muslims, discovering the spiritual riches they possess, learning from them, being challenged by them, and at the same time Thomas Michel SJ, secretary of the Vatican Secretariat for Interreligious Dialogue, originally presented this article as a talk to young Jesuits in both Manila and Rome. He may be addressed at Curia Generalizia; Compagnia di Ges~a; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma PRATI; Italy. ¯ November-December 1997 Micbd ¯ Interreligious Dialogue and the ~esuit Mission having occasion both to bear witness to my faith in what God has achieved for all people in the person of Jesus Christ and to explain to them my understanding of what it means to be a disciple of Christ. In more recent years my apostolate has taken me beyond encounter with Muslims and more and more into dialogue with Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists, and the followers of indigenous religions. When I reflect on what has been going on in my life, I see God forming me and transforming me by his grace, over and over, into a person different frbm what I "alas at the beginning of my interreligious journey. I am conscious that, when I teach courses on Islam or when I speak about Muslims, what I say and how I say it are different from the words of someone who has not had my experience of coming to know the Muslim community from the inside. When someone says something tha( pu~ts down or denigrates Islam unfairly, I ~nd myself reacting spontaneously and even emotionally, because they are talking about people that I know, people who have welcomed me into their lives, people whom I love and who have shown love to me. When Muslims are insulted, I feel insulted; when they are wronged, I feel wronged; when they undergo a tragedy, I suffer with them. When something good happens to them, I rejoice with them. When Muslims do wrong, to themselves or to others, I feel ashamed and beg God's forgiveness. When real dialogue occurs, no partner is left unchanged. When I see how much God has enriched my life and deepened my faith through my being in dialogue with others, it is a great source of hope and encouragement to me. For the same Holy Spirit who has been active in my own life is also at work in the lives of my friends of other faiths, using our encounters to touch them too and transform their lives. Most of the time we do not see evidence of this. We work in hope, which is, after all, trusting that God is invisibly active in this world. But God knows that we need encouragement from time to time and gives us "feedback" to keep our hopes alive. About four years ago I received such a .response from Said Khorramshahri, a pious Iranian Qur'an reciter. I had gone to Tehran to represent the Vatican at a national function and was staying about two weeks. Said, a graduate student in English, was assigned to interpret for me at the meetings and conferences that made up my schedule. Review for Religious During this time Said and I had many opportunities to talk about all sorts of things: life in Iran and in Rome, sports, politics, music, our own personal hopes and desires~ and, of course, what is deepest in our lives--our faiths. We shared deeply and hon-estly, and I could often feel the presence of the Lord when we were in conversation. When I returned to Rome, he wrote me a long letter saying that he never imagined that God would use his encounter with a Catholic priest as the instrument by which to pro-foundly change and deepen his outlook on life, faith, and his relations with others. I real-ized that I was not the only one who recog-nized that God was present and active in our encounters. This pious Muslim also saw that God was with us and that "our hearts were burning within us" from the movement of God's grace: I offer this experience merely as an exam-ple. Every Jesuit--every Christian--who has been involved in interreligious dialogue to any extent can tell comparable stories. If my experience has been mostly with Muslims, others could testify to some strikingly similar" experiences of God's activity gathered over the course of their years in dialogue with Buddhists or Hindus, Jews or Baha'is, or followers of the tradi-tional religions of Africans or Native Americans. The point is that, when we truly open ourselves to God in dialogue with another, the Holy Spirit takes over and guides the encounter. As the document "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue" puts it, "Open and sincere interreligious dialogue is our cooperation with God's ongoing dialogue with humanity (OMID §5). When we truly open ourselves to God in dialogue with another, the Holy Spirit takes over and guides the encounter. The Need for a Document The document of th~ 34th General Congregation "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue" is remarkable. For the first time in Jesuit history, the Society as a whole explored the inter-religious dimension of our Jesuit mission. Certainly, there were always some Jesuits who were involved in various forms of inter-religious dialogue. For a few it was their main apostolate, but for most it was something in which they were involved when they Novetnber-Dece~nber 1997 Michel ¯ Interreligious Dialogue and the ~esuit Mission had extra time, an apostolate they added on to their main duties. Dialogue was often considered a kind of luxury in the Society, of secondary importance to works such as schools, seminary and theological education, parishes. It frequently happened that stu-dents who were interested in carrying out studies on other reli-gions were assigned to other, "more important" fields of study like Scripture, theology, and philosophy. Most of us .involved in dialogue have had the experience of hearing a fellow Jesuit tell us we were wasting our time. "Why do you bother with Muslims?" I have been asked; "you will never convert them." Some comments have seemed to presume that interreligious dialogue and proclamation of the gospel are incom-patible activities, or that dialogue somehow undermined or com-promised the church's mission of evangelization. These questions show that the goal of dialogue was not well understood. It was confused with a type of soft sell, a way to insinuate ourselves into another religious community in order to make converts, or it was seen as a lack of commitment to bear witness to our Christian faith. Dialogue and PrOclamation One of the first issues that the general congregation had to take up was the way int.erreligious dialogue is related to the work of evangelization. It is in this context that the goal of dialogue can be understood. In the one evangelizing mission that Christ gave to his disciples, dialogue and proclamation of the gospel are two distinct aspects. Neither can replace the other. "They should not be confused, manipulated, or regarded as identical, as though they were interchangeable" (OMID, §7). Just as dialogue is not meant to replace proclamation of the gospel, so the duty to pro-claim the gospel must never preempt or negate the work of engag-ing in dialogue. The document describes dialogue as "a new way of being church," in which we discover the "deeper dimensions of our Christian faith and wide~ horizons of God's salvific presence in the world" and engage in activity that "grasps the deeper truth and meaning of the mystery of Christ in relation to the universal his-tory of God's self-revelation" (OMID, §7). What this dense the-ological statement means is that God is at work in the lives of all those who sincerely seek him and that sometimes God's grace Review for Religious produces anyplace in the world people of great holiness, gen-erosity, and love. God carries out this saving work among people of other faiths through the Holy Spirit, who makes use of the religious tradi-tions that people follow to lead them farther and farther along the path of true holiness. Sometimes a person's knowledge of God's saving work in Jesu's Christ precedes: the person is bap-tized and receives the fullness of the Holy Spirit. More often the Holy Spirit precedes people's knowledge of Christ. There is no contradiction here: it is the One God who is at work, whether in Christ'or in the Spirit. Quoting the bishops of Asia, the GC34 document says: "It is the same Spirit, who has been active in the incarnation, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and in the church, who was active amongst all peoples before the incarnation and is active amongst the nations, religions, and peoples today." We see, then, that the deepest motivation for dialogue is to recognize the Spirit of God wherever the Spirit is at work in the world today and to praise God for the generous action of the Spirit. When we meet Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs, and others who bear the fruits of the Holy Spirit in their lives, our reaction should be to praise and thank God. Time spent with sincere believers of other faiths is time spent in discovery of the many and varied fruitsalove, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control--~at the Spirit continues to produce in the lives of other believers. Four Types of Dialogue and Their Goals "Interreligious dialogue," as the document points out, is not one thing, and the document outlines four basic types of dialogue. The goal of each type is not exactly the same. The dialogue of life is a dialogue on the plane of being, and the goal i~ living together in peace, mutually enriching each other by bearing witness to the values we stand for. The dialogue of action is on the plane of doing--working together to oppose whatever enslaves and degrades people, defending the weak, accompanying the poor in their struggle for justice. Its goal is to build together societies formed in accord with the will of God and in reverence for human dignity. An example of the dialogue of religious experience is what was going on during my time with Said in Iran. The goal is for those November-December 1997 Michel ¯ Interreligious Dialogue and the ~esuit Mission in such dialogue to open themselves fully .to God's movements (God's personal history in the life of each person) so that the Spirit can use them to touch and transform the persons. The dialogue of theological'exchange is to .clarify points of con-vergence and divergence, to overcome misunderstandings, half-truths, and distortions, and to come to a greater appreciation of each other's spiritual values (OMID, §4). It is not meant to arrive at a common formulation, to gloss over the differences between religions, or to find a common denominator on which we can all agree. The irreconcilable differences that we discover should nei-ther surprise nor discourage us, since we acknowledge from the start that each religion, is unique and offers its particular com-plex of doctrines and way of life. Dialogue in Patience and Hope If dialogue is about love (OMID, §6), then it is by examining the qualities of love that we learn the attitudes that must accom-pany our efforts at dialogue. In his great hymn on love in the First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul lists some of the qualities of love. It is. significant that the first quality on Paul's list is patience: "Love is patient, kind . oIt is important to spend time reflecting on the quality of patience, because lack of patience, in my opinion, is one of .the great causes of failure in dialogue. Patience includes more than not looking for quick results. I would rather say, "Do not look for results at all." In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna, "Do your duty conscientiously, and do not be concerned about suc-cess or failure?' We might paraphrase this advice by saying that the document "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue~' challenges Jesuits to "throw yourselves into this activity, without counting the cost or trying to measure the results." We engage in dialogue because it is our duty as disciples of Christ. As the OMID document puts it, dialogue is an integral element of our Jesuit mission in the world. We are people of hope, .one of the three greatest gifts that God has given us. We work in the hope that God will use our efforts in a way pleasing to God to advance the comingof God's reign in the world. Sometimes we hear people say, "What have you accomplished after all these years of dialogue? There are still religious tensions, ,conflicts, and wars." Review for Religious ~ The same could be said of other aspects of our mission. Those working for justice know that--despite years and years of tireless effort, sacrifices, even martyrdoms, despite vast amounts of time and energy spent--we are still confronted with countless forms of -injustice, oppression, and exploitation in the world. Recent years have even produced new forms. The occasional victories seem few in comparison with the rampant injustices still existing in almost every society. Does this mean that all those efforts at building more just societies have been in vain? No, we recognize ~that we have to keep on struggling in every age, culture, and nation to oppose injustice and defend the oppressed and marginalized. , It-is a similar case with interreligious dia-logue. At the same time that relations between the followers of various religions become better in one place, new conflicts and tensions break out elsewhere. Regions that have had long tra-ditions of people living together in peace sud-denly find themselves enmeshed in religious wars. On the other hand, reconciliation does occur where there has been conflict. People do learn to forgive and move beyond the past. Some peo-ples do find, often through much painful searching and with many setbacks, ways to live together with their neighbors of other faiths. We have all inherited two attitudes that make the effort at dialogue more difficult: One is the modern business ethic of quick and concrete results. In business, people feel they do not have time to wait. If they do not get the job done and done fast, a com-petitor will get an edge on them. People have graphs and tables .and prbjections to show how soon they can expect results. If they fail to achieve them in the time allotted, they go back to the draw-ing board to revise their policies. But it does not work that way with human relations. Things take time, and our efforts may be building a basis of fellowship whose benefits can be seen only in the future. The second attitude that makes dialogue difficult is an attitude of historical optimism that has dominated the philosophy of his-tory in this century. In this view, humankind, through education and technology, is continually evolving towards greater maturity, openness, and well-being. Obscurantism, ignorance, and violence are characteristics of primitive society and bound to be super- We engage in dialogue because it is ourduty as disciples of Christ. November-December 1997 Michel ¯ Interreli~ous Dialogue and the Jesuit Mission seded. In interreligious terms, many Catholics saw the period of the Second Vatican Council as a time when the old religious con-flicts would become a thing of the past. Dialogue would be the instrument of an inevitable result, putting an end to the misun-derstandings and divisions that kept us apart. Patience and Dialogue It seems to me that, if we Jesuits are going to make a contri-bution towards greater interreligious harmony, we must have a more realistic attitude. Dialogue will not solve all the religious conflicts in the world, just as our struggle for justice will never put an end to all forms of injustice and oppression. Rather, dialogue is something that must be carried on in every, society, in every age. Understanding and respect must be built anew in every gen-eration. The challenge will never come to an end, because sin is a part of who we are as humans and, where there is sin, there will be suspicion, hatred, and conflict. The need for patience is not only seen at the macro level of societies and nations. It is also the case in our personal dealings with people of other religions. We are all so full of suspicions, fears, and preconceptions. It takes much rime to get beyond these, to break down the natural resistance that we all bring to dialogue. If people seem unwilling, indifferent, or even hostile to invita-tions to dialogue, we should not be surprised. The burden of his-tory that we all bear is an obstacle that cannot be overcome quickly. We should also not be surprised if dialogue encounters seem superficial or seem to be characterized by an insincere politeness. This indicates that a level of trust at which we can relate hon-estly and deeply has not yet been built. That too takes time and much patient effort. We human beings are not willing to share what is deepest in our lives with people whom we are not yet ready to trust. Until we are convinced that the others will .treat our sharing with due respect, we tend to keep things at a nonthreat-ening, surface level. Only through the slow and laborious pro-cess of forming friendships and building trust do we arrive at the point where people can break through their latent distrust to begin to share frankly and honestly. But, if we Christians are motivated by Christ's love, we will find the determination and perseverance we need, for; as St.Paul says, "Love is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.?' Review for Religious I mention these negative factors, the effects of sin, because interreligious dialogue, although an exciting adventure of dis-covery of the manifold ways in which God lavishes his grace upon humankind, is also a path on which we encounter obstacles, set-backs, and frustrations and painful forms of self-discovery as well. When we are rebuffed, it is not easy to forgive. When we are misunderstood, it is not easy to go back again and again. When confronted with our own limitations and those of our commu-nity, we are tempted to give it all up and retreat to easier ways of life. However, as Jesuits we have a source of strength that we did not have even four years ago. We have the commitment of our whole Society--of our friends in the Lordmto engage in this aspect of our mission. We are helped to do so by our Ignatian vision that comes from our personal relationship to Jesus Christ. We are urged by the 34th General Congregation to develop a "culture 'of dialogue in our approach to believers of other reli-gions that should become a distinctive characteristic of our Society, sent into the whole world to labor for the greater glory of God and the help of human persons" (OMID, § 17), ' What a tremendous ideal to live for! What a challenge we have set for ourselves! ~Ours is the .generation, living immediately after and formed by General Congregation 34, that can make its document "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue" a vibrant part of our Jesuit mission in the world. Many foreign missionaries depend upon,people like you who donate subscriptions for them to Review for Religious. To start a subscription for a deserving missionary, please send $24 to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108 To pay by credit card, phone: 314-977-7363. November-December 1997 ANNETTE M. PELLETIER Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro: A Survival Guide for North American Religious oes consecrated life possess the latent power to continue evangelizing North American culture? Current literature on the topic suggests that the "holy experiment" of founding a culture on evangelical values has turned ominously unholy. The pioneer barks that brought (he Pilgrims, Quakers, and Shakers are saidto be aimlessly adrift, having lost their orientation to the Holy. On the other hand, the heritage of integration evident in the cultures in the Southern Hemisphere, where Santa Fe (Holy Faith) was the principal colonizing feature, suggests the power of the sacred to perdure despite a history marked by gore as well as glory. Upon returning to the United States after a time of mission-ary experience in the cultures to the south, one senses how deep the ache for the Sacred is in North American culture. The pro'- gressive deconstruction of the core values and virtues that made the experiment holy suggests that our culture may have lost its. :heart.~ ',Although you express tous what is most precious to you, you do not realize how far we are from where you are," remarks Fred, Henri Nouwen's "world!y" friend for whom he composed his profound reflections, on what it means to be the beloved chil- ~ren of the Holy,G~od present in secular culture. "You speak from Annette M. Pelletier IHM c0nsid~rs this article, following upon her 'contributions to our Septembe~:-October 1993 and July-August 1994 issues, to be the conclusion of a trilogy on Mystery in relation to conse-crated life. She may be addressed at Convento Santa Rosa de Lima; E. Montenegro; Apartado 18-0703; Lima 11, Peru. Review for Religious a context and tradition that is alien to us . Many, many questions need: to be answered before we are able to be fully open to what you say about the life of the Beloved.''2 What is to be the role of us who are called, consecrated, and sent to proclaim such "belovedness" in this deconsecrated world; of us whose specific task it is to offer radical eschatological testi-mony of the coming of the kingdom? 3 Peter, a designated, author-itative witness of that kingdom (realized 'in the presence and per-son of Jesus), reminded his early Christian community "to always be ready to give a reason for their hope" (1 P 3:15). What, then, would be the reason for our hope that the consecrated life will con-tinue to exert a positive influence on a heart-less culture, one that seems no longer to have experience of the "Holy"? The "reason" for my hope. for not just the survival bat the flourishing of consecrated life in North America escapes the concrete directions suggested by the many and various scientific analyses of consecrated life that appear fis part of a search for a definitive future, The "reason" for my hope springs from what I and many oth-ers have "seen and heard" (1 Jn 1:3) of the Mystery of God made manifest in the misery of the absolute poverty in one of our sis-ter cultures in Latin America, Peru. Montenegro, a densely pop-ulated pueblojoven or asentamiento humano (shanty town) situated about forty-five minutes by bus from Lima, owes its misery to both Shining Path terrorism and the disastrous effects of "fujishock" economics on those who have fled from terrorism in the Peruvian sierra during the last decade. No sociological anal-ysis explains why the pueblo children still danced for the fiestas in their school, Fey Alegria 37, and the sisters and the teachers and families stuck together in hope despite the extreme poverty and the designation of the zone as "red" during the darkest days of the reign of terror.4 One "reason" for hope, then, can be the simple fact that this pueblo and its fragile institutions have survived, despite the unholy One "reason" for hope, then, can be the simple fact that this pueblo and its fragile institutions have survived, despite the unholy cultural influences of terrorism and hunger. November-December 1997 Pelletier ¯ Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro cultural influences of terrorism and hunger. Here is hard:evi-dence, provided by real people who survived' to live, instead of living to merely survive. The madres solteras (single mothers) who raise children of partners who abandon them for another; the youth who are old before they have a chance to be young; the knot of little children who play on the step of the mission-house door--none of these Montenegro dnawim have access to analyt-ical research charting their survival or demise. They simply live their reality, struggling to survive, struggling to find. meaning. Without the luxury of an education, they meet Mystery in their misery on Mystery's 6wn terms. Even though most of them will never really better their lot in life according to North American standards, they seem not to have lost. the reason for their hope. Yes, large numbers may eventually resort or succumb to every vice that a culture of absolute poverty provokes. Yet there :are those who do survive with their dignity as human beings intaci:. Who are they? How are they able to survive? What do they have to say to the religious missioned to the first world, who also seek to survive, but in a culture whose very richness impoverishes the attractiveness, the beauty, the dignity, and the grace of a way of life in love with Life itself?. Could the observation ofMircea Eliade, the famed scholar of religious anthropology, be true: that the evo-lution of modern cultures has generated an atmosphere of intel-lectual elitism in which detachment from the patterns of traditional religion severs Western culture from its core values and belief systems? 5 So what recourse do persons consecrated to the Holy have if they are to survive the consequences of Western culture's demise? The Word had a special word for the religiously lettered and learned Who came by night to ask him questions about signs seen hinting the advent of a new world within the world. To the Nicodemus-like, Jesus counseled that the lettered and the elite turn and become like a child. Anyone privileged to see, hear, and touch the children who, despite the misery of their absolute poverty and the scourge of terrorism, sing and dance in the desert cannot help marveling at the mystery of their "unreasonable" rea-. son to hope. What do they, the "little ones," the ones immersed in the misery of absolute poverty, have to say about the mystery of their survival? Could it be that their link to traditional popu-lar religion provides them with the treasure which cultures to the north have lost: a reason for hope?6 , Review for Religious Who are these ragtag "children of the dust" gathered on the luxurious slab of cement gracing the mission-house front door? From early in the morning until late in the night, this mob of ragamuffins never seems to wonder about "survival," despite the dubious nature of their next meal. They do not have time to worry. They are obviously too busy creatively constructing their own livable-in-the-now reality. The ever plentiful stones and rocks are transformed in,their imagination to sports cars and trucks. Rags and bits of scrap paper adorn a gringa-faced "Barbie" in highest fashion. So actively engaged in living life to the hilt, these tawny tots are too busy having fun to be concerned about surviving. Sure, they are hungry and ill clad. By our standards they are woefully abused by family systems that claim "the more I beat you, the more I love you." But they are too resiliently cre-ative to let abuse or malnutrition get in the way of living. The ".proper7 things they deserve as fundamental rights--healthcare, education, food--hardly get a thought. One hesitates to say it, but, to almost every visitor, these kids on the step are definitely having fun. Their joy, laughter, unsuppressible desire to befriend anyone, especially foreigners visiting the mission house, betrays the secret entry of Mystery into their absolute misery. Their grasp on an unseen reason for their hope renders ridiculous the first-world worries about where God and religion and the church might fit in a deconstructed culture. "Multiphrenia" is one malaise the Montenegrinos never get. The inner' chaos caused by too much input from too many conflicting media sources promoting ever changing values is a postmodern misery they miss.7 Take, for example, ten-year-old Lorenzo, a victim of his father's abuse. Every so often Lorenzo is whacked in the face. with an iron pipe for not bringing in his share of the family keep. How could little Lorenzo, every visitor's fast friend, keep smiling, jest-ing, and joking despite the ugly scarson his ever dirty face? The Mystery of God peeks through his misery in his nonconcern for predictable "survival." That unerasable smile insists that God's Mystery is manifest even in this most undeserved misery. Just what is it that keeps that smile on his face--and so many others like his!--in this desert valley of so many, many tears? Does his smile betray a reason to hope that we cannot, yet, see? These stepkids also deal with the reality of too few resources and personnel to assure them of a viable future. Most children are without parents until late in the night, when Mom or Dad or November-December 1997 Pelletier ¯ Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro live-in mate come

Issue 55.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1996. ; Review for Religious is a fo,utm for Sb~red reflection on the liVed experience of all who ~nd that the CbnrCb!s rich heritages of spi~tnality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written f!,om a theological or spirirudl or sometimes canonical point'of view: Rcview for Rcligious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by thc Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Lot, is, Missouri 63108-3393. "l'elcphone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Mant, scripts, books for review, and correspondcncc with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Liudcll Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counscl departutcnt: Elizabeth Mcl)onough OP St. Bernadette Convent ¯ 76 University, Blvd. East ¯ Silver Spring, MI) 20901 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missot, ri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on st,bscription rates. ®1996 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to cop)' 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 ,mticc of thc source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying fi~r commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer sJ 'Regina Siegfridd ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritagesand Contemporary Living JAlXq3ARY-FEBRUARYI996 ¯ VOLUME55 ¯ NVUMBER1 contents feature Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Paul N. Duckro, Randall C. Flanery, and Philip Magaletta consider the biological, social, and spiritual dimensions of hunger, food, and eating in everyday life. leadership 21 Transformative Leadership: Key To Viability Andr~e Fries CPPS highlights the qualities of leadership which address the questions of an instimte's own viability. 34 The Call to Spiritual Leaders: Beacons of Hope Gerald L. Brown SS focuses on the qualities and skills and supports which are a neqessary part of spiritual leadership. 46 55 ecumenism Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion James H. Kroeg~r MM takes the paschal mystery as the integrating focus of all evangelization, dialogue, and conversion. AVisit to Taizd Dennis J. Billy CSSR shares an experience of the ecumenical vision of Taiz& Review for Religious 61 70 religious life Has the Renewal of Religious Life Been a Success? Doris Gottemoeller RSMtakes the thirty-year perspective since Vatican Council II to highlight five learnings for a vital religious life. ATable Set by Bold Dreamers Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ relates a planning weekend experience in the province life of a religious community that results in a communion consciousness. viewpoints 75 Turning Over a New Leaf: a New Year's Passage Robert S. Stoudt points the annual human phenomenon of making New Year's resolutions to a more efficacious process. 84 Reflections on Turning Seventy Mary Boyan OSU gives an example of how one "thinks old" and is happy to do so. departments 4 Prisms 87 Canonical Counsel: The Potest~s of Religious Superiors according to Canon 596 92 Book Reviews January-February 1996 prisms As Review for Religious begins 1996 and its fifty-.fifth year of publication, some new aspects will be evident. We are using color highlighting through-out the text. The cover color of each issue will carry through in the banner divisions, the running titles, and the pagination. We hope that just a bit of color through-out will be enhancing to the text and pleasing to the eye. Each issue will not only look a little different, but it will also feel a little different. We are reducing the num-ber of pages to help us face the major raise in paper costs and to cope with the escalating mail costs both nationally and internationally. At our last advisory board meeting, we considered the various options of raising subscription prices, separating out mailing costs, or reducing the num-ber of pages and weight of each issue. One of the reflec-tions from our informal survey of readers was that a Review for Religious which would be a little less hefty in size would at the same time be a little more reader-friendly. Our 160-page size made us twice the size of most journals published bimonthly or even quarterly. And so we opted for a reduction in the number of pages. We will have three or so fewer articles per issue, but the quality will remain. We are also pleased that we can keep the jour-nal coming to our readers at the same subscription price. There is a change noted amo.ng our advisory board members. We are welcoming a married couple, Jim and Joan Felling. Jim and Joan have been very active in parish life both in Canada and in the United States, particularly Revlew for Religious through their involvement with the Christian Life Community. Joan is presently president of the National Federation of Christian Life Communities in the United States. Their longtime interest in lay spirituality, their involvement in the Ignatian retreat move-ment, and their respect for the spirituality heritages which our journal reflects make them valuable additions to our board. As editor I want to express my gratitude for the contribution of Joann Wolski Conn to our board and wish her well in her continued teaching, workshop schedule, and writing. On the inside back cover I call attention to the new director for the Xavier Society for the Blind, Mfred E. Caruana SJ. As I acknowledge Father Caruana, I also want to reemphasize~the availability of each issue of Review for Religious on cassettes to the visually impaired. Readers can note the contact address on the inside back cover. Revie& for Religious also announces the publication of a new book, Ignatian Exercises: Contemporary Annotations. It is Book 4 in The Best of the Review series. Edited by David L. Fleming SJ., the book includes an original introductory a~rticle "Following Christ More Nearly: Discipleship in Ignatian Spirituality" and twenty-eight other articles on vision, conversion, examination, attitude, prayer, discernment, and adaptation. It is meant to be a rich resource book for Ignatian spirituality, and it makes a good com-panion volume to Book 1 6f The Best of the Review, Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of~St. Ignatius of Loyola. The cost is $12.95 plus a $2.00 shipping and handling fee. The book can be ordered only through our editorial offices in St. Louis, Missouri. An order form for the book can be found on the insert page at the back of this 'issue. I fiope that all our readers will enjoy the new look and feel of the new volume in this new year. David L. Fleming SJ JannaD,-Febrlla~7 1996 feature PAUL N. DUCKRO, RANDALL C. FLANERY, AND PHILIP R. MAGALETTA Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Of the many gifts given to human beings, experiencing a particular event through our various powers of sensation and then finding a depth of meaning in it besides is one of the richest. Events that on the surface are commonplace and repetitive offer strange and deep collaborations with the Spirit. It is from this perspective that the present arti-cle considers the matter of eating, and particularly healthy eating. Most obviously, of course, eating is a biological event in response to the cue of hunger. Eating sustains life by providing necessary nutrients and bulk. But eating is also behavior, a culturally defined activity and experience. There is in it pleasure, social interaction, and ritual for celebration or mourning. Our Scriptures contain many references to important meals. In Exodus 24:11 the encounter with God is itself an occasion marked by eating and drinking. The Gospels are replete with recollections of Jesus in Which eating or Paul N. Duckro, Randall C. Flanery and Philip R. Magaletta may be addressed at The Program for Psychology and Religion; Saint Louis University Health Sciences Center; 1221 South Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63104. This article sum-marizes the content of a seminar offered at Saint Louis University by Randall C~ Flanery PhD, Joseph Gillespie OP, Rabbi James Goodman, Dismas Bonnet OFM, and Paul N. Duckro PhD. The article incorporates freely the content presented by the speakers. In some cases unique contributions of a particular presenter are noted with initials: Review for Religious refraining from eating serve to illustrate realization of the reign of God among us. A ritual meal serves as the occasion for seeking and being brought close to our God; we hunger for the Feast that desires also to be incarnated in us. The Word becomes flesh. Meals, however, may also be occasions for spiritual discipline. Incredibly, this routine behavior, fraught with peril for excess or deprivation, holds also great promise for growth in mind and spirit. Our personal recollections supply many images of eating. For most of us, early memories of food involve parents, brothers and sisters, and our extended family. Eating together is a way of mark-ing both celebration and grief. Our brains record and continue to respond to aromas of food prepared in "the old neighborhood"-- °bread baking, boiling cabbage, simmering sauce, pie cooling on the window sill. The dinner table might bring sensations of full-ness or barely touched hunger, joyful sharing or painful recrim-ination. In these contexts, food takes on meaning that transcends its biological function. It may also serve as a reward for being good, a reassurance of love, a cheery note amid sfldness. The meal may become the means of.healing brokenness or masking it. Issues of control and dependence may be expressed in feeding and being fed. In many dysfunctional families (or religious communities), dining together is "the last fiction of civility," with the group act-ing out much unspoken pain in the practiced rituals of the meal. Early memories get acted out in the way we eat as adults. In reli-gious communities the great variety of personal histories interacts with the prevalent culture of the congregation and is reflected in the variety of ways meals are handled in local communities. Food may be served family style or in a cafeteria line. All may sit down together or each may eat apart. Meals may be'a time, to interact or a time to eat hurriedly. Information may be shared, or discus-sion may be only an unwelcome interruption~of the functioning of teeth, tongue, and throat, The atmosphere may be warm and quiet or cold and noisy. The particular history of the individual contributes mightily to his or her experience of a meal. Present events, however, also play their role. Eating may bear the weight of stifled needs for social intimacy and nurturance. A spiritual emptiness may also become the occasion for a determined effort to fill oneself with food. There is in all of us an empty place that longs for God and Januat~y-Februa~y 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context cannot be filled with any ordinary substance. When we forget this, food can become an addictive substance, a pseudosatisfier. We stuff substances into an emptiness that is never satisfied by sub-stances (JG). When self-denial is the guiding paradigm for life, eating and desire to eat may become obsessive in an effort to satisfy the deprivation. Many of us have learned from others an ambivalence toward physical pleasure and nurturance. There is conflict in bal-ancing self-care and care of others, Enjoying the body may be seen as an obstacle to transcending the body. The instability resulting from such conflicts leads to eating too much or too lit-tle or to alternation between the two extremes (PD~. Culture, too, contributes to the experience of food and its consumption. In North American culture, it is widely held that the" shape of the body is an exhibition of the value and character of the person. Implicit in this beliefoare the following thoughts: that the body is a pliable entity that can be made to conform to any expec-tation, given sufficient effort; that one should exert such effort to shape the body according to the current perceptions of beauty; and that failure to do so indicates that one is either lazy or irre-sponsible, lacking in virtue (RF). Such personal, social, cultural, and spiritual elements con-tribute to the eating experiences of individuals and communities. The elements interact to form our habitual approach to eating. How we~handle or manage them is a function largely of our atten-tion to them. Thei'r effects and the responses we make to them, automatically or consciously, may be biological, behavioral, cog-nitive, affective, or social. These effects and various typical responses to them are. detailed in many sources and serve to focus the clinical treatment'of problematic eating patterns. This article focuses on the spiritual dimensions of healthy eating patterns, Every major faith tradition has developed its own laws regard-ing.' food and eating. In many religions, eating is in itself incor-porated into ritual, transforming it from the mundane to the sacred. Eating is also an occasion for discipline, often in the form of fasting. In the Hebrew Scriptures, fasting is prescribed as a symbolic act of humility and prayer, done in remembrance of God and as repentance for sins. Fasting also prepares people for a great new undertaking. Detachment from the physical makes room for the spiritual. The Christian tradition builds on these considera-tions, adding an emphasis on chastening the 'body. Fasting Review for Religiot¢.¢ becomes a means of purifying the mind and body and of pro-moting an openness to God by linking one with the suffering Christ. Refraining from food also means that the money saved can be given to the poor (DB). In our modern world, these ideas continue to influence the meaning of fasting as a discipline. Christians become more truly "bread for the world" as members of the body of Christ when they limit expenditures for their own food and use the money to provide food for the poor, experiencing in hunger a solidarity with the poor and learning to receive the fruits of the earth without taking them for granted. These experiences are particularly important for those who live in the midst of many resources and in relative comfort (DB). Fasting should not become an end in itself. The desire to suffer can be as much a trap as any other desire, distracting from detachment's true goal, which is to clear the pathway toward authentic love (JG). Severe fasts can focus the mind on the body as much as gluttony can, and even more. Fasting is most likely to lead beyond itself when it is done in moderation and tailored ~to the individual. The goal is to foster a balance, a spirit of detachment, and thus to reduce conflict and ambivalence regarding food. Encountering food consciously is a significant aspect of making progress toward this goal. Severe fasts can focus the mind on the body as much as gluttony can. The Inner Way We describe this conscious encounter with food, with the act of eating, and with attendant phenomena as the inner way, This inner way is a facet of the mystical in each of the major faith tra-ditions. Called by many names (mindfulness, remembrance, aware-ness, contemplation), this way essentially demands cultivating the experiente of the presence of God in all things, although the words and images u_.sed to describe such experience vary ainong religions. The emphasis is on the present moment. In this simple awareness of what is, self and object are transformed; essence is revealed. At table, mindfulness blesses and transforms both the food and the act of eating, elevating the common physical act of eating to holi-ness in the mysticism of the everyday. God dwells where one lets God in (JG). When people do their eating contemplatively, they Januaty-Febt'uaty 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Food alone, is never "enough"; we eat and are hungry again. find God in their hunger, in the sensations associated with the food, and in those with whom they eat. As Martin Buber says, "One eats in holiness and the table becomes an altar." The inner way also releases us from the repetitive cycles of compulsiveness and addiction. Awareness wakens us from the soporific state from which compulsivity has grown and stands in opposition to the compartmentalization, denial, rationalization, minimization, and automatic behavior that sustain it. In contemplation we are moved by awareness of self and nonself toward conscious choice. ° In a very real sense, most of us have spent much of our waking lives asleep. Many dys-functional patterns of eating originate as if in a dream. They develop gradually, unrecognized by the doer. Hunger of an emotional, social, or spiritual nature is quieted with food, but only temporarily. The hunger must be satisfied more and more fre-quently. When people eat rapidly, the signs of satiation are passed by like highway billboards, seen only in a blur until we are stuffed. Fears of aging, of ugliness, or of sexuality are confused with tak-ing in food and then placated by near starvation. Almost imper-ceptibly the appearance of the body and the regulation of food intake become the primary focus of attention, distracting us from the greater aspects of reality (PD). Applying the inner:'way to the promotion of healthy eating requires developing the habit of awareness with regard to hunger and eating. Htinger becomes a sensation for a person to experience before acting on qt. Desires arising from hunger are to be visual-ized and sorted out in the larger context of health, community, society. Eating is a multifaceted event to be experienced in all its elements, deliberately and slowly. There are the textures, smells, colors, temperatures, tastes of the food itself. The origin of the food might be considered--those who grew it, delivered it, pre-pared it. Buddhist monk and author Thich Nhat Hanh finds "everything in the universe in one tangerine." He recalls that the tangerine began within a tree, on which the fruit appeared and from which someone picked it. "Eating mindfully is a most impor-tant practice in meditation. The purpose of eating is to eat." Those with whom one eats--the congruence or incongruence between sharing this sacred feast and the state of the relation- Review Jbr Religious ships--might be experienced as well. In awareness while eating, we are awake to the food, the self, others, and the Other. A contemplative stance regarding eating is always helpful in bringing this common behavior to fuller experience, experience of life in God. It moves the individual, in itself and in synergy with clinical treatment, toward the goal of moderation in eating. Awareness changes the preconceived notions of how much food one needs to feel satisfied. The concepts of "enough" or "full-ness" are revisited. Food alone is never "enough"; we eat and are hungry again. Food, in the context of the total experience of din-ing, can be part of the experience of "enough," having all that you really need. The practice of full awareness is a discipline. The goal is not fully attainable, and it is the journey rather than the destination that is of importance. Continuing the journey day after day requires the use of behavioral, cognitive, and spiritual tools that facilitate a contemplative attitude vis-?i-vis hunger, food, and eating. Becoming Aware Eating is a richly multidimensional experience touching almost every aspect of life. M.EK. Fisher, quoted at length in the introduction to C.L. Flinders's Enduring Grace, says it well: "It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others . There is commu-nion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk." ~ The ideas we have considered--the biological, social, and spiritual dimensions of hunger, food, and eating--need to be applied to everyday life and are, of course, especially relevant to persons who have some dysfunctional habit regarding food or their body image. Sometimes a dysfunctional eating pattern reaches the point of illness, in itself or in the form of an associ-ated affective disorder, and may call for clinical treatment. When eating becomes illness, the consequences may be even life-threat-" ening. In such cases it is prudent to seek medical and psycholog-ical diagnosis and treatment. We focus here on the gains that are possible when the expe-rience of hunger and the act of eating are made more conscious. (We refer to this heightened consciousness either as awareness, JanuaO,-Febr~ta~y 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context mindfulness, or a contemplative stance with regard to everyday life.) There is much to be gained in developing this contemplative stance, regularly interrupting the automatic habits that have been formed with regard to food and opening up the mysteries of body, mind, and spirit that lie hidden there. In developing awareness, one lays the only foundation for real choice. A contemplative stance in life depends not so much on mov-ing physically away from our usual world as it does on learning and using a fresh perspective on the familiar. It may even be that this learning is best done in the place where the familiar may be found. Awareness is, ~first of all, being present to what is happen-ing now. Eating has behavioral, cognitive, emotional, and social elements that are often ignored when we are caught up in a dys-functional pattern. Persons who to even casual observers appear obsessed with eating may be almost completely unaware of the fact. They wolf down food, violendy avoid it, or alternate between the two. Efforts to suppress the appetite make of it an insistent stranger and even an enemy, causing the house to be at war with itself. Paradoxically, conscious awareness of eating leads, not to preoccupation with food, but to a real integration of food, eating, and body image, to the benefit of the spiritual journey. The indi-vidual becomes more aware of the other hungers sometimes mis-taken for physical hunger, of the other fears that sometimes lie hidden beneath overt fears of being fat or self-indulgent. Approaching the Meal ¯ A primary method for increasing awareness with regard to eating is to get oneself to calm down before meals. The most commonly suggested method is a breathing exercise. This method is easily learned, even by busy persons ,and those who do not take easily to meditation or contemplative prayer. Breathing is in itself a well-rehearsed and automatic act, seldom given consci6us atten-tion in everyday life. It is a rich .experience, however, when given one's full attention, and breathing for relaxation is much more powerful than one might expect such a simple act to be. As the body relaxes, the mind becomes receptive and even the most rigid defenses begin to yield. One sees more clearly and can stop'cling-ing fearfully to illusions of control or predictability. The technique of breathing for relaxation is simple, but not commonly practiced. The goal is effortless deep breathing, breath- Review for Religious ing with the diaphragm, not dramatically expanding the rib cage or elevating the shoulders. Rate and rhythm vary, but the move-ment is toward slow rhythmic breaths, just enough to sustain the body in its current metabolic need. Flexibility is important, allow-ing for adjustments in rate and depth of breathing as needed, avoiding rigid adherence to some "right" way. Taped relaxation exercises may be useful in learning the actual technique so that it can be applied easily and discreetly, even at table. Imagery Breathing for relaxation before eating helps one to be fully present to the meal. Many things are happening at that moment: internal sensations of hunger and reactions to the food and also to the company. You bring with you the context of your day, past or anticipated, with its various emotions, You likewise bring the many habits that you have formed about the process of eating, all ready to be put into motion automatically. Selected use of imagination can enhance the value of the breathing exercise for awareness purposes. The images can vary widely, depending on the need. A few examples may show how this simple adjunct can facilitate relaxed breathing. An image of )qtllness directs attention, to what is alre, ady there. It reminds the body that what is felt as physical hunger may have roots in the psy-chological or spiritual. One is moved to feel more clearly what is already present and satisfying, as well as what is longed for. In turn, food is allowed to be just what it is. As the food is ingested, satiation will be recognized more quickly and accurately, pre-venting the uncomfortable sense of being "stuffed." One knows what is "enough." Thich Nhat Hanh suggests imagining your-self as a mountain lake, deep and still. There is a comfortable sense of fullness as you become this lake in which is contained all of the sky above it. Try this for a moment. As you breathe in, say, "I am a lake," and as you breathe out, "deep and still." In coming to fuller awareness of emotions like frustration, disappointment, or discouragement, an image of flexibility and resilience may be useful. To borrow again from Thich Nhat Hanh, consider a flower along your path, fresh and supple, swaying in the smallest breeze, yet always coming back to face the sun. Imagine yourself as that flower, moved by the smallest breeze, but not broken. See in your reaction to the day a sensitivity that you can Januat.~-Febtvlat~y 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context turn to good, responding even to the quietest whisper from the mouth of God. As you breathe in, say, "I am a flower," and as you breathe out, "fresh." Images that evoke joy have a place in any setting, but they are also very useful as you prepare to eat. Tony de Mello SJ offered a subtle prayer idea: "BEhold God beholding you., and smiling." It can be used as an image eliciting joy. With each inhalation say, "I see the face of God," and with each exhalation, "smiling at me." Smile back, in your heart and on your lips. In this spirit of joy, remember all those who made the food in front of you pos-sible. Remember those who share your table. Anticipate the tastes of the food and also the fullness you will feel. Areas of Change We have discussed a process for becoming more aware or mindful of the act of eating. Awareness is the foundation for choice, allowing for the possibility of change in what has become repetitive and automatic. As you increase awareness, you will encounter many phenomena. The rest of this article considers some of the behaviors, thoughts, and feelings you may encounter. We will emphasize the forms of these phenomena that best serve a conscious and healthy approach to eating. Each time you choose to practice becoming more aware, select one of these areas for special attention. Behaviors Eating slowly has several advantages. By doing so, you are more likely to recognize feeling full before you have overeaten. The message of fullness takes some time to form in the stomach and be recognized in the brain. If you are very busy taking in food, you are likely to miss the earliest indications, and; by the time you do get the message, a considerable amount of food will already be in the "pipeline." Eating slowly also helps make the meal a sensory experience, permitting some attention to be given to the taste, texture, appearance, and aroma of the food. Particular behavioral practices can help make the slower pace of eating seem more natural, even when you are not fully aware of yourself. Develop the habit of letting go of your utensils between mouthfuls, chewing thoroughly before swallowing, and Review for Religious pausing to converse or think throughout the meal. When eating alone, try making of the meal a purely sensory experience, chew-ing, smelling, and of course savoring various items with deliber-ate attentiveness. You may find much to enjoy in what was previously an automatic and essentially neglected activity. Before any meal, your preparation for it offers an opportunity for choices leading to healthier eating. If it is your lot to shop for food for yourself or your local community, shop from a list and avoid shopping when you are very hungry. If you do, you are like-lier to choose foods that really are appropriate and desirable rather than foods that rely on impulse for their appeal. Planning meals is preferable to throwing something together. If you plan when you are full rather than when you are "starving," the chances are that you will have a balanced meal, both in quality and quantity. However, even taking a little time to plan just. before cooking is not wasted. Cooking can itself be a mindless or a mindful activity. Take time to look, smell, and taste (a little), bringing these sensations to your mind and your mind to the sensations. For those with busy schedules, some com-promises are in order. Carrying a low-calorie snack may forestall a desperate (as opposed to planned) run to the candy machine; planning what to eat and drink before a cocktail hour begins may curtail mindless grazing. The challenges are great for those who travel frequently, but even there planning for your nourishment may keep you from reach-ing a state of agitated exhaustion or a sense of deprivation. Food choices are important; what you eat affects how you feel and how healthy your body will be. Although dietary advice from medical science is sometimes frustrating in its fickle incon-stancy, you can follow some basic guidelines. Most of us in the United States get more fat than we need; choosing low-fat foods, avoiding fried foods, trimming or skimming fat can compensate. Seeking vitamins in their natural forms (foods) rather than in the latest dietary supplement is a reliable strategy; vegetables, fruits,. and grains have proved themselves over many centuries. Physical exercise complements a healthy eating pattern. Regular aerobic exercise is desirable, but even consciously increas-ing the amount of activity required to complete our daily tasks Before any meal, your preparation for it offers an opportunity for choices leading to healthier eating. Janua~y-Feblvtaty 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context is helpful. Parking farther away rather than circling to get close to the door, taking stairs rather than waiting interminably for the elevator, walking a mile to our nekt appointment rather than driv-ing and hunting fifteen minutes for a place to park are just a few examples. A body with more muscle and a higher metabolism makes more effective use of what we eat. Thoughts and Feelings Consider your attitude toward your body. For many people, the body is experienced almost as "notself." Appetites like hunger may be viewed as "enemy," the body an object to be controlled or modified or concealed because of your feelings of shame about this or that feature of it: A particularly destructive way to expe-rience your body is to see it as a public and decisive measure of your self-worth. Achieving a particular physical appearance or following a specific dietary regimen becomes a testimony to your quality as a human being. It can even become a moral question. My body identifies me as a morally superior being or, conversely, publicly demonstrates my inferiority. From these premises, fail-ure to achieve the desired body image or follow the ideal diet can overshadow many positive qualities and can lead to a pervasive sense of inadequacy, a mood of depression. A healthier alternative is to cultivate proactively a true appre-ciation for your body, valuing it for its varied qualities, seeing in it the image of God. Contemplation of its complexities and the many functions carried out each moment, making your very phys-ical life possible, is a wonderful way to become reacquainted with this aspect of yourself. Be aware of your reaction to each part or function. Ask yourself how you came to feel this way. Review your history with this part or function. Remind yourself of the good it has done you or others. Consider what harm. you may have done or continue to do to it. Think of yourself in ~relationship to each part, imperfect but all yours, and consider how you wish to relate. Self-esteem is possible when we not only see what we might be, but also love what we are. In addition to attitudes toward the body, consider your atti-tudes toward foods and eating itself. We carry decided, but often unconscious, judgments about what we eat, when we eat, and why. At any given time certain foods are labeled "bad" or "good" for us. The judgments may be deeply ingrained and long-standing, or Review Jbr Religious they may change in harmony with the whirling carousel of inedia reports on the latest killer food. Ideally, we begin to develop a continuum in our attitudes toward foods to replace this dichoto-mous thinking. Any food can be more positive or negative depend-ing on many things, including the amount, our physical condition, available exercise, and (not least) our authentic desire for it. Our eating also has a decided pattern or rhythm to it, even if it can only be described as chaotic. Our hunger may be dichotomized or blended with other motives. We may experience ourselves only as "starved" or "stuffed." Such sensations bring with them a sense of urgency, requiring some immediate response. Try these two exercises. When you feel starved, wait five min-utes with the sensations. As you sit with them, transform them from a drive to ingest food immediately to an experience that will enhance the taste of the food you are about to enjoy. If you reg-ularly feel stuffed, stop eating for a few moments halfway through your meal. As you converse with those around you, observe your sensations for a few moments and see how close you are to being full. Hunger may reflect desires other than pleasure and the bio-logical need for sustenance; food may become medicine for lone-liness or a stopper for anger. In this way, eating may become a coping response for emotional distress, tension, or deprivation. The effort to soothe the disquiet with food may bring short-term relief. Long-term, it simply misses the mark and brings with it additional undesired consequences'. In this: dichotomizing or blending of physical hunger with emotion, we lose touch with the ever changing quality of our desire for food itself and increase our chances of eating too.much or too little. Being in communion with our feelings gives us the opportu-nity to perceive more clearly the multifaceted nature of our hungers. In so doing, We are better able to recognize that we are physically full even while we remain hungry emotionally or spir-itually. Each of us has a natural physiological regulatory mecha-nism that directs the sensations of hunger and satiation. (Dysfunction of this system appears to be possible, but is a sub-ject for another time.) We can, however, become deaf to its mes-sage: "Enough." Other hungers can be expressed indirectly in the desire for more food. Slowing down enough to listen, we may yet hear its still, small voice faithfully calling. As with most aspects of the self, the best response to non- Jantmt3,-Febt'uaty 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context food hungers is not to suppress them, but to become more aware of them. Using a diary,or some other way of becoming alert to our sensations, thoughts, and feelings regularly throughout the day is a reliable way to learn what food we truly need and what hungers of ours reflect emotional drives. A careful review of thoughts and feelings associated with specific eating practices, especially habits that. are extreme (too little or too much), can be revealing. We may learn that consumption beyond basic nutritional needs is routinely preceded by unpleasant interpersonal events such as conflict, or negative internal states such as anger, loneliness, and deprivation. Food can come to be used to alter such unpleasant feelings or as a substitute for an unfilled emotional or spiritual need. A particularly common response to emotional deprivation includes filling oneself with food rather than seeking out emo-tional succor from family and friends. In the extreme, this can develop into a form of compulsive overeating. When recognized, emotional or spiritual needs can be addressed more directly-- loneliness, with a call to a friend; agitation, with a walk; bore-dom, with a purpose; shame, with apology and forgiveness. Social Discussion of the elements of eating must include our imme-diate social environment. Human relationships and eating are closely connected; our word companion derives from the Latin "bread with (someone)." Eating alone may be necessary and can be beneficial, but dining is enhanced by good company. Good com-pany is defined not simply by the goodness of the fellow diner, but als0 by the goodness of the relating that is done over the meal. Opening yourself to the other person interacts synergistically with your efforts to open your senses to the food, your mind to your behaviors, and your heart to constructive thoughts and feelings. In his instructions for making the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius of Loyola suggests that solitary retreatants imagine Jesus dining at table with his disciples as a model for their own behavior when they are again eating in the company of other people. Conclusion In this article we have discussed various intellectual insights, behavioral practices, and emotional, cognitive, and social factors Review Jbr Religious that promote healthy eating. We have used the development of a contemplative awareness of eating as a unifying theme for the various specific suggestions. Contemplation is not a practice reserved for extended periods of silence or done only during retreats far from the pace of daily life. It is a practice for every day. One of the most beautiful images of the contemplative grasp of things in everyday life is the holding of a bird within cupped hands. Held too tightly, the bird is crushed; too lightly, it flies away. When this image is applied to eating, the need for strict rules or limits falls away. One is called simply to be present to the eating and to choose consciously. Awareness extends even to being pres-ent to our~inattentiveness. When we do find our-selves eating mindlessly or thinking dichotomously, we should, as Tilden Edwards says, not be quick to judge. Rather, we gently smile, notice what we are doing, pray for help and guidance, and "subtly loosen [our] bonds to inattentive appetite." From Jack Kornfield, psychotherapist and Buddhist teacher, comes another image of the gen-tle persistence required to learn mindfulness: train-ing a puppy. When the puppy inevitably wanders away or becomes distracted, it does little good to yell, scare it, and have it wet the floor. It is much better to lift the puppy gen-tly off the floor and bring it back to the task at hand. Made conscious, the mundane act of eating emerges from the mist of the commonplace and takes on new meanings. Four points will serve to summarize what we have been saying in this article. First, eat intentionally rather than automatically. Slow down. Start with breathing. Bring to the experience images of the mental state you desire. Enter the experience in all its dimensions--sensory, emotional, cognitive, social, and spiritual. Practice sometimes being conscious of each step in eating, even a single bite or swal-low. Follow your arm as you lift the fork, your hand as you grasp the glass. Second, be aware of the many people who contributed to the food before you. Feel gratitude for the growing of the grain, its processing and shipping. Remember those who prepared and served the food that day. Take note of the many events interwoven with this single meal as you look about the table or dining room. Eating alone may be necessary and can be beneficial, but dining is enhanced by good company. ~Tamtaty-Februaly 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Consider the miracle of your being able to taste and enjoy, to eat until you are satisfied. Resolve to make this satisfaction possible for more people and to become yourself bread for others. Third, bring to consciousness your thoughts and feelings regarding the food, your hunger, your body. Be sure you really want such thoughts,0and address them directly if they are trou-blesome. Unduly harsh self-criticism or self-deprivation only fur-thers any dysfunctional pattern of eating that might be present. If you feel on the brink of starvation, wait a moment and see whether you really are about to faint. If you find yourself despising your body for any reason, breathe, relax your muscles, and feel your spirit permeating your body. Fourth, whatever you do, do it patiently and lovingly. The alJproach to mindfulness itself must be mindful, with tolerance for the very gradual and sometimes erratic awakening to which human beings ~usually seem prone. (Think of the ambivalent desires you may have experienced as you awake early on some winter morning. Persistent movement in the right general direc-tion is all that counts.) In this way we may find that, like other activities of life, eating can in itself be part of the prayer without ceasing. Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection was a cook for his abbey. He had many opportunities to find God in the prepara-tion, cooking, and serving of food. We might recall him and share his desire to "worship God the oftenest I could, keeping my mind on his holy presence and recalling it as often as I found it wan-dered from him." References Edwards, T. Living Simply through the Day, New York: Paulist Press, 1977. Flinders, C.L. Enduring Grace: Living Portraits of Seven Women Mystics. New York: HarperCollins, 1993. Hanh, T.N. The Miracle of Mindfidness. Beacon, Massachusetts: Beacon Press, 1975. Lawrence of the Resurrection, Brother. The Practice of the Presence of God (D. Attwater, trans.). Springfield, Illinois: Templegate, 1962. ReviewforReligious ANDRI~E FRIES Transformative Leadership: Key to Viability "Now on that same day two of the disciples were going to a village called Emmaus . . . talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus him-self came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" (Lk 24:13-17). Jesus is our model for viable religious leadership. The Emmaus story gives us insight into his style of leading. He approaches the disciples with questions and leads them to reflect on and retell their experience. Through further questioning, he assists them in realizing how their expe-rience enfleshes what the prophets foretold. Jesus ulti-mately leads them to recognize God in their midst and sends them with burning hearts to share the good news with others. This article seeks to show how we can pattern our leadership after Jesus on the Emmaus journey, focusing on the importance of leadership to an institute's viability. What is our story of leadership? What is happening to us along the way? What questions does our experience raise? How are we being called to respond, as individuals and as conferences? Andr4e Fries CPPS is general superior of the Sisters of the Most Precious Blood (O'Fallon). As president of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) she made the presen-tation which is the substance of this article at the August 1995 assembly. Her address is 204 North Main Street; O'Fallon, Missouri 63366. leadership ~anuat~-Febrttaty 1996 Fries * Transformative Leadership We, too, have been on the way these days, listening ponder-ing, talking and discussing transformative leadership for the new millennium. Leadership is especially important for us in these times. As leaders we must address the very question of the future viability of our institutes. Since my years of service at the Tri- Conference Retirement Office, I have been intrigued by the ques-tion of what is necessary for a religious institute to be viable. Clearly, financial resources are not the sole determinant of this viability, but what other elements are needed? My reflections cen-ter on an insight highlighted during a November 1994 "Think Tank on the Viability of Religious Institutes" co-sponsored by Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), National Association of Treasurers of Religious Institutes (NATRI), and the Tri-Conference Retirement Office (TCRO). This "Think Tank" used an interdisciplinary approach to explore the question of viability. An interdisciplinary team reflected with the leaders of institutes that had directly addressed institutional viability. The team discovered that the quality of leadership is the single most impor-tant factor in an institute's viability, whether that was a sense of clear direction for the fitture or an increased corporate depression resulting from still unresolved questions of viability. Five cases were presented; in each we saw that the caliber of the leaders significantly impacted the results. If a high quality of leadership is the indispensable key to ongo-ing viability, is the reverse also true? Is weak leadership a pre-dictor that viability will be lost? These are serious, sobering questions, and the stakes are high for the future of our institutes and of religious life. What is Our Story of Leadership? Each of us has lived through a radical redefinition of leader-ship in our religious institutes. A friend of mine recently said, only partly in jest, "I wish I had been provincial in the days when a sister brought the superior tea in the afternoon and ironed her wimple." Even the terminology superior seems jarring today, since our experience of leadership has shifted from a hierarchical to a relational model. As ambiguous as this relational model may be when we are faced with the daily challenges of leadership, the transformation we have experienced in religious leadership is con-sistent with the model Jesus gives us in the Gospels. In the Review for Religious Emmaus story, Jesus leads the disciples out of confusion, despair, and paralysis to zeal for mission, not by lecturing them on what to do, but by asking questions, making connections, and helping them to discover the way in mutual dialogue. This leadership paradigm shift is not unique to religious life. We do not. live in a vacuum. We are called to leadership in a world radically different from that of our founders. We live in the "information age," and in our post modern world more than ever before "information is power." Everyone has access to an overwhelming amount of information. No longer do only the leaders have the infor-mation essential for decision making. As a result leaders of religious institutes are no longer perceived to have superior informa-tion, thus not retaining the credibility to make decisions in isolation from membership and other collaborators in mission. United States culture seems riddled with suspicion and disdain for our elected leaders, This is the age of the talk show: Everyone has an opinion; everyone is an expert; and, there are no taboo subjects. Distrust of leaders is in the very air we breathe. Religious are not exempt from its influence. The plethora of contemporary writing and research on lead-ership is quite consoling. We can learn much from the new insights on leadership, some coming from unlikely sources. For example, Margaret Wheatley in Leadership the New ScienceI applies findings of science, namely quantum mechanics, chaos, and frac-tal theory, to the ambiguity and the complexity of situations which leaders face. Overwhelming amounts of unrelated information produce chaos; however, the relationship of all this information creates a new synergistic energy out of the chaos. Quantum physics posits that relationships, not things, are the basic build-ing blocks of matter. Physicists have discovered that chaos always conforms to a boundary within which information interacts as the primal, creative force. Systems fall apart by design so they can renew themselves according to an invisible organizing pur-pose. The disequilibrium of chaos creates new possibilities for evolutionary growth. God truly does hover over the chaos! Toffler proposes that the information explosion requires a Transformative leadership calls us, as leaders of religious institutes, to be eager learners, inviting our members to learn with us. Januaty-Febtv~aty 1996 Fries * Transformative Leadership well developed intuition in order to cut through the complexity and discover relationships and connections. A leader must not only understand each piece of information but also be able to make the intuitive leap and connect seemingly unrelated infor- ~nation.2 Peter Block believes that the ability to articulate these con-nections clearly is what gives the leader influence and power. Block claims that the balance of power between the leader and the group is the issue.3 Interdependence means that the leader and the group are connected in a way that balances the power between them. Wheatley claims that the power in organizations is the capacity generat.ed by relationships (note 3, p. 38). The leader's task is to share information in a way that provides clarity, highlights connections, and promotes dialogue. Peter Senge in The FiSh Discipline develops the theory of the learning organization. He believes that the key function of lead-ership is to facilitate vision-driven, value-based learning in the . group. "Leaders are responsible for building organizations where people continually expand their capabilities to understand com-plexity, clarify vision, and improve shared mental models--that is, they (leaders) are responsible for learning.''4 Unfortunately few women have written specifically on lead-ership. However, feminist insights provide a model of leadership in which relationships are paramount. In the feminist model, information and power flow in a circular rather than hierarchical motion. Relationships are dynamic and synergistic, respectful and creative, inclusive and purposeful. As Max Dupree writes, "Leadership is an art, something to be learned over time., more a weaving of relationships than an amassing of information.''5 Transformative leadership calls us, as leaders of religious insti-tutes, to be eager learners,0inviting our members to learn with us. The art of leadership is to engage others in the mysterious chaotic dance of the journey, a dance of interdependence and fidelity to God's ongoing call. What Questions Does Our Experience Raise? On the way to Emmaus, Jesus led by asking 'questions, help-ing the disciples to make connections with the scriptures to dis-cover the true meaning of the events they had experienced. What can we learn by relating our questions to our experience Review for Religious and the information available so we lead in a way that fosters transformation and viability? It seems to me that leadership ques-tions are particularly challenging for us in three areas: (1) mean-ing and mission, (2) community and relationships, and (3) leadership and structures. Meaning and Mission I sense in the members of our institutes a profound search for meaning, a sense of dis-ease coming from the feeling of"drift-ing" in these times of incredible change and challenge. Sandra Schneiders IHM wonders if this experience is akin to the dark night of the soul, a dangerous and purificatory process from the known to a radically new experience of God.6 However, there are no easy answers to the essential identity questions--"Who are we?" and "What are we called to do together?" We struggle with a desire to participate in a clear cor-porate mission, yet our members feel called to meet new needs often beyond our present institutional commitments. This uneasi-ness about our corporate mission is especially poignant in the face of our aging membership and dwindling resources. We have no models for leadership in a time of diminishment. We know that we can no longer define ourselves by what we do, by our works. Yet what is the reality that we can grasp and own together, now, as this religious institute? We yearn for a sense of uniqueness, yet we seem to have more diversity within many insti-tutes than among institutes. Our members embody diversity, even pluralism, in basic val-ues and beliefs. The information age and the availability of mul-tiple opportunities for learning have resulted in different ecclesiologies, theologies, styles of worship, and community liv-ing among our members. This is uncomfortable. How can we get our arms around this in a meaningful way? Leaders hfive a respon-sibility to facilitate each individual's vision so together the group can create a corporate vision which inspires a strong sense of cor-porate mission. We need to lead through this diversity. The ultimate test of leadership lies in the ability to address the question of the institute's own viability. The question "Are we dying?" lurks in the heart of many of our members. The uncer-tainty subtly eats away at enthusiasm for mission, even at the esprit de corps of the group. ~anuaty-Febtwaty 1996 Fries ¯ Tran~Cormative Leadership The question of viability is never answered once and for all. The answer we had yesterday is not the answer for .today, and probably wil.l not be the answer in another twenty-five years. However, we are entrusted with leadership today. How can we raise the viability questions of today, questions that revolve around the availability of a future pool of leaders, of a critical mass of members for mission and of sufficient financial resources to sus-tain our needs, assist our'members' personal growth and support our mission? If there is not reasonable hope of identifying future leaders, of responding to real needs in mission, of providing for the sustenance and enrichment of members, our institute may not be viable. How can we lead if the institute is not viable cur-rently or in the immediate future? On the other hand, how can we lead to enhance our viability into the future? Wheatley writes that the only route out of chaos is for lead-ers to give voice and form to the search for meaning (note 3, p. 13 5). Charlotte Roberts believes that leaders must give voice to an organization's emotional tension, anxiety, fear, and frustration, and then shift the attention to vision and core identity.7 1 believe that unless we assume leadership in addressing these questions of meaning and purpose as well as in gaining greater clarity, focus and ownership of our corporate mission, any attempts to address viability will be superficial. Community and Relationships Community life in apostolic institutes is under incredible pressure. No longer do we have the luxury of predictable, similar schedules and horariums. We serve in partnership with laity as professionals in a culture where professionalism is a demanding endeavor. We serve in a world harried by time pressures and, like many families, we rarely have the luxury of a meal together, much less of quality time for prayer and community. Many of our active members are part of the "sandwich generation" with obligations to elder parents as well as to community and ministry. Time is a very scarce resource! The individualism of our culture also challenges us as leaders. It is probably naive to believe that many of us will ever com-pletely escape the strong influence of individualism. It may be more realistic for us as leaders to build on the strengths our mem-bers have developed as a result of individualism. Theoretically, Review for Religious the good of the individual contributes to the good of the whole, creating synergistic energy for both. The challenge comes in bal-ancing these two sometimes competing goods in specific situa-tions. How can we as leaders assist our members to recognize and deal with the "hot buttons" set off when the rubber of indi-vidualism hits the road of communal good? How do we encourage new models of community that realis-tically address these very real situations and promote practical opportunities for authentic community life? Leaders are respon-sible to foster community structures oriented to accountability for values and mission. We must discover new models and sym-bols of community that capture our imagination and transform our energies. Jesus, our model for leadership, transformed the fatigue and distress of the disciples on the way to Emmaus into new energy and eagerness to share with the others in commu-nity. Jesus' example suggests that leaders must constantly search for what enables individuals and groups to reach their potential. Another challenge comes from the movement to offer oth-ers partnership in our spirit and mission. Associate programs and relationships have been a source of life for many institutes in the midst of dwindling vowed membership. However, the purpose of associate programs is not to assuage our sorrow by compensating for our lack of vocations, but rather to share our spirituality and mission with others as a faith community. In our desire to be collaborative, open, and inclusive, we may be blurring the distinction between vowed members and associ-ates. The boundaries of membership seem diffused, even leaky at times. Without clarity of who we are together as vowed mem-bers, it is difficult to define the identity of the associates. We seem to be clear that associates participate with vowed members in spirituality and mission. Tensions arise, however, when some of us believe that associates should participate in our internal forum, having equal access with vowed members to decision making about our lives together without having the same accountability to live the consequences. How can we reclaim a clear sense of corporate identity, meaning, and mission if the very concept of member-ship is fuzzy and uneven? Clearly there are many unanswered questions about the impact of associate programs as we move into the next millen-nium. Perhaps as Margaret Brennan IHM suggests, our associate members are a sign that we are on the verge of discovery of new ]anualy-FebrttaO, 1996 Fries * Tran~lCormative Leadership forms of religious life.8 If we are moving to a new form, let us not drift into the future, but consciously choose to broaden the meaning of membership. Leaders need to raise these membership questions because their implications impact dramatically on meaning, purpose, and mission, and thus on the future of the institute. As Wheatley writes, "A leader's task is to focus on the overall coherence of the organization, which requires one very important thing: genuine attention to the core identity.''9 Leadership and Structures The predominant form of governance in religious institutes today is one of broad participation. We have labored long and hard to design structures that provide for the participation of each member. In our eagerness to provide opportunities for each member to participate in decision making, we have tried all sorts of structures and group processes. This has produced many bless-ings, significant bonding, and a deeper understanding of.issues, but it also is fraught with the danger of overload for both leaders and members. All too often this participation contributes to our being co-opted into a culture of hectic busyness, a culture in which con-templation, ongoing formation and health suffer, and in which burnout is all too common. Participation is a mixed blessing-- but we are learning from our experience. What are we learning? We are being more selective about which issues or questions are best dealt with by the total mem-bership and which are best left to leadership. The process of dif-ferentiating between these two categories is critical. One of the most important moments for group participation is that of choos-ing which issues are so important for the future that an inclusive group process must be developed. There are very many issues competing for our members' energy and attention. The critical choice is: Shall the whole group participate in many decisions and thus risk dealing only on the surface, or go into depth together on a few issues where the questions connect at a deeper level? If the membership reaches consensus on which issues are key for the group participative processes, leadership is freed to address the many other issues facing the institute, Leaders are empowered to lead, to move forward on other issues. It is essential to trans- Review for Religiotts formation, to viability, that leaders actually lead. There is indeed a time for everything under the sun, a time for participating and a time for empowering, a time for consensus building and a time for risking new frontiers. Another challenge in some institutes is to find a pool of persons willing to serve as leaders. Why is this? Some cite tensions in deal-ing with the church as too de-energizing. Others question if lead-ership can be an effective ministry in today's climate of equality and participation that seems to disempower leadership. Leadership may be seen as para-lyzed, fearful to make decisions because of the expectations of the members to be con-suited, or.the complexity of the issues and ambiguity of this time of transformation. Still others withdraw from a leadership nomina-tion fearing that a long absence from their professional life would make reentry into that ministry difficult if not impossible, especially in our culture of ageism and sexism. If having a pool of available leaders is essential for an institute's future viability, we need to face these serious challenges and find ways to encourage and develop future lead-ers. We must witness that leadership is an attractive life-giving ministry rather than a burden to be endured. If we portray leader-ship as a challenging and rewarding~ ministry, we can make a dif-ference in the willingness of others to serve as lea~ters in the future. Another structural question impacting leadership is the grow-ing preference for a team style of leadership with or without a designated team leader. I cannot imagine being in leadership today without a team. We continue to learn that team leadership is an area of great promise and equally great challenge. But tea,n is an ambiguous, concept, and is interpreted in many ways. During a job interview at a Fortune 500 company, a hotshot project man-ager was asked if he was a "team player." "Yes," he replied, "the team captain." l0 Leadership theorists recognize that collaborative relation-ships-- those marked by mutual learning and shared creation-- are at the core of innovation. A team strticture provides an Leaders need to raise membership questions because their implications impact dramatically on meaning, purpose, and mission, and thus on the future of the institute. .]anttat.'!,-Febrt~aD, 1996 Fries ¯ Tran~Cormative Leadership environment in which this learning and creativity can be fos-tered." Because of the time required to build a team, opting.for team leadership may mean delegating some tasks to other staff. In some cases th~se may include relating with sponsored institutions, col-laborating with others, dealing with administrative tasks and pro-viding services for individual members and local communities. For effective delegation, authority must be commensurate with respon-sibility, and accountability clearly defined. Without these clear boundaries, there may be overlap of "turf," "end runs" bypassing staff and appealing directly to leaders. Ultimately this leads to inef-fective administration. Additional staff necessitates the allocation of both financial and human resources from other institute priorities, such as mis-sion and enrichment of members. It is impossible to have "your cake" (the team) and "eat it too." (conserve the resources), To attempt to do both will totally frustrate team members with impossible expectations and responsibility overload. For most institutes, balancing the value of a team approach with other pri-orities is a challenging issue. Members wonder why it takes so many more persons to administer what fewer did with larger membership. Another issue in the team model is that roles and thus respon-sibility can be unclear. Sometimes we are tempted to posit that all team roles are equal in leadership responsibility and in ultimate accountability. This raises the question if there is value added by having a designated team leader? Surely each team member shares leadership.'It is not an either/or question of either have a team or have a designated leader. In my experience, having both opens the possibility of a more effective creative team leadership. Doris Gottemoeller referencing St. Paul (Ga 3:27-28, 1 Co 12:4-11), calls us "to hold in perennial tension two poles: equal-ity and diversity, or unity and distinctiveness of function or roles."'2 Mary Catherine Bateson writes "the ethical impulse of American culture is toward symmetry., asserting that a given kind of difference (of roles) is, or should be, irrelevant. When we call symmetry equality, it is both our best and our worst.pas, sion." ,3 Richness and newness come from the synergistic interplay of the symmetrical and asymmetrical, from diversity and differ-entiation in gifts and roles, from the leadership exercised by a team with distinct but complementary roles. Review for Religiolts Peter Block concludes that the key issue is how the desig-nated leader chooses to relate to the team (note 5, p. 31). An effective team uses a collaborative style with consensus decision making. The leader does not centralize the power or the point of action. In the feminine image of the circle, the wheel moves around a hub to keep the rim from flying off in all directions. Analogously, I believe the designated leader has an added dimen-sion of responsibility to provide a safe environment for the whole team to "create visions; where inquiry and commitment to truth are the norm and challenging the status quo is expected.''~4 The team leader keeps diverse energies connected, unified, and mov-ing in the same direction. Yet the momentum comes from within the whole team. Another rationale for designating a team leader is that our publics perceive the designated leader as the one who is ulti-mately responsible. "The buck stops here," as we say in Missouri. Given the reality of public accountability for the group's action, must the leader always do the will of the group, be that the con-sensus of the team or of the membership? This is a difficult issue, but one that touches on the integrity of the leader and of the team and the delicate balance of the value of communio with the prophetic. How Are We Being Called To Respond. As Individual Leaders By now, I'm sure that you are quite aware that transformative leadership is an impossible responsibility unless we realize this is not our work, but God's. A leader today must be above all a per-son of spiritual intensity. Jerry Brown's reflections address the qualities and skills as well as the. personal supports needed by spiritual leaders. (see pp. 34-35 in this issue). I can attest from my own experience that leadership is impossible without God's grace. The grace of office still exists, perhaps not in the form we once learned. I experience the grace of office as the spurt of stamina that comes when I feel that I can't take or do one more thing, the courage to act in the face of fear or opposition, the surprising words that come out of my mouth in a complex situa-tion, the strength to persevere in the dying of the paschal mystery with hope for the resurrection, Fries ¯ Transformative Leadership A leader is challenged: 1) to be a learner, a person centered enough to listen, to hear, to read, to ponder, to dream, to make connections, to dialogue, to change, to hold fast; 2) to be a,communicator, clearly conveying a sense of mean-ingfulness, connecting the present with the past and future, and building enthusiasm for ,blazing new trails; 3) to be a unifier, a symphony conductor who artistically draws forth the music of each person, blends the tones, keeps the rhythm and orchestrates the crescendos and diminuendos; 4) to lead, making decisions that courageously balance the purpose of the institute with the good of the individual member, all for the sake of mission; a leader takes risks'and keeps asking the deeper questions; 5) to he enthusiastic about the ministry of leadership dur-ing this time of transformation so as to encourage others to be available for l.eadership; 6) to do as Jesus did on the way to Emmaus, be visible, sup-porting, listening~ questioning, exploring implications, shar-ing information, making~connections and breaking bread with companions on the journey. As Leadership Conferences In addition to what we can do as individual leaders, what can we ask of our conferences? I suggest three Practical directions, and invite you to add your own wisdom.' I challenge our conferences to: 1) create a program and process to mentor leaders, 2) aid leaders in dealing with the issue of viability, 3) assist in developihg a pool of future leaders for religious institutes. Summary and Conclusion I pray that our sharing will continue to "open our eyes," so we may recognize Jesus' continuing presence in us, with us. With our hearts burning within us, let us go forward with enthusiasm to proclaim "Jesus is truly risen and is among us." Notes 1 See Margaret J. Wheatley, Leadership and the New Science: Learning About Organizations from an Orderly Universe, (New York: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc., 1994), p. xi and Chapter One. Review for Religious ~ Alvin Toffler, Power Shift: Knowledge, Wealth, and Violence at the Edge of the~ 21st Century, (New York: Bantam Doubleday, Dell Publishing Group, 1990), pp. 175, 178, 195. 3 Peter Block, Stewardship: Choosing Service Over Self-Interest, (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishing, Inc., 1993). 4 Peter Senge, The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice oft& Learning Organization, (New York: Bantam Doubleday, Dell Publishing Group, Inc., 1990), especially Chapters 1, 9-12. s Max Dupree,.Leadersbip is an Art, (New York: Dell Publishing, 1989), p. 3. 6 Cassian Yuhaus CP, editor, The Challenge for Tomorrow's Religious Life, (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1994), p. 12. 7 Charlotte Roberts, "Building a Learning Community," a workshop held 23 June 1995 based on The Fifth Discipline Field Book, (New York: Bansta Mm aDrgoaurbelte'd Bayre, nDnealln P IuHbMlis,h "inAg WGrhoiutep ,L Iingch.,t 1a9n9d4 S).till Moving": Religious Life at the Crossroads of the Future" from The Challenge for Tomorrow's Religious Life, p. 103. 9. Margaret J. Wheatley, "Quantum Management," Working Women Magazine, October, 1994. ~0 Michael Schrage, "Manager's Journal," Wall Street Journal, 19 June 1995. ~ Peter Senge, note 6 in Leadership and the New Science. ~2 Doris Gottemoeller RSM, "A Vision for the Church of 2010," Address given at Heronbrook House, England, May, 1995. Available in Origins (USCC, Washington, D.C.), Vol. 25, no. 9, pp. 149-152). ~3 Mary Catherine Bateson, Composing a Life, (New York: Penguin Group, 1990), Chapter 6. 14 Peter Senge, in Stewardship: Choosing Service over Self-hlterest, note 5, p. 172. Plain Speech and Mystic Grammar I tend to small things, through you, with you, in you, and look for small things by and from and of you. The small, small things. Prepositions are my best words, sheer relation. Michele Cruvant Janua~y-FebrnaO, 1996 GERALD L. BROWN The Call To Spiritual Leaders: Beacons of Hope Tcvisionary theologian, Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, hbishop of Milan, recently noted that religious leaders have to face three types of problems, "internal problems, external problems, and transcendent problems or transcendent questions." By internalproblems Cardinal Martini means struggles we face daily within our own organizations, such as attracting vocations, setting priorities, constructing strategic plans or handling con-flicts in community. Religious leaders will find their own way of overcoming or mastering these problems. However, much more important is that, when dealing with these internal problems, we need to "give space to the second and third type of problems." Externalproblems are "the great issues common to all human-ity." Cardinal Martini mentions war and peace, violence among peoples and groups, defense of human life, sickness and hunger, the great immigrations, problems of ecology, and tensions in soci-ety between social or ethnic groups. He urges us to approach pressing external problems as religious leaders, as men and women of faith, "grtunded in God's revelation." We are not called to be politicians, government leaders, lobbyists, or social engineers. However, Martini insists that transcendent problems are "our real and main concern" as religious leaders. He means: the main themes of all religions: God, salvation, prayer, adoration, faith, and hope, forgiveness, life after death, justice, charity., every other question, no matter how Gerald L. Brown SS, provincial of the Society of the Priests of Saint Sulpice, presented the reflections in this article as the president of the Conference of Major Superior of Men (CMSM) at the August 1995 assembly. His address is 5408 Roland Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Review for Religious important it might look, depends ultimately on these tran-scendent questions and themes. Inevitably, we must deal with internal issues and confront external problems in secular society. But, above all, we must be concerned with the transcendent questions and themes which "all people need to face." They belong to the essence of being men and women in this world, even if some secular societies place some restraint on publicly discussing them. Last year, my presidential address kicked off a national campaign, the "Shalom Strategy," a project which is part of a larger campaign to promote human rights. I dealt with one of today's most painful and frightening external prob-lems, the violence we all experience in the homes, streets, and institutions of our society. Of course, the problem of vio-lence is also internal. Our own commu-nities have room to grow in mutual respect and tolerance. In calling the Conference to action, I appealed to a survey of our members that showed our desire to network when tack-ling complex and urgent social problems. We cannot operate alone or in a vacuum--the stakes are too high, the issues too complex. This sense of realism matched the sobering message of Nygren and Ukeritis that consecrated life will not survive as a social insti-tution in the church unless we address certain unmet human needs corporately and collectively and learn how to move beyond the necessary maintenance of our communities to the corporate mis-sion of transformation within society. However, if our efforts as a Conference are paying off, (and they are; we are moving, and we are learning), it is because, on the deepest level, we are addressing what Cardinal Martini calls "tran-scendent problems," in this case, the hunger for inner peace and communal harmony, the need for dignity, respect, and a place in building God's reign and, above all, the yearning to know, on every human and institutional level, God's all-embracing love. Indeed, before all else, in our campaign for human rights and for a peaceful world, we are touching the deepest longings of the I want to talk about a spirituality for the religious leader, a way of life that enables us to hold in creative tension the internal, the external, and the transcendent. Jantlat.3,-l:ebt'ttat~y 1996 Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders human heart. In countless and measurable ways, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) does the same. Building on Cardinal Martini's provocative insights and on our combined efforts as Conferences, I want to take a step further, to talk about a spirituality for the religious leader, a way of life that enables us to hold in creative tension the internal, the external, and the transcendent, a way that can fuel our corporate and col-lective efforts at social transformation. I will move through two stages: (1) What spiritual qualities and skills are needed in today's religious leaders, and (2) How are these qualities and skills developed and nurtured? Another way.of putting these two questions might be: What kind of person do w~e want to be, and how do we pull it off?. I. Qualities and Skills for Spiritual Leadership There are five signs of an authentically spiritual leader. Such a personis vitally aware, relational in vision and style, honest and principled, able to live comfortably with tensions and obviously in love with God in the Spirit of Christ Jesus. I draw from the Nygre~n/Ukeritis study on outstanding leaders, from books and articles on spirituality, leadership, and spiritual leaders and from my own experience as a :leader who learns from other leaders. Before I begin, let me offer a caution. None of us will do equally well all that I suggest. Listen to my remarks with human, compassionate ears and take what I say as ideals towards which we all must strive. The inspiring leaders I know are persons with heightened awareness. They see and hear more. They notice more keenly than others the needs and motives of the groups they lead and are more open to the graces of people they serve. They read the signs of the times objectively and with empathy, what Wordsworth calls seeing '~into the life of things." Moreover, these leaders tend to see God everywhere, "in the living geometry of a flower, a seashell, an animal . . . in the love and gentleness, the confidence and humility, which give beauty to the relationships between human beings" (Aldous Huxley). They see God in noise and quiet, in light and dark, in the poetic and the mundane, in the giggles of children at play, in the silent stares of Review for Religiom" the homeless begging in the streets or in the dulled eyes of func-tionaries aimlessly on the move. Above all, they sense the God who dwells and speaks within. These leaders are vitally aware persons in touch with "the deep heart's core," to use the words of Yeats. As a result, they influence others more through their being than through their accomplishments. ¼re all know people like this. Relational Vision and Style This fine-tuned awareness helps spiritual leaders see them-selves as connected. On the level of vision, they live in the present, shaped by the past, poised for the future. They know it takes a vil-lage to raise a child and that we are mysteriously one with our brothers and sisters in other religions, cultures, and places respon-sible for our sacred earth and for all living creatures and things. An old Mayan saying hints at the connectedness of all reality: When the people are happy God is happy, and the trees begin to sing. On the level of style, they are compassionate, nonjudgmental, and accepting. They acknowledge their own limitations and give others the benefit of the doubt. They are approachable, yet do not allow the personal crises of individuals to keep them from their primary task as leaders. They are collaborative in manner, working to arouse consensus toward common vision and mission, in the process learning how to lead from those who are led. These leaders are.loyal members of a church they recognize and accept as both holy and flawed, sinful yet redeemed. They seek alliance with those individuals in the church and in broader society who are committed to personal and social transformation. Courageous Integrity Aware and connected, the most effective transformational leaders live their ministry with courageous integrity. I have come to admire immensely those men and women who are forthright and honorable in speech and in action without alienating or los-ing the respect of others. This is not easy in a pluralistic church with competing theologies and spiritualities or in groups that have become too diffuse, needing to be challenged to a renewed sense of corporate mission or to a dignified acceptance of dimin-ishment unto death. Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders William Butler Yeats said, "The real leader serves truth, not people." I am not sure we need to set apart people and truth in this way, but I see the point he is making. There is today the ten-dency to keep quiet when we should speak out or to move impul-sively without serious research or thinking through the consequences. Temptations to please the group at all costs or to rush to closure on issues needing more time are clear and present dangers in times of polarization and complexity. Succumbing to either temptation does violence to truth. Courageous leaders with integrity know when to be quiet and to listen and when to share honestly and with love what they believe is best for the good of the whole. They neither lose their souls out of fear, nor fight battles that do not need to be fought. They serve both people and truth. In the language of Paul, they feel called to serve Christ first and Christ living in his people. Living Comfortably with Tensions Aware, connected, and courageous, the transformational leader also knows how to live comfortably in an "age of tensions." The theologian and diocesan priest James Bacik calls for a "dialectical spirituality" that understands the tensions of our age and makes them fruitful. He gives a few examples of dialectical tensions that touch the lives of contemporary religious leaders: Christianity and human developme.nt, the Gospel and culture, the cross and flag, individualism and small group movements, the traditional and the new, fixity and change. We need not collapse the tension between these contrasted pairs. They can all coexist and enrich each other. As Christians who live the dying and the rising of the paschal mystery, we should be more comfortable than most with paradox and complementarity. Madeleine L'Engle wisely and whimsically made the point: "We cannot seem to escape paradox; I do not think I want to." In my judgment, we need, more than ever, leaders who see the both/and dimensions of life and negotiate com.fortably with social, political, and theological dichotomies, leaders who live what Bacik calls the "dialectical virtues." Leaders must be, at the same time, committed and open, reflective and spontaneous, enlightened and simple, hopeful and realistic. Leaders need to hold in creative ten-sion the mystical and the prophetic, the individual and the com-munal, the universal and the particular. Virtue lies not in a balanced middle which does not exist, but in creative interpenetration. Review for Religious Spiritual leaders who live such dialectical virtues hear God speaking in many languages. They experience God in peace and in pain. They learn from negative as well as positive experience. They live with all sides of their personalities, including the dark, and, in it all, know that God protects the world. Love of God in the Spirit of Christ Jesus This brings me to the final mark of the transformational leader. The most effective religious leaders are aware, connected, courageous, and sophisticated. But, even more, they are men and women in love with God and not afraid to show it. They experience God in their ministry, and they can talk about it. In their inner being, they feel called by Christ to leadership and try to lead as he would lead, in justice and in truth, with compassion, humility, and love. With Jesus, they seek holy wisdom and listen for the prompting of the Spirit. In my address at the Synod on Consecrated Life, I ~poke about the need for spiritual intensity, for men and women, especially leaders, who are on fire with God's transforming love, who live dynamically in the spirit of the founding impulse and who communicate an enthusiasm that is contagious. To~vard the end of the Synod, we all listened in respectful awe to brief remarks by one of today's saints, Brother Roger of Taize. He lived what I have described. Speaking with eloquent simplicity about our world's need for reconciliation, his inner self radiated holiness and inspired at least one person to greater efforts for world peace and forgiveness. He spoke with a faith illuminated and a hope empowered by the resurrection of the crucified one. In summary, the transformational leader is aware, relational, courageous, comfortable with inevitable tensions, and on fire with God. This person tends not to neglect the transcendent when deal-ing with internal and external problems and is more likely than the typical leader to work with others for social transformation. The most effective religious leaders are men and women in love with God and not afraid to show it. II. Supports for Spiritual Leadership Now, acknowledging that we are all on the journey, none of Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders us perfect, all of us from time to time overwhelmed and exhausted, we explore ways of feeding and supporting such a leader. Nygren and Ukeritis point out that the typical leader can become out-standing. We can help ourselves and be helped by others. A bishop I know says that many diocesan priests are on the verge of great-ness and never make it. They are not alone. What can move us towards greatness? There are six ways of keeping ourselves alert, connected, at peace with ourselves and our world, centered with integrity and alive to God, or at least moving in the right direction. These six ways all take time. We need to make time for reading, for new experience, for friendships, for prayer and contemplation, for spiritual direction and mentoring, and for support from our peers. Reading We need to read. Reading helps us to be more aware of our world, more connected to the sufferings of people, more alert to truth, more alive. As provincial and president of CMSM, I feel obligated to keep abreast of current affairs through newspapers and journals. As a voice for my community and for the wider church, I feel chal-lenged to keep up with recent church teaching and new currents of theological thought. As a pastoral leader, I am attracted to books on church life and ministry, on spirituality and on leader-ship. As a human person, I make time for novels, poetry, and other experiences of human creativity. When I do not have sufficient time to keep up with one or another of these areas through reading, I contact trusted col-leagues and friends who do have time and who are willing to engage in conversation. New Experience From time to time, moreover, we leaders need to risk new experience. We need to create new road maps in order to walk new paths. For example, we know that the best way to learn about incul-turation is to make ourselves fully vulnerable to the gifts and lim-its of another culture. By analogy, we can say the same thing about almost every issue of great importance, such as poverty, mental ill-ness and violence in our streets, or community living and pastoral planning. The best way to learn is to risk being open, to stretch ourselves, to get our hands dirty. To use another example, why not Review for Religious measure our own vision, programs, and methods by entering, touching, and learning from the experience of other communities and leaders? If the unexamined life is not worth living, it is also true to say that the unlived life is not worth examining. Friendships We also need to make room for those who choose to love us. One of the greatest dangers for religious leaders is to lose contact with close friends. Sadly, friends are often the first to be forgot-ten when setting calendars. We need to ink them in, for they are our lifeline, our refuge, our source of love and support. Truly good friends keep us honest. They are willing to lay down their lives for us, and they call forth from us an equal response. Making friends a priority can be a great challenge for many of us even if we do manage to make time. How do we confront close friends in community? How do we initiate new friendships out-side the community without the venue of hands-on ministry? How do we keep connected and in balance the many relation-ships in our lives? Facing these challenges head-on and creatively is worth the effort. Without healthy friendship, we wither and die. Prayer and Contemplation Above all, we need to build in time for prayer. I am most cen-tered and at peace as a leader when I make time every day for personal, private prayer, especially contemplation. When I do, I am generally more effective as a leader, listening in a more relaxed, focused way, keeping my priorities straight, not easily thrown off balance by crisis. I feel more connected to my brothers and sisters throughout the world, all loved by the same God, and see social situations as Christ might see them. In the process, I come to realize what Merton describes: "We can find ourselves engulfed in such happiness that it cannot be explained: the happiness of being at one with everything in that hidden ground of Love for which there can be no explanations." In a wonderful way, everything becomes prayer. At times I cannot pray contemplatively or my prayer fails miserably. No matter. No need for guilt. God is present even in the market-place of my busyness and in my failures. In these inevitable times, I can make my heart available to God as I work privately or inter-act with others or struggle helplessly. As Bernanos's country priest Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders wrote in his diary at the end of a conflicted, but fruitful life, "Tout est grfice." Everything is grace. True spiritual guides are a treasure beyond price. We need to search and to find. Spiritual Directions and Mentoring Of course, in all this, it is easy to deceive ourselves as leaders. Frequently, we need spiritual companions who can help keep us honest about our motivations, our ambitions, our fears, and our drives. We need to be clear about the direction of our lives. What do we truly want for our-selves and for our com~nunity? What is God's will for us? How do we discern the difference between God's voice and competing voices? Where is God truly speaking and through whom and what? True spiritual guides are a treasure beyond price. We need to search and to find. We can also be helped in our daunting task of leadership by more experienced mentors who have gained the competencies and skills we ourselves want to develop. Mentors can review with us our personal goals as leaders, our modus operandi, and the systems that support or fail to support our ministry, and they can point us to the right workshop, book, or consultant. In a sense, what Ernest Hemingway had to say about writers can be applied to religious leaders: "We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." Even the most gifted men-tor would admit there is still much to learn. Support from Peers Finally, there is a related topic which in my opinion has greater significance than ever. I enjoy thoroughly those moments in regional meetings when we leaders sit down to share our sto-ries with each other, to pray with and for each other, and to know that we are understood. However, these sporadic occasions of grace are not grace enough. A few years ago in Baltimore, several religious leaders, both men and women, met twice at my home to set up a support group in the style ofJesu Caritas. For many reasons, mainly schedule con-flicts, we did not follow through. I have always regretted this. We leaders need the spiritual support of each other. Only another leader can counter the narcissistic verse, "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen," and transform it into the spiritual from which it arises. Review for Religious If this presidential address were to stimulate a new campaign, I would push for promoting support groups among religious leaders in every region of our country. We have so much to learn from each other. We can be the face of God to each other. Salt and Light Two metaphors from scripture summarize this article. They are salt and light. Transformational leaders are called to give zest and flavor to the work they do and the people they meet, to improve the quality of human existence and to help preserve it from d~cay, to be active in the world as transforming agents of grace. Therefore, they cannot lose their saltiness. They need to keep alive and help others to keep alive. Leaders are also called to bring light to every dark corner of human living, to be the torch that brightens gloomy hearts, that leads the way out of confusion, that reveals people to each other. And they are called to pass on the flame to another generation. In June, during the meeting of the Bishops' Conference, Eugene Kennedy wrote an eloquent tribute to Cardinal Joseph Bernardin who lay in the hospital recuperating from operations for cancer. With the announcement of his illness, darkness shrouded this city like a noon eclipse. In that moment, however, light, unfiltered by ceremony or great event, came from within Bernardin himself. By it, we can see him, ourselves and what counts in life with the clarity of revelation. Bernardin "has never been afraid of the dark and, in his company, neither are we." What religious leader would not want to be this kind of light, the light of Christ to the world, a beacon of hope in a dark and wounded world? Though we feel inadequate in the face of such a challenge, we need not fear, for Christ has chosen us to be spir-itual leaders for our times. We need only to surrender ourselves to mystery. I will end with one quote from Dorothy Day and another from Teilhard de Chardin, two heroes of the modern age who probed internal, external, and transcendent problems with a vision that provoked social transformation. Dorothy Day's words help us to tie together our struggles for peace, for light, for life: If our cause is a mighty one, and surely peace on earth in these days is the great issue of the day, and if we are oppos- ~anuaty-Febrttat.3, 1996 Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders ing the powers of darkness, of nothingness, of destruction, and we are working on the side of lig.ht and life, then surely we must use our greatest weapons--the life forces that are in each one of us. To stand on the side of life we must give up our own lives. Finally, Teilhard de Chardin evokes the ultimate purpose of all leadership: The day will come when, after harnessing space, the tides, and gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, we shall have discovered fire. Resources Conversations with colleagues and friends helped ,most to shape and to clarifi! my thinking. The following books and articles were some of the works which created an environment for reflecting more deeply upon my own experience as a religious leader. Bacik, James J. The Gracious Mystery: Finding God in Ordinary Experience. Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1987. Beckett, Wendy Mary. "Simple Prayer." The Clergy Review (February, 1978): 1-3. Calonius, Erik. "Take Me to Your Leader." Hemisphere, (April, 1995): 39- 42. Carozzo, Carlo. "Mysticism and the Crisis of Religious Institutions." Concilium, (April, 1994): 17-26. Champlin, Joseph M. with Champlin, Charles D. The Visionary Leader: How Anyone Can Learn to Lead Better. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1993. Ciorra, Anthony J. Everyday Mysticism: Cherishing the Holy. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1995. Conference of Major Superiors of Men. "1993 Survey of Membership: Executive Summary:' November, 1993. Gardner, John W. On Leadership. New York: The Free Press, 1990. Instrumentum Laboris. "The Consecrated Life and its Role in the Church and in the World." Vatican City, 1994. Judson, Sylvia Shaw. The Quiet Eye: A Way of Looking at Pictures. Washington: Regner~ Gateway, renewed, 1982. Kennedy, Eugene. "Bernardin Still a Beacon for Community." Chicago Tribune, Section 4, "Perspective," 18June 1995, pp. 1, 4. Kurtz, Ernest, and Ketcham, Katherine. The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Journey to Wholeness. New York: Bantam Books, 1994, paperback edition. Review for Religious Martini, Cardinal Carlo Maria. "Hope and Religious Leadership in a Secular Society." Chicago Studies, Vol. 33, no. 2 aAugust, 1994): 132-137. McGrory, Brian. "Chicago Cardinal Faces Illness with Serenity." The Boston Globe, 3 July 1995, pp. 1, 5. Nouwen, Henri J.M. Here and Now: Living in the Spirit. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1994. Nygren, David J. and Ukeritis, Miriam D. The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment. Westport: Praeger Publishers, 1993. Oliva SJ, Max. Free to Pray/Free to Love: Growing in Prayer and Compassion. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1994. Sanks, T. Howland. Salt, Leaven, and Light: The Community Called Church. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1992. Sofield ST, Loughlan and Kuhn, Donald H. The Collaborative Leader: Listening to the Wisdom of God's People. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1995. Taylor, Charles. The Ethics of Authenticity. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991. Wallis, Jim. The Soul of Politics. New York and Maryknolh The New Press and Orbis Books~ 1994. Wicks, Robert J., editor. Handbook of Spirituality for Ministers.New York: Paulist Press, 1995. A Wreath of Queens Sainted, in sparklets of bright stained glass, Their heads are wreathed in royal jewels: Meek Elizabeth, child Princess Of Hungary; staunch Margaret who rules Britain's unruly Scots; and mother of Constantine, The Empress Helena; jewel-ringed hands Wreathe in sisterhood the Byzantine, Celt, and Slav; their countries turned holy lands Under their godly reigns, God's people fed And clothed, God's earthly kingdom spread In the light that wreathes each queenly head. Nancy G. Westerfield Janualy-FebJwaO, 1996 JAMES H. KROEGER Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion ecumenism Mission theology today is greatly enriched by the field experiences of dedicated missioners. A personal experi-ence helped shape my views of conversion, mission, and interreligious dialogue. During the Lenten season of 1990 while I was a vis-iting professor in Dhaka, Bangladesh, I had a "graced moment," a "defining experience" in my missionary aware-ness and perspective. It has remained seared in my con-sciousness and has forced me to ask many foundational questions about mission and my own commitment. It involves a Bangladeshi beggar woman. I saw her on the road, in front of the large walled compound of a wealthy family dwelling. I could not clearly see her face because she was several hundred feet ahead of me. Her tattered clothes covered a malnourished body; she was alone, although other beggars were walking ahead of her on the road. I was proceeding along the same .path, leisurely taking a late afternoon walk. Suddenly a luxury car approached with its horn blow-ing. The driver probably wanted the beggars to disperse and also wanted the gate of the compound ope.ned by the servants. The woman appeared startled as the car turned James H. Kroeger MM worked as a field missionary in the Philippines arid Bangladesh for over two decades. Currently, he serves as the Asia-Pacific Area Assistant on the Maryknoll General Council. His most recent book is Living Mission (Orbis Books). He may be addressed at EO. Box 303; Maryknoll, New York 10545-0303. Review for Religious sharply in front of her and the gate swung open. Within seconds two large dogs emerged from the compound and jumped at the woman, knocking her to the ground. She screamed and cried both from fear and the pain caused by the dogs nipping at her. I stood frozen, horrified at the sight. A well dressed woman promptly emerged from the chauffeur-driven car. She ordered the driver to bring the car into the com-pound; the dogs were called to return inside; the servants were commanded to close and lock the gate. And, the beggar woman? She was left alone on the ground--outside the gate (see Heb 13:12). I stood helpless, gazing at this appalling scene. Only the other frightened beggars came to the aid of the woman. Only they showed mercy and compassion. I stood at a distance and wept at this scene of crucifixion. I admitted to being a guilty bystander. My fears and inadequacies had left me para-lyzed. I had not one taka coin in my pocket to give; I could not offer one word of consolation in the Bangla language which I did not speak. I did not approach the woman for fear of misinterpre-tation that a foreign man would touch a Bengali woman in pub-lic in this strictly Islamic culture. I simply wept in solidarity. I wept long and hard. In succeeding years, I have frequently returned to that scene and prayed to God: "Do not let me forget that experience. Allow it to shape my life and mission vision. Permit it to remain a 'defin-ing moment' in understanding my mission vocation. May it enrich my insights into the nature of mission and the place of dialogue and conversion within the church's missionary activity." Embracing a Broken World My experience on the road in Dhaka, Bangladesh with the beg-gar- woman no longer allows me to view people as faceless victims. All Christians, especially missionaries, are called to embrace the world's suffering humanity, to recognize the existence of crucified peoples, and to strive to take them down from the cross. The suffering inherent in human existence necessarily impacts the situation of mission. The traditional dialogue partner of mis-sioners has been the follower of another living faith; while this engagement remains true today, particular attention is focused on humanity's concrete experience and suffering. All human life has a paschal configuration; its pattern con- Janua~y-Febrmny 1996 Kroeger ¯ Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion Missionaries seek the conversion of people they encounter. tinually moves through death to renewed life. Life's paschal paradigm (universally shared by all people, although varying ter-minology may be used) sees people struggling to move through darkness to light, through captivity to freedom, through suffering and brokenness to wholeness.Paschal dimensions are characteristic of all life situations; contemporary mis-sion and dialogue find their point of insertion in human-ity's experience of life and death realities. Catholic theology asserts that the .Spirit of God is present and aetive within the lives of all peoples. The Second Vatican Council forcefully stated that as Christian believers, "we must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery" (GS §22). This quote is used three times in the mission encyclical Redemptoris missio (RM §§6,d0, 28). John Paul II uses the phrase repeatedly in his writings; it is probably one of his guiding missiological principles. This text affirms the action of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of all people. The universal work of the Spirit serves to enlighten people's experience of their paschal realities of dying and rising; life itself, including suffering, has the possibility of opening all peoples to experience God's salvation through the paschal mystery. Note that the text declares unambiguously that there is only one way which leads to everlasting salvation, a way which is valid for Christians as well as other believers, and that is association with the paschal mystery. The redemptive grace of Christ is avail-able for all who in thei~ own way and even without knowing it obey the law of the paschal mystery and take it as a guiding norm for their consciences and lives. This astonishing assertion has important consequences for the dialogue and conversion that con-temporary mission pursues. Christian faith is, at heart, a paschal faith. Thus, if all reality has a paschal paradig'~n and if all life is shaped by rhythms of life through death, then Christian mission will continually find ele-ments of this very mystery hidden in the lives, cultures, histories, and religions of peoples of diverse faiths. Missioners repeatedly experience the unique ways that the Holy Spirit brings people into direct encounter with the paschal mystery and with God's salvation in Christ. The cross of Jesu's is the paramount Christian symbol, because Review for Religious it reminds Christians of the centrality of the paschal mystery in their faith lives. All church missionary activity will focus on the paschal nature of life, of faith, of salvation. Mission is always cru-ciform, always signed by the cross. Crux probat omnia. Naming Conversion in a Perspective of Dialogue The literature on diverse elements of the conversion process is extensive. This article, however, focuses primarily on the the-ological dimensions of conversion, viewing conversion as that ongoing transformation of persons by the power of God, specif-ically through the action of the Holy Spirit. Missionaries seek the conversion of people they encounter. Conversion demands a radical shift in a person's apprehensions and values, accompanied by a similar radical change in oneself, in one's relations with other persons, and in one's relations to God. Such a total transformation is nothing less than the work of God's grace and the action 6f the Holy Spirit: At the center o(this con-version and transformation is a personal, loving God; all becomes focused on God's love poured out in the person of Jesus through the paschal mystery. The paschal mystery becomes the integrating focus of all evangelization, dialogue, and conversion. It is foundational because all life has a paschal paradigm. The passion of human experience is to be the ground in which .the. seeds of new life, hope, resurrection, and ultimately salvation germinate and bear fruit. This paschal nature of all life and' experience (poignantly illustrated by my personal experience with the Bangladeshi beg-gar- woman) cofitinually provides openings for a deep :missionary encounter, authentic dialogue and conversion, find fruitful trans-o formation into the mystery of God's love. Levels of Missionary Conversion Mission experience reveals three interacting levels of con-version int6 the paschal myg~ery. The first conversion is centered on the person of the missionary. The second is a call to all persons of faith and good will to embrace a paschal perspective in their lives and consciences. Final!y, the third conversion takes the form of an invitation for people to freely join the paschal community of the Christian church. ffanuaty-Februaty 1996 Kroeger ¯ Bridging Inter'religious Dialogne and Conversion I. Conversion of the Missionary. Christian missionaries begin the conversion process in their own lives and attitudes. They seek to personalize the fact that, in the words of John Paul II, "the church~s vocation and missionary commitment spring from the central mystery of our faith: the paschal mystery" (WYD 1993:2). They embrace the fact: "The paschal mystery of Christ's cross and Resurrection stands at the center of the Good News that the apostles, and the church following them, are to proclaim to the world" (Catechism 1994:571). Evangelizers accept that every missionary begins by entering a personal process of conversion (EN § 15). Before crossing any bor-ders of culture or religion to announce the paschal mystery, mis-sionaries seek their own transformation into the same paschal mindset of Jesus (1 Co 2:16; Ph 2:5). To the extent that any mis-sionary embodies the suffering Messiah's self-transcending way of the cross, that person achieves authentic paschal conversion. Paschality becomes the measuring ~od for all missionary endeavors. H. Conversion to a Paschal VVorldview. From the paschal per-spective operative in their own lives, Christian missionaries and all peoples of faith soon recognize the paschal communalities of their shared existence. All peoples--whether Christian, Buddhist or Muslim--share,the vicissitudes and challenges of existence in a broken world. It is precisely within this shared human existence and mystery that the Christian missionary announces paschal per-spectives of life through death. The missionary is definitely invit-ing his or her dialogue partners to a deeper God-experience. This is a true spiritual conversion, but not necessarily conversion to Christianity. Such a heart-to-heart encounter is a direct effect of the Holy Spirit's action in bringing peoples through their own life situations into a sharing of the paschal mystery. The fundamental act of faith and conversion is within reach of all human beings. They can encounter God in the paschal mystery. For the Christian it will be explicitly Christological. However, the identical experience, although often in an inchoate and unarticulated form, is contin-ually available to all peoples whatever their particular religious affiliation. It is important to note that as Christian missionaries we will often find.our own explicit paschal faith enriched by the implicit paschal faith of our Muslim or Buddhist friend. IlL Conversion to the Cb~istian Faith Community. All persons are called to conversion to God. In the course of this process a free Review Jbr Religious decision may be made to leave one's previous spiritual or reli-gious situation to direct oneself towards another. In this conver-sion process, freedom of conscience is sovereign. Admittedly, mission also has explicit Christian conversion as its goal. Christians nourish in their hearts the clear desire to share their full experience of the paschal mystery and faith in Christ with brothers and sisters of other religions. Missionaries sensitively aim at guiding peo-ple to explicit knowledge of what God has done for all men and women in Jesus Christ and at inviting them to become disciples of Jesus through becoming members of the church. Note the triple dynamic of conversion operative in this missionary process: 1.) the converted missionary centers his or her life on the paschal mystery; 2.) the Christian missionary calls other people of faith to dis-cover the paschal paradigm of life and to adopt paschal values in their lives, con-sciences, and service; 3.) based on a free decision inspired by the Spirit, others are directly invited to join the community of the Christian church, where they can fully practice their .paschal mys-tery- centered faith. The paschal nature of life, faith, and redemption serves to integrate any dialogue and conversion process. Awareness of and participation in the paschal mystery often unfold in the lives of people in an evolutionary and progressive manner. The mission-ary finds the paschal mystery operative and recognizes conversion both outside and within the church. This wide, inclusive view of mission adds further meaning to the reality of the missionary church as the "universal sacrament of salvation" (LG ~48; AG §1). Missionaries sensitively aim at guiding people to explicit knowledge of what God has done for all men and women in Jesus Christ. Additional Mission Corollaries I have strongly affirmed the validity of centering mission, dia-logue, and conversion within the framework of the paschal mys-tery. This approach is a paschal missiology and challenges all missionaries to become paschal evangelizers in their own lives and through their involvement in the church's missionary activ-ity. In the context of today's broken world, the enormous afflic- Janttat3~-Februat."F 1996 Kroeger ¯ Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion tions and sufferings of humanity, and the need to maintain escha-tological hope, paschal missiology appears particularly insight-ful, necessary, and relevant. The insights flowing from a paschal-mystery-centered missi-ology are numerous; I mention these twenty corollaries only briefly and highlighted their relationship to paschal mission per-spectives. 1. Paschal mission emerges from the unity of all humanity in its sharing of the common paschal experience of rising through dying. Peoples of all faiths face questions of suffering as well as the mystery and meaning of life. 2. Paschal mission uses an inductive approach based on expe-rience to understand the church's call to mission. The church is urged to be active in "reading the signs of the times and of inter-preting them in the light of the Gospel" (GS §4); human suffer-ing and brokenness constitute a missionary challenge today. 3. Paschal mission strongly affirms the active presence of the Holy Spirit in the world, both in and beyond the boundaries of the church. The Spirit is constantly directing people to a God-encounter through their sharing in the paschal mystery. 4. Paschal mission embodies the virtue of Christian hope based on the firm belief in the resurrection. Eschatological hope, not suffering, is the integrating perspective of Christian mis-sionaries; that hope continually breaks into the world through missionary witness, service, and dialogue. 5. Paschal mission clearly allows missioners to be people of ,integrity. Their proclamation begins with their own paschal expe-riences and links them with people who share identical experi-ences~ Mission is not something superimposed upon reality; mission emerges from the commonly shared realities of mission-ers and their dialogue partners of various faiths., 6. Paschal mission demands a radical conversion of the mis-sioner to the values of a crucified and risen Lord; mission begins only when personal transformation has been initiated. Only the converted missioner can authentically call others to conversion. 7. Paschal mission requires the integration of contemplation into missionary praxis. No one can authentically address the pas-sion of humanity without possessing a deep contemplative faith; one must live into the paschal mystery. - 8. Paschal mission emphasizes that the work of the mission-ary involves both listening and speaking. Listening for the Spirit's Review for Religious action within the hearts and lives of people is a prerequisite for speaking of God's paschal love and saving deeds. 9. Paschal mission lays bare the sinfulness of today's world which is often enslaved in materialism, consumerism, individu-alism, greed, and pride. A paschal mentality challenges both per-sonal and social sin; it demands true conversion. 10. Paschal mission respects the free will and personal con-science of everyone; at the same time it is a call to conscience for generous people (Christians and other believers) to be committed to addressing the sufferings of humanity. 11. Paschal mission easily enters into dialogue with the fol-lowers of other religions. All religious traditions face identical human questions and mysteries. Dialogue enables peoples of faith to mutually explore and respond to questions of life and death. 12. Paschal mission connects intimately with today's chal-lenges of peace, justice, development, and ecology. It invites all of us to live in solidarity with our neighbors and to be prepared to suffer and die so that others may live. Again, such a paschal lifestyle demands profound conversion. 13. Paschal mission can be lived in all cultural contexts and sit-uations. As a missionary approach, it easily finds an inculturated home among diverse peoples. Paschal mission is also clearly trans-cultural. .~ 14. Paschal mission aims to be a holistic approach to mission, integrating the personal and social, the human and divine, the material and spiritual. It is an incarnational approach to being in mission. 15. Paschal mission emphasizes humble and self-effacing approaches to missionary activity; it consciously seeks to avoid any pitfalls of paternalism or colonialism. Missioners, believing in the beauty and truth of their message, seek to offer it with gen-erosity, sincerity, and authenticity. 16. Paschal mission is at heart a scripture-based missiology following the teachings and example of Jesus who came "not t? be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mt 20:28) 17. Paschal mission embodies an emphasis on witness and even a willingness to endure suffering, persecution, and martyr-dom. Contemporary missionaries knowingly and willingly embrace vulnerability because in Christ God reveals the divinity precisely in weakness rather than in power. Januaty-Febtvuoy 1996 Kroeger * Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion 18. Paschal mission is at heart a soteriology. Following the paschal path in mission brings both missioner and people into a direct experience of salvation in Jesus Christ, who "bore our sins in his own body on the cross; . . . through his wounds [we] have been healed" (1 P 2:24). 19. Paschal mission integrates well with the sacramental dimension of the church. All Christians are missionary by virtue of their baptism into Christ's death and resurrection (Rm 6:3-4). The Eucharist is the paschal meal that celebrates the death and resurrection of the Lord until he comes (1 Co 2:23-26); the Eucharist remains the "ongoing sacrament of mission" for Christians. 20. Paschal mission transforms the individual missioner into an attractive and credible witness. Missioners of the calibre of a Mother Teresa manifest the transforming effects of the paschal mystery in their lives, and all people of faith welcome such authen-tic witnesses. I began with a narration of an encounter, between a mission-ary and a Bangladeshi beggar-woman. That defining experience has produced much depth reflection on the .nature of mission, dialogue, and conversion. This missionary remains filled with gratitude for that God-given experience of grace. More reflec-tion needs to be given to the wealth of insights that can still emerge from viewing mission and dialogue through the optic of the paschal mystery. Relying on God's grace, this missionary looks forward to meeting that Muslim Bangladeshi beggar-woman once again in the resurrected life with Christ the Lord in the Kingdom. I am confident she will be there! References Cited Ad gentes (AG); Catechism of the Catholic Church (1994); Evangelii nuntiandi (EN); Gaudium et spes (GS); Lumen gentium, (LG); Redemptoris missio (/O4); World Youth Day Address: John Paul II, November 21, 1993 NOTE: Copies of a lengthy, academic treatment of this subject can be obtained gratis by writing to James H. Kroeger MM. Review for Religious DENN1S J. BILLY A Visit to Taiz Nr~t long ago I made my way through the rolling hills and pened vineyards of southern Burgundy in eastern France to a place recognized both far and wide as one of the world's great spiritual centers, the monastic community of Taiz& Founded in 1940 by Roger Schultz, a young Swiss theologian, the monastery began as a valiant attempt to restore monastic practice to the Protestant faith and soon blossomed into a truly ecumenical ven-ture that has since attracted members from Catholic and Protestant backgrounds alike from over twenty countries. Located atop a small hill in the vicinity of Sfione-et-Loire, not far from the ramshackled ruins of 'Cluny, the great center of Benedictine monasticism that has helped to carve much of the spiritual and temporal landscape of medieval Europe, Taiz~ represents a vital resurgence of the monastic spirit, the likes of which had not been seen in Western society for many, many years. Known for its sim-plicity of life, its calming musical rounds, and its warm hospital-ity to strangers especially the young, the community of Taiz~ has succeeded in blending old and new and the concerns of past and present in a way that has awakened the deep spiritual sensibilities of our anxiety-ridden world. No wonder it has become a verita-ble Mecca for many of those who wish to satisfy the latent pains of humanity's deep spiritual hungers. Hunger and Dust Taiz~ rustic environment does not encourage visits from the weak and feeble of heart. Those who enter its ground must be Dennis J. Billy CSSR published "The Abbey of S~nanque: A Journey of the Heart" in our September-October 1995 issue. His address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Rome, Italy. Billy * A Visit to Taizg prepared to forego many of the comforts of home they normally take for granted. The basic necessities are provided, to be sure, but not much else. The wooden barracks, the earthen trails, the open-air refectory, the simple fare of lentils, bread, juice, and fruit--all remind the weary traveler that one comes to this holy place for one purpose and one purpose only--to search for God. The young, in particular, are attracted by Taiz~'s austere regimen of life. Since 1957 they have flocked there by the thousands for sojourns of various lengths to feed their souls on its simple fare and sound spiritual sustenance. They come, in part, to escape the materialism and confusion of the tension-filled world they have left behind; in part; to understand the meaningoof their difficult and often bewildering journey through life; in part, to fathom the unchartered depths of their inner yearning for God and, more importantly, of God's own intense and deeply compassionate long-ing for them. Two things in particular struck me when I arrived there tired and hungry on that sun-dried autumn day: (1) the dust from the trails that had been kicked up by thousands of visitors (it appar-ently had not rained for some time), and (2)the extremely long lines.at meal time (even simple fare needs time to be distributed to such a large crowd). These two details have come to dominate. my impression of Taiz& Together, they tell of the great success of this extraordinary experiment in monastic living and show how it now stands at the crossroads of Europe's long and rather cir-cuitous spiritual journey. Hungry~pilgrims, covered with dust, wait to be fed lentils and bread, hungry, but happy--and more. than willing to wait their turn. Given its Spartan fare, its cramped quarters., its vulnerability to the elements, and its many other physical restrictions, Taiz~ .seems much like a plain, ordinary, at times even uninviting place. So why, one might ask, does anyone go°'there? Certainly not for the food or the primitive shelter it offers. Certainly not to walk the heavily rutted trails or to inhale the dusty air that envelopes them and sticks to their clothes. Something else has surely drawn them. In Praise of God That something else can be found in the Church of the Reconciliation, the spiritual center of the Taiz~ community, where day after day pilgrims join the small gathering of white-robed Review for Religious monks in raising their hearts and voices to God. The Taizd office combines different styles of liturgical music into a simple but elo-quent offering of praise. Great care is taken not only to train vis-itors in the various rounds and harmonies that form the backbone of the liturgy, but also to utilize the talents (musical or other-wise) of everyone present. The results impress even the most detached of observers--and with good reason. A typical celebration Will find a thousand or so silent pilgrims sitting quietly in prayerful expectation for the monks to process in silent devotion and move to their posi-tions at the prayer stools that line the choir space down the center of the church. At the end of the procession, Brother Roger takes his place at the head of the commu-nity and gathers around him as his special guests any children who have come there for the service: "Let the children come to me . The kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (Mt 19:14). The pregnant silence gives way to antiphonal praise, usu-ally in the form of a simple round that has been carefully rehearsed the day before: "Ubi caritas et amor . " The harmony of voices fills the church and transforms its simply built and purely functional sur-roundings into vibrating and. living move-ment of Spirit. Suddenly the music ends, and silence once more reverberates throughout the interior spaces of the. soul, All eyes are focused on the large flowing red and orange banners in the front of the sanc-tuary that present the participants with simple yet powerful sym-bols of the spiritual Pentecost they have all come to receive. The small voice of a child then calls out in the wilderness of the heart. "Prepare the way of the Lord" On 1:23). A lesson from Scripture follows as the moments continue to brush with eternity, and the community of believers experience their oneness in Christ on a level never known to them before. Another round of chant; more silence; another lesson from Scripture. One's consciousness of time quietly recedes. The hour passes quickly and it is time to conclude. The pas-sage from the life of the Liturgy to the Liturgy of life takes place Given its Spartan fare, its cramped quarters, its vulnerability to the elements, and its many other physical restrictions, Taizd seems much like a

Issue 55.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1996. ; fo r reli ious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1996 ¯ VOLUME55 ¯ NUMBER3 Revtew fo~r .Reli~tous tS a ~orum fo~r Shared reflection on the~ liVed :experie~ice @ all Who find that :the~.churCb's~ rico bemtaffes ~o~ ,sptntuaht~ "sul~OOrt the~r pdrsonal: ~a~d: apostoli~ :~e~a~cles ~tn the~jou~al are ;meant ~to~ ~e t~foNat~ve~ :~radt~dal~.~o~ in~p~at~nal, wH~en~om a th~lO~ic~l or so~nmt or:somenmes mnontcat oo~nt ot vtew,~ , : Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthlv at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP St. Bernadette Convent ¯ 76 Universit3, Blvd. East ¯ Silver Spring, MD 20901 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1996 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. Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez sJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Chris~ar~ ]~er~tages and Contemporary Living MAY/JUNE 1996 ¯ VOLUME 55 ¯ NUMBER 3 230 The Ecclesiology of the U.S. Bishops' 1994 Healthcare Directives John A. Gallagher develops some implications of the ecclesiology underlying the mission, governance, and partnership found in Catholic healthcare services. 249 264 Abandonment That Enlivens and Sets Fire for Mission George Aschenbrenner SJ develops a spirituality of abandonment as central to the stability and identity of a religious congregation in respect to its mission, community, authority, and obedience. Gathering the Fragments: New Times for Obedience Judith A. Merkle SNDdeN explores obedience as affective bonding and the challenge this call presents personally, congregationally, and ecclesially. Review for Religious 283 297 Acknowledging the Gift of Gay Priestly Celibacy William McDonough presents a case for the timeliness of acknowledging the homosexual orientation of gay celibate priests as a gift to the church. HIV Testing of Seminary and Religious-Order Candidates James F. Keenan SJ reviews reasons for and against HIV testing for priesthood and religious-life candidates and suggests some ethical standards that need to be observed. 315 A Call for a Bespoke Revival of a Hijacked Tradition Bertrand Webster FMS suggests a number of ways to update our use of the rosary for both individual and communal devotion. ,~ 228 Prisms 320 Canonical Counsel: General Chapters: Historical Background 326 Book Reviews May-3~ene 1996 prisms Nostalgia becomes a fitti'ng characteristic of the poet Homer's Odysseus--in the midst of all his travels and adventures he is driven by an aching desire to return to his island home and his wife, Penelope. A contemporary dictionary builds upon the original Greek root of nostalgia, expanding its meaning from a home-sickness to the wistful and sometimes abnormal yearning for a return to some fondly remembered season of life or an unrepeatable dream. It seems to be natural for many of us to harbor a certain nostalgia for the past--either what we have experienced or, perhaps, what we have only read or heard about. Movies or television docudramas are often quite suc-cessful in evoking an appreciation of a past with a sim-pler lifestyle or less complicated human relationships. Even reading the Gospels can sometimes lead us to express the wish that we "could have lived at the time of Jesus." The nostalgia to have been among the crowd listening to Jesus speaking out the beatitudes or among the thousands fed by Jesus' miracle of the loaves and fishes receives a rude awakening when we realize that, likely enough, we would have been among those who walked away and went about their ordinary duties of life. In our daily examen of consciousness, we find that we ignore and walk away even now from the many Christs who enter our day. The church of the 13th and 14th centuries--the peak-ing of scholastic theological developments--was in fer-ment from the press of many ideas. The controversies which resulted were often worked through over long peri-ods in a debate form called quaestiones disputatae (disputed questions). The question was a technique to explore the Review for Religious writings of authorities in conflict and the process of conflicting argumentation. Today we sometimes get glimpses of this method in writings found in the medical and health-science fields. Although we may unconsciously idealize the civility of these olden theological discussions, perhaps without too much nostalgia we can appreciate an inquiring drive toward new understanding that is often missing from church life today. Maybe, with computer knowledge banks and television soundbite news, we all have become impatient with debate and discussion; we want only answers and truths and none of the messiness of living with our own responsible choice among some merely provisional under-standings available to us. God's revelation finds its fulfillment in Christ; yet even if revealed truth is complete, it remains for Christian faith to grasp its full significance over the course of centuries. Since the truth of the church's witness is still human truth, we need to ask ourselves the question: Should we not expect disputes and controversies in our theological developments and pastoral practices just as there are in other human disciplines? Consecrated life in the life of the church is not disputed, but how it fits within church structure, what new forms it takes along-side older ones, how to work out the relationship of religious superiors and bishops, and what roles consecrated life plays within the local church are some of the ongoing questions addressed in Pope John Paul's apostolic exhortation under date of 25 March 1996. The letter is the pope's reflections on the October 1994 Synod of Bishops on the consecrated life and its mission in the church and in the world. The pope's letter brings a closure to the synod and at the same time opens out its workings into the future. As one. who exhorts, the pope sees the questions around conse-crated life as reason to commit ourselves with fresh enthusiasm. He sees that the church stands in need of the spiritual and apos-tolic contribution of a renewed and revitalized consecrated life. As a resource for continuing this discussion about consecrated life, a new book, The Church and Consecrated Life, is being pub-lished by Review for Religious. The book includes a review of the official church documents on consecrated life since, Vatican a number of exploratory articles, and the pope's apostolic exhor-tation. The book is available from our St. Louis office; the cost is $20 which includes postage and handling. David L. Fleming SJ May-J, ote 1996 JOHN A. GALLAGHER The Ecclesiology of the U.S. Bishops' 1994 Healthcare Directives "Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services" has been published now for about a year.' Sponsors (religious institutes, commonly), board mem-bers, and managers of Catholic healthcare organizations have had the time to reflect upon this new promulgation of directives. What new elements do they find? What will they need to assimilate into their decision-making pro-cesses and their Catholic healthcare operations in order to respond appropriately to this teaching of the American bishops? Interestingly, what is most innovative in this set of directives and most clearly different from the 1971 set is not new or more nuanced ethical teaching. Most of the individual directives are unchanged or only minimally changed. Afterations in specific ethical directives are attributable to statements from the Roman curia (for example, the responsum on uterine isolation) and to changes in the healthcare delivery system in the United States (see Part 6, Forming New Partnerships with Health Care Organizations and Providers). Perhaps the most provoca-tive ethical change can be found in Directive 57, which asserts that "excessive expense [to] the family or the com-munity" can render a life-prolonging intervention an "extraordinary" means and thus a morally optional one. The addition of "community" to the classic definition of John A. Gallagher is director for corporate ethics for the Holy Crbss Health System. His address is 3606 East Jefferson Boulevard; South Bend, Indiana 46115. Review for Religious what constitutes an extraordinary means of prolonging life will probably become controversial in a healthcare system increas-ingly dominated by managed care. What is more distinctly new in the 1994 "Directives" is the ecclesiology that can be perceived as a consistent undercurrent throughout the document. Ecclesiology is the theological disci-pline that attempts to understand what the church is, how it is related to the wider world, and how persons within the church (clergy, religious, laity) are related to one another and the church as a whole; "Directives" is not a treatise on the church. But it is concerned to identify the mission of Catholic healthcare within the mission of the church as a whole, to outline a governance structure for Catholic healthcare vis-~l-vis the local ordinary, and to set limits to cooperative arrangements between Catholic health organizations and healthcare providers daat are not Catholic. This underlying ecclesiology constitutes the truly innovative aspect of "Directives." This inchoate episcopal teaching merits serious the-ological consideration by the sponsors and leaders of Catholic healthcare. TheMission of Catholic Healthcare and the Church's Mission How convenient it would be to begin with a definition of church. But mysteries are not readily captured in crisp definitions. Theologians have contented themselves with speaking of the marks or characteristics of the church (one, holy, catholic, apos-tolic). The fathers of Vatican Council II frequently employed analogies from Scripture to provide clarification concerning the nature of the church. The closest they came to a definition was to assert, in Lumen gentium, that the church is the visible sacrament of the saving unity offered to people through the redemptive work of Christ (LG §9). In his masterful Models of the Church, Avery Dulles SJ pro-posed five models, analogies which enable some further under-standing of the mystery of the church? These models are derived from ecclesiologies developed by various theologians to portray what they believed to be the essential characteristic of the church. The models describe the church as institution, mystical commu-nion, sacrament, herald, and servant. Dulles's argument is that, though the church is no one of these models, its identity can be May-~une 1996 Gallagber ¯ Ecclesiology of the 1994 Healtbcare Directives partially clarified through reflection upon each of them. In a sub-sequent edition Dulles added a sixth model, the church as a com-munity of disciples, to emphasize the inherent cohesiveness and unity among the models and indeed of the church itself. The mission of the church pertains to its activities as a "fel-lowship of life, charity, and truth" founded by Christ to be his "instrument for the redemption of all" (LG §9; see also Ad gentes §5). Note that the mission of the church is simply another man-ner of speaking about what the church is; "mission" is a clarifi-cation, not the addition of some further information. The church is its mission. To assert that the church is "visible sacrament" is to clarify both what the church is and what it does. So with each of Dulles's models: they portray not only what the church is, but also what it does. The church is an institution, and many of its activities result from the fact that it has social, legal, and hierar-chical structures. The church is a mystical communion which unites those who are within it and identifies its relationship with other religious groups. The church as sacrament is the visible symbol of the redemptive work of Christ; its activities are symbols having their effect in the world today. The church as herald pro-claims Jesus' redeeming gospel. The church as servant extends its witness into the secular world. The mission of Catholic healthcare is but one manifestation of the mission of the church as a whole; it partakes in that visible sacrament of redemption, in that mystery which is the church's very being. The mission of the church is manifested also in Catholic parochial life, in education, and in various charitable enterprises. The healing mission of Jesus, "Directives" asserts, touches all of Catholic healthcare: The mystery of Christ casts light on every facet of Catholic healthcare: to see Christian love as the animating princi-ple of healthcare; to see healing and compassion as a con-tinuation of Christ's mission; to see suffering as a participation in the redemptive power of Christ's passion, death, and resurrection; and to see death, transformed by the resurrection, as an opportunity for a final act of com-munion with Christ. ("Directives" booklet, p. 6) Thus, Catholic healthcare is a particular specification of the mission of the church itself. As the documefits of Vatican II say with regard to missionary endeavors, so also with regard to Catholic healthcare, "the differences to be found in this activity Review for Religious of the church do not result from the inner nature of her mission itself, but are due rather to the circumstances in which this mis-sion is exercised" (AG §6). "Directives" (p. 1) indicates that a major reason why a revision was needed was developments within the church: changes in reli-gious orders and congregations, the increased involvement of lay men and women, a heightened awareness of the church's social role in the world, and developments in moral theology. Another major reason was the reconfiguration of the American healthcare system. The acute-care hospital and the long-term- care facility, the two places where most Catholic healthcare has been provided, are being incorporated nowadays into integrated delivery systems. Catholic healthcare organi-zations are b.ecoming owners or partners of these systems or are providing services within them and thus are assuming some fundamen-tally new obligations. Accordingly it became necessary to reflect anew on Catholic health-care's mission. But why explicitly? With Catholic health-care now consisting of myriad structures and organizations by which an array of healthcare services is provided to individual persons and communities, what the new "Directives" intends to accomplish is "a theological basis for the Catholic healthcare ministry" (p. 2). The healthcare ministry has always been manifested in the activities of physicians and nurses, orderlies and aides; women and men dedicated to care of the poor, the dying, the homeless. This ministry was in part animated by people's desire to mirror the healing mission of Jesus. In the United States, Catholic healthcare ministry has, along with the witness of these many individuals, also been closely identified with the healthcare institutions that many religious congregations have sponsored and governed. Now, however, as "Directives" notes, lay people are increasingly emerg-ing as the leaders of this ministry. "Directives," which is "con-cerned primarily with institutionally based Catholic healthcare services" (p, 2), is intended to provide a theological basis for con-temporary Catholic healthcare ministry because this ministry must increas.ingly receive its theological impetus from the apos-tolic endeavors of lay people rather than from the church- What the new "Directives" intends to accomplish is "a theological basis for the Catholic healthcare ministry." May-~une 1996 Gallagber ¯ Ecclesiolog~ of the 1994 Healtbcare Directives approved constitutions and the apostolic vision of sponsoring congregations. This point is crucial for understanding the ecclesiology of "Directives." Catholic healthcare in the United States has almost exclusively been the ministry of religious women. As the number of religious available for the ministry continues to decline, lay women and men, i~acluding indeed a significant number of non- Catholics, have become leaders of the Catholic healthcare min-istry. From the perspective of the mission of the church and the perspective of lay Catholics, this is a major development. Laypersons are now leaders of an institutional Catholic ministry, roles traditionally reserved to clerics and religious. Lay people are no longer at the periphery; no longer just collaborators, they are increasingly the major participants. The laity has always had a role in fulfilling the mission of the church. The apostolate of the laity has generally been construed as bringing the mission of the church into the secular world. Lumen gentium defines the lay apostolate as "a participation in the saving mission of the church itself" and describes the role of the laity as making "the church present and operative in those places and circumstances where only through them can she become the salt of the earth" (§33). The lay apostolate, however, has generally been embodied in the activities of individual Catholic men and women. In their lives of service as doctors, lawyers, judges, and teachers, they concomitantly witnessed to the saving mystery of Christ. They sometimes joined associations of Catholic lawyers or doctors and sometimes taught or practiced in a Catholic college or hospital, but for the most part their apos-tolate was conducted outside an institution officially associated with the mission of the church. If Catholic lay-persons chose to carry out their apostolate in a Catholic school or hospital, it was the priests or religious who were the sponsors and administra-tors. It was the presence of priests and religious that both canon-ically and de facto gave the institution its Catholic identity and its link to themission of the church. ~ Such an understanding of institutions as vehicles for the mis-sion of the church has become codified in canon law. The law strives to assure that the property and financial resources of such institutions will be used e~xclusively for the mission of the church (canon 1254, §2). When a bishop confers Catholic identity on an educational or healthcare institution, he expects that certain obli- Review for Religious gations of faith and administration will be embodied in the life of that organization.3 A Catholic institution ought to carry out its ministry in a manner that reflects the church's understanding of the gospel and the tradition. "Ethical and Religious Directives" is the episcopal effort to delineate at least some aspects of the church's current understanding of the gospel as it relates to the healthcare ministry. What is most innovative about "Directives" is that it acknowl-edges and endorses the leadership role of the laity in these insti-nations. In the past, as lay people participated in the ministry of priests and sisters, they were sometimes encouraged to model their lives on those of religious, to become mem-bers of third orders, in order to enter more fully into the ministry. But now laypersons qua laypersons are becoming the major par-ticipants in this ministry. In line with what Yves Congar OP wrote shortly after World War II, lay people in the American church have now begun to take part "in the hierar-chical apostolate, that is, in that sacred activ-ity., which defines the church's proper task and mission.''4 Thus "Ethical and Religious Directives" announces a significantly new manner in which the ministry of Catholic healthcare will be conducted in the 21 st century. This sort of development is occurring also in other institutional ministries of the church in the United States. The laity are increasingly being recruited into leadership positions on all levels of Catholic education, In a recent address Father Philip Murnion, director of the National Pastoral Life Center, said that "the fuimre of parish ministry, of educatior~, of pastoral care 'and the development of worship life will increasingly be in the hands of the laity."s The laity are fill-ing the vacuum created by the declining numbers of priests and religious active in the church's institutional life~ Therefore, as Ladislas Orsy SJ has recently suggested, the opinions and rec-ommendations of layperson~ will need to be'more fully integrated into institutional decision making within the church.6 If lay people are to constitute the staff and leadership of Catholic healthcare in the 21st century, how is that ministry to be "The future of parish ministry, of education, of pastoral care and the development of worship life will increasingly be in the hands of the laity." May-~une 1996 Gallagber ¯ Ecclesiology of the 1994 Healtbcare Directives theologically articulated? At the presenttime, mission statements and core values derived from the constitutions and way of life of the sponsoring congregations have provided the sense of purpose and direction that animates the ministry. But, as sponsorship becomes more tenuous and at some point no longer exists, what will replace it? At that point American Catholic healthcare will be drawn back to its ecclesial roots, to what is common to the founding congregations and to the lay apostolate and to the ministry of healthcare: the mission of the church. How the participants in Catholic healthcarewill articulate the relation between the mis-sion of the church and the ministry of healthcare in 2025 or 2050 lies far beyond the worries of current leaders of Catholic health-care. But it is the duty of those who live in a period of transition like ours to begin to make the theological transitions. Dulles's models, I believe, provide us with theological categories with which to begin such a reflection.7 The church as institution, sacrament, and mystical commu-nion will'always be central to its healthcare ministry because those words describe what the church is, as does the word mission. As an institutional ministry, Catholic healthcare must maintain its link to the church as institution. Catholic healthcare will always be sacramental; it will continue to serve as a symbol of the healing and caring ministry of Christ. The anointing of the sick, the sacra-ment of reconciliation, and especially the Eucharist will continue to be essential in Catholic healthcare's holistic healing ministry. Further, as an institutional ministry staffed by persons of many faiths and providing services to a culturally and religiously diverse population, the Catholic healthcare ministry will continue to be a sign of the church as mystical communion. In, a time of transition such as the present, however, and as "Directives" makes clear, there are dangers in the current envi-ronment which jeopardize this relationship. The three models we have just discussed will not be adequate to describe the Catholic healthcare of the 21st century. As laypersons increas-ingly become the bearers of the ministry of Catholic healthcare, it is the herald and servant models of the church that will best correspond to Catholic healthcare's activities. The servant model construes the church's activities in a sec-ular- dialogic model, "secular, because the church takes the world as a properly theological locus, and seeks to discern the signs of Review for Religiotts the times; dialogic, because it seeks to operate on the frontier between the contemporary world and the Christian tradition.''8 Patient care, relations with collaborators and other providers, and the governance and management of multibillion-dollar corpora-tions will increasingly draw the healthcare ministry into a world with which it can never be truly at ease and which it cannot con-trol; but it is the world in which the healthcare ministry will make present the saving mystery of Christ. Will Catholic healthcare as servant be able to have signifi-cant influence on the business and medical spheres which will shape its institutional presence in the world? The values of med-ical science and of business and the manner in which they affect the lives of individual persons and communities will be the socio-cultural matrix which the church as servant will seek to influence. The servant model directs the ministry of laypersons where it has traditionally been done, the secular world. But the lay people enter this world no longer as individuals, but with the collective power, influence, and responsibility associated with the leader-ship of an institutional ministry. The church as herald is, in a sense, the counterpart of the church as servant, The latter seeks to engage the secular world, to bring about at least a partial recognition of the human signifi-cance of gospel values. The church as herald, on the o.ther hand, does not seek the transformation of society, but contents itself with witnessing to the Word of God. The church is gathered by the Word of God which it has received as "an official message with the commission to pass it on.''9 The church as herald com-plements the church as servant by recalling to Catholic healthcare that fidelity to God's Word is the test of its collaboration in a secular world. The Governance Structure of Catholic Healthcare The 1971 version of "Ethical and Religious Directives" makes no specific reference to the role of the local bishop in regard to the affairs of Catholic healthcare organizations. The 1994 edi-tion, on the other hand, assigns a major role to the local bishop in the governance of healthcare organizations within the diocese. The healthcare ministry in a local diocese is an activity in which the diocesan bishop exercises responsibilities that are rooted in his office as pastor, teacher, and priest. As the center of Gallagber ¯ Ecclesiolo~mtof tbe 1994 Healtbcare Directives unity in the diocese and coordinator of ministries in the local church, the diocesan bishop fosters the mission of Catholic healthcare in a way that promotes collaboration among healthcare leaders, providers, medical profession-als, theologians, and other specialists. As pastor the dioce-san bishop is in a unique position to encourage the faithful to greater responsibility in the healing ministry of the church. As teacher the diocesan bishop ensures the moral and religious identity of the healthcare ministry in what-ever setting it is carried out in the diocese. As priest the diocesan bishop oversees the sacramental care of the sick. ("Directives," p. 4) Individual directives define the role of the local bishop in the founding of new Catholic healthcare facilities (no. 8), in the administration of the sacraments to non-Catholics (no. 20), and in the appointment of Catholic and non-Catholic chaplains (nos. 21, 22), especially the director of pastoral care (no. 21). Directive 37 proposes that there be some form of liaison between ethics committees and the local bishop. Part 6 deeply involves the :bishop in decisions of Catholic healthcare institutions concerning entrance into new partnerships and alliances. The local bishop is to be consulted (no. 67), and in some instances appropriate autho-rization or a nihil obstat is to be obtained from him. "Directives" of 1994 articulates a set of mutual responsibilities between the local bishop and the leadership of the healthcare ministries within the diocese. The issues posed by these aspects of "Directives" define how the governance of the bishop is to be exercised. These are fundamentally issues of ecclesiology, not of ethics or morality. Their purpose is to clarify the relationship of the local bishop to the ministries of Catholic healthcare in his diocese. The point is to specify the mutual responsibilities of bishops and the boards and senior management of Catholic healthcare orga-nizations. The more subtle and more important purpose is to maintain the link between the local church and its healthcare ministry. It will be important for Catholic healthcare and the bishops to consider whether this is the appropriate relationship. The ecclesiology of this section of "Directives" is based upon the canonical principle that a .bishop is subject to no higher author-ity in his diocese other than the pope (canon 381). But Catholic healthcare organizations and their member institutions crisscross diocesan lines. Indeed the healthcare ministry is partially set within individual dioceses, but its service and witness are spread Review for Religious to the American healthcare system as a whole. Although canoni-cally there is no such thing as the American Catholic church, it is within the publicly recognized reality of such an organization that the Catholic healthcare ministry exists. That the local bishop is the sole person with the authority to confer Catholic identity upon a new healthcare facility is certainly nothing new, nor is it riew that the bishop should have. a role in the appointment of Catholic chaplains and oversee the administration of the sacraments. Both of these activities pertain to the institutional and sacramental aspects of the church, which are at the heart of a bishop's ministry. What will require clarification is the role of bishops with regard to. ethics commit-tees and the formation of partnerships and other alliances. Ethics committees exist in virtually every Catholic hospital in the United States. They provide three functions. First, they offer edu-cational programs for physicians, nurses, and staff. Second, although they do not make patient-care decisions, they do provide consul-tation to patieni:s, families, nurses, and physi-cians concerning ethical issues that can arise in the course of patient care. Third, they collabo-rate with the officers and board of a hospital in writing policies on such issue~ as "do not resuscitate" orders, informed consent, and physician-assisted suicide. Through such policies Catholic hos-pitals have expressed their compliance with "Ethical and Religious Directives." Many Catholic hospitals possess written policies on abortion, sterilization, contraception, and euthanasia. Physicians, nurses, and other medical personnel practicing within the hospi-tal are expected to conform their treatment plans to the policies of the hospital. The work of the ethics committee is one of the places where Catholic healthcare as h~rald is particularly active. These com-mittees grapple with the concrete details of medical practice within an acute-care setting. The committees require the skills and knowledge base of physicians, nurses, ethicists, and hospital administrators. They apply ~he principles of Catholic healthcare to concrete patient-care decision~. They do so in an environment in which professional medical standards, patient preferences, the What will require clarification is the role of bishops with regard to ethics committees and the formation of partnerships and other alliances. May-J*lne 1996 Gallagber ¯ " Ecclesioloy~y._of tbe 1994 Healtbca~re_D__irec~'.v_e. ,s, desires of insurance companies and other payers, the dictates of civil law, and the teaching of the Catholic hierarchy may not be in agreement. As Catholic hospitals are progressively integrated into organized delivery systems, the work of the ethics commit-tees will need to migrate from the acute-care setting directly into the managed-care environment where the major policy and patient-care decisions will be made. In many instances the Catholic organization will be part of a larger whole; it will not have the same degree of control over policies and patient-care decisions that it has had in the past. If bishops or their representatives enter the deliberations of ethics committees with the same sense of purpose as other par-ticipants in the healthcare ministry, if they come as servants and as heralds, then they will be received as welcome collaborators. The work of ethics committees is very concrete; rarely is time devoted to the discussion of ethical theory or metaethics. Consensus is the mode of decision making on which these com-mittees thrive.I° Authoritarian interventions in the work of ethics committees simply will not work. They will drive away the col-laborators essential for the successful operation of a contemporary ethics committee. How the bishop chooses to interact with the ethics committees associated with healthcare ministries in his dio-cese will determine the contribution these interventions will make to the ministry of Catholic healthcare. A recent article by Kevin Wildes SJ deals with the role that the 1994 "Directives" ascribes to the local bishop. He concludes by saying that the ecclesiology of "Directives" marks a shift toward a top-down model in ecclesiology. The Catholic tradition, Wildes argues, has generally maintained an uneasy tension between those in authority (the pope, the bishops) and those considered to be authorities (theologians). Wildes's concern is that "Directives" gives the impression of being "an effort of those in authority to restrict the space and liberty of those who are an authority.''a~ Wildes's premonition must be taken seriously. The list of those who are authorities in the area of healthcare must include physi-cians, nurses, healthcare administrators, and an array of other professionals whose expertise is essential to the management of American healthcare organizations. Successful relationships among these professionals are based upon collaboration, trust, and a mutual sharing of values. Any form of authoritarianism which denies or rejects the integrity and professionalism of one's col- Review for Religious leagues will destroy the healthcare ministry, which can exist only in a world that does not completely share its values. The legitimate concerns of local bishops for the future of the healthcare ministry in their dioceses is obvious. In some places the institutions of Catholic healthcare are the most visible signs of the church in a diocese. Ethics committees within Catholic health-care organizations address issues that go to the heart of the mis-sion of Catholic healthcare, to the implementation of its fundamental purpose. "Directives" does not propose that the bishop or his representative be directly involved in the work of the committee. Rather, it says that there should be "appropriate stan-dards for medical ethical consultation within a particular diocese that will respecLthe diocesan bishop's pastoral responsibility as well as assist members of ethics committees to be familiar with Catholic medical ethics" (no. 3 7). The purpose of the directive can be most suitably fulfilled by the bishop's creation of a diocesan committee to inform and advise the bishop in the exercise of his stewardship of the healthcare ministry. Such diocesan committees, many of which are already in the process of formation, must be staffed by healthcare profes-sionals and theologians knowledgeable about the realities of the contemporary American healthcare delivery system. Where dio-ceses are small and lack appropriate resources or where diocesan boundaries overlap the service areas of Catholic healthcare min-istries, such committees could be established within regional or state episcopal conferences. In either case, such a committee offers the bishop the means of informing himself on the issues con-fronting the healthcare ministry before becoming directly involved. The Creation of New Partnerships Until relatively recently, Catholic healthcare organizations, like their counterparts in the overall American healthcare deliv-eW system, functioned as independent, autonomous institutions. If there were several Catholic hospitals or long-term-care facili-ties within a diocese, they existed in isolation from one another. There were few reasons for them to function conjointly. The reform of the healthcare delivery system within the United States has greatly altered this basic characteristic of the Catholic health-care ministry. Collaboration, partnerships, and alliances have replaced the earlier autonomy of American healthcare. May-June 1996 Gallagber * Ecclesioloffy of the 1994 Healtbcare Directives The many reasons underlying this ~ajor reconfiguration of the healthcare delivery system reasons already well known to sponsors, board members, and managers of Catholic he~althcare are not ~irectly germane to the purposes of this essay. The con-sequences of this realignment, 'however, are among the fundamental reastn~ for the revision of "Directives," with its emphasis on ecclesiology. The"buzzword in American healthcare is integration. A health- ~are organization, hospital, or long-term-care facility, must be integrated horizontally and vertically. Horizontal integration implies a collaboration or alliance among an array of healthcare organizati6ns that can provide all the services necessary to sustain the wellness and treat the illnesses of a covered 15opulation. Such an integrated delivery network (IDN) or organized deli,cery sys-tem (ODS) will contain primary-care and specialist physicians; ambulatory-care centers, labs and centers for diagnostic medicine, pharmacies, long-term-care facilities, and acute-care hospitals. Vertical integration, refers to the manner in which th6 IDN or ODS is aligned with a system of payers and insurance compianies that furnish the financial support for the network of providers. The stand-alone hospital or long-term-care facility has no future in a healthcare system based upon horizontal and vertical inte-gration. The question the mission and business question before every CathOlic healthcare organization over the past several years has been: With whom should it be a partner? Successful IDNs and ODSs have secured sources of revenue (payers, insurance companies)' and can offer an appropriate array of health services across a geographicalarea. Such IDNs and ODSs have set up rela-tionships with a large number of physicians, have made agree-ments with multiple providers Working together, and have entered into contracts with multiple suppliers of goods and services. These are large complex btisiness operations. Catholic healthcare orga-nizations seek either to become members of or to create such IDNs and ODSs as ways of resolving their business questions. But the presence of a Catholic healthtare organization within a viable IDN or ODS does not necegsarily ensure an appropria'te resolution to the mission quest!on. Can Catholic healthcare insti-tutions be pfir~ners with for-profit corporations? Can they be partners with institutions that provide abortions or other proce-dures that conflict with the "Ethical and Religious Directives"? Review for Religious Can the Catholic healthcare.minlstry retain its status as an instru-ment of the mission of the church in whatever sort of business,~ economic, or healthcare environment? Questions such as these are what induced the bishops to put Part 6 into "Directives" and to append their interpretation of formal and material cooperation. At the present time, Catholic healthcare organizations are developing and acting upon diverse answers to the mission question. Cardinal Bernardin is attempting to facilitate the development of an alliance among the Catholic hospitals of the Chicago archdiocese. Catholic Health Care West has created in California a statewide IDN/ODS that is composed largely of Catholic providers. In Indianapolis, St. Vincent's Hospital has created an alliance with Community Hospitals, a not-for-profit organization, in which other Catholic and non- Catholic organizations are in the process of seeking membership. Recently the Sisters of Charity of St. Augustine ~in Cleveland announced that their hospitals would be entering a partnership with Columbia/HCA, a for-profit hospital corporation. In each of these four very different IDNs/ODSs, the Catholic parties have contended that they are making a business ar}angement that is compatible with their healthcare ministry. "Directives" encourages the leaders of Catholic healthcare to consult with the local bishop and to seek his approval or nihil obstat in the creation of partnerships that will affect the organi-zati0n's mission (no. 68). This process of consultation and approval is a matter of central importance to the leadership of Catholic healthcare organizations as well as to the members of the hierar-chy. Ho~ it is to be conducted and what its goals are will be key factors in the success of such a process. Several directives touch upon issues internal to the process of consultation and approval. Directive 59 stipulates that the prin-ciples governing cooperation should be used to limit the partic-ipation of a Catholic organization in an alliance which provides services "judged morally wrong by the church." Such services, referred to elsewhere in "Directives," include abortion (no. 45), euthanasia (no. 60), direct st~erilization (no. 53), contraception The stand-alone hospital or long-term-care facility has no future in a healthcare system based upon horizontal and vertical integration. May-.]une 1996 Gallagber * Ecclesiolog~f tbe 1994 Healtbcare Directives (no. 52), and artificial fertilization that separates the unitive and procreative components of the marital act (nos. 40, 41). Scandal, the appearance of cooperating in and accepting as permissible an objectively immoral act, rnust be avoided in the partnerships entered into by Catholic healthcare ministries (no. 45). Of course, avoidance of scandal would be agreed to unhesi-tatingly by all parties to this process of consultation and approval. Scandal is a sin against charity, against the very bond that unites persons within the church. No participant in the Catholic health-° care ministry would willingly let the organization's activities be a source of scandal. The more likely discussion would focus on what, in fact, constitutes scandal. The concepts of formal and material cooperation in the evil of others have generally been the gauges used by moral theologians to make such a determination. It is at least questionable, however, whether this mode of moral reasoning will be sufficient to resolve the issues that currently confront the ministry of Catholic healthcare. The concepts of formal and material cooperation were devel-oped by theologians to resolve the qu.estion of the culpability of one person's cooperation in another's morally evil act. The clas-sic example in recent medical ethics has been the Catholic nurse who cooperates with a physician in performing an abortion. If the nurse's cooperation was simply to care for the woman after the procedure in a postoperative (post-op) area, her cooperation was generally deemed remote and material. Her actions were after the fact (remote) and incidental to the act of an abortive-proce-dure; she was simply providing care that would be provided to any post-op patient (material). Indeed, under the principles gov-erning cooperation, a nurse could assist in the abortive proce-dure by handing instruments to the physician if she did not intend the evil of abortion, was performing a task that was itself not immoral (simply handling the surgical instruments), was under duress to cooperate in the procedure (fear of loss of job), had voiced her opposition to the.' procedure, and was not repeatedly placed in this situation.12 The principles governing cooperation were developed to assist confessors in their assessment of the moral culpability of penitents coerced in some fashion to coop-erate in the evil of another. Can it be applied to the activities of healthcare institutions? Fathers James Keenan and Thomas Kopfensteiner, the authors of the appendix to "Directives" that defines the principles gov- Rewiew for Religiot~s erning cooperation, contend that such is the case.13 However, this issue requires further reflection. Certainly the decision-making processes of corporations and institutions are much more complex than those of individuals. Decision making in modem corporations and institutions is spread all through them. Corporate boards endorse or reject proposals made by CEOs and their senior man-agers; CEOs and their management teams approve or modify rec-ommendations from directors and managers. In the healthcare setting, physicians have a strong influence on decisions about healthcare delivery. Corporate decision making is the result of an ongoing, multileveled, integrated discourse that eventually reaches a decision. Although corporations and institutions are moral agents, their agency ought not be confused with that of individual persons. It will be from within the corporate structures which consti-tute the decision-making processes of the Catholic healthcare ministry that the future profile of that ministry will be discerned. If the principles governing cooperation assist some organizations in responding to the question of the manner in which their health-care ministry can be legitimately configured in an IDN/ODS, then clearly they should employ them. Many Catholic organiza-tions, however, have begun to develop processes of corporate ~dis-cernment in order to ensure'that their activities in a reconfigured delivery system will continue to be an authentic ministry in sup-port of the mission of the church. Such decision-making processes are being developed for sev-eral reasons. "Directives" (pp. 6-7) has identified some key values for the Catholic healthcare ministry, "normative principles that inform the church's health ministry": human dignity, care of the poor, the common good, stewardship of resources, and the right to refuse services inconsistent with church teaching. The first four of these principles are clearly values that leaders of Catholic healthcare can share with potential collaborators. Although these values are central to the Catholic ethical tradition, they are also readily embraced by others. Catholic healthcare personnel strive to cooperate with other providers who share these basic values. An IDN/ODS becomes an instance of the very concrete manner in which such principles become embodied in a corporate structure composed of Catholic, and non-Catholics dedicated to providing healthcare services for a community. Indeed, agreement on these values does not necessarily resolve the issue of a Catholic orga- May-~une 1996 ; Gallagber ¯ Ecclesiology of the 1994 Healtbcare Directives nization's partnership with an organization that provides elective tubal ligations or even.abortions. But it does widen out the array of issues that are deemed relevant in determining whether~a par-ticular partnership or alliance will be acceptable to a local bishop. These fundamental values of the Catholic healthcare min-istry need to be woven into an array of complex business deci-sions. The very location of places of service will say much about an organization's commitment to care of the poor. The managed-care programs of Catholic organizations and their human-resource practices will portray their interpretation of human dignity. The various allocations of capitated dollars within a system are signs of the system's stewardship of resources. Finally, how an IDN/ODS plans for care of the poor in a nation that has growing numbers of people without health insurance and that faces pending reduc-tions in Medicare and Medicaid spending will be a witness to an important value. All of these decisions need to be made within corporate structures that will take the values central to all Catholic healthcare ministry and make them operative in a given institu-tional structure. Careful processes of discernment assist board members and the leadership of Catholic healthcare organizations to identify the explicit rationale for individual decisions. Such processes pose questions: Why are we doing this? ls this decision in support of the ministry of Catholic healthcare? Will this deci-sion not only facilitate the success of this organization as a busi-ness operation, but also enhance its ministry? In their discussion and discernment about the purpose and practice of their ministry, Catholic healthcare organizations go well beyond the principles governing cooperation. Catholic healthcare has never defined itself in negative'terms. It was not created, nor has it continued into the present, in order not to do certain things. The foundresses of Catholic healthcare and their successors endeavored to operate virtuous institutions that would serve their communities. Current and ongoing reflection by a new generation of successors sets the same positive goals and strives to choose wisely the means to accomplish them. These ~eflective processes are educational; they require that individual board members,and managers, become familiar with the values that.shape the behavior and expectations of the orga-nization. Since values like human dignity and care of the poor are part of the discourse part of what the organization talks about and how it makes its decisions new members need to Review for Religious become sensitized to these values in order to function profes-sionally within it. A culturally diverse professiona! staff can be attracted to ~'participate in the activities of a virtuoias institution that strives to embody values in its services. Their involvement in such an institution need not jeopardize their own religious con-victions. The reflective processes of corporate discernment can con-tribute to the refounding of the healthcare ministry. At this point both bi~shops and leaders of Catholic healthcare are more certain about what the healthcare ministry was than what it is or will be. Latent in all who are concerned for the future of the healthcare ministry is a longing, perhaps even an expectataon, that some wily theologian will identify the essence of Catholic healthcare so that, knowing what that essence or nature is, they can produce it and make it available. But this is not likely to be the case. Catholic healtheare in the past was built upon the religious values and commitments of women who forged a ministry in isolated railroad towns in the West and in the urban poverty of 19th-century American cities. People who practice reflective disc~i'nment together will not discover the new essence of the healthcare min- )stry, but they will invite the leaders of this ministry into a period of dialectics in which the clash of facts and values, of business realities and religious visions, wil.l give rise to a new foundation of the Catholic healthcare ministry. Reflective discernment pro-cesses are heuristic: they strive to pose questions whose answers will render the world in which we live coherent and enlivening. But Catholic healthcare is not yet in such a world. In all like-lihood, it will be some time before the healthcare ministry is securely situated on a new foundation. When that time arrives, Catholic healthcare will be distinct from what it was for most of the 20th century. Yet, in a form that is not altogether clear at this time, it will be a ministry of service and witness, of diaconia and kerygma. At present, however, American Catholic healthcare remains a pilgrim ministry that tries to read the signs of the times and find its way into the future. Notes 1 "Ethical and Religious Directives for~Catholic Health Care Services" was approved by the National Council of Catholic Bishops at their November 1994 meeting. First published in Origins 24~ no. 27 (15 December 1994): 449-462, it was afterwards published as a booklet (Washington: United States Catholic Conference, February 1995). May-yTune 1996 Ga/lagber * Ecdesiology of the 1994 Healtbcare Directives 2 Avery Dulles SJ, Models of the Church (New York: Doubleday, 1974). ~ Adam J. Maida, Church Property, Church Finances, and Church Related Corporations (St. Louis: Catholic Health Association, 1984), pp. 53-58. 4 Yves Congar Op, Lay People in the Church, trans. Donald Attwater (London: Bloomsbury Publishing Co., 1957), p, xxiv. s Philip Murnion, "The Next Steps for the Laity," Origins 25, no, 2 (1995): 30. 6 Ladislas Orsy SJ, "Structures for the Vision: An Interview with Ladislas Orsy sJ," America, 7 October 1995, p. 12. 7 See Bernard Lonergan SJ, Method in Theology (New York~ Herder and Herder, 1974), pp. 285-293. s Dulles, Models, p. 92. 9 Dulles, Models, p. 76. ~0 See K. Danner Clouser and Bernard Gert, "A Critique of Principlism," Journal of Medicine and Philosophy 15 (1990): 219-236; John Arras, "Getting Down to Cases: The Revival of Casuistry in Bioethics," Journal of Medicine and Philosophy 16 (1991): 29-52. See also Jonathan D. Moreno, Deciding Togetber: Bioetbics and Moral Consensus (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995). ~ Kevin Wildes sJ, "A Memo for the Central Office: The 'Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services,'" Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal 5 (1995): 138. ,2 Orville N. Griese, Catholic Ide~nti?y in Health Care: Principles and Practice (Braintree: Pope John Centei', 1987), p. 401. ~3 James Keenan and Thomas Kopfensteiner, "The Principle of Cooperation," Health Progress, April 1995, p. 24. Annunciation Having left no hint Of handkerchief or halo, Gabriel was gone. There was no other word between them needed, For she and God would grow together so, No angel would intrude. Sally Witt csJ Review for Religious GEORGE ASCHENBRENNER Abandonment That Enlivens and Sets on Fire for Mission In 'recent times mission, community, authority, and obe-dience have not always blended well in religious congre-gations. But, when a congregation carefully integrates these four elements, it possesses a healthy center of religious experience that makes possible a clarity of identity, a cohe-siveness of membership, and, most importantly, a fire for mission. This is the thesis of this article. The challenge .fa.c.ing us religious today is not simply a matter of deploy-ing members efficiendy or satisfying their ministerial pref-erences. Rather, the challenge includes a self-abandonment that renews the members' total reliance on a loving God while enlivening them and setting them on fire for mis-sion, their hearts fused together in one consecration. The issue fundamentally is religious and spiritual. Mission always has the overarching importance when-ever it is related to community, authority, .and obedience. Mission, as the very heart and meaning of any congrega-tion, ties the members into the great desires of God as revealed in Jesus. Surely more than being just a job, mis-sion draws its effectiveness from a spiritual theology, active and unitive within the hearts of all the members. At the same time, though mission has a priority over the other three elements, it can never replace any of them without George Aschenbrenner SJ is presently director of the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth at Church Road; Box 223; Wernersville, Ptnnsylvania 19565. symposium part 2 May-j~une 1996 Ascbenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens seriously weakening the congregation's overall effectiveness and corrupting the significance of the element apparently replaced. Obedience when separated from the other three becomes an unhealthy ascetical practice, something shortsightedly in and for itself. Mission when separated from community produces a scat-ter- shot diffused effect, and community without much relation to mission narcissistically turns in upon itself. No, there is no avoiding the interrelationship of these four elements. The very identity and stability of a congregation depend upon it. A clear central integration~of these four elemeflts is as neces-sary for active as for mona~stic congregations, despite the signif-icant differences between them. In religious life today this fourfold central unity may express itself differently in the two, but it r~emains important for both.~ Though not easily accomplished, this central unity .can take on a critical importance in active con-gregations. Because it is the nature of an active community that its members be sent out and dispersed in a variety of ministries, the accomplishment of unity and a sense of felt membership can be difficult. But when the centrifugal force of ministry is not bal-anced with the appropriate centripetal force of community, the pain of disunity and loneliness can destroy the congregation. In many cases the issue addressed here touches on nothing less than the very survival of the group. After renewing a basic .supposition about religious life, I will develop a spirituality of abandonment as central to ,apostolic mis-sion. This spirituality has four different personal objects and cen. trally affects the exercise of religious government for mission. Finally, four results emerge when an appropri.ate,integration of our foursome is ~achieved. Religious Life: Essentially Corporate Existence Orders and congregations each have their own version of the evangelical imperatives of chastity, poverty, and obedience, but all of them have a corporate faith, focused in a shared vision and mission, that distinguishes religious life from other life-forms in the church. In the midst of a great variety of changes within reli-gious life, an essential corporate existence continues to play a central identifying role. And t.hough the und~erstanding of reli-gious community has shifted a lot since Vatican Council II, only some clear shared corporate vision--believed and practiced by Review for Religious all--can prevent religious life from changing into a wholly dif-ferent form. This fundamental communitarian existence stands as one identifying continuity stretching back even to Pachomius in the 4th century. At a time of shifting meanings for religious community, care must be taken not to lose the reality. Especially in the active apos-tolic model, one of the revealing signs of a religious vocation con-tinues to be a genuine desire for a shared faith and life. This must include some form of the following actions done together: shar-ing faith, praying, living, and ministering. These shared actions are not arbitrarily left to the individual's choice or whim. They con-stitute membership. So one is excused only for directly ministe-rial reasons. These commitment mechanisms ritualize in some genuine fashion the corporate vision and faith. Without such reg-ularly siiared experiences, the sense of religious community becomes ethereal and chimerical. Therefore, in some carefully understood sense, religious life is life in community, and not just on one's own. For an active religious, not to have a genuine desire to be,together in praying, living, and ministering becomes a seri-ous countersign to membership and cannot simply be tolerated. This corporate shared life has within it a dynamic impulse to public, visible expression. The life-form of a secular institute runs on~a different dynamic: to be hidden and unrecognized within the secular society. And so, ordinarily the religious life-form will stand out more than that of a secular institute. This element of public visibility gives external expression to the essential corpo-rate nature of religious life. Of cot~rse, the evangelical impera-tives, especially celibate chastity, add their own focus~to this central corporate identity. My point here is simple and clear: reli-gious life is not something done on my own and alone. It is always a shared corporate vision and existence. Mission: A Profound Spirituality and Theology Mission is a great growing concern within religious life today, and well it should be. But this great concern can be misunder-stood. In these days of second, third, and even fourth careers, more and more religious find themselves wondering "What would I like to do now?" or "What should I try after ten years of teach-ing?" Though these and similar wonders can naturally entertain our minds, they can fixate us on too superficial a level. As men- May-June 1996 Aschenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens tioned above, mission is not finally a matter of personal preference and efficient deployment of members. Mission in religious life always catches fire in a profound the-ology and spirituality. Religious consecration gathers together and roots members in the mystery of Jesus' obedience to the great universal mission of God's love. A passionate desire for every-body to know how loved and cared for they are in the mystery of God is always burning in Jesus' heart. He is always on this mis-sion. It is his very identity. Jesus' consciousness is dominated by a sense of being sent. He never stands on his own. He never comes to do his own thing. Whatever he speaks and does and is, he receives from another. The Gospel of John makes this very clear in many passages. "I do nothing on my own authority but speak simply as my Father has taught me. The one who sent me is with me now: the Father has never left me alone, for I always do what pleases him" (Jn 8:28-29). There is a clear limit to any process of self-actualization in Jesus. This clear limit does not speak of immature dependency, but rather points to a theology and spirituality of love always aflame in his heart. The receptivity involved in Jesus' experience of mission reveals the central love affair that burns at the core of his identity. Rather than passive submission to the marching orders of some distant authority, mission for Jesus always radiates a life of love with the One he calls "my dear Father." At the heart of this love affair, a mysterious abandonment burns in an identity of perpetual ado-ration. It is an adoration that sets him afire every day for his mis-sion and finally for the fearful but well-loved completion of that mission: the great Passover of his life. He does not tell his dear Fathe~ what to do. Rather, their self-abandonment in mutual love forges such a union that Jesus, aglow in the Holy Spirit, is God's mission always burning among us. Jesus: Abandonment to His "Dear Father" In this abandonment Jesus' heart is always burning true. Sometimes he shows his love by carrying out ordinary routines, while at other times he performs deeds of high drama. All disci-ples of the great mission of God must do both kinds of things in their own lives, according to the specifics of their own personal religious experience. Review for Religious In the temple at the age of twelve, Jesus speaks a word of truth: "Didn't you know I must always be where my dear Father is?''2 This truth radiates identity for the young boy, as well as for his distraught mother and foster father. While not easily under-stood, such a word invites contemplative treasuring in their hearts. It not only cannot be contradicted, but it allur-ingly presages a mysterious future. Years later this word has become so clear in his heart as to call him away from his beloved home and mother. An urgency beckons him, an urgency to go to his cousin, the Baptizer, at the Jordan. There the fire flames forth in an enor-mously special way. A religious experience, always alive in his heart, flashes forth in a dramatic moment. A love beyond words and imagining; a Son so specially beloved and pleasing; a servant uniquely chosen for mission--in such a moment the abandonment of his life to his dear Father is so very obvious and very right. He knows that this fire in his heart has not been set by himself, but by a dear Father's loving Spirit. The original temple-word, now a clearly recognized relationship with a dear Father beloved beyond limit, becomes a guiding light all through his busy life in the midst of the people. Always he is one called and sent into the mission of every day. This special inner consciousness keeps the fire of loving aban-donment zealously aglow, ~in his heart. "I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already!" (Lk 12:49). This inner fire burns finally into the completion of his bap-tism. "There is a baptism I must still receive, and how great is my distress till it is over!" (Lk 12:50). The growing paschal ful-fillment of that temple-word brings him into the great mission-ary climax of his life.-It is high drama. A mission of love plays itself out on the stage of his troubled heart, and the audience stretches into the fullness of time. In an olive grove his aware-ness that "everything is possible for you, dear Father" raises a puzzling possibility: "Take this cup away from me." But, beyond the fear and questioning of his mind, in the deepest adoring still-ness of his heart, that fire of self-abandonment faithfully burns and enlivens: "But let it be as you, not I, would have it!" This chosen servant, so much the delight of God, brings the whole mission of his life to unending fullness in the climactic Mission for Jesus always radiates a life of love with the One he calls "my dear Father." 2~lay-37~ne 1996 Aschenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens challenge of Calvary. Though the drama and intensity of the moment is high pitch, the story is still the same: a servant aban-doning himself to the Beloved. The mission of love is now some-how complete. "It is accomplished" (Jn 19:30). "Dear Father, into your hands I give over my spirit" (Lk 23:46). Jesus, God's mission. in our midst, stripped to the simple clear essence of his identity, becomes a fire of forgiving love blazing into the fullness of time. Disciples: Sent for Missidn This enlivening fire for mission in Jesus is meant to deter-mine the missionary lives of all his disciples. A great desire for mission and evangelization sends disciples all over the world. This evangelization must always be fueled by an urgency of desire that more and more people taste the joy, freedom, and union of God's deeply personal love in Jesus, a reconciling love in which we all live and move and have our being. Disciples always bring an aston-ishing wealth of gifts, training, and experience to this mission of evangelization. This is marvelous. The cooperation and blend-ing of all these talents in any particular operation, however, is not always easy. At the heart of this sense of mission must always be the same profound identifying attitude of Jesus. An eager, ready abandon-ment in love stokes the heart's coals for the fire of mission. Such missionary eagerness comes from a burning desire to be sent, This fire for mission involves a profound attitude in faith that becomes visible in the results of an appropriate ministerial place-ment process. Daily discipleship in the great mission of Jesus always requires the stance of radical abandonment that identifies Jesus in his love affair with his dear Father. Various dangers today threaten the faith attitude and reli-gious experience needed if we are to share Jesus' burning sense of mission. In recent years many congregations have borrowed ter-minology from corporate management and social psychology to name roles played in the community's organization and struc-ture. 3 While there surely is some value in this, we must be care-ful~ of the significance of our language. Language often has an effect on us that is not immediately evident, It can .talk us into or out of certain attitudes, almost without our noticing. If we slip out of the profound faith perspective described in this article, a prophetic vision easily becomes ideological, and fire for mission Review for Religious becomes political competition. We must be careful that our words do not distract us from the realm of profound faith where the dynamics of life and love are often quite different from those of our secular society. An age still strongly individualistic, therapeutic, and security conscious keeps the focus on self and taking care of self. In ways insidiously subliminal or at least not obvious, this spirit can lead to an assertiveness that resists the abandonment that sets a person afire for mission. Especially when this therapeutic spirit seems very convincing, the dynamic of "sending oneself" can quench the red-hot coals of missionary abandonment. Such self-sending is easily justified in the heady winds of assertiveness and individ-ualism. Such self-sending often makes a person blind to any par-ticipation in the corporate vision; it blocks genuine community mediation and can even manipulate it. Such an attitude and prac-tice ~threatens our sharing in Jesus' sense of mission. The issue finally is always the same: The self-abandonment that enlivens and sets the heart on fire is itself being abandoned. An Abandonment to Whom? The abandonment described here must be an interpersonal experience of love. Though we may pledge allegiance to a flag, we can abandon ourselves only to some person who loves us. Then, when the beauty of the beloved is magnetic enough, the aban-donment becomes practically unavoidable. 'No mere cause, how-ever noble and (xciting, can affect us in this way, can move us as profound interpersonal love, engagement, and abandonment of self can. The abafidonment beyond self that participates in God's mis~- sion in Jesus always includes four loves or four ways of loving. First and foremost, we abandon ourselves into the loving hands of God. This falling 6ut of control can never be forced or strongly willed on our own. We can only be lured and seduced to it by the astonishing beauty of God's love in the fidelity of Jesus. For someone who does not feel the magnetism of that love, the aban-donment so central to this article not only will be almost unin-telligible, but will also be altogether impossible. The person may even repel any such suggestion. The continuing struggle in active apostolic congregations to integrate mission and consecration is relevant here. A certain consecration to, with, and in God is nec- May-June 1996 Ascbenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens Our hearts' desires and attentions must not focus on ourselves, but on needy people of the world. essary if mission endeavors--even fervently "prophetic" ones-- are to become more than just efficient social work. In other words, the proper integration of consecration and mission can take place only in the actual experience of abandoning ourselves to God's love so radiantly.inviting in Jesus. Second, fire for mission also involves an abandonment in com-passionate sensitivity to all sorts of needy people in our world. No impersonal cause, however rabidly espoused, will suffice. A specification and personalization of the great needs throughout our universe invites the missionary abandonment described in this article. For this aspect of the abandonment to have strong effect today, certain countercultural developments are needed. Our hearts' desires and attentions must not focus on ourselves, but on needy people of the world. This calls for gener-ous abandonment. The charism of each congre-gation must help its members to see needs in the world and then to set priorities. The charism must be alive in their hearts so that they actually address some specific needs of today, rather than simply embrace a vague universalism. A charism that is trying to do everything runs the danger finally of accomplishing nothing. Third, abandoning myself to the community of brothers or sisters who share the same religious consecration implies a belief that our corporate good is much more important than my own individual good. Community here must be, not some idealized reality, but the real people of the here and now. This aspect of abandonment for mission does not make light of my own good, but presumes the pervasive corporate identity whereby my own sense of self cannot be conceived apart from our shared life and mission together. The central energizin, g concern is we, not me. Once again, as mentioned earlier, corporate ministerial impact is what mission is about, not a scatter-shot effect of talented pro-fessional individuals. This corporate identity is not easily attained in an age of therapeutic individualism. It continues to be a major issue in religious formation today, and it must be resolved suffi-ciendy at the time of profession if candidates and communities are to have a future together. Fourth, the abandonment we are discussing will always some-how involve human mediators who specify, clarify, and incarnate Review for Religions God's loving authority in Jesus for mission. Whether these medi-ators are friends, a spiritual director, a leadership team, a provin-cial, the bishop, or the people with whom I live, mission can never be simply a matter of myself and God. The dialogue and dis-cernment stretch beyond individual limitations. Each member's discernment always assumes great importance, but is never the ultimate determining factor in the decision. In many situations human mediation is precisely the point of struggle and disagree-ment among us. Some of this struggle is an understandable reac-tion to excessively authoritarian practices of mediation in the past, but not all of it is so easily explained. Some of this reaction needs to be explored and challenged. Without settling for vague gen-eralities at this point, I want to describe some specific develop-ments in the riext section without, however, resorting to overly definitive, rigid uniformities. This brings us to the role of religious government in fostering a congregation's fire for mission. Role of Religious Government for Mission Models of religious government have gone through an enor-mous transformation since Vatican II. The diversity of develop-ment between men's and women's congregations has been striking. As we become sensitive to the enriching differences of the femi-nine and the masculine, this diversity of development is expected and is perhaps long overdue after many years in which women religious were forced into structures and models originally cre-ated for men. But some further questions surface at this point. Should the governmental models in congregations of women and men be so different? Along with some diversity that all seem happy to allow for, should there not be more similarity in the role of authority and the practice of obedience within men's and women's congregations? How do we recognize and maintain, both for women and men, a continuity of development with the past.in this area of religious authority and obedience? (Such continuity, though not easily recognized at certain junctures in the development, is always a sign of the guidance of the Holy.Spirit.) These questions are not easily answered, and I hope that together we will deal hon-esdy with them for some time. It is too easy a resolution simply to say: that is the masculine way and this is the feminine way. It is my hope that the diversity in thi.s area between the practice of men and women will be mutually challenging and enriching. May-June 1996 Aschenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens To give authority to someone utterly without the charism of leadership will usuall not promote the corporate ministerial impact of a con regation, o A movement awayofrom hierarchical models has character-ized ma.ny congregational leadership arrangements since Vatican II. This movement was not so clearly called for in the cohncil's Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life; espe-cially in its treatment of obedience.4 Throughout all the docu-ments of the council, we can clearly find glimpses of a new "vision for the people of God that would legitimate in the Spirit-some of this movement away from a thoroughly hierarchical model. But, withgut' doubt, other waves of influence gathering force over the last thirty years have been churned up and driven along by secular winds. Strong'democratic and egalitarian presumptions have been hard at work deconstru4dng most models of ¯ authority and government. And, once tidal-wave proportions have been reached, it is hard to be concerned about nuance and degree of development and chan~e. The Ignatian model is an interesting.~xample. The original Ignatian concePtion of authority and obedience for mission was strongly hierarchical and centralized. It was this strong centralized model, of authority that made both internal cohesiveness and widespread external ministry possible. Some would view this Ignatian model as the beginning of active religious life in the ~'modern world,s Congregations of women and men claiming Ignatian 'influence and roots in their founding interpret this in quite different ways today, howe~,er much they have or have not thought through and discussed the matter. A triangular model of authority as flowing down from the pinnacle has given way to a model of much more mutual and shared responsibility. We are rediscovering the authority in each mature believing person. When well informed by the Holy Spirit and well in touch with God's people as a whole, each person is able to "author forth" as part-of God's mission of love among us. But is this individualized, egalitarian authority enough for the mis-sion of religious life in the future? If we simply let the recent decentralizing development have its way, will the. proper under-standing and practice of authority for mission just naturally emerge? I think not, Such a development implies too ethereal a Review Jbr Religious view of the Holy Spirit, as though not inviting the cooperative ohard work of human minds and hearts. Authority's triangle can-not simply be exchanged, in my opinion, for a circle composed of brothers and sisters of completely equal authority. A Model of Concentric Circles To properly integrate mission, community, authority, and obe, dience, I suggest another model for religious institutes: concen-tric circles. In the centermost circle is God revealed in Jesus with a very special authority. In the next circle are the founders and foundresses with their charismatic vision and that vision's con-tinuous development. In the next few circles would be individu-als or teams on the general or local levels who possess an authority for unity and mission beyond that of all the other members. This special authority is received both from God and from all the mem-bers through the group's ecclesially approved process of choice. This distinctive authority does not finally s~t these people off from the rest of the members. As a matter of fact, it will have effect only as contextualized within, the community of all the brothers and sisters. The people exercising such special authority are sisters and brothers to. us all. This is precisely why these cen-tral circles are placed concentrically within the largest circle, which contains all the members gathered as brothers or sisters in the one congregation. In the concentric model it is important to distinguish, but not separate, authority, leadership, and obedience.6 Authority is a canonical, juridical office of power rooted in God, not in the chancery or some Vatican office. This is a power about other per-sons for.ministry. Leadership, on the other hand, is a charism of influence and inspiration over other people. This latter cannot be legalized and institutionalized. Not everyone has this charism. Though the juridical office of authority and the personal charism of leadership can and should be distinguished, we must always work hard to keep the two in a proper balance of relationship. To give authority to someone utterly without the charism of lead-ership will usually not promote the corporate ministerial impact of a congregation. To confuse this distinction and the operative government-model in a congregation will always have its cor-rupting effect on the unity of the membership and on its shared fire for mission. That lines of authority be clear regarding who May-~nne 1996 Aschenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens exercises it and for what object is not a finicky concern for tidi-ness, but rather a strong desire for spreading fire effectively in the mission of God's love. If authority and leadership must stay in relationship, the same is true of authority and obedience. They form an essential mutual relationship. One cannot stand without the other. While author-ity invites the mature obedience of careful listening, so too must it be sensitive in careful listening to the membership's calling forth healthy mature exercise of authority. Each calls forth the other in a vitality and interrelationship always focused on greater unity.and fire for mission. The decentralizing trend in religious congregations since Vatican II has affected this interrelationship of authority, leader-ship, and obedience. It has thereby also affected the structure, appearance, and sense of belonging in many congregations: But, as we keep relating this decentralization to two other corporate values (membership and ministry) and not allow it simply to develop a life of its" own, a couple of important questions face us. How decentralized can a group become and still preserve a cohe-sive unity and an outreaching mission? How much unrefined plu-ralism can a group tolerate without losing its unity and identity? These questions not only nag at religious groups, but also affect secular organizations and are not susceptible to pat or easy answers. However, dealing with them is crucial because it keeps this decentralizing tendency in relationship with the foursome (mission, community, authority, and obedience) that provides (as this article argues) the central stability and identity of any religious congregation. One of the dangers today is that this decentralizing spirit may assume a solitary dominating influence. Religious authority, then, as exercised in the concentric gov-ernmental structure presented here, serves two major important purposes. In the first place, this authority fosters clarity and energy about the mission of God in Jesus for us here and now. Decisions are made, not simply according to individual preferences and seri- 6us individual discernments, but in light of a congregation's charis-matic identity as that has developed over years to a contemporary specification. Authority thus exercises a preserving role regarding the congregation's present specification of its identity in the mis-sion of God in Jesus. Rather than having a stifling effect, these mediators in the exercise of authority foster: fire for mission and are servants of the faithful continuity of the congregation's Review for Religious charism. Of course, they could never serve this special role with-out the energetic cooperation of us all. In the second place, this authority is especially related to the corporate unity of the group. Just as God's authority is never meant to be an oppressive ,burden, but serves toward the uplifting unity of the whole human family, so this religious authority is a unique service for love in the unity and mission of the congregation. Mediators of this authority, therefore, are special servants of the group's unity in love. Without careful, clear exercise of authority and obedience, a congrega-tion's experienced unity gets ragged and its fire for mission dims. Results of Healthy Integration The proper interrelationship of mission, community, author-ity, and obedience produces four healthy results. First, ministry is always seen as rooted in and flowing out of the Trinity. Neither empty theory nor impractic.al idealism, this profound spiritual theology must ground and animate all ministry in the church. Ministry is really God's work and not some project that we, are in sole charge of and that belongs completely to us. This vision of bedrock faith has very practical implications. The second result is one of these practical implications. This Trinitarian vision of ministry keeps in check the serious danger of finding our very identity in the ministry. To succumb to the dan-ger and identify ourselves in what we do is always to stunt the richness and profundity of our person. This is even more serious in terms of our identity in Christ. Whether consciously or uncon-sciously, letting our very identity--who we are in Christ~--be con-sumed by our hands-on daily work has serious repercussi6ns. Our view of self becomes superficial and overly pragmatic; we stub-bornly cling for dear life to our ministry. The religious experi-ence of taking genuine risks because of our reliance on God's promise in Jesus shrinks. Moreover, the physical decline of old age can bring deep frustration after many years of busy activity if we have allowed those years to teach us by osmosis this faulty maxim: The harder we work, the holier we become. As disciples called by Christ and, saved in Christ, our identity is given; it is revealed, not earned, not merited. "It is, remember, by grace and not by achievement that you are saved . It was nothing you could ordid achieve--it was God's gift of grace which saved you" (Ep 2:6, 8). May-June 1996 Ascbenbrenner ¯ Abandonment That Enlivens Jesus' death on the cross is our hope, our salvation. He is our identity beyond all others. In this greatest act of love, we find an identity so deeply rooted in God that we can be surprised; sur-prised by a ministerial availability beyond limits we had mistak-enly imposed, surprised by a ministerial effectiveness beyond our careful planning, and surprised by an experience of aging that invites an. intimacy with Jesus beyond expectation. Once again the central point of this article stands clear: Jesus' abandonment on the cross attracts us and unites us in a similar abandonment that is the core of all ministry. As a third result, when mission, community, authority, and obedience are meshing in the proper way, an invigorated sense of membership pervades the congregation. Members do not feel competitively alienated from one another in seeking, finding, and carrying out employment. Members, rather, feel part of a reality much. bigger than themselves because their individual placement in ministry somehow really involves the entire community. Their daily ministry is part of the community's whole commitment to mission, extending far beyond individual preference into the enor-mous venture of God's mission of love in Jesus for the transfor-mation of the whole universe. As a fourth result, the proper implementation of the four-some described in this article enables a congregation to pool its resources, especially financial ones, and respond to some extremely critical contemporary needs even when the work is not recom-pensed by a living wage or any salary at all. A corporate commit-ment can overcome the limiting of ministries only to those that individual members find adequate to support themselves. In this way availability for minisu'y is stretched beyond the limits of indi-vidual preference, individual job search, and individual income. In conclusion, the church throughout the world,-and espe-cially in North America, faces the tremendous missionary chal-lenge of a civil society becoming more and more secularistic, more permeated with a practical atheism. In the face of such a challenge, fear would distract our gaze and corrupt our courage. All of the church's members must respond courageously. But we religious, from the vantage point of our celibate, simple lifestyle, should be able t6 gaze and~listen together in a specially sensitive and enlightened way, always eager fo~ a self-abandonment that will enliven, not dehumanize, us and will set us on fire for mission way beyond the individual likes and dislikes. The fire of this self- Review for Religious abandonment will constantly remind us, and everybody, that God is at the heart of it all and that God's love in Jesus is the real work being done and to be done. Notes l See George Aschenbrenner sJ, "Active and Monastic: Two Apostolic Lifestyles," Review for Religious 45, no. 5 (September-October 1986): 653-668. 2 This is a tra~nslation of Luke 2:49 suggested by the Jesuit scripture scholar Father David Stanley in a retreat given in 1967. 3 See Ma~y Linscott SND, "The Service of Religious Authority: Reflections on Government in the Revision of Constitutions," Review for Religious 42, no. 2 (March-April 1983): 212-213. 4 Most commentators on the document notice an ambiguity within a variety of positions due to the conflicting views represented in the body 6f the council and in the commission responsible for Perfectae caritatis. See Commentary on the Documents of Vatican 11, vol. 2 (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968), pp. 301-370. s See David Knowles, From Pachqmius to Ignatius (Ox,ford: C_larendon, 1966), pp. 61-68. 6 See Mary Linscott SND, "Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government," Review for Religious 52, no. 2 (March-April 1993): 166- 193. Composition of Place With consistency, theocean disarms life's taut livery. Before the vasL I let it, like a magnet, draw away heavy-metaled worry that cages me unfree. In its place I embrac~e the gossamer interlace of sun and s,ky and foam, fit garment for a psalm by the side of the sea with ;the waves' response in holy antiphony. Anna Marie Mack SSJ May-if:tote 1996 JUDITH A. MERKLE Gathering the Fragments: New Times for Obedience an Matthew's Gospel we visit a scene with which we are all miliar, the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. Jesus, upset over the death of John the Baptist, withdraws to a quiet place. The disciples and the crowds follow him. The sick come and he heals them, even though he is filled with a sense of loss. It becomes evident the people are without sufficient food. Through strengthening the faith of the disciples, Jesus not only heals the sick but even feeds those who journeyed with him to this out-of-the- way place. At the end of the meal, the apostles gather the fragments from the feast and then continue to journey with Jesus. We too have journeyed with Jesus to what some would call an out-of-the-way place. Over the last thirty years, we as religious have set out in search of Jesus. As Perfectae caritatis states, "the religious life is intended above all else to lead those who embrace it to an imitation of Christ and to union with God" (§2). We have found Christ in prayer, in the poor, in our classrooms and emer-gency wards, on planes to Africa, and in AIDS clinics in our urban areas. We have sought union with God in the reforms of Vatican II, in the retreat movement, marching with farm workers, or pro-viding support to the elderly. We find ourselves in a new place, still seeking to listen to his word. We too have our sick with us, and we have our concerns for them. We too wonder if we have brought enough food for the Judith A. Merkle SNDdeN is in the Religious Studies Department at Niagara University. She is the author of Committed by Choice (1992) and a forthcoming book on religious life, cultural crisis, and the vows. Her address is: P.O. Box 1869; Niagara University, New York 14109. Review for Religious journey. We seek food from Jesus for these next steps of renewal, while at the same time knowing that a world on the cusp of a mil-lennium seeks new food from us. We too, like the people on the hillside, are at the end of a divine banquet. Historically we have witnessed in 19th-centnry religious life a multiplication of the loaves and fishes. In its insti-tutions, its way of organizing religious living, its powerful con-tribution to the church, and its marvelous growth, we have seen something unparalleled in church history since the 13th century. , Today we are left with only the fragments of 19th-century religious life; the fragments of the institutions they founded, the fragments of the way of life they constructed to express religious life, the fragments of their spirituality and beliefs. We can no longer go back and re-create the world they once built, and nei-ther the quality and extent of the next divine banquet nor our part in it is clear to us. There is, however, a choice before us today. We can sit on the hillside and tell stories of a wondrous event, of a former way of living religious life, remembering with nostalgia that brief moment of grandeur when God so touched our lives. We can allow our companionship to cover up our hopelessness about the times ever again being right for such a visitation. Or we can hold the fragments in our hands and ask what revelation they may hold for 'us. Why did God leave us with these fragments? Why must the disciples gather them up? As people living on fragments, we must ask, too, what the people did the day after the banquet. How did they continue their journey of faith? We know they did continue it because today we can gather in Jesus' name and we remain a people who live in this mystery. Let us, then, hold these fragments in our hands and pon-der the pain and promise in them. We will be examining expressly the vow of obedience and how, in the context of our times, it takes on new meaning. We will first discuss how religious share in the cultural crisis in our society at large, and in this way we will speak to the pain these fragments hold. Second, we will focus on obedience as affective bonding and on the life process which this involves. Here we will take heed of the promise which religious living holds in our cul-ture as we face issues of morfil decline, fragmentation, and drift. I would like to explore with you the challenge this call presents personally, congregationally, and eccle~ially. May-3~ne 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments What is obedience in a social context where the rules have changed from a premodern to a modern to a postmodern mindset in a thirty-year period ? The New Situation We sha~e with others in the Western world in a new situation. of our lives. A recent book makes it clear that the United States society currently lives from moral fragments and community frag-ments only. Ours is a time of moral breakdowns, moral hope-lessness, and drift. We have looked to both economic progress and government to provide a quality life for all, but we realize more and more in the 1990s that there is nothing more important to our lives together than the regeneration that moral community can provide,l ~ Hearing this analysis as religious, we know that the moral drift in the wider cul-ture has touched us also. Thirty years ago Perfectae caritatis launched us on a path of renewal with these words: "The more ardently religious unite themselves to Christ through a self-surrender involving their entire lives~ the more vigorous becomes, the life of the church and the more abundantly .her apostolate bears fruit" (§1). But what is the shape of this self-surrender in a culture living on frag- .ments, where cultural wisdom says to find some corner of the world where your needs are met and stay there, avoiding life's larger questions and the needs of one's neigh-bor? 2 What is obedience in a social context where the rules have changed from a premodern to a modern to a postmodern mind-set in a thirty-year period? Before Vatican II, it could be argued, religious life shared many of the characteristics of premodern life. Community was based largely on a shared geography, kinship, ethnicity, and the particular territorial identity created by the institutions of 19th-century' religious life. The cloister provided a world apart, within a modern world. Vatican II brought the modern world into the cloister, and with it the emancipation, .freethinking, open future, and promise of progress that are chariacteristic of modernity.3 Religious entered into a world organized by mobility of money and work. The old institutions and the clear but at times static thinking they repre-sented gave way to the new. We welcomed this change. New Review for Religious beliefs gave moral and social coherence to our lives. Personal freedom, using one's gifts in ministry, freedom of conscience, per-sonal' development, renewed social commitment, and political reform came to the forefront Community and Identity In this rapidly changing situation, however, the type of local community which taught the virtues, values, obligations, and iden-tity of our congregations was harder to maintain. We sought to enlarge our concept of community with a greater sense of our province community and with various new forms of government at the congregational level. We argued over government, but found ourselves really arguing over community and how we belonged as we experienced growing pluralism among us. We knew that a common checkbook was not enough of a unifier in our growing diversity. But at times we imitated a culture which turned to the market and government as unifiers in the absence of weak-ening moral community.4 But we felt the incompleteness of it all. Community became largely intentional on a small scale, yet broadened to the world at the level of association and conscious-ness. In the mobility of life, community became too transitory for many and at times only an enclave of privacy,s The change brought good and bad, yet this transition has not been complete. As we discern the new times for our vow of obedience, we grabble today for a sense of identity, not just before others but among ourselves. We struggle with the identification of the lim-its of our way of life and with' questions about the appropriate moral ways of dealing with them. For moral discourse always implies boundaries and limits the stuff of community. In this we share in the moral drift of the wider culture where also there has been a weakening of centers of moral formation: family, church, community. Postmodern Challenge We have difficulty, too, with public conversations about our identity as religious because we find, unlike thirty years ago, that words such as church, sacrament, authority, and celibacy do not always have a common core of meaning among us. Years ago we argued about progressive and conservative viewpoints, but we shared a core of meaning. Today our cofiversations reveal vast differences of meaning among us. May-dTune 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments This flows from our being in a culture that lacks a broad interpretative metaphor to explain the order and meaning of the world. Beyond this lack, the uncertainty of any knowledge is widely held. The meaning of any idea is constandy in flux, and no one meaning or interpretation has any authority over another. Since people believe that one cannot know the truth, they think of "truth" as merely the momentary victor among ideas vying with one another for popular acceptance. Criticism of any and all ideas goes on and on. This is a brief description of what authors term postmodernism.6 It is also a description of where some reli-gious locate themselves. We also find a weakening in our skills for envisioning and pursuing the common good together. In a more static society, one cannot opt out of the common good, for one's own enter-tainable options are out of the question if they infringe those of another, and vice versa. In a mobile society, where community is an experience rather than a place, this face-to-face existence is weakened and along with it the ability of a group to reinforce behavior that moves beyond self-interest. We experience this in our difficulty in addressing the responsibilities and benefits of membership. ,4 Situation of Moral Hazard Charles Wilber, the economist, claims that our modern way of living separates us from one another and creates "imperfect knowledge" of one another. This in turn breaks down trust and can place us in a situation of "moral hazard." While Wilber's anal-ysis focuses on industry, I suggest that it provides a window on our experience as religious.7 A moral hazard occurs in situations where people are affected by one another's behavior. A situation is termed a moral hazard when a low trust level causes people to engage in self-defeating behaviors. An example is the distrust that can occur between an employer and employee. The employer fears that the employee is not doing her job. The employee fears that the employer will require too much work or will fire her if given the chance. In response the employee begins to withdraw and shirk her job. To remedy the situation, the employer supervises more to stop the expected laziness. If the employee could self-supervise, work would be more efficient and the company would profit. Instead, what results is a Review Jbr Religions situation where each, the employer and the employee, pursues his or her self-interest. Other individuals working in the situa-tion can observe troublesomeness growing, but no one individual can do anything about it. It becomes a climate, and a self-defeat-ing one. The result is that all individuals are worse off and the group is worse off than if they had been able to work together. Why is it so difficult in such a situation to cooperate?s Because exit is cheap and voice is expensive. Exit means to withdraw, to drop out of the conversation that would be needed to come up with a solution which serves each individual's interest and the group's interest as well. The ability to exit is facilitated by "room to move," the very meaning of a "mobile" society. Voice, on the other hand, involves the communication of one's concern to another and the willingness to work out a solution. The cost to individuals to do this often exceeds the benefits they might hope to receive. Hence, one of the two persons at odds exits. The situation of moral hazard has parallels in religious life 'today. The fragments of an earlier religious lifestyle that we live with include problematic questions about membership and the possibility of group action. We need group decision more than ever before because our problems cannot be solved by individu-als, yet our lifestyle is such that to take up the challenge of voice instead of exit is getting more and more "expensive" emotionally, spiritually, and personally. Obedience in These Times These are new times for obedience. Today the practice of obedience has to be linked to a common consciousness of one's interdependence with others, self-restraint based on a gospel life, and institutional reinforcement of those values that constrain self-interested behavior and build common meaning out of a plural-ity of experiences. Those in leadership know that government can regulate only what people allow to be regulated. Money and government are inadequate unifiers unless there is a moral com-munity based on these beliefs. Researchers today point to "affiliative decline" among reli-gious. They charge that religious lack a sense of purpose based on a belief in the meaning and viability of their way of life. This breeds a sense of disaffection or alienation. The researchers believe that congregations will decline if members have no stronger reason to remain than mere bonding.9 May-June 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments For these reasons the reclaiming of obedience today has to address issues of meaning and common commitment in a situation of pluralism. It has to further outline the path by which religious and their congregations bond the real people who are their mem-bers in the diverse situations in which they live, by shared com-mitment to and reinforcement of the values which give meaning to their lives and direction to their congregational ministry. Our language of obedience has to touch,the process by which we learn to participate--because we want to, as an affair of the heart~-in the life and mission of our congregation. We obey in the '90s:like religious before us, in imitation of Jesus, who obeyed his heavenly Father because he wanted to, out of love. He defined his whole life by this pursuit. Postmode~m means that the systems of the modern age are no longer workable. Progress, freedom of choice, and open bound-aries have not necessarily brought quality of life. We realize today that some of the systems we created in renewal are defective. We, like others in our culture, are searching for meaning, spirit, and moral direction and for new structures, policies, and organiza-tion to unify our communities. Questioning these new times of ours for obedience, there-fore, has consequences for congregational and ecclesial regener-ation as well. There is no obedience without mutuality. As we turn to obedience as affective bonding, the perspectives we gain will have ramifications for congregational response and ecclesial life. I will suggest a few of these ramifications. Obedience as Affective Bonding Obedience of the mind, or cognitive growth in one's knowl-edge of the church and the Christian mysteries, is easier to define than the path of affective bonding which the vow of obedience pri-marily involves.I° Cognitive growth can be measured by assimila-tion of important information. Formation programs, courses of study, and catechetical syllabi can put information about the church and Christian life and one's congregational spirit into a sequence of increasing complexity and hierarchy of importance. Such order-ing allows for proper intellectual formation of a religious. Affective bonding takes longer, is harder to measure, and is difficult to chart. The goal of affective learning is for persons to act as they do because it is in itself satisfying to them. Educational Review for Religious literature offers mbdels to help people reflect on the components of affective learning and bonding.To the degree that growth in obedience is a path of affective learning and bonding with God, with one's community, and with the mission of the church, :reflec-tion on such components or Stages of affective bonding can reveal important aspects of obedience today. The stages we discuss will be termed receiving, responding, valu-ing, prioritizing, and communal charac-ter/ characterization.11 Looking at them one at a time will make their meaning .and relevance clear. Receiving Obedience begins with receiving, becoming conscious of, a vocation and having a willingness to attend to people and events associated with it. All voca-tions begin with a connection: to a men-tor, to a person in a certain apostolate, to a chance advertisement, to a casual remark. Obedience begins here, long before a vow is taken. If there is any decision, it is to remain open to the sub-ject of a religious vocation. At this point there is usually no decision about the merit of the call itself. A per-son is invited to move in this stage from a consciousness of a vocation, to a willingness to receive, to a decision to give mat-ters concerning a vocation some careful attention despite com-peting choices or distractions. While receiving is a stage in obedience, it is also a recurring theme. All through religious life, there are new occasions to revisit this grace of obedience. A new member of cdmmunity is waiting to be received or a new program is being launched. New leader-ship, maybe not of one's own choosing, needs to be accepted. An intervention regarding health, retirement, or change in ministry needs to be examined. Can we even consider it? Can we receive this into our lives? Inability or refusal to "receive" one's congregational reality into one's life causes disaffection. Disaffection here is understood as an alienation from something which is important to our whole-ness or completion)2 When we make a vow of obedience, we say Our language of obedience has to touch the process by which we learn to participatem because we want to, as an affair of the heartm in the !ife and mission of our congregation. May-~une 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments we want our relationship with Jesus to happen within the con-text of this community in the church. Disaffection occurs because we are not in harmony with something which we have chosen as a life-giving relationship. Like the rich young man, we feel the sadness this creates. Congregational mail is not read, a change of ministry is never considered. Persons in authority are rejected before they act. We are living within a congregation, but not receivi ~ng it in our lives. Since obedience has ramifications for the bonding of the com-munity and its effectiveness in mission, disaffection at the. level of receiving can be contagious and can create a negative climate in a local community or a province. Congregational. Disaffection can also be caused by the inabil-ity of the congregation to receive the members. Whom do we receive today? Are we in a posture to receive new members? Do we receive our own present members, or do ageism, racism, and ideological battles cut us off from one another before we begin? Do we know how "they" think before they speak? Do we turn people off?. How do those of us in international orders receive members of cultures not our own? How do these things affect our bonding and our future? While we complain that members have "dropped out" of our congregations, how large is our own circle of inclusion? Ecclesial. In the 19th century the juridical mentality of the church regarding religious life was one of enclosure. To be a reli-gious meant to be "removed" from the world. The new congre-gations forming, however, were different from what canon law described. Hence, they required a new mentality to give them birth ecclesially. The church had to receive something with which it was not familiar. We find that new congregations of simple vows were formed over a period of a hundred years, while the main body of canon laws officially recognized as "religious" only the traditional, enclosed style of religious life.~3 A more radical dia-logue between religious life and the society produced, not the death of religious life, but a newness in its expression and form. The church had an important role in fostering this newness. What today needs to be received to allow this tradition to continue? Responding The next step in affective bonding is a response beyond mere attending to a call or invitation. In response a person does some- Review for Religious thing with, in, or,about the call, besides merely perceivin~ it~ Our first response to the call ofour vocation was to enter, to promise we would give our vocation a try. 0 Responding can begin passively as compliance and later .become voluntary. When persons begin religious life, they often do things they areasked even though the purpose of them may not seem evident at the time. Many would tell of judging early adjust-ments as "what is involved" and going along with what was asked. In order to take on the story of the community and its way of life, such a response is required. When response becomes volun-tary, an emotional response of pleasure or enjoyment occurs. .Responding to people, events, and matters of one's community is accompanied by a feeling of satisfaction. It is obvious that responding is an ongoing element in the obedience of the religious. What marks its distinctiveness is the passage from compliance to voluntary action. Compliance is a valuable obedient response .to many requests in religious life. However, it is only through voluntary action that affective bond-ing moves beyond the fragile link of compliance. The satisfac-tion that comes from voluntary'action is the free blending of the hearts and the wills, which is of the essence of obedience as affec-tive bonding. Compliance is only the handmaiden of voluntary action. Disaffection can occur at the level of responding when a per-son cannot move from compliance to voluntary action. Religious slip .if, fearing enforcement or fearing that lack of any response at all would invite emotional sanctions from. their peers, .they do only what they have to do. Disaffection sets in because in this state the religious are bereft of the normal emotional satisfaction that should come from voluntary participation in the life and mis-sion of their congregations. Congregational. The need to create meaningful avenues bf response' is key to growth in a congregation. Withdrawal breeds lack of emotional involvement, and lack of emotional involve-ment breeds withdrawal. Research claims that altruism in a group actually atrophies when it is not called forth.~4 The resources of love in a group are not fixed or limited; rather these moral resources respond positively to practice, to learning by doing, and negatively to nonpractice. This is not to recommend mak-ing~ exaggerated demands, but only to.re'commend that the group do some stretching. May-~tne 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments ~'Ecclesial. The 19th century was'a ,tirfie of new needs. The tur-moil of the Industrial Revolution called ~eligious. from the clois-ter to active involvement in collective, works :of'social significance: education, social services, and healthcare:The church was called to expand its geographical reach and its ministerial presence in a society which claimed its irrelevance. The times were not unlike our own. -, 'Religious, however, ~,ere .partners with the church in meeting this crisis. Many 19th-century orders had superiors general and were not directly under the authority of a local bishop. This new jurisdictional authority in the church enabled the coordination of ministerial works which were transdiocesan and which in turn established the credibility of the church in sectors where it was not previously received,t5 Response of religious to the ,church and response of the mag-isterial church to religious have to continue this tradition for the sake of both the church and religious life, for neither ~prospers in a climate of alienation. The crisis of the 19th century stimulated the creation of a n~w authoritative identity in the church. What is needed today to. strengthen the relationship between religious and the magisterial church is 'for each to view the other novas a problem but as a partner. At this valuing stage in the process of obedience, members make it clear that membership in community is worth something to them. There is enough participation in the life and mission of orie's congregation and enough identification with its way of life so that other people readily identify the members as belonging to the group, _ A later stage of valuing consists of efforts to grow as members, Opportunities for renewal and deepening are sought out. Here there 'is an actual preference for religious life and its values. One is committed by choice. There is an investment of time and energy beyogd the minimum. Members manifest a growing conviction and loyalty regarding the values of religious life and a desire to convinceothers or at~least share their own faith experience. Here the satisfaction felt earlier as pleasure is transformed into an aroused need or drive to act and grow as members of the congregation within the ~hurch and society. There is a motivation to live the life to its fullest extent. Commitment is measured by Review for Religious the extending of such dedicated living over a period of time and by renewed desire to continue. The ongoing dynamic of obedience is shown in the act of prefei'ence.One prefers the life and mission of one's congregation over other things. One willingly considers community priorities in selection of a mission. One willingly chooses to work through a difficult community situation. One faithfully stands by someone in illness in spite of its time-consuming nature. This is the dynamic of valuing. This growth enables the member not just to par~ ticipate passively in community life, but to function actively. A~ fundamental values are owned and appropriated deeply, they also can be translated into new forms and expressions~ Congregational. Conviction regarding the life and mission of the community breeds new endeavors and investment in the worth of meaningful traditions. Dispiritedness, however, grows in a con-gregational climate of doubt about the value of the group, its authenticity, and its future. There is no longer a desire to invite new members. There are no new initiatives. There is apathy and lack of commitment to act and grow as members. People have no energy for anything but super-ficial reminiscing and required presence. This is a great danger especially in a congregational culture which has relied on com-pliance and force as its bond of membership. No one individual can treat this doubt. A~ a situation of moral hazard, it requires group ac6on and leadership. Without oppor-tunitiesto move from compliance to voluntary action, religious are not likely to deepen .their valuing of their congregational life, for they know little of the emotional satisfaction that. comes from voluntary action. Many congregations today are discussing processes of "re-membering," of calling their members to reinvest in new ways that could help them overcome the apathy and fear which threat-ens them. When such a decision of valuing occurs, it leads to the more mature obedience of the next stages. Ecdesial. The effort of the Synod to study the value of religious life was for us religious a supportive moveas we seek or explore The ongoing dynamic of obedience is shown in the act of preference. One prefers the life and mission of one's congregation over other things. May-ffTtne 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments our meaning and role now and into the new millennium. We reli-gious need the affirmation of the church, not just passively, but to help us participate in its life actively and creatively within its own re-creation. On our part, what values does our experience rec-ognize as essential in spite of the rapid change we'have under-gone? What support do we need so that w& can translate these values into new fo~ms~and expressions? What do we need and what do we not need from the church? If we religious do not want our relationship to the magisterial church to be based on compliance and ~force, then we too have to do our communal work in taking hold of our future. Prioritiz~ ing As one matures in religious life, membership has to be inte-grated with other values: career goals, family relationships, beliefs, coping, with personal crises, new knowledge and experiences and opportunitie~. Religious have to see how life in community and in the church relates to other dimensions of their life. ~ The first step in prioritizing is a willingness to think issues through. The next step is to bring together a complex of values, possibly disparate values, into some semblance of order and mean-ing. Since renewal has brought a plethora :of experiences into a community, it is critical that the group be' able to sit and talk about .these new yearnings. This ability to talk,will help keep the bonds of~community realistic and centered in the present. For instance, communities can ask how members experience com-' munity when they live apart from the group. Religious need to .relate multicultural experiences, new ways of prayer, educational o'pportunities, changes in the church, mis-sion experience, and women's issues with their membership in religious community. This may require familiarity with new areas of church teaching or involvement in groups within or outside . the community that gr.apple with how the gospel and new per-sonal experiences impinge on one another. For instance, religious who are working through various types of addictive behaviors can learn together the meaning of a twelve-step program in their lives as religious. While this is, an affective process, a sharing of the heart, it also involves cognitive growth, new information, and the ability to generalize and engage in abstract thinking. It requires accu-rate information. In many instances it requires good theology. Review for Religious How do women's issues, church membership, and fidelity to reli-gious commitment relate? How is one a feminist and a member of the church? How does one integrate his desire for political reform and his commitment to the priesthood, which usually means he cannot hold public office? How does one uphold one's valuing of community life and yet reach out in a ministry that makes com-munity contact difficult? Prioritizing is an act of obedience. The organization of values as one prioritizes may result in their synthesis into new ways of membership and deeper investment in the church and community. It is obvious that prioritizing is a principal task in fol-lowing a mature religious lifecourse. Those who take on the hard work of prioritizing achieve a high result, that is, an internally consistent integration of membership in their congregation and church with other aspects of their lives. Congregational. VChen we look at the religious of the 19th century, we can see they did this prioritizing. They integrated religious commitment with an entirely new cul-ture of the Industrial Revolution. They influenced the culture and created a new expression of religious life. They distinguished themselves from "regular" cloistered religious life by collective works of social significance: education, social services, and health-care. In the eyes of the church, it was the leaving of the world which constituted the religious state. However, these religious were immersed in the world. How were they religious? They rejected the upward mobility of liberal society by differentiating their activity from other forms of work in the society. They were active in the society yet were removed by social position. They were "placed" by obedience in the works of their congregation. Their works were not those of the new profitable capitalist cor-porations, although there is evidence of scattered experiments with founding "Christian factories" to give the poor employment and a sense of Christian community.~6 We religious'today are called to the task of integrating our charism with the new situation of our culture. We still struggle with how we have left the world yet are immersed in it as a place of revelation and service. This struggle to achieve a balanced understanding will overcome the feeling of powerlessness, isola-tion, and frustration in the face of a vast and complex future. Prioritizing is an act of obedience. May-Jvtne 1996 Merkle ¯ Gathering the Fragments Those who avoid prioritizing see the choice of religious as between embracing everyday secular life as they know it and going back to a pre-Vatican life based on a religious worldview that no longer communicates, This all-or-nothing viewpoint eliminates the possibility of synthesis between the real world of everyday life and the transcendent one which prioritizing calls forth. Ecclesial. For this prioritizing to occur, there has to be a cli-mate in the church in which one can safely explore new avenues of thought and living, engaging in critical reflection and respectful dissent until the value and relationship of new ideas to the mysteries of the Christian life is.evident. Today something is perceived as credible, not just because the church says it, but because it makes human sense. Religious need to be involved in helping the church make sense to the world and the world make sense to the church. Needed church reforms such as giving women more .decision-mak-ing power cannot be ignored by religious orders if they hope at the same time to promote the credibility of the church in first-world society; nor can economic, social, and political reforms be supported only halfheartedly in poverty situations in both the first and third worlds. These corporate stances of prioritizing mark the communal path of obedience within a congregation. Communal Character/Characterization At this stage of obedience, the values of membership in their congregation have a place in the individual members' lives. The values are organized into some kind of internally consistent sys-tem and have controlled the behavior of the individual members for enough time that they are now readily seen as persons who have adopted "living the life" of the congregation. It is impor-tant to note that such a stage of obedience does not come until members have had to prioritize, that is, integrate the new dis-coveries of their gei~eration with the gospel and the founding charism. There is no "cheap grace" in religious life, and one gen-eration cannot hand on to another a ready-made commitment. At this stage of characterization, issues surrounding mem-bership no longer arofise emotion or affect except when the indi-vidual is threatened or challenged. By now .the members are described and characterized as individual persons by their iden-tification with the congregation. It has been integrated into their entire philosophy of life or worldview. To an outsider, identification with the congregation is so clear Review for Religious that it makes individual members predictable and comprehensible. The values of the community are important determiners of the way the various members approach a problem, determining what they will see as important in it. In other words, the living charism becomes a principle of ongoing and daily discernment and opens the religious to the full call of the gospel. The values of the charism will limit the things that members will take into account in attempting to find a solution .to a prob-lem. They provide a focus and an identity. They will al

Issue 54.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1995. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ¯ Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for. religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP 'Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read J6an.n Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and contemporary Living MAY-JUN~ 1995 * VOLUME54 * NUMBER3 contents 326 339 353 extending horizons Multiculturalism, Internationality, and Religious Life Gerald A. Arbuckle SM presents an understanding of multiculturalism and its lived difficulties by means of case studies. Accompanying New-Age People A. Paul Dominic SJ assesses and evaluates his experience of dealing with the ideals and quest~ of the New Age movement. Lithuania: A Return to My Ancestral Home Barbara Valuckas SSND relates her experience of three, visits to Lithuania and working with its peoples, women religious, and church catechists. 364 371 383 focusing community Community Today--Idol? Icon? Gift? Elizabeth V. Roach MM compares some of the secular criteria for community living with the gospel call to be a community of paschal living. Called to Community Dennis J. Billy CSSR presents the Trinitarian and Christological bases for life in community and identifies ten common difficulties in living the call to community. Public and Private: Some Confusion in Community Patricia Chaffee OP reviews some of the tensions and their relief in the public and private interfaces of religious community life. 389 399 rooting religious IJfe Apostolic Congregations' Monastic Roots John P. Auther_SJ suggests ways in which religious life becomes more viable in contemporary life by taking its monastic roots seriously. Women Religious: Widows of the Church, Women of Hope Anna Marie Kane SSJ draws out some comparisons of widows in the early church and women religious today. 322 Re~ie~ for Religious 4O3 A Meditation on Living the Vows Joel Giallanza CSC probes a familiar Gospel verse for its implications in living a life of celibate charity, obedience, and poverty. 410 418 424 433 growing spirituaJJy Freedom to Be God's Eric Kahn OFM suggests a style of retreat that is more fitting for the Franciscan tradition. Coming Home: The Journey Within Janet Malone CND describes various aspects of our lifelong process of moving inward to the ground of our being where God dwells in us. I Cast for Comfort GeorgeJ. Auger CSV reflects on how faith deepens in darkness and love grows in desire. Feeling and Pain and Prayer Margaret Bullitt-Jonas sketches four ways of prayer to deepen our intimacy with God and our capacity for full responsiveness to pain and io'y and being alive. 447 454 embracing heritage Heart of the Human John R. Welsh SJ explores the rich symbol of the Heart of Christ for our appreciation of the incarnation and of our own relationship to God. Enclosure: Sacramental Sign Jean Shively OSC presents her experience andunderstanding of a spirituality of enclosure as a positive and essential element of the contemplative lifestyle. 324 462 departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: The Concluding Message of the 1994 Synod on Consecrated Life 467 Book Reviews May-.l~une 199.q 323 many Christians the month of May evokes memories of processions and crownings and songs in honor of Mary, Mother of God. In a similar way the month of June recalls the novenas and hymns and vigils devoted to the heart of Jesus. Devotions, once such a bright part of our pre-Vatican II faith lives, now seem like faded fabrics preserved under some obscure museum's glass showcase. Although nostal-gia may too readily find its place, we need to acknowl-edge how devotions in a pre-Vatican II church~ fired up the faith lives of many parish communities and the mis-sionary zeal .of'many women and men. On the other hand, devotions, with their vernacular prayers and singable hymns, sometimes overshadowed even feast-day Masses in people's affection. In fact, the Mass itself often became the time and place for people's devotional practices while the priest quietly busied himself with the ~Latin prayers and formal ritual of the Mass. Perhaps the greatest gift of the liturgical renewal of Vatican II was the clarity brought to the central place of liturgy, both the Eucharist and the Liturgy of the Hours. Devotions, as a result, were given the chance to take a more modestly proportioned place in our spiritual lives, sometimes even to die after years of devout usefulness. But at the same time that the Vatican II renewal was cre-ating a spiritual renewal of prayer practices in correct pro-portion, a major shift in human interaction was taking 324 Review for Religious place in the Western world and having undue influence upon some other nations. New cultural patterns of lifestyle, fragmen-tations of family.living and of many a neighborhood, the subur-bia driving (not walking) distances between home and church, and the easy attractions of TV and home video entertainment every night of the week are among the reasons why the practice of devotions fell by the wayside. The majority of Catholics today have no experience of such devotional practices. The case is lit-tle different in the present-day worship and prayer lives of many men and women religious. Devotions need once again to find their place in faith lives that too often merit the descriptive terms "thin" or "desiccated." There is no doubt that devotions bring color to our somewhat monochrome lives of worship. Devotions rouse some passion in a faith lived often too listlessly, even in Eucharists attended rou-tinely. Yet devotions from the'past need more than just a dusting off. They need to be rethought and reexpressed for our context and time. Even more importantly, perhaps, devotions need to be refounded on the essential of devotion itself. Devotion in the Christian-theological tradition is defined as "an ease in finding God." To say that "here we have a man or woman of devotion" is to point to someone who has an evident and easy relationship with God. To be a person of devotion is to be specially graced by God. Praying for devotion in our spiritual lives is essential for a healthy existence. Even our ministries receive special effectiveness from being permeated with devotion. Devotions and devotion are related, something like the chicken and the egg. If we are people of devotion, we will find that our faith naturally tends to express itself in prayers to Jesus and to Mary and the saints, in vigils, in processions and pilgrimages, and in other such external forms. Devotions in their proper propor-tion feed and strengthen the Christian lives of all the faithful. Devotions cannot be absent from our faith expression without the loss of devotion itself., ~ Perhaps the time has come for all of us to reassess our need for devotions as the fuel and lifesource for the devoted lives we Christians desire to live. David L. Fleming SJ May-June 1995 325 GERALD A. ARBUCKLE Multiculturalism, Internationality, and Religious Life The religious community "is an evangelizer, but she begins by being evangelized herself." --Pope Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi § 15 The world is tragically divided by ideological conflicts, pathological forms of nationalism, racial violence, ethnic cleansing programs, and intercultural tensions. It almost destroyed itself through interracial conflict during this century. We who gasped at Hitler's genocide policies live in a world where ecocide, that is, the genocide of virtually all living species of earth, is a real possibility because cul-tures still rarely live side-by-side with respect and justice) It is a world "groaning in travail" (Rm 8:22). Inasmuch as prophetic witness is at the heart of reli-gious life, the church rightly expects religious communi-ties to be models of intercultural understanding and action. If we judge from the constitutions and mission statements of many congregations, there is a growing theoretical awareness of this need. Thus, there are expressions like these: "We are committed to living internationality in a divided world"; "Let us inculturate the gospel in our own communities first by being authentically multicultural-ist"; "We are called to respect the rights of people to their Gerald A. Arbuckle SlVl wrote "Merging Provinces" for our May-June 1994 issue. He may be addressed at Refounding and Pastoral Develgpment Unit; 1 Mary Street; Hunters Hill; Sydney, N.S.W. 2110; Australia. 326 Review for Religious culture; this applies also to people of different cultures within our congregation"; "We commit ourselves to foster communities in which representatives of several ethnic groups live together in a spirit of dialogue, justice, and charity." But are communities in fact living according to these statements, or are the words just rhetoric and escapes into fantasy? The Future of Religious Orders Study in the United States (FORUS) contains disturbing conclusions about the gap between theory and reality. For example, 96 percent of American religious are white; minority groups are poorly represented; "unconscious racism makes penetration of minority populations into rather homogeneous orders very difficult." The report shows that older religious in particular, while believing they are accepting of minor-ity members, in fact cannot adapt readily to the cultural diver-sity this demands.2 My experience is that religious of dominant cultures usually do not lack goodwill towards minority groups in their midst, but also that, while using the language of multicul-turalism or internationality, they understand only imperfectly what these words mean and what attitudinal and behavioral changes they must make in consequence. This introductory article has two aims: to. explain the terms inculturation, multiculturalisra, and internationality and to help readers identify, through case-study analysis, ways in which they may be unconsciously dominating and even oppressing people of minority cultures within their midst, thus obstructing the emer-gence of multicultural congregations.3 Defining Terms Multiculturalism is an inculturatibn imperative. Incultura~ion is "the incarnation of the Christian life and Christian message in a particular cultural context, in such a way that this experience not only finds expression through elements proper to the culture in question, but becomes a p~'inciple that animates, directs, and unifies the [cultural context], transforming and remaking it so as to bring about a 'new creation.'''4 Multiculturalism is a process of inculturation whereby cultures are so transformed and remade into a "new creation" that they interact with one another in jus-tice and charity in the service of personal ~and community growth. This interaction does not occm" through a command from above or the planning of "just a few experts," as Pope John Paul II May-June 1995 327 Arbuckle ¯ Multiculturalism, Internationality reminds us in Redemptoris Missio (§54), but through the involve-ment of people at all levels of society. The way culture is conceptualized has significant bearing on the theory and practice of inculturation and consequently of mul-ticulr0ralism. As an hnthropologist I believe that the failure to define accurately what is meant by culture makes it impossible for people to understand the complexity of inculturation and the challenges involved in developing an authentic multicultural com-munity in religious, parish, or secular life. In the classicist's definition, culture is a visible, comprehensi-ble entity, the consEious creation of rational minds,s The focus is on observable phenomena (such as language, foods, literature, dances) rather than on how people feel about what they do. Cultures, then, can be graded aesthetically: one culture may be considered to have more artistic dances than another. This definition of culture has grave deficiencies. It overstresses ethnic groups' historical lifestyles and customs and downplays their adaptation to the world in which they now live. It freezes a culture in a time period and encourages romantic or fossilized views of a people's former way of living. This definition likens a culture to a machine something with visible, rationally con-structed, interconnected parts that can readily be replaced by sim-ilar components without creating any pa.rticular difficulty. If a religious community uses this meaning of culture, then it expects the process of inculturation to be speedy and simple. The com-munity merely replaces, with administrative efficiency, an existing custom with a gospel-inspired one. And it does this by imple-menting the directives of people (pastors, r+ligious superiors) from outside the culture. This is not inculturation; the people who are the object of t~ae process have no free involvement in it, but instead are ma~aipulated. The second definition of culture gives priority to a group's ideas and feelings: Culture is not an entity, but is primarily a pro-cess that is persuasively at work, particularly in the unconscious of the group and individuals. It is a pattern of shared assump-tions expressed in symbols, myths, and rituals that a .group has invented, discovered, or developed .while coping with problems of external adaptation and internal cohesion. This instrumental view of culture, while it assumes the importance of factual history and visible phenomena, highlights the developmental and ever evolv-ing survival role of culture for people in a world of change, prej- 328 Review for Religious udice, and discrimination. Finally, culture is not one aspect of life along with, for example, religious, political, and economic activ-ity. It embraces all human activity.6 An appreciation of this defi-nition of culture has the, following immediate practical consequences for inculturation and multiculturalism. 1. Because a culture is essentially a living interrelation of sym-bols and myths, the feeling of belonging to it is basically invisible to outsiders. The experience of being culturally different or of confronting a history of preju-dice and discrimination pro-duces a set of memories and feelings that are not easily shared with outsiders. The out-sider may gain some under-standing from participation in the visible activities .of the group (such~as dances and food ritu-als), but finds it difficult or even impossible to comprehend its inner experiences and feelings. 2. In order to begin to appreciate another cultu.re, one must have the gifts of empathy and of openness to dialogue. Empathetic listening means trying to become aware not only of others' feelings, but also of how they experience them-- and, as far as possible, to have the same feelings.7 An outsider As an anthropologist I believe that the failure to define accurately what is meant by culture makes it impossible for people to understand the complexity of inculturation and the challenges involved in developing an authentic multicultural community in religious, parish, or secular life. can know more about the history, cultural externals, and even language of an ethnic group than its members and still be alien to them because of a lack of empathy.Dialogue, a consequence of empathy, is the interaction in which people seek to give of them-selves as they are and to receive and know the others in their par-ticular oth.erness.8 Dialogue presumes that one is prepared to learn from others and their cultures and to let ~o of attachments that interfere with the growth in mutuality. 3. People of'every cultu.re tend to think that their own way of feeling about life and of thinking and acting is the right way; they May-June 1995 329 Arbuckle ¯ Multiculturalism, Internationality see the ways of other peoples as stupid, crude, or unreasonable. This prejudice in favor 'of one's own group is technically called eth-nocentrism. Taken to an extreme, the assumption is that "our way of life is the way of life," so that other groups have nothing of value to offer us. Hence, on the basis of assumed religious, eco-nomic, or racial superiority, people seek to dominate others and their cultures. Frequently people of dominant cultures are uncon-scious of the oppressive power they exert over minority cultures (people who, because of their ethnic origins, are excluded from group decision making); they take their cultural superiority for granted and relate to minority peoples according to cultural stereotypes of their inferiority.9 A stereotype is a set image that a people has of peoples that differ from them; it is a shorthand, but faulty and often unjust, method of handling or grasping a complex world of people. 4. People who are culturally oppressed are likely to become extremely sensitive to the dominant culture's symbols of coercive power. When people of minority cultures move into the main-stream, the resulting contact of cultures is not an abstract concept, but a high order of human drama. The plot and its crosscurrents, its motives and motifs, are played out by a ghostly cast of hang-ers- on, by prejudice, longing, fear.~° 5. When people of different cultures meet for the first time, they tend to react in two or three stages. First, they are fasci-nated by and even enjoy visible cultural differences in, for exam-ple, cuisine and entertainment. Later they experience disillusionment or friction when the difficulties of communication outweigh their enthusiasm for cultural diversity. If they strive to overcome the cultural obstacles to communication, they move to interaction--the experience of authentic multiculturalism. Most never get beyond the second stage. Multiculturalism and Internationality Multiculturalism is often an emotive word, "a buzzword with almost as many meanings as there are mouths to utter it.''11 Most commonly, however, the word is used technically in one of three ways. Demographic multiculturalism means that a particular soci-ety contains different cultural groups; holistic multiculturalism means that a society values cultural diversity, but gives higher priority to group-wide cohesion; political multiculturalism, as a 330 Review for Religious social philosophy; acknowledges the legitimate concerns of ethnic groups within a society or an organization and the need for these interests to be expressed in adequate politico-economic struc-tures and processes. Political multiculturalists seek to establish structures that allow by right minority peoples to be fully involved in decision making in matters that affect their lives. They foster a balance between the demands of overall group cohesion and inner cultural diversity. Multiculturalism, in these three senses, normally applies to situations within the same country; interna-tionality is multiculturalism as applied to relationship.s between separate countries. Political multiculturalism, historically, is a reaction against policies of cultural oppression. Phrases or terms such as "the melt-ing pot approach to immigrants," "cultural pluralism," and "inte-gration" are often synonymous with covert or overt programs to destroy minority cultures by forcing them to be assimilated into the dominant culture. Critical decisions are made about minority peoples and their future without their participation. Another insidious form of oppression is cultural romanticism. Here the dominant culture, using the classicist definition of culture, fosters romantic visions of minority cultures, emphasizing what is thought to be the exotic or strange features of these cultures (dances, rit-uals). People of the dominant culture claim "it would be a pity if such cultures disappeared." Minority peoples are made to feel like inanimate museum pieces to be called out to entertain peo-ple of the dominant culture at politically correct times and then to retire to their inferior positions when the need ceases. Case Studies Case studies are detailed observations of connected processes in individual and group experience thfit help us to understand complex social phenomena and to see ways in which theoretical principles and insights may be applied. I suggest that readers reflect on the following case studies, asking themselves--before ~ssessing my own comments~how the above theoretical clarifi-cations apply in each instance. 1. A General Chapter in Confusion An international congregation of clerical religious met in gen-eral chapter for two months. A participant from a first-world May-~une 1995 331 Arbuckle ¯ Multiculturalism, Internationality country reported his experience and that of many others: "During the first two weeks, there was a great spirit of internationality and friendship. Each group explained through song, dances, food, and visual displays the qualities of their cultural origins. We espe-cially enjoyed the presentations from the joy-filled third-world countries; they made our Western productions look rather dull in contrast. Then something happened, and it still puzzles me. Quite suddenly delegates from our third-world provinces began to complain angrily in the general sessions that the translation facilities for them were not as good as for the Western delegates, that they were made to feel inferior in committee meetings by never being asked for their opinions . I and others still cannot understand this anger, especially because we did everything pos-sible to give them the first places for their cultural presentations. These are the same people we have helped for so long with gifts for their formation houses and missions. They seem to be ungrate-ful. Perhaps we have failed to teach them the right way to act in international gatherings. The chapter ended without these peo-ple realizing that they had undermined the good spirit of the gathering." Comment: In this case study the delegate has unwittingly adopted the narrow classicist view of culture and moves from enthusiasm for cultural diversity to disillusionment; internation-ality for him and other Western delegates is restricted to such relatively inconsequential things as eating foreign food and admir-ing other people's exotic dances. Influenced by this approach to culture, he' is prevented from understanding the requirements for authentic multiculturalism and internationality within the chap-ter and congregation. Third-world delegates are reacting against a well-entrenched tradition of paternalism and cultural superior-ity on the part of the dominant culture. They rightly want to be accepted for what they are: members of the same congregation, with human experiences and insights of value to all. 2. Romanticism Destroys Formation ' .An international clerical religious congregation, founded last century in Europe, had developed several formation houses in third-world countries. In a report to an international meeting on initial formation in the congregation, the superior general wrote: "We thank God for so many vocations from [these lands]. Because [these lands] are extremely poor, the people so happy and carefree 332 Review for Religious and their cultures so unsophisticated, we have decided for now not to insist on the same rigorous screening criteria for appli-cants nor on the high-level academic and religious life formation that we have in the West. When you meet these students, you immediately feel their happiness and fine community spirit. They will make good religious, but we must not expect them to measure up to our professional standards for some time to come." Comment: The superior general, in his high praise for the cultures of the students, is a cultural romanti-cist, even an unconscious racist. The cultures he refers to are group-ori-ented ones; that is, they emphasize the need for public harmony at all costs, so that tensions and unre-solved, conflicts are kept hidden, but remain ready to explode into vio-lence at any time. The general's inability to recognize this deprives students of their right in justice to be trained professionally for min-istry, trained (for example) to under-stand objectively the cultural forces that influence their lives and those of their people. The ~eneral also makes a racist judgment, namely, that the students from poor techno-logical cultures are incapable of the Third-world delegates are reacting against a well-entrenched tradition of paternalism and cultural superiority on the part of the dominant culture. They rightly want to be accepted for what they are: members of the same congregation, with human experiences and insights of value to all. levels of learning expected in Western formation systems. Finally, the congregation is international, but the general is setting the stage for a two-tier membei'ship: persons with sophisticated edu-cation from Western countries and educationally deprived per-sons from the third world. This means that third-world members of the congregation will effectively be excluded from taking up leadership positions at the international level. 3. Theory and Practice Clash A congregation of brotherb from Europe has worked in Asia for over fifty years, but with no lasting success in recruiting or May-June 1995 333 Arbuckle ¯ Multiculturalism, Internationality retaining local candidates. Several former brothers of Asian ori-gin commented to me through an intermediary about their expe-rience: "The region was established from a Western nation. After our training we were sent to communities in which most reli-gious were from this foreign country. They were good people, but during recreation they always spoke in -English, never in our language, and the topics of conversation commonly were about incidents and characters of their formation days in Europe or the latest sporting event at home. Then from time to rime they would make ethnic iokes at the expense of our own people, putting them down, and we were expected to laugh as they did. It became so painful that we complained, but we were told to think 'interna-tionally,' not with provincial minds! It became too much so we left." Comment: I sense that the foreigners in this Asian region are totally unaware of their cultural imperialism; it is as if they have never left their homeland, and their use of ethnic jokes illustrates their lack of cultural sensitivity. Ethnic jokes are common in most societies, but examination shows that the object of such jokes is "to put down" members of other cultures and present one's own group as normal and superior. Ethnic jokes are unjust and can be most painful to members of minority groups, who nevertheless are expected, if present when the jokes are told, to laugh submissively and accept the ascribed expression of inferiority.~2 4. Inculturation Expectations Collapse One Mexican American sister recorded her frustration and that of many others: "I became a member of a North American congregation before Vatican II. We Mexican Americans were (and are still) in the minority; the majority are white third- or fourth-generation Americans. During my training we had to divorce our-selves from our families, and I cannot even begin to express what this meant to me and other Mexican American sisters. With the coming of Vatican II, I thought at last I can be a religious and a Mexican American at the same time. Our chapters spoke of the need for inculturation and multiculturalism in our communities and apostolates as priorities. When I and others attempted to take this priority seriously, all kinds of problems emerged. For example, members of my family began to visit frequently, openly using our language for conversation and prayer. Other community members began to object, sometimes hinting or saying directly to 334 Review for Religious me: 'You are disturbing our peace with so many relatives, espe-cially. distant ones, coming to see you. And why don't they speak in English? They should because this is America!'" Comment: Hispanic cultures traditionally emphasize the fam-ily as the basic unit of identity, in vivid contrast to the mainstream American culture, in which individuals claim identity for them-selves independently of family ties. When the congregational chapter in the above case study enthusiastically supports incul-turation and multiculturalism, they are unaware of the implications for individuals and communities. Individualism has become such an unquestioned way of life for the dominant culture in the con-gregation that most members cannot conceive of any alternative lifestyle. Hence, the culture clash. References to inculturation and multiculturalism in chapters remain pure rhetoric. 5. Popular Religiosity Unappreciated~ An international congregation, founded last century in Europe, and with many communities in North America, sought candidates for the first time among Hispanic Americans. For a short time it received several candidates, but the formation leader reported that "they did not survive for long either in the training programs or later in our communities." Several who had left com-mented, and this is a representative view: "My formation house was cheerless, without life, and the communities I lived in after profession were no better. Liturgies were dull, filled with words, but no color or movement. I felt myself dying spiritually. I com-plained to the provincial, and she commented: 'I cannot under-stand you. We provide you with highly trained formators, but you still complain.' The director of formation tried to listen to me and said she understood, so the following month she bought Mexican rugs and ornaments and put them around the house, saying 'This will make you immigrant people feel at home with us!' It did not. We still felt like aliens, unable to pray in devo-tional ways that make sense to us. The sad thing is that no one understood. No wonder Hispanics leave religious life~" Comment: In this case study, there is a serious clash between popular religiosity characteristics of many Hispanic peoples and the standard ways of praying within contemporary North American Catholicism. The inability 5o appreciate popular reli-giosity and the tendency to condemn it as "primitive, supersti-tious nonsense" continues to alienate countless Hispanics from May-June 1995 335 Arbuckle ¯ Multiculturalism, Internationality Unless candidates are freely able t~o relate the spirituality offered them to their own rich cultural religious experience, it will remain totally alien to them. the church today.~3 At its core popular religiosity is a storehouse of values offering answers of Christian wisdom to the great ques-tions of life. It creatively combines the divine and the human, Christ andMary, spirit and body, intelligence, imagination, and emotion in ways that are colorful and imaginative. Devotions to saints and pious practices--once part of mainstream American Catholic life--are integral features of popular religiosity. ,4. Hispanic Catholics complain, however, that the liturgies of mainstream Ca.tholicism today are cqmmonly too "heady," formal, and unimaginative. In the case study, Hispanic can-didates and religious are unjustly pressured to conform to the domi-nant culture's religious expression.s. This is a tragedy, at several levels. Neither the provincial nor the for-mator has any appreciation of the nature and power of culture; the for-mator assumes, without even asking the. candidates, that culture is syn-onymous with what we see, Bring in a few artifacts and minority peoples will "feel at home." The can-didates understandably feel insulted and misunderstood. Unless the candidates are freely able to relate the spirituality offered them to their own rich cultural religious experience, it will remain totally alien to them. 6. Congregational Colonialism Returns A congregation based in the United States had formally estab-lished a province in Africa. After some years it was decided uni-laterally by the general government to suppress the province for reasons of administrative and financial efficiency and to reunite the community of African sisters within the original province in the United States. The full provincial administration--all Americans-- visited the assembly of African sisters to explain the situation, but to their surprise they were met with considerable anger. An African sister spoke feelingly for her group: "Finance is not our primary need. We are prepared to be poor, provided we can gov-ern ourselves. Now by the adminstrative change we feel again 336 Review for Religious overwhelmed by the presence of the United States, and we are made tQ feel small and unimportant. You have economic and polit-ical power. Now we have none and must submit to a culture of dependency and inferiority!" The provincial administration could not understand this and ieported to the general that the African communities "had come under the influence of Marxism." Comment: There is little need to comment. In their reactions to the adminstrative change, the African sisters are fearful of a return to a new and degrading congregational colonialism. The American administration is unaware that their African sisters have been made to feel inferior under earlier administrative organiza-tional cultures. The failure~ to consult the African sisters about the decision reinforces their understandable distrust of both the provincial and the general administrations. The provincial admin-istrat. ion, by blaming the African sisters for the negativity, sees no need to examine its own cultural assumptions. Conclusion The task of expressing the consecrated life in diverse cultures today is one of the great challenges for its future. --Instrumentum Laboris §93, Synod of Bishops 1994 ° Thevision of multiculturalism is inspiring but rarely achieved in concrete ways. A reason for this is the failure to clarify the meaning of cul~ure. Culture is not primarily the lifestyles of peo-ple; rather, it is a group's sense of its identity, its inner history of struggling for equality, just, ice, and respect for human dignity. Through multiculturalism (and internationality) people of dif-ferent cultures commit themselves to grow humanly together in justice and charity, while respecting and learning from the legit-imate cultural differences of each other. ' Multiculturalism demands ongoing conversion to the mission of Christ, "a profound transformation of mentalities and ways of living" (Instrumentum laboris §93).If religious do not struggle to achieve this transformation, they are not true to the prophetic nature of their commitment, for the values and practice of mul-ticulturalism and internationality are everywhere desperately needed. Moreover, religious committed to refoundingotheir con-gregations would do well to ponder a lesson of history: Energy for the founding and refounding of communities comes from multi-culturalism and internationality. As Raymond.Hostie notes: May-June 1995 337 Arbuckle ¯ Multiculturalism, Internationality "Cistercians, Norbertines, Dominicans, Carmelites, Jesuits, and Piarists all emerged from groups .whose members belonged to three nationalities, even four or five . Heterogeneity is a nec-essary condition for activating effective fermentation."~s Notes 1 See Walter Wink, Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination (Minneapolis: Fortress PreSs, 1992), pp. 195-207. 2 See David Nygren CM and Miriam Ukeritis CSJ, "The Future of Religious Orders in the United States," Origins. 22, no. 15 (1992): 272, and Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 48. 3 ~ee an earlier article of mine on aspects of this theme: "Beyond Frontiers: The Supranational Challenge of the Gospel," Review for Religious 46, no. 3 (May-June 1987): 351-370. 4 Pedro Arrupe SJ, cited by Michael Amaladoss SJ, "Inculturadon and Internationality," East Asian Pastoral Review 29, no. 3 (1992): 23% s See Gerald A. Arbuckle SM, Earthing the Gospel: An Inculturation Handbook for the Pastoral Worker (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1990), pp. 26- 78, and "Understanding Ethnicity, Multiculturalism, and Inculturation," Human Development 14, no. 1, pp. 8-10. 6 On this point I would differ from M. Amaladoss's excellent article cited above, pp. 241-243. 7 See E Lopez, Pastoral Care in an Emerging World (Sydney: Marist Centre for Pastoral Care, 1994), p. 302. s See Arbuckle, Refou. nding the Church: Dissent for Leadership (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1993), p. 111. 9 See Arbuckle, Earthing, pp. 147-166. ~0 See Arbuckle, Earthing, pp. 166-186. it R. Hughes, Culture of Complaint: The Fraying of America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 83. ,2 See Arbuclde, Earthing, pp. 162f. 13 See Allan Figueroa Deck SJ, The Second Wave: Hispanic Ministry and the Evangelization of Cultures (New York: Paulist Press, 1989), pp. 54- 119. ,4 See Arbuckle, Earthing, pp. 108-112. 15 The Life and Death of Religious Orders: A Psycho-Sociological Approach, (Washington D.C.: CARA, 1983), p. 259. 338 Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Accompanying New-Age People '7have often thought . . . if we regard the bomb (or world .~. hunger or the dying seas) as a monstrous demonic injus-tice, that must mean we never, somehow on some level, never took it seriously: the injunction to love. The stuff Jesus was talk-ing about and the Buddha." So wrote Joanna Macy somewhere; and, I believe, the same may well be said regarding the New Age movement (NAM) or, more correctly, the extreme variety of it focused on by the media: images of anything from psychic phe-nomena through esoteric beliefs in crystal gazing and spirit chan-neling to weird fads in self-centered or willful behavior going by the name of cosmic wisdom, My interest--"follow your allurement," Joseph Campbell would say--in writing on this new Western phenomenon comes from two semesters I spent a few years ago with an international group of some seventy people most of whom were Westerners carried along in the the New Age wave.1 We were, of all places, at a Catholic college in California where I had hoped to learn some new exciting approaches to Christian spirituality. Before long, however, I had to contend with some so-called spirituality that seemed anything but Christian. For one thing, "once a Christian, never again a Christian" was the prevailing mood of the majority, some of whom became more and more aggressive towards anything Christian. One time I could not refrain from remarking to my companions that as a group we could be toler-ant and respectful of every tradition except Christian. With so A. Paul Dominic SJ wrote this article from experiences he had while doing graduate studies in spirituality at Holy Names College in Oakland, California. His address is Satyodayam; 12-5-33, S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. May-.3~une 1995 339 Dominic * Accompanying New-Age People much bashing of Christianity in my spiritual circle, I felt like a fish--an ichthus--in a cesspool. As time went on, however, I felt different. I saw things dif-ferently; empathy brought some insight. Coming to hear the per-sonal stories of my companions, all of whom were quondam Christians (Protestant and, like Joseph Campbell himself, Catholic), I could not but feel and formulate that they sought and found this New Age haven because the Christianity of their experience had gone awry; their lives had become an enormous unhealed and unhealing hurt, like Carol Christ's. (She had suffered her incompatible marriage for years until one day, in a terrible skiing accident, she instinctively hoped that her death would make her a martyr to the indissolubility of marriage, only to find her-self still alive and confined to a hospital bed. She decided that she had had enough of the marriage she had entered upon in church, eventually giving up her Christianity too and discovering New Age freedom.) One thirtyish woman among my companions had for years suffered trauma upon trauma because her parents would not listen to her stoW of sexual abuse by a close relative, but instead would tell her to go to confession every time she brought up her nagging distress. Her anguish came to an end when she found a hearing among New Age friends of hers. Another woman who had been quite a staunch Catholic in her youth spoke of the joyless vision of life she grew up with as she prayed about the vale of tears instead of the original blessing (this is a three-word mantra of New Agers) of the universe. Seconding them, a man-- a religious brother in good standing--declared nevertheless that the church had constricted and restricted his humanity by its leaden dos and don'ts. In the New Age covenant groups, all of them found, or thought they had found, what they had missed out on during their childhood or adolescent Christianity. Obviously, in all such cases, whatever in their new associa-tion they perceived to be filling their psychological or spiritual needs was something basically Christian, however unaware of this they were because of the unresponsive, unenlightened, and per-haps even false practice of Christianity with which they had been contending. From this discerningperspective New Age spirituality may be said to embrace within itself certain Christian elements at their best which somehow for whatever reason were found miss-ing in avowed Christian circles, whether they were couples or homes or schools or seminaries or rectories or dioceses or, of 340 Review for Religious course, the Vatican (the veritable b~te noire of former Catholics finding their berth in the New Age). I would, then, dispute the claim of the NAM to offer a spirituality for a post-Christian world, and I would point out that, despite the NAM's aversion to Christianity, quite a few of its genuine experiences have been, in many times and places, very much at home in Christianity. As the New Age plays the queen of all it surveys and declares it to be "the post-Christian world," I would submit that her declaration is in vain for the simple reason that she herself has made a home for genuine Christian elements forgotten or forsaken. Ironically, thanks to her the church and Christianity have an unsuspected way of coming into their own. Perhaps this is what a deacon's twenty-year-old daughter--quite unlike my companions--meant when she said: "Don't get me wrong. I don't hate the church. I just want it to be better than it is. I want it to be alive--not what some old deacon thinks is alive, but my kind of alive . -2 It is not fanciful but altogether pleasantly surprising to find how, for all the avowed antagonism to Christ among those sab-batical- year companions of mine, Christ made himself discreetly, unobtrusively present. Have we not heard about the unknown Christ of non-Christian religions? Perhaps in the New Age circle of my acquaintance he was not so much unknown as unacknowl-edged, unwanted, and even (unsuccessfully) banished. A former seminarian, for instance, confessed virulently that he had no need of Christ to save him for he had nothing to be saved from. Christ, however, kept himself in their midst in an unintrusive manner. That, perhaps, is the very nature of Christ. I was led willy-nilly to think in this way by observing the effect a song had on some my of New Age friends. Of all the songs we used for the circle dance, the Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison especially charmed the most conspicuously anti-Christian one among us. I could not help chuckling over the archetypal trickster role Christ resorted to in order to reach out to one who had rejected him consciously and deliberately. If New Agers would "let go" (a favorite expres-sion of theirs) of Christ, Christ would let them, but he would not let go of them. While we rejoice in this latent presence of Christ in the NAM, we would do well to ask our'selves how much of Christ we, the people of present-day Christianity, hold on to~ Whatever of Christ we had, did it convey so untrue an image of him that someone close to us chose to turn his or her back on him? Why else did a May-.~ne 1995 341 Dominic ¯ Accompanying New-Age People young man make bold to say: "The picture we have of the Christian church as a continuation of the fellowship Jesus set in motion is a gross distortion" ? 3 If it is, is it not high time that we regrasp Christ and make more of a home for him in our churches so that people cannot avoid seeing and meeting him there? Now is a good time for the church to let the "Christ before Christianity" address himself to it so that it may come to know him afresh in a renewal of the reign of God that he initiated. The New Age, reacting against the present age of Christianity, seeks its roots in an age older than our familiar ancient civiliza-tions. It has found, however, a certain remnant of Christian tra-dition appealing to it, namely, the mystical tradition. So it would revive the memory of mystics like Mechtild of Magdeburg and Meister Eckhart who are credited with having drawn heavily from the chthonic and matriarchal era of humanity. Whatever the rea-son for the NAM's reverence for these Christian mystics, thought-ful Christians can think of them only as Christians and not in any other terms. Will it not be true to say that Christian mystics were more Christian than mystic, having become mystics precisely by their way of being Christian? Th.e acceptability of some Christian mystics to New Age reli-gionists (I say "some" because they find others such as Augustine and Ignatius Loyola distinctly unacceptable) should not be mat-ter for any triumphalism inasmuch as the NAM goes for all mys-ticism. Instead, the New Age's mystical interests must serve to open our eyes to what we have lost sight of, namely, the mystical horizon of the Christian universe from its very inception in Christ. How many can resonate with the declaration made by William Johnston that Christianity indeed originates in the mystical expe-rience of Christ, reaching its climax in his resurrection? How many will be persuaded by Johnston's sweeping view of our mys-tical heritage, starting with Christ, handed down by Paul, kept alive by the fathers of the church, cherished by the medieval mys-tics, and shared in even by the simple people whom Poulain found in his time and Johnston and others recognize in ours? Given the mystical strain of Christianity, he suggests that reflection on our mystical experience, together with the reflection on conversion that Bernard Lonergan advocates, could form the basis of our theology in the future.4 In keeping with the New Age penchant for all forms of mys-ticism of whatever origin, one crusader of the NAM, Matthew 342 Review for Religious Fox, has come up with a dozen or so running definitions of mys-ticism, qualifying almost everyone to be a self-designated mys-tic. However one may critique such New Age eclecticism, there is behind it such a thing as the real intention (to use Neuro- Linguistic Programming's term) that is certainly right and praise-worthy insofar as it only culls the beautiful wherever it finds it. This is one of the ways in which the New Age can pose a challenge to religions to recover their original spirit and. shed whatever has become unnecessarily hidebound,s Aiming at such a breakthrough, the New Age attends to the different religions as to a story and not a lecture;6 and so it can appropriately respond to the turns and twists and leads and plots of the different religious stories, thus creating a new story and generating a new spirituality. All modern, sensible Christians cannot but see in all this a certain spirit of ecumenism. However much official church pronouncements eulo-gize and emphasize the modern Christian spirit as ecumenical, the ecumenical practice in church life worldwide is not conspicuously vigorous even if present. How many have Christianity enough to hate but not to love, whether in Northern Ireland or Rwanda or the former Yugoslavia or other large and small places! What thoughtful Christian could fail to agree with what a New Age writer has remarked: "For many peo-ple, religion has become a force that creates enemies and teaches distrust and disrespect for differences, rather than a force that truly builds the human family and the meaning that sustains us"?7 Seen from this perspective, New Age eclecticism could well be practical ecumenism, something that Christians ideally seek to realize in their communities vis-~a-vis other religious communities. Here as elsewhere it is better to make mistakes and progress by learning from them than to play safe, avoiding mistakes only to make the big mistake of getting stuck in the status quo and then regressing. It is certainly high time to vindicate the bold inspira-tion of John XXIII and the proud heritage he bequeathed to his church, to all of Christianity, and to all the world. Will it not be true to say that Christian mystics were more Christian than mystic, having become mystics precisely by their way of being Christian? May-j~lne 1995 ~ 343 Dominic ¯ Accompanying New-AgePeople No story has been told of how this pope got the idea of con-vening an ecumenical council. But what if it had come to him in a dream? Whatever the hierarchy or the theologians or the church's rank and file might think about such a story, New Agers would not at all find it odd or shocking. They set store on their dreams, treasuring them as the nocturnal gifts of the Universe or the collective unconscious that counterbalance an overmuch influ-ence of the conscious reasoning power of the waking hours. They are intent on keeping a regular and detailed record of them, going to great lengths sometimes to stimulate and then recall them, pondering over them daily (reminiscent of the "additional direc-tives" in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola and also reminiscent of formal religious practice itself). They have their guru in C.G. Jung, who not only developed a mythological and mystical approach to dreams, but also left behind his conviction that dreams can be read by anyone who meditates on them long enough. Many New Age people would resonate with Henry Miller's experiences: "The realization that there was a pattern to my life, one which made sense, came about in a curious way. Shortly after moving into the Villa Seurat, I had begun to record my dreams. And not only the dreams but the associations which the act of transcribing them induced. Doing this over a period of months, I suddenly began to see, 'To suddenly see,' as Saroyan says somewhere. A pregnant phrase--to anyone who has had the experience. An expression which has only one meaning: to see with new eyes.''8 New Age people believe in the newness brought about by dreams on all levels (personal and social) and domains (artistic, scientific, philosophic, and theosophic) of humanity. They see themselves as cocreators of new humanity, thanks to the creative potential of dreams breaking through the premature closure of thought represented for them by the dictum that rev-elation was complete with the death of the last apostle. Though the real point of the theological dictum might be missed by New Age people, their rediscovery of dreams is some-thing that may be missed by church people. For one thing, we must realize that, along with all religious cultures, the Judeo- Christian tradition too has developed its own perspective of dreams. Abraham Lincoln is reported to have remarked some-thing obvious and yet valuable enough to appear as the epigraph of a Christian book on dreams: "How much there is in the Bible about dreams! . . . If we believe the Bible, we must accept the 344 Review for Religious fact that, in the old days, God and his angels came to humans in their sleep and made themselves known in dreams.''9 There are sensible Christians who would wager that what happened in the old biblical days can and does continue to hap-pen even today for God's people, especially if God is the Revealer of Mysteries and also of our inmost thoughts (Dn 2:29-30), direct-ing our hearts even at night (Ps 16:7). Those who think in this line and yet are not very sure about the meaning of their dreams may well be enlightened by the remark of an anonymous author: "It is very interesting to see that all the dreams reported by religious fig-ures in the New Testament and in early Christianity do not require any interpreting at all. They are nearly always straightforward messages of encouragement from God.''~° A simple Tamil farmer, for instance, could appreciate this. In a dream he saw a leprosy patient asking him for a glass of water and he gave him one, but only after much hesitation until he heard a clear voice telling him to get up and read Matthew,25:35. On waking he looked up the passage: "I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink." Those in the Catholic tradition with their cult of saints may well draw inspiration from the way the saints benefited from their dreams even after reflecting on dreams fell into disrepute in the church in the middle of the 4th century. To recall a saint of recent history, John Bosco (1815-1888) certainly cherished his dreams and shared them with others. At the age of nine, he had a dream which recurred repeatedly for some eighteen years. First he saw himself surrounded by spoiled urchins and trying noisily and forcibly to control them; a man of noble bearing and great radi-ance called him by name and bade him do his work kindly and gently; then he saw a lady of beauty and majesty changing all sorts of wild animals into gentle lambs and asking him to do the same to her children. Through that dream he could in the course of time envision more and more the future establishment of his Besides their serious attention to dreams, New Age people have discovered in ancient cultures something else, the celebration of rituals. May-d~ne 1995 345 Dominic * Accompanying New-Age People Oratory and the spread of his work.11 Whatever spiritual profit accrued to the saints by way of dreams can become a matter of our own experience because each one of us is a special sort of a saint, an idea that NAM would laud heartily. Besides their serious attention to dreams, New Age people have discovered in ancient cultures something else, the celebra-tion of rituals. New Age celebrants perform some of the old rit-uals related to mythological tales like that of Demeter and Persephone, hoping to be empowered by them. They resurrect the rituals of the seasons, wanting to be in tune with the rhythm of the earth and the energy of the sun. They reenact and update the rit-uals of passage of human life from birth, through adulthood and marriage, to death. No wonder, then, that after the violent death of one of my compaflions, a New Age former Catholic, there was held a ritual which included a long circle dance with the song "We all come from the goddess / and to her shall we return / like the drops of waters / flowing to the ocean," followed by the unex-pected eerie cry of a woman almost beside herself swearing to avenge her friend's death. Of all the rituals the pride of place would go to the ritual of the maze. It consists in meandering through a maze to reach the inner center and then making one's way back to the outer rim. Interestingly, it developed out of, or at least came to be associated with, the archetype of the spiral that manifests itself in the total spectrum of the universe from the shape of the galaxies through that of the atomic space to that of the DNA helix. One may wonder ivhether this ritual has not pen-etrated beneath humanity's consciousness when one realizes the enthusiasm aroused by the variety of mazes or labyrinths extant even today in various countries such as Sweden, Japan, and Britain--this last, incidentally, declared 1991 the Year of the Maze. Two of the friends in our group decided to plight their love to each other singing their way through a labyrinth far from the madding crowd deep in a quiet valley open to the azure gaze of the California sky and in the presence, of course, of those who had journeyed with them. I wonder whether New Age revelers resorting to renewed or newfound rituals have known the wise words of the Tat Te Ching: "Ritual is but the crust of loyalty and good faith, / And the begin-ning of discord.''12 1 would, however, add this observation. Though some of their rituals can be weird, others are truly inspiring and religious. The ceremony "Remembering the Way," created by 34.6 Review for Religious Joan M. McMillen, for instance, honoring the eight-hundred-year- old labyrinth in the Cathedral of Chartres, with its evocative music even using Latin in a whole stanza and its call to let go, builds up a climax of expectancy in everyone, ending with the final song of calm assurance: "Sooner or later, everyone finds their way. / Wholly without, embracing; wholly within, ful-filling. / Go I know not where, seek I know not what. / Sooner or later, everyone comes home." That a genuine spiritual experience can be built around a long-forgotten and unused maze in the French cathedral is an eloquent symbol for me of the untapped, undying springs of spir-ituality hidden not only in the heart, but in the history of the church. Thus, the ritual celebrations at the vernal equinox and the winter solstice can with a little imagination be linked with the feasts of the Annunciation and Christmas, respectively, lead-ing people to experience heaven even on the way to heaven and that in an earthly way--as has been done, for instance, at the Jesuit retreat house in Sedalia, Colorado. So also, the simple drumming and dancing and singing of native peoples all over the globe have a spiritual potential that the church can effectively make its own with respect and gratitude and joy.13 In these matters the church does not need to conduct first-time experiments, but need only reclaim riches from its distant past. For example, even in the cenobitic times, long before churches of the medieval period served as stages for the enter-tainment that morality plays provided, the church building was already considered a festive hall?4 The modern church has been made newly festive mostly by the charismatic renewal, which is largely an urban phenomenon; it must become open to some of the festivity of "pagan" (from the Latin pagus "country district," as New Agers point out) or "rural" areas, the places of aboriginal roots. The New Age movement manifests an earthy or creation-ori-ented spirituality. Clear expressions of it--and extreme ones if understood literally instead of metaphorically--are "Mother Earth" and "Mother Nature." A literal understanding would go beyond James Lovelock's Gaia hypothesis and would conceive the earth as a living entity, with a life of its own on which ours depends. It would understand the divine principle as not only being in nature, but being nature itself. There would be no room for transcendence here. Everything of earth would be sacred, in May-j~ne 1995 347 Dominic ¯ Accompanying New-Age People particular the whole of human nature without any distinction between matter and spirit. A less extreme position about all this would be analogous to Copernicus's. As he saw Earth displaced from center stage, people would see themselves displaced from their superior position as the thinking species separated from the rest of nature and would give the preeminence to the whole of the universe and especially to Earth, unique planet that it seems to be, making it Earth's universe par excellence with a history of fifteen billion years or so. Comparable to this cosmological posi-tion would be this theological position: Since the earth is of such an age compared with which the whole of human history is no more than a brief moment, the point of departure for theologiz-ing should be the original blessing of the earth rather than the original fall. Aside from the first and most extreme position above--a fer-vid New Ager like Carol Christ, however, would prefer not to make such distinctions--the other two positions could easily become the ideal Christian view of earth. Though the Christian West may have used and overused the earth to the point of abuse, Christian sources tell a different story. The Bible opens with the story of the earth and all creation, in which the divinity finds due delight because of the imprint of the divine goodness all through it, Hopkins's one line "The world is charged with the grandeur of God" says it well, and so does Elizabeth Browning's couplet "Earth's crammed with heaven / And every common bush afire with God"--both reminiscent of the psalmist's familiar words "How great is your name, O Lord our God, / through all the earth!" (Ps 8:9). It is quite a revelation, is it not, that God provided a power-ful answer--through not a directly reasoned answer--to the bur-den of Job's anguished questions by encountering him as the God of creation's awesomely rich variety? "Ever since God created the world, his everlasting power and deity--however invisible--have been there for the mind to see in the things he has made" (Rm 1:20). It is no wonder, then, that, whenever God enters into a covenant with his human creation, he carries conviction by invok-ing the enduring solidity of his natural creation in such words as these: "Yahweh who provides the sun for light by day, the moon and stars for light by night, who stirs the sea, making its waves roar, he whose name is Yahweh Sabaoth, says this: Were this estab-lished order ever to pass away from my presence--it is Yahweh 348 Review for Religious who speaks--only then would the race of Israel also cease to be a nation in my presence forever" (Jr 31:35-36). This creation, however, is not as pure as it was originally because of original sin and all the successive sins of humanity. In spite of that, or' perhaps because of it, Paul could visualize the present thus: "The whole creation is eagerly waiting for God to reveal his sons. It was not for any fault on the part of creation that it was made unable to attain its purpose, itwas made so by God; but creation still retains the hope of being freed, like us, from its slaver~ to decadence, to enjoy the same freedom and glory as the children of God. From the beginning till now the entire cre-ation, as we know, has been groaning in one great act of giv-ing birth; and not only creation, but all of us who possess the first-fruits of the Spirit, we too groan inwardly as we wait for our bod-ies to be set free" (Rm 8:19-23). This visualization of all cre-ation, human as well as hatural, contains in an embryonic man-ner all the challenges and hopes Some, then, would say: Since the earth is of such an age compared with which the whole of human history is no more than a brief moment, the point of departure for theologizing should be the original blessing of the earth rather than the original fall. engendered and cherished by enlightened earthlings in relation to their earth, which, for all the ravages caused to it, is still humble, fertile, homely, and motherly. And so we learn to reverence cre-ation and earth and matter as St. John Damascene taught: "Through it, filled, as it were, with a divine power and grace, my salvation has come to me." At the end of a crescendo of ques-tions, he asks: "And, before all these things, is not the Body and Blood of our Lord matter? Do not despise matter, for it is not despicable.''~s These words are surely evocative of Teilhard de Chardin (quite a model for New Age faithful), but not only of him but of Ighatius Loyola (quite unacceptable to the New Age, though of him Teilhard has said that he could no more disown him than he could his own father), from whose Spiritual Exercises Teilhard had learned not a little about the divine milieu of the May-June 199Y 349 Dominic ¯ Accompanying New-Age People It is high time that we take the commandment of love seriously with regard to the way we look at New Age people. earth. In particular in the Contemplation to Attain Love he must have obtained a new vision of the universe in which he could find not only all things in God but God in all things.16 The dynamics of this vision is traced by Gilles Cusson thus: "The final fulfillment of God's revealed plan of salvation, which is a mystery of love expressed in the gratuitous calls to creation and salvation, is the pro-gressive movement of the world toward God, through the coming of the Christ who assumed the totality of our human condition; of the world which, now renewed, finds again on itself the divine mark of its origin and the sublime ordination which God's creative act had imprinted on it."~7 To conclude as we began, it is high time that we take the com-mandment of love seriously with regard to the way we look at New Age people. To the conservative and cocksure among us, some of them may appear to be freaks. But, as one of their fold, Jacquelyn Small, suggests somewhere, "What would Love do?" must be our constant question and search. By reading the signs of the times with a decided spirit of love, one may come to find many an admirable pearl of spirituality in the field of the New Age move-ment. These are to be valued in themselves and are worth redeem-ing for our church and ourselves, for we must love not only our neighbor but ourselves as well. Surely not everything in the New Age's,field is valuable, but among New Age leaders there are, for-tunately, some who dispute whatever is disingenuous and dehu-manizing and disintegrating. A witness to this reality I chanced to find in David Spangler, who in speaking of the New Age describes something that I as a Christian applaud: The shape of the new age takes on ordinary proportions for me. I find it, for example, in nurturing my marriage or in gracefully meeting the demands of parenthood. I find a new age in my craft and improving my work. I find it-in ¯ my questions about myself that impel me to confront my shortcomings and boundaries. I find it in the never ending quest to understand the nature and purpose of a God who 350 Review for Religious is not simply--or even primarily--the inner divinity that so many new age writers focus on, but the evocative Other whose very differences impel me to reach beyond myself and participate in the larger communion and community of life. I find the new age in the daily effort we share to live with integrity, grow with courage, and be a willing partner with life to allow expression of dreams and capabilities.~8 Accompanying New Age adherents in the spirit developed in the pages above would be a way to implement concretely two of the points contained in the call of the Inter-American Assembly of Religious held in 1994 in Santo Domingo, namely, (1) "to reject all that disavows the holiness of our world and its peoples, and instead to embrace our world and its peoples, sharing their con-crete social, economic, cultural, and religious struggles and hopes," and (2) "to reject efforts at evangelization that arise from stances of authoritarian power, and instead to proclaim" the good news and hope of Jesus from within the cultures and the experiences of people." t9 Notes ~ That it has made itself felt in the spiritual world at large is beyond doubt. See The Way, July 1993, devoted entirely to New Age spiritual-ity. 2 Don Gilmore, Extra Spiritual Power (Waco, 1972), p. 90. 3 Ibid, p. 93. 4 See William Johnston, The Inner Eve of Love (London, 1978), pp. 58- 59, and also Luis M. Bermejo, The Allurement of the Summit (Anand: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, 1993), pp. ix, 66, 67, and passim. s See Matthew Fox and Brian Swimme, Manifesto for a Global Civilization (Santa Fe: Bear and Co., 1982), p. 38. 6 See David Spangler, "The New Storytellers," In Context, Winter 1985, p. 19. 7 V. Hull, "New Myths to Live," One Earth, June-July 1986, p. 19. 8 Cited by Jeremy Taylor, Dream Work (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), p. 20. 9 See Louis M. Savary et al., Dreams and Spiritual Growth (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. xi. ~0 Anonymous, Dreams and Destiny (London, 1987), p. 51. ~ SeeJ. Bacchiarello, Forty Dreams of St. John Bosco (Madras, 1969), pp. iv and 2-3. May-3nune 1995 351 Dominic ¯ Accompanying New-Age People ,2 The preceding lines are: When the Way (Tao) fades away, Virtue (7~) raises up, When virtue fades away, humanness (jen) raises up, When humanness fades away, justice (yi) raises" up, When justi6e fades away, the ritual (li) raises upi' --cited by'~Raimon Panikkar, Worship and Secular Man (London, 1973), p. ix. ,3 Happily such were some of the main topics discussed in the work-shop in Canada last year for Jesuits working among the aboriginal peo-ples in different parts of the world. 14 See Panikkar, Worship, p. 85. ,s Cited by Samuel Rayan, "The Earth Is the Lord's," Vidyajyoti, 1990, p. 121. , ,6 Spiritual Exercise¢, §§230-237. 17 Gilles Cusson, Biblical Theology and the Spiritual Exercises (Anand: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash and St. Louis: institute of Jesuit Sources, 1988), p. 323. See also p. 324, n. 34. ,8 New Realities, May-June 1988. 19 Review for Religious 53, no. 4 (July-August 1994): 619-620. Universe Universe becoming befriending and free Summon the more, the maybe, and the not yet from me. Open the winds to enter me in and find gift and seeds and hop~ and flowers knowing that creation comes in longing openness to Mystery. Patricia St Louis CSJ 352 Review for Religious BARBARA VALUCKAS Lithuania: A Return to My Ancestral Home ~hile making my silver-jubilee retreat in 1983, I prayed ~" I¢ over the biblical passages about the year of jubilee. The directive in Leviticus 25 to "return to [your] ancestral home" in the jubilee year penetrated my prayer, bur did not fully infuse my imagination. I was able to name and celebrate many ancestral homes including my family, my church, my religious congregation, and my womanhood. Among these I named my ethriic and cultural roots in Lithuania, but in 1983, several years before the collapse of the Berlin wall, a literal fulfillment of the biblical words was beyond my imagining. I was to learn, however, that it was not beyond God's'imagination for me. I made my,first journey to Lithuania seven years later, just one year after people began streaming through the former Iron Curtain. As provincial of the VVilton, Connecticut, province of the School Sisters of Notre Dame, I was on my way to Hungary via Lithuania to attend an extended general council meeting of our congregation. I encountered a country in the first stages of its exodus experience of freedom. Lithuania,had been the first Soviet-occupied country to declare its° independence. The Sajudis ("Movement") Party sailed into power on a wave of public eupho- Barbara Valuckas SSND works in Pilgrim Ministries to support organi-zational journeys of people worldwide. This article, now slighdy revised, appeared originally in the Eastern Europe issue of LCWR Occasional Papers (March 1995). Her address is Pilgrim Ministries; 9 Academy Hill Road; Watertown, Connecticut 06795. E-mail in U.S.A.: MVV:K5 8 B@Prodigy.com. May-~ne 1995 353 Valuckas ¯ Lithuania ria about all the blessings that would come with freedom and a free market economy. No one then anticipated the long desert trek of turmoil and transition that lay ahead. The effects of five decades of brutal suppression of people and their nation would not dis-appear overnight. When I returned to Lithuania again in 1992 on my way to our general chapter in Rome, the rumblings of popular disillu-sionment had already achieved great momentum. In claiming their independence from Russia, Lithuanians had not fully antic-ipated the economic consequences of being cut off from Russian oil and other commodities. In changing from the ruble economy to one more related to Western currencies, people were jolted by the reality of Western prices. Shadow sides of capitalism were already making their appearance in the form of new unemploy-ment and homelessness; the presence of street beggars shocked people long unaccustomed to such realities. The simple people I met in the countryside expressed their desire to return to.the Egypt of economic security. They said, "At least under the Communists we had enough to eat, and we had heat." These unforeseen shortages of food and fuel helped to bring down the fledgling independence government and to sweep the Communists back as the majority party in Lithuania in the fall. This time, the Communists were not the forcible occupiers, but duly elected officials with a mandate from the people. Many Lithuanians were dazed by this outcome. They could not believe that they had voluntarily elected the same people whose power they had so recently thrown off. They felt stuck in the mud of their own confusion and ambivalence, even as they sought to take the first steps toward rebuilding their country. The rebuilding of every part of Lithuanian life was as daunt-ing a challenge as the rebuilding of the temple in Jerusalem after it had been totally destroyed. Within my own prayer I could feel the Leviticus jubilee invitation to return to one's ancestral home evolving into a more literal and compelling call. I found myself praying, along with Nehemiah (2:1-8), "If it please the king, and if you are satisfied with your servant, give me leave to go to Judah, to the city of my ancestors' tombs, and rebuild it." I prayed this prayer rather blindly because, from a practical point of view, it was not clear to me what I could contribute in Lithuania. Once again my imagination for myself was not up to God's imagina-tion for me. 354 Review for Religious Although all four of my grandparents had come from Lithuania and both of my parents spoke the language, I quickly moved from Lithuanian to English, as many second-generation children of immigrants do. Consequently, I did not know what I could do in Lithuania when my term as provincial gave way to a sabbatical year. I need not have wor-ried because, with little effort on my part, the doors flew open. After learning of my background in educa-tional television, Msgr. George Sarauskas, of the National Catholic Conference of Catholic Bishops Office to Aid Central and Eastern Europe, invited me to serve as a con-sultant to the newly created Catholic Television Center in Lithuania. In retrospect I can appreciate the loving providence of God, who picked up a thread from my profes-sional past and used it as a "leading string of love" (Hosea 11:4) to tug on my heart and my life, gently pulling it toward my ancestral home. Responding to this leading string, I reappeared in Lithuania in mid August 1993 for the first of two three-month periods of life and work with and for the Lithuanian people. From visitation to our SSND missions on other continents, I had learned the need to approach any kind of rebuilding as a humble learner. The Lithuanian people had to identify what needed rebuilding in the temple of their persons and their nation and how that rebuilding should proceed. My role had to be one of listening, support, and enablement. Sister Donna Steffan SC accompanied me for the first three weeks of my fall 1993 visit. Together we visited people in the cities and the countryside. We asked them to share with us their perceptions of Lithuania's current reality and to tell us what they most needed from the church. At first shyly and tentatively and then with growing trust, they revealed that one of their biggest needs was for people just to listen to their stories. The years of occupation had trained them not to trust anyone; as a result, most people kept their experiences and feelings locked up inside them-selves. They recognized a great need to unburden themselves. One woman described the effects of the occupation with the image in a distorting mirror that we in the West most often associate with the fun house in amusement parks. May-37une 1995 355 Valuckas ¯ Lithuania One woman described the effects of the occupation with the image in a distorting mirror that we in the West most often asso-ciate with the fun house in amusement parks. She said that every Lithuanian learned to live behind at least three faces. The first face was the "pro-Communist" face that one was obliged to show to one's employer and professional colleagues in order to keep one's job. The second face was the one shown to one's family and friends. Even this face had many subtle degrees corresponding to one's trust level. The third face was the one shown to oneself. My friend continued by saying that the overall effect of hav-ing to hide behind three different faces for such a long period of years was a gradual disintegration of the personality and a warp-ing of the soul. So, when Lithuanians look into the mirrors of their souls, it is like looking into a distorted mirror. What they see is not lovely but grotesque. It causes some people to go to con-fession often in the effort to "scrape their souls clean" and to receive constant reassurances of God's love and forgiveness of things they may have said or done behind the first face so as to assure their own survival or that of loved ones. This self-image of distortion was mentioned in one form or another by a number of people who described themselves and their country as "bent" in some way. It suggested to me an image of Lithuania as the bent-over woman described in the Scriptures. Like that woman, Lithuania has lost much blood in its tortured patriots and saints. One bishop, upon meeting me and hearing of my purpose in Lithuania, said, "Help us to stand up straight." Donna and I asked some of the parents with whom we visited if they had new hope for the future now that Lithuania had its independence. The most common reply was that these young and middle-aged couples viewed themselves as already having been "destroyed." If they expressed any hope at all, it was for their children. Many said that the years of occupation had forced them to live "like animals." In the stories of the people, we learned that during the occupation every dimension of human creativity was suppressed in the name of the "people." A carpenter could not design a new piece of furniture nor a dressmaker a new pattern unless the designs were approved by numerous offices in Moscow. The approval, in turn, depended upon the ability of the design to be replicated throughout the Soviet Union to preserve some stated ideal of socialist sameness. Eventually many people "forgot" how to think creatively and learned to do only what they were told. 356 Review for Religious I recently heard a radio interview with an American busi-nessman expressing his frustration with doing business in the for-mer Soviet republics. He said that, no matter what size boards he ordered for his building materials, the ones that were delivered were all the same size, the former Soviet standard size. Apparently the workers had lost the ability to imagine that boards could be cut to any other dimension. To me this was a powerful image of the damage that had been done to the minds and psyches of the people. This sense of damage to human creativity was reinforced by our visits to some of the museums in Lithuania. We were awed by the burst of Lithuanian creativity in music, art, literature and poetry, and sculpture during the brief period of national inde-pendence before the occupation. All of the exhibits seemed to me to come to an abrupt halt in the late 1940s. It was like applying to a whole nation the title of Etty Hillesum's book An Interrupted Life. What happened to all of that creativity for a half century? It appears that a lot of it went into the coordination of the under-ground resistance movements, including the underground church. Many Lithuanians, however, having become atheistic collabora-tors with the occupiers, used their energies to promote the pro-paganda machine. Still others turned their talents to the exploitation of people. After independence all of these forms of creativity continued, but in more open ways. The church, newly emerged from the underground, is using its creative energies to rebuild itself above ground. The collaborators are using their tal-ents at various levels of government, pursuing the old Communist agenda as well as their own self-aggrandizement while they are still in power. And the exploiters have emerged in the black market and in other criminal activities, that include an increase in violence. Some entrepreneurs opening private businesses receive almost instant demands for protection money. Resisters, if not murdered, find their new businesses destroyed. After many decades of being cut off from others, Lithuanians are eager to learn more about the rest of the world. Since most do not have the resources to travel, television becomes their win-dow on that world. The most popular television program in Lithuania today is the American soap opera "Santa Barbara." It is not clear to me if the story line is as important to the viewers as are the infinite clues to the first-world affluent lifestyle that May-j~ine 199Y 357 Valuckas ¯ Lithuania American viewers have come to take for granted. They notice that none of the characters have stainless steel teeth (as many Lithuanians do). They note the large living spaces with beautiful bathrooms, the gorgeous clothes and cars. I once gave a relative of mine some American magazines in a brown envelope, the kind with a small metal clasp. The whole family gathered around that envelope and examined the clasp in great detail. Eventually some-one said, "We saw one of these on Santa Barbara!" When the three weeks of Donna's visit had come to an end, we spent a day of prayer and theological reflection on the mean-ing of our experience together. One of the scriptural images that seemed to gather up those .first weeks of listening was the story of Ruth and Naomi. The unexpected loss in the experience of wid-owhood began that story. God seemed to have cut down their hopes, but in reality was leading them to a fulfillment of these hopes beyond their expectations. Ruth and Naomi chose to remain together as they journeyed into an unknown future. For Donna and me, Lithuania itself was like Ruth and Naomi. Its hopes for its own independence as a nation were ruthlessly cut down. But Lithuania is still in the middle of its story; the end-ing is not clear at all. Lithuania is still trying to nourish itself on the few stalks of grain dropped by reapers in the fields. We could also recognize the fidelity of Ruth and Naomi to each other in many of the Lithuanian people we had met: in the young family which remained faithful to their ill and old grandparents, in the young boy who chose to remain with his mother who was dying of tuberculosis, in the many priests, women religious, and lay people who chose to remain faithful to their religion during the long years of persecution. These choices were all the more coura-geous when one remembers that they were made in the teeth of efforts to break down all forms of fidelity, trust, and solidarity. We understood that we ourselves and others coming from outside the country and walking with the Lithuanian people were echoing Ruth's words "Your people shall be my people." We rec-ognized that this would imply a willingness to be with the Lithuanian people in ,their present experience of confusion and scarce resources; it would mean willingness to hold back from efforts to "answer" and "fix." In the end the Lithuanian people need to be the rebuilders of their own nation and church. It is a tricky thing to "accompany" a people without trying to control what they do. Another thread from my professional 358 Review for Religious past helped me in my own struggle to find a balance. While work-ing with an organization called Community Creativity before tak-ing up my ministry of community leadership, I learned how to elicit people's stories about their reality and to "mirror" these experiences to them in helpful ways. I learned that, if people can draw upon their own experiences as their base for learning and growth, they are more likely to see the rebuilding as their own. Over the course of the two three-month periods that I spent in Lithuania during my sabbatical year, I was able to use this "mir-roring" process with three different groups of people within the Lithuanian church: the staff of the Catholic Television Center, the catechists, and the women religious. After interviewing each member of the television center, I had a better sense of its short but significant corporate story. Like almost everything else in eastern Europe, church communica-tions had to jump from 0 to 10 in a very short time after the col-lapse of the Berlin wall. Church officials who had been forcibly silenced for five decades suddenly found themselves expected to speak--on national television--words.of meaning and hope to people who~ "like sheep without a shepher.d," desperately needed guidance as the structures.of their lives crumbled around them. It was a shock both for these church leaders and for the peo-ple to have to jump so suddenly from centrally controlled pro-paganda- oriented media to more democratic and truth-oriented forms. No one knew how to give or receive an opinion, and han-dling any diversity of thought posed real dilemmas. One of the first things that I was able to reflect to the staff of the Catholic Television Center was that, although people had technical skills, no one seemed to have a sense of what the mission of the center was. In the discussion that followed this observation, I learned that the whole concept of a mission statement was new to people whose entire lives had been bent toward purposes defined for them by the government. After much dialogue (which was another new experience in itself), we eventually were able to articulate a mission statement. The Catholic Television Center saw its mission as giving a voice to the once silent Lithuanian church and educating the Lithuanian people about the world church. These purposes, while clear, were fraught with ambivalence. The Lithuanian church survived under-ground only by the exercise of strong central authority that oper-ated largely in secret. There were no group discussions; there May-d~une 1995 359 Valuckas ¯ Lithuania was no consensus building. Information was passed from one per-son to another singly. Control over information was essential to survival. Given this history, It can be quite threatening to provide the .Lithuanian church with a voice Consonant with the Vatican II understandifig of the church as the people of God. The Lithuanian church grapples with questions of how much diversity of thought and'opinion should be expressed in the media and how much should be kept "secret" or even suppressed. There is also ambiva-lence regarding the life of the church in other parts of the world. On the one hand, there is a great eageyness to see how Catholics in other parts of the world live and worship. On the other hand, there is a certain suspicion of theologies, spiritaialities, and rituals coming from other parts of the world and a conse-quenttemptation to control what Lithuanian Catholics are allowed to learn about. With radio, television, fax, and e-mail increasingly available in Lithuania, the democratization 6f infor-mation that is a part of mass communications poses dilemmas for a church only emergin/~ from the underground after years of iso-lation from news about developments in the life of the church. The catechists I visited in each bf the six dioceses .of Lithuania echoed these challenges and voiced their own as they, too, jumped from 0 to 10. When Lithuania became independent, church lead-ers faced a choice: either to begin religious insti'uctlon immedi-ately with ill-prepared teachers without any materials to work with or to do adequate preparation first but thereby risk losing the present instructional opportunity altogether in the quite possi-ble event of reannexation by Russia. They chose the first option. When I visited the catechetical centers in each diocese, cat-echists spoke of the great difficulties they were encountering as they relied on their memories of decades-old religious instruc-tion and tried to pass these fragments on to a new generation of youth with no current materials to help or guide them. Eventually the six dioceses succeeded in collaborating to produce a common catechetical curriculum and in translating some materials from Italy and Austria into the Lithuanian language. The catechetical centers were also. interested in working with the Catholic Television Center to produce s'0me good in'service materials for the catechists and some interesting lessons for the students. When I had completed my visitation of the six dioceses, I wrote a report mirroring the great gifts and the serious challenges 360 Review for Religious I had observed; I distributed it to the directors of the catecheti-cal centers. They were astounded at my report for reasons that amazed me. '"You told the truth," they said. They were not accus-tomed to that. In other professional settings during the occupa-tion, they were accustomed to "inspectors" who came with the primary purpose of criticizing what-ever they saw and who wrote reports that had no correspondence with the reality of their visits. Because of such experiences, the catechists told me, they had awaited my visits with a mix-ture of dread and anxiety. They were flabbergasted to read a report that not only reflected what they had said, but aqtually offered observations and reflections that they found helpful. This was a totally new experience for them. For my part I was astonished to learn how much they had accom-plished, fueled only by zeal, °with scant resources and very meager pay. They had even experienced outright deri. sion from atheistic teachers and stu~- dents. For me, these courageous and selfles~ catechists enfleshed the stories Like many of the other prisoners, this sister fashioned for herself a tiny rosary of hard crumbs of black bread strhng together by a needle and thread. Hid under the lining of her coat, it was never discovered. from the Acts of the Apostles describing the church's early efforts to spread the Good News in the face of extraordinary limitations and challenges from within and without. This difference in experience was one of the many times that I imaged myself as being on the other side'of a chasm from the Lithuanian people. Ways of being that I took for granted were totally out of their lived experience; their faith and courage in the face of adversity were often beyond my ability to compre-hend: For example, the director of ofle of the catechetical centers told me that her entire family was taken away from her and sent to Siberia when she was a small child. Spared this fate because of her age, she was put into the care of some women who provi-dentially were underground nuns. It was through their example that she grew in the faith that sustained her through the loss of her family and ultimately led her to leave her post as a university pro- May-June 1995 361 Valuckas ¯ Lithuania fessor and accept the bishop's invitation to direct a catechetical center, The women religious were the third group of people I was privileged to accompany and mirror. The major superiors had been made aware of the interest which the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) and other organizations had in their welfare, and they were eager to talk about their needs. They, too, had their stories to tell. One of these major superiors' told me that almost all of her early religious life was spent in prison. The prisoners were body-searched every day for any signs or symbols of religion. Like many of the other prisoners, this sister fashioned for herself a tiny rosary of.hard crumbs of black bread strung together by a needle and thread. Hid under the lining o.f her coat, it was never discovered. She still has that rosary; When she showed it to me, she said that her prison .experience was one of the most powerful God-experiences of her life. This sister and the other major superiors echoed what many others had said about needing to tell their stories and to experience healing of their memories. The sisters asked for resource people to come from America and other countries to help them psychologically, theologically, and spiritually. They were eager to learn about developments in theology, prayer, and spirituality in the last several decades of their "interrupted lives." They also expressed a strong desire to grow in leadership skills and in the skills related to the develop-ment of community life and ministry. In spring 1994, Sisters Carolyn Mruz OSF and Joan Klaas CPPS, both former general superiors, ioined me in Lithuania for the express purpose of providing input in some of the requested areas. Toward the end of their six,week stay, the sisters asked us to give them a day of recollection. When we inquired as to the usual length of such dhys, they replied, "We don't know: we've never had one before." Another chasm. In their final evaluation the sisters told us that.one of th~ best things about their gatherings with us, in addition to the input, was the opportunity they had to meet one ~another across com-munities. For most, this was their first experience of an inter-congregational gathering. During the years of occupation, when it was not possible to assemble, the sisters were not always sure who were members of their own congregations, much less mem'- bers of other congregations. When they did meet each other for the first time in spring 1994, it gave them great joy to discover 362 Review for Religious that they had so much in common. They learned that sometimes they were their own best listeners to each other's stories. And I, after ending each three-month period in Lithuania, came away feeling not only like Ruth with Naomi, but also like Mary staying with Elizabeth "about three months." Somewhere in those encounters and in spite of the chasms between cultures, languages, and experiences, there was a leaping together toward the life that is lived at the Center of Being, whether of the nation as a whole or of each person. Finally, I return to Nehemiah, who heard God's call to help in the rebuilding of the temple: "Then I said to them, 'You see the trouble we are in: Jerusalem is in ruins, its gates have been burnt down. Come, let us rebuild the walls of Jerusalem and suffer this indignity no longer.' And I told them how the kindly favor of God had been with me, and also repeated the words the king had said to me. 'Let us start!' they exclaimed, 'Let us build',; and with willing hands they set about the good work" (Ne 2:17-18). Vignette The windows of the soul are clouded by hunger, and deeper wounds shrouded from our sight lie buried in the dark night. Foul birds of greed peck at the seeds of war And drop them to be sown in blood from Rwanda to Zaire. Martha Wickham ASC May-.~une 1995 363 ELIZABETH V. ROACH Community Today-- Idol? Icon? Gift? "I could do ministry without becoming a religious, but I want community," the new candidate says. Studies tell us that young people entering religious congregations today are looking for community. Formation directors work hard to provide healthy community experiences for them. Later, superiors general try to assign them to "good" commu-nities. Not only candidates but also men and women in religious life many years are approaching personnel direc-tors seeking "life-giving" communities. All this leaves lit-tle doubt that community has high importance for religious. If one thing is going well with us, it is the pri-ority we are giving to community. To question this trend might seem, if not audacious, perhaps impertinent. I believe, however, that a need exists for a closer look at the almost icon or idol status that com-munity enjoys today. My questions lie in the following areas: (1) In what "soil" did the present status of commu-nity grow? (2) Is it suffering from soil contaminants? (3) What are the gospel parameters for community? If you think I am about to come up with the answers, stop reading now. Then again, if you would like to delve into these questions, accompany me in my meditative mean-dering as I reflect on some questions that pebble the path. Elizabeth V. Roach MM works with three other Maryknoll sis-ters in a settlement area (40,000 people, no priest) on the edge of Panama City. Her address is Maryknoll Sisters; Aptdo. 813- 0343; Tocumen, Republic of Panama. 364 Review for Religious The "Ecological" History of Community Today Polluted streams mar our world. We breathe contaminated air. We read food labels to see what preservatives we are exposing ourselves to. We wonder what is in the water we drink. Why not investigate the "ecological" history of community? Where did community's current popularity grow and develop? Is there need for soil examination? Do we need to protect an endangered speci.es of community? I wonder if some of our present practice has developed, not from gospel roots, but from our environment of consumerism? Whether it is legislation bought by lobbyists, military secrets sold for profit, commerce with the fruit of a woman's womb, or designer drugs, we are a nation of consumers. Listen to us, the words we use. We speak of "mental-health consumers," "spin doctors," and "image" pro-ducers. This is the environment we live in. The nightly television news-cast would convince any visiting Martian that in our society just about anything can be bought. What has that got to do with our present practice of community? Maybe nothing, but similar remarks used to be made when ecologists questioned the purity of our lakes and streams. They were called alarmists. They were said to be exaggerating the dangers of industrial waste. As we seek commu-nity, it might not be amiss to ask how much the consumer envi-ronment we live in is affecting our practice and our working model of community. Maybe we need a quick inventory of our recent past. Even a brief glance at the 1960s shows that many people lived in a rigidly structured world. (When the protests for civil rights and against the Vietnam War began, many could not listen to what was being said. They saw rowdy, carelessly dressed, long-haired people as simply out of line.) Marriage was the order of the day. A "significant other" was something new. Rights of homo-sexuals and lesbian relationships were not acceptable conversa- As we seek community, it might not be amiss to ask how much the consumer environment we live in is affecting our practice and our working model of community. May-3~une 1995 365 Roach ¯ Community Today tion topics. Women who had babies outside of marriage were "unwed" mothers. There were jobs for men and jobs for women. Women were housekeepers, wives, and, yes, diaper washers. Police and soldiers were men. People who bought things were customers not consumers. One had property rights, but consumer rights, sexual-preference rights, and victim rights were unheard of. Abortion was illegal. Body parts, sperm, and wombs were not yet on the market. Spirituality and retreats had to do with religious practice, not feminist circles or marketing seminars. Between the '60s and the '90s came the "me" decade. We are no longer in the '60s. Social consciousness in the '60s meant advo-cacy for the poor, the disadvantaged, the needy. Now, according to Congressman Gingrich, social responsibility means legislation to relieve the taxpayer of politically burdensome aspects of soci-ety. We who live on the edge between modernity and post-modernity may be too caught up in contemporary tensions to examine the ingredients of our community cake mix, but uncon-scious consumption of contaminating elements may cause unex-pected illness. Our search for community is taking place in a world where repression of sexual and other urges is no longer the problem. We have entered a deconstructed world where issues of individ-ual rights versus community rights provoke new conflicts. "Gingrich thinking" is but one example of.this reality. Notice the differing opinions about the trials of the Mel6ndez brothers, Susan Smith, and O.J. Simpson. At the same time, violence, crime, child abuse, elderly abuse, and the "maybe we need to open more orphanages" mentality prevails. "Protection" is the buzz word of the 1990s, whether it refers to protected sex, more police in the streets, or a balanced-budget amendment. In the case of the United States, is it creeping into policies and procedures aboutwhom we will integrate or isolate according to how they fit or do not fit our concept of community? This is the environment we live in. Our concept of commu-nity may be, if not corrupted, at least affected by it. In more than one ~workshop, I have heard presenters say that, when we are changing ministry or community, we should take time to imagine ourselves in the situation and then ask ourselves, "Does it feel good?" That is the same question I ask when I try on a new pair of shoes. Given the psychological healthiness of reflecting on how a 366 Review for Religious change of ministry or community will affect us, what criteria shall we use? Is community just another consumer item? Is it like buy-ing a winter coat, a new car? What are the gospel parameters for community? Have you said or heard any of your friends say, "I have a min-istry, now I'm looking for a community"? Is community just another item on our shopping list, something to be acquired? How gospel-oriented is our practice? New Testament Parameters for Community Another glimpse of what we are about in our practice of com-munity might be gotten by filling out the application form that personnel directors ask religious to complete when they seek a change of ministry or community. Some congregations require these applicants to provide an evaluation from the community where they have been living. Applicants are also expected to state their expectations of the receiving community. The new com-munity's scrutiny leads to acceptance or rejection of the appli-cant. Try filling out one of those forms for Jesus as he hung on the cross (or for one of the apostles, or for Paul). What kind of com-munity evaluation could we submit for Jesus? He was complet-ing a contract and about to move into a new ministry situation. How would the evaluation of his recent community experience read? Would it say he took initiatives not supported by his local community? How would it describe his being abandoned by his colleagues? How would you rate him: (1) on following the con-sensus? (2) on his ability to (a) dialogue with Peter, his confrere? and (b) with local church authorities? (3) on his initiative (a) in going up to Jerusalem? and (b) in going to the garden that Thursday night? (What would you say if you had to write a community eval-uation of Peter, the one who failed so miserably in a community crisis?) Would you have approved of Jesus' "cross" initiative? Would you have questioned his discernment process? Would you have suggested further discernment and perhaps made him miss his hour? (Remember that John and Peter, his close friends, seemed a bit confused about his plans and even about what he was saying at the Last Supper.) May-J~ne 1995 367 Roach ¯ Community Today Palm Sunday Communities or Easter Communities Still another way to reflect on community would be to ask ourselves if we are confusing the group of disciples, those who hung out with Jesus before Good Friday, with the communities that flowered after the resurrection and Pentecost. The crowd that walked with Jesus before that Friday, the Palm Sunday community (apostles and disciples included), seems to have had many characteristics that are considered important for today's communities. Notice that Peter, James, and John were friends. Philip invited his friend Nathaniel to join the group. Does that ring a familiar bell? Is that a way of being integrated into our communities today? Do friends invite friends? In the episode about sitting at Jesus' right and left hand (Mk 10:35-45), similarities with current practice are even more evi-dent. That group looks like they are having a "community day." The apostles and disciples who would soon be walking with Jesus on Palm Sunday had together sailed the Sea of Galilee, hiked to Jerusalem, prayed, and shared ministry experiences. Was that an emergency house meeting they called to confront James and John on their inappropriate power seeking and failure to dialogue before lobbying for the first places? This, after the many excellent workshops they had attended!--workshops on ministry, mission, spirituality, interpersonal relations, theology, and Scripture, and all conducted by the best of presenters. So what happened? Why did that group .of apostles run for it when Jesus stretched out his arms on the cross? All their systems failed. Neither the community days nor the hiking, the theolog-ical reflection, the personal and community prayer, the work-shops, or even the friendship they had with Jesus held them together on that Friday--except for John and Mary and a few other women. That scene, I think, offers an essential .clue to the mystery of what Christian community is. While numbers of people had walked and talked with Jesus, they had not become a community. They may have been a support group: they did meet regularly. They may have been a club: mem-bership was limited and had its requisites. They may have been an interest group or a cooperative, for they participated in the same mission. But they were not yet a community. This they demon-strated on Thursday night when they scattered upon discovering that the big C Jesus was talking about was not community but the cross. 368 Revie~ for Religious Only Mary, John, and the women had discovered that the acid test of Christian community is the permanent, nonnegotiable fol-lowing of Jesus to his death. The hard realities that Jesus himself faced on Thursday and Friday, the aloneness, the abandonment, the dying, are essential elements that must be accepted, lived, and embraced if we are ever to become Easter and Pentecost com-munities. It is not just the warm, fuzzy feeling of moments when we are all together, the consensus evident, celebrating with song and symbol. It is also those dark, fearful, lonely moments of truth-telling in our communities, the utter .aloneness of difficult deci-sion making, the moments described in 2 Timothy 4:9-22, when Paul says "all" deserted him; "no one appeared on my behalf, but the Lord stood by me." It is also those other terrible moments when we~ like Mary and John, stand by our sisters and brothers totally incapable of under-standing .the why of a situation. Both reflection and personal expe-rience lead me to believe that, with-out following Jesus on the way of the cross, we may become interest groups, assemblies of friends, or financially cost-effective entities, but we have not the shadow of a chance of becoming Easter and Pentecost communities. Just look at the Easter community, that community huddled together in fear, in terror for their lives, humiliated by their sinfulness. Has any recent applicant to your community or mine said they want to join us because they are fearful or ~inful? And, if they did, would we accept them or recommend therapy? Yet it is the Easter community, terrified, humiliated, utterly scandalized by the cross, who discovered Jesus in their midst, their sins forgiveh, and their hearts overwhelmed with the joy of his peace. They knew why they were joyful. They could say Jesus is risen and truly here because they knew this;was the same Jesus who died on the cross. Peter's cheeks, the legend tells us, were fur-rowed by tears. Mary had held Jesus' bloodless corpse in her arms. John had stood by the cross. Has any recent applicant to your community or mine said they want to join us because they are fearful or sinful? And, if they did, would we accept them or recommend therapy? May-j~une 199Y 369 Roach ¯ Community Today That Easter community did not come to their consensus by applying the correct interpersonal dynamics for good communi-cation. They did not learn to hang together through attendance at workshops or by hiring a facilitator. While all these may help and no doubt do, there is no way they will ever substitute for the big C on which Jesus built the Easter and Pentecost community or the later communities of Acts. In Acts the community is a motley crowd. They invite all sorts to join them, magiciansand soldiers, preachers and widows. Their criteria did not come from enneagram numbers and Myers- Briggs profiles. (Had these been available, they might have helped resolve interpersonal conflicts--and these communities did include great differences of personality and lifestyle.) The important thing for them was willingness to lay down their lives because of their belief in Jesus' Way. The joy of those communities came not from something available in Greek or Roman markets, but the gift of Jesus' Spirit filling them with overwhelming peace and joy. That peace was pure gift. It happened when they followed Jesus' Way, the paschal way of death and resurrection. In apostolic and early Christian times, Christian community grew'and developed when followers of Jesus came together fear-ful for their lives, humbly repentant of sinfulness, bearing one another's burdens, and willing to die as witnesses to Jesus' living presence. They believed that Jesus, who died for our sins, had risen from the dead and was~truly here. They celebrated this in their gatherings. Only through this paschal living will our com-munities, too, become centers of peace, joy, and good news for all the world. 370 Review for Religious DENNIS J. BILLY Called to Community ~ ~[ . ommunity~:P is an intrinsic element of the call to disci- ~ pleship." A statement such as this normally elicits little disagreement and little, if any, controversy. Whatever our par-ticular calling in life (religious, priestly, or lay), most of us rec-ognize the importance of some Eind of community to accompany us on our journey of faith. Simple agreement, however, does not always evoke profound understanding; it may even keep us from taking a deeper look at the meaning of our closest assumptions. How many of us, for example, actually understand our call to "community" as something at the Very center of our response to God? How many of us think of life in community as something intrinsic to our relationship to God, as something that actually leads us more deeply into the mystery of who God is? And how many of us actually advert to these ideas in the day-to-day cir-cumstances of our lives? Reflection on the nature of our call to community can enhance our vision of what our communal disci-pleship means and how it is to be lived out in daily practice. Vision and Call Everyone needs a vision in life. Call it a dream or a purpose; call it a goal or a sense of direction; call it a founding myth or a narrative of origins--whatever you call it, we all need something in our lives to help us make sense out of our experience and share it with others. One purpose of Christian community is to keep such a vision before our eyes and thereby encourage us to take Dennis J. Billy CSSR, author of fifteen articles for this journal over the course of ten years, writes ag.ain from Rome. His address is Accademia Mfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Rome, Italy. May-June 199Y 371 Billy * Called toCommunity steps to live it in our everyday lives. It reminds us of the larger context of our lives and keeps us in touch with the traditions that have shaped us and to a large degree have made us who we are. It challenges us to confront the dark side of our human experience and to remain steadfast in our response to God's call in our lives. Communities come in different sizes and shapes. They do so because they respond to different needs within the church and reflect the vast variety of God's creation. Families and base com-munities, parishes and religious congregations, secular institutes and third-order sodalities all exist for a purpose and flourish when they respond well to the needs they seek to fill. Community is not something peripheral to God's call, as if its purpose were only to provide an atmosphere conducive to private personal spiritual growth or to respond to a need in our anthropological makeup. Christian community can and does provide for such things. It is meant, however, to be and to do much more. Life in community is intrinsically related to our journey into the mystery of God and is part and parcel of our Christian vocation. Community life loses its sense of purpose and conviction when it is taken out of the context of a call. Because the Christian vocation leads people into the Divine Mystery, it is inherently communal. Christian community and Christian vocation enjoy a close, reciprocal rela-tionship. It is impossible to have one without the other. By the term "vocation" I refer not to the more qualified sense of the term as a specific state of life in the church (that is, reli-gious, priestly, or lay), but to the call to intimate friendship that God extends to everyone, believer and nonbeliever alike. This call to beatitude (or to the "beatific vision," as previous genera-tions of theologians have phrased it) extends to all people, regard-less of their faith, nationality, race, or position in life. It involves the capacity all of us have to be lifted up through the influence of grace and to see God face-to-face. This mystical vocation which all of us share is sustained through life in community. Because God's nature is inherently communal, our call to divine friendship is worked out and perfected through a life lived with and ori-ented towards others. The Trinitarian Community The Christian tradition acclaims God as the perfect commu-nity of love. God--who has conceived of us, who has created us, 372 Review for Religious and who holds us in being--relates to us in a manner that images his nature. God, who is love, relates to us in love and cannot do otherwise. This is not the place to expound the vast intricacies of the doctrine of the Trinity. Suffice it to say that, however we describe this mystery of intimate social relations (whether through the traditional formulation of Father/Son/Spirit or through recent formulations such as Creator/Redeemer/Sanctifier or Ground/ Other/Bond), the mutual indwelling of persons must somehow be presented within the very nature of the Godhead. Although the mys-tery of God is inexhaustible and no single formulation can fully convey its meaning and depth, revelation teaches us that God is communal by nature, a single being of three clearly differentiated relations. When God is viewed in this man-ner, union with God becomes for us a never-ending journey into the intimate community of divine rela-tionships. All of this may sound rather abstract and unrelated to the daily concerns of life in Christian com-munity. To be sure, lofty ideas about the Trinity may'seem to have little practical value when it comes to the nitty-gritty tensions and concerns of communal living. We should not forget, how-ever, that the Trinity rests at the summit of the hierarchy of truths and, in fact, is the ultimate reality from which all else flows. The Trinity is the quintessential fact. It is not simply a metaphor, or a purely human construct, or a projectiqn of our deepest hopes onto a divine plane. It is an element of God's self-disclosure to humanity which, in its doctrinal formulation, has the status of a divinely revealed truth. The intimate community who is God and whom we call the Trinity is the beginning and end, the alpha and omega, of all things. It is the goal toward which we tend, the force that directs our lifelong activity on this planet, the reality that draws us to our final destiny. Life in Christian community is the primary way in which God prepares us to participate in the mystery of triune love. If it is true, as St. Augustine and many of the medievals thought, that Because God's nature is inherently communal, our call to divine friendship is worked out and perfected through a life lived with and oriented towards others. May-y-une 199Y 373 Billy ¯ Called to Community God has left traces or vestiges of the divine nature imprinted in the very fabric of creation, then one may point to life in Christian community as an important instance where a person can discover a reflection of God's hidden presence in the world. It would be presumptuous to expect that any of us would be ready or even capable of sharing in the intimate relations of the divine nature without a long period of preparation, Most of us will need to be led, step-by-step, along the long and narrow way of the Lord. Christian community, one might say, is the fiery forge in which God tempers our personalities and gets them ready to share more deeply in the fullness of the divine community. It stretches our character and challenges us to live lives that increasingly take others into account. To use an example from the Catholic mysti-cal tradition, it purges us of our imperfections, illumines us along our journey through life, and eventually brings us to a state of union with God. Life in community helps us to discover and become our truest, deepest selves; it naturally overflows in our relationship with others; and it shows us precisely what it means to be friends of God. Whenever we participate in community, we are really experiencing a vestige of God's triune love. The deeper we enter into it, the more we prepare ourselves for our relation-ship with God both now and in the life to come. Such is the role of Christian community, otherwise known as koinonia, that fel-lowship of God's friends we call "church." Given to us by Jesus himself and forever walking in his way, this circle of close disci-ples perpetuates itself by forging genuine human relationships wherever it goes. The Way of Jesus If the Trinitarian basis of Christian community is still too abstract a notion to give us practical guidance in day-to-day liv-ing, a more concrete example comes from the life of Jesus himself. A careful reading of the Gospels shows that he was always calling people to fellowship, especially those who were outcasts from the respectable social enclaves of his day. Prostitutes and tax collec-tors, the poor and the possessed, the blind and the lame were all welcomed by him and invited to partake in the friendship he shares with the Father. His gathering of disciples, his preaching through parables, his emphasis 6n table fellowship, his institu-tion of the Eucharist in the context of a meal, all reveal his deep 374 Review for Religious concern to provide others with a sense of God's gratuitous love and care for them. Jesus reached out to others simply because they were children of the Father and in need of God's friendship. He needed no other reason to call us his friends (Jn 15:15). Jesus' call to fellowship continues to this day. Now, as then, it is the perfect expression of the Son's intimate love of the Father. His fourfold movement of (i) entering our world (in the incar-nation), (2) giving himself away completely (to the point of dying for us), (3) becoming our very food and nourishment (in the Eucharist), and (4) being the source of our hope (in the res-urrection) is a concrete expression of the same selfless giving that characterizes the divine Trinitarian relations. Jesus' love for humanity reveals to us an even deeper love which he shares with his Father. This intimate relationship enables him to listen to the Father's concerns as a loyal and faithful Son. His humble response mani-fests the self-diffusive nature of God's love and discloses the underlying reason for the entire Christ event. Jesus' life provides us with an ideal vision of what life in community should emulate. Just as Christ entered our world and gave himself away completely, to the A careful reading of the Gospels shows that Jesus was always calling people to fellowship, especially those who were outcasts from the respectable social enclaves of his day. point of becoming nourishment and a source of hope for us, so we are called, both individually and in community, to enter the var-ious worlds of people around us and to give ourselves to them in a manner corresponding to Christ's sacrificial offering of him-self, to the point that we too become nourishment for them and a source of life-giving hope. This calling reveals to us the funda-mental meaning of our Christian identity. It' is accomplished not by ourselves alone, but by our cooperating with Christ working in us and influencing us by the grace of his Spirit. As might be expected, it is in the Eucharist that this process of divinization takes on its most concrete and visible form. There we gather as "church" around the table of the Lord and pray to the Father through the Son and in the Spirit. There we celebrate the fel-lowship of God's friends by reenacting Jesus' last meal on earth in its mystical identity with his sacrificial death the following day. May-3~ne 1995 375 Billy ¯ Called to Community There we welcome the presence of the risen Lord not only in our hearts and in our midst, but even in what we eat and drink. There we~celebrate the gift of "God among us" and recognize in the breaking of the bread that the Lord's vocation, like our own, is concerned with our becoming other Christs. Practical Realities These Trinitarian and Christological bases for life in com-munity do not of themselves remove the obstacles that often get in the way of our growth in the Spirit. The vision of what we can become and of what we are called to live is blocked time and time again by the fickle and obtuse human heart. As members of Christ's body, we recognize our divine calling to share in God's love and to carry on Christ's mission through time. We also rec-ognize, however, that human limitations and purely self-centered concerns often prevent us from living up to our noble aspirations. Sin in its various analogues--original, social, personal--distracts us from our mission and leads us into unholy compromises that sunder our vision and detach the remains of it from the practical realities of daily life. What follows are ten of the common diffi-culties communities face in their attempt to live out the implica-tions of their call. 1. Lack of Vision. Call it a lack of faith, a refusal to delve beneath the surface of things, an inability to see the close con-nection between the lives we live and the beliefs we espouse-- whatever you call it, a Christian community can easily get out of touch with its charism or very reason for existence. Vision. is a matter of both head and heart; minimal intellectual assent to the values and goals that originally called the community into exis-tence is not enough. Vision must seize the imagination of the members and generate in them a heartfelt desire to realize the community's objectives in their present situation. For this rea-son, a Christian community always needs inspired dreamers to keep the community's, founding vision in the forefront of its con-sciousness and prudent leaders to interpret this vision amid the practical exigencies of daily life. If the vision is not somehow kept bright and clear, the community loses its focus, dissipates its ener-gies, and eventually goes out of existence. 2. Dyoqtnctional Structures. Every community needs structures for its own good and the good of its members. Structures give 376 Review for Religious the community stability and enable it to function for a long time. Structures, however, can be a curse. If the community is not care-ful, its structures can in time lose their relevance and then inhibit the ways in which its members relate. The structures become dys-functional and deprive the community of the tranquillity it needs to live and do its work. Every community, therefore, needs to examine its structures periodically and change those that now are superflu-ous or needlessly obstruct the mem-bers' lives. Siflce there is only one perfect community (the Holy Trinity itself), communities should not be surprised to find some dysfunctional relating in their internal organization. The goal here should be to remove or minimize structures that are irrele-vant or cause some har

Issue 53.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1994. ; Christian Heritages and Contempora~ Living ~ JULY-AUGUST 1994 ¯ VOLUME: 5:3 . Nrt~MBER 4 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ Fax: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° P.O. Box 29260 ¯ Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1994 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library client~ within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. review for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1994 * VOLUME53 ¯ NUMBER4 contents 486 feature LeadErship a New Way: If Christ Is Growing in Us Janet K. Ruffing RSM proposes that a task of religious leadership is to integrate a personally appropriated Christ mysticism with historical consciousness and liberationist praxis in a way that is consonant with feminine experience. 498 5O7 traditions An Introduction to Orthodox Spirituality Peter J. SanFilippo presents the doctorine of theosis, the deification of the human person, as the heart of the ascetical spirituality of the Orthodox Church. Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen Ovey N. Mohammed SJ compares the praxis of contemplation in yoga and Zen Buddhism with Christian prayer, especially the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. 524 The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality Frederick E. Crowe SJ presents an understanding of St. Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises that distinguishes them from Jesuit spirituality while clarifying their relationship to Jesuit spirituality or any other kind. 534 The Suscipe Revisited Joan Mueller OSF explores various applications of the Ignatian prayer "Take and receive" within the dynamic of the Spiritual Exercises. 544 holiness The Cross Yesterday and Today Robert P. Maloney CM presents a synthesis of the understanding of the cross in the spirituality of Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac in the light of contemporary theology. 482 Revieva for Religious 560 568 Fascination with the Holy--and Conversion Annette M. Pelletier IHM postulates a fascination with the holy which justifies religious life and which demands a response of conversion. Merton's Spirituality of Place Wayne Simsic explains the importance of stability of place as an anchor for spiritual growth in the writings of Thomas Merton. 584 prayer and direction The Future of Spiritual Direction Tad Dunne raises eight issues which need to be addressed if spiritual direction is to be an effective ministry in the church. 591 A Vision Revision about Distractions Harold F. Niedzwiecki OFM points out that a way of integrating prayer and our daily routine is to see God in our environment as well as beyond it. 597 6O5 ministry formation Nonviolence and Christian Moral Responsibility Pa~ricia McCarthy CND presents nonviolence as so integral to Jesus' way of life that it takes its place as a part of Christian moral responsibility. Holy Land Pilgrims and Ministry to Them Anne Hennessy CSJ makes some helpful suggestions for Catholic pilgrims to the Holy Land at~d identifies four situations .dxich call for ministry attention. 617 report Santo Domingo Assembly: An LCWR/CMSM Report departments 484 Prisms 622 Canonical Counsel: Religious and Human Promotion 629 Book Reviews a~ly-August 1994 483 prisms L its spring meeting, the Review for Religious Advisory Board raised some concerns that we hope interested writers might explore in future arti-cles. For example, there remains much interest in and rea-son for writing about charism. Besides the fundamental norm of gospel discipleship around Christ, the founders or inspirers of various consecrated lifeforms, their personal history and example, the original rule of life, and the spe-cial founding charism are still the essential sources for contemporary renewal. Often we image the charism spe-cial to each religious foundation as something that we have to recover in its original purity if we are to move forward while being true to ourselves. Yet many religious groups seem to have experienced that a return to such a pristine notion, of a founding charism may not be the most effective road to' renewal. When relig!ous men and women--after, in many instances, arriving in the United States from European foundations--received some of their formation from the needs and ethos of this land, some incarnate charisms began to look quite different from their European form. For example, monastic foundations, especially of women, were so drawn out into educational or other service areas that the actual lived grace (the charism) evident in the members' lives took a different cast. Certain aspects of monastic spirituality were blended into the later spiritu-alities called apostolic. Sometimes the blending was less like a healthy grafting than like two plants sharing the same pot. When Vatican II called for a return to the sources, some North American religious may have been too quick to seek a purity of charism instead of examining 484 Review for Religious the grafting or the twinned growth that distinctly showed life, however poorly understood or oddly proportioned. We would seem to have a good number of religious congregations that might better be described as having a "blended charism" of a couple spiritual traditions rather than the purity of, say, a Benedictine, Franciscan, or Jesuit charism. Perhaps part of the frustration of renewal is a religious group's attempt to identify a charism by its root rather than by its stalk, leaves, and full flowering evident in their lives. We believe that phenomena like.these might be prof-itably explored. Along the same line, articles which briefly explain how our various spiritual heritages respond to contemporary living have great interest for many people. Back in the early fifties, Review for Religious printed six or eight articles of this kind. The time appears ripe for a similar series. Another area that might bear examination is the apparent paralleling of 50- and 60-year-old Catholics being the active, committed parishioners and religious in contrast with the 20-, 30-, and even 40-year-old Catholics being "affiliative" persons (less flatteringly, "supermarket" Catholics and religious) picking and choosing among the prac-tices which incarnate our faith and its counterpart, religious life. We also might want to pursue these questions. Given min-istry's growing professionalization, do we need to examine more carefully the importance of an intimacy in the Christian-ministry relationship in place of "client-centered" imaging? When is incul-turation a surrender to a culture's racist, sexist, or otherwise dis-torted values, and when is it a demonstration of respect for a heritage that is opening itself to Christian values? At our April meeting we welcomed Brother David Werthmann CSSR to the Advisory Board. He has served as novice director for the Redemptorist provinces of the western United States for six years and as a member of the national board for the National Assembly of Religious Brothers (1987-1993). He is now director of Vincent House, an in-home volunteer program serving per-sons living with AIDS in St. Louis, Missouri. He is a contribut-ing author to the recently published book Blessed Ambiguity: Brothers in the Church. Our appreciation and gratitude go with Brother Se~n Sammon FMS, a founding member of the Board, as he begins service as vicar general of the Marist Brothers in Rome. ¯ David L. Fleming sJ .~ly-Aug.ust 1994 485 feature JANET K. RUFFING Leadership a New Way: If Christ Is Growing in Us As Americans we tend to privatize our religious expe-rience. Because we are schooled by our democratic and pluralistic society to conceal from public discourse the compelling religious vision and experiences that motivate us, some leaders of religious communities carry this reti-cence over into their role in community. In addition, some come from ethnic backgrounds which presume a bedrock of faith, but discourage talking about it. Leaders vary in their ability to express in their lives the faith by which they live. On the other hand, the entire purpose and meaning of religious life is to help those called to it to focus their lives totally on God. For apostolic communi-ties this response to G6d's call is accomplished through the love of our neighbor in compassionate service as well as through contemplation and a lifestyle organized to sus-tain this commitment. . Although the religious dimension of leadership is often neglected,, religious life itself is always and only a work of the fiery Spirit that inspires, empowers, and energizes our free response to this grace. The reflections on power and empowerment in the first part of this article show that one gift women religious offer the church in our pres- Janet K. Ruffing RSM is associate professor in spirituality and spiritual direction in the Graduate School of Religion and REligious Education at Fordham University. The first part of this article, "Women, Power, and Authority," appeared in our May- June 1994 issue. Her address is GSRRE, Fordham University; 441 E. Fordham Road; Bronx, New York 10458-5169. 486 "Review for Religious ent transition is the clear movement in many communities toward a communal life shared by equal disciples who are seeking to r~spond to God's leading. This evolution of empowering author-ity in religious life could indeed be a sign of hope to contempo-rary women. If religious life for women is a means for supporting our total transformation so that Christ be formed in us, it will institutionalize itself in ways that genuinely respect and nurture the deepest possibilities of our femi-nine discipleship. Following Caryll Houselander's words, we can say, "If Christ is growing in us,''~ we will be at peace because where we are Christ is. The entire context in which we seek to live this discipleship has changed. It is a time of chaos and new creation. God's. Spirit broods over these waters. Are we paying attention to these move-ments in our midst? Do leader-ship teams spend time reflecting together on what is happening in themselves, in their members, and in the various groups in the community that reveals what God is doing in their midst? How are sisters understanding themselves in the light of their central dedication to God in Christ? How are they being impelled in ministry? What do they describe as impeding or deflecting them from this central core of the religious-life project? What are the resistances of leaders to some new things? What are the group's resistances to or struggles with ongoing conversion? I believe that paying attention to such'questions is important for religious leadership. Leaders, consciously or not, nonverbally express in decisions and actions their operative vision of religious life, their sense of who God is, their Christology, and their atti-tude toward the women they lead. These are all interconnected. If a leader believes she is diminished in her personhood because God wills her to be powerless and dependent on external author-ity, her behavior will conform to that belief. If she believes that authentic discipleship of Jesus requires members to be compli- Leaders nonverbally express in decisions and actions their operative vision of religious life, their sense of who God is, their Christology, and their attitude toward the women they lead. ~uly-August 1994 487 Ruffing ¯ Leadership a New IVay ant to all requests, she will attempt to secure such compliance. If she believes the majority of members to be selfish and individ-ualistic in their choices, she will find this amply documented. However, if she expects discipleship of Jesus to lead to creative ini-tiatives, release of energy for mission, resistance to injustice, growth in compassion, and a deeply contemplative gaze at expe- ¯ rience, she will Welcome such creativity and action and notice its contemplative interiority. If leaders are not both conscious and critical of the theology they embody in their leadership style, they will fail to recognize how religious faith is functioning within the dongregation. I believe, and the research bea~s this out, that religious lead-ership is more than being conscious of and setting an example of grass-roots theology. The Nygren-Ukeritis study found not only that outstanding leaders of religious congregations were them-selves firmly grounded in their religious experience, but also that they demonstrated an ability to "find and express., the spiritual significance in everyday affairs." The study found, too, that out-standing leaders of religious congregations put greater reliance on God than other members do; generally the male leaders think of God as a "source of support," and the female leaders, as a "source of direction and energy." Further, the interviews showed that in "the spontaneous recounting of their experiences the out-standing leaders more frequently cite instances of actions consis-tent with the religious theory they would espouse." In the judgment of the researchers, these leaders "communicated a gen-uine awareness of God's presence in their lives" and acted accord-ingly. 2 The study concludes that organizations will survive only if their leaders can articulate the founding purpose in contempo-rary idioms and respond to pressing needs. We are experiencing a profound theological reinterpretation of religious life in the light of rapidly changing circumstances. For numerous reasons entire congregations find considerable dif-ficulty in coalescing around a new vision. While some members are stuck in the old paradigm, others propose only a limited view of the new reality. All of us act on old habits of thought and behav-ior. Leaders are reluctant to quench new initiatives since it is rarely clear which one might be leading to the future. Leaders also resist taking initiatives themselves since they are convinced these initiatives need to come from the group. Much of this can be described as a conflict of interpretations or a conflict of per- 488 Revietv for Religious spectives. The FORUS study recognizes that leaders strongly affect the outcomes of such conflicts. "Leaders can have a strong impact on the outcome of the conflict between perspectives. If they sup-port only one perspective, they are likely to decrease the creativ-ity of the transformational process and the active involvement of members whose perspectives are not taken into account . If they enable conflicting perspectives to interact with each other, they will increase the chances of paradoxical transformations, of new and creative shared understandings that emerge from the interaction of the competing perspectives.''3 It is a function of religious leadership to notice and articulate to the community the religious dimension of experience. This includes the team's view of affairs, but also that of the other mem-bers. If the group is assembled, leadership leads by creating an atmosphere in which conflicting perspectives can meet one another and be modified by the dialogue. If the group is not assembled, leadership needs to reflect the range of perspectives and call the group to respond to a religious vision that can be accommodated within this range. I am describing a form of grass-roots theological reflection in which leaders of communities keep before the consciousness of the group a way of sharing the religious heart of their shared reli-gious life. This is a delicate and important task, not just a form of pious exhortation, It requires careful listening, schooled in expe-rience, for what God is actually doing in the group. What form is discipleship taking? How well is it grounded in Scripture and in a sense of who Jesus is? Members will welcome this discourse if it is objective, respectful, and truthful. If this reality can be spo-ken of in narrative or thematic ways, it can foster into the future a sense of shared life, shared goals, and shared commitments. It can build the theological bridges for understanding one another and for a new form of co(porateness. The First Epistle of Peter describes s.omething of this pro-cess: "Venerate Christ in your hearts. Should anyone ask the rea-son for this hope of yours, be ever ready toreply, but speak gently and respectfully" (1 P 3:15-16). Such accounts of the hope that animates us draw the community together around its most central identity. Far more than they do, leaders need to concern them-selves with helping communities to do such spiritual accounting together if religious life is to move through this transitional and transformative time. j~uly-/lugust 1994 489 Ruffing ¯ Leadership a New Way Christological Models While the FORUS study highlights the singular impor-tance of the faith dimension in religious leadership, it neglects to examine in any significant way the content of faith, specifi-cally our understanding of Jesus. Since the conciliar teaching on religious life emphasized that gospel discipleship is the funda-mental norm for religious life, how we individually and commu-nal! y understand our following of Jesus constitutes the religious heart of our vocation. We live religious life in quite different ways with each new interpretation of our faith in Jesus. To help our reflection on the practical following of Christ in religious life, I propose three models of Christology that are oper-ative in contemporary communities. Although oversimplified, these three models might be described as an ahistorical/mystical model, a historical/liberationist model, and a feminist model.4 The ahistorical/mystical model is the largely monophysite Christology that preceded the council and informed much of the 19th-century spirituality many founders lived. In this Christology the one thing we are absolutely certain about is the divinity of Jesus, hence the term monophysite, meaning one nature. The one divine nature managed to obscure the other half of the Chalcedonian definition, namely, Jesus' human nature. Spiritual writers and meditation books emphasized a one-to-one relation-ship with Jesus. Greater emphasis was placed on the hidden life and the passion than on either the public ministry or the resur-rection. Few Catholics, including religious, actually read or med-itated on the texts of Scripture but rather used devotional manuals. The focus of these meditations was the interior attitudes of Jesus in his humiliation and suffering-=humility, obedience, suffering, patience, love, meekness, and so forth. The follower of Christ was to imitate these virtues in order to achieve holiness and to enter into the mysteries of Jesus. These meditations usually had a strong trinitarian flavor. Since Christ was God, the desired atti-tudes were adoration, reverence, and docility before the Mystery. The meditator was drawn into the Trinity itself through the mys-teries of incarnation and redemption. Frequently, the image of God the Father was rather harsh-- a just God who demanded the blood reparation of his Son for humanity's sin. Apostolic religious life in this model usually meant long hours of devotional prayers, use of a meditation manual, and the imitation of the virtues or inner states of Jesus in common 490 Review for Religious life and in ministry. What mattered was increasing conformation to the Christ mystery through prayer and virtue. Obedience and humility were valued over activity and originality. Obedience to superiors and the rule was equated with obedience to God's will. Just as the understanding of Jesus in this model failed to honor Jesus' human reality as much as his divine reality, so too this kind of Christology often led to a neglect of our own humanity and a loss of a sense of the sacra-mentality of human life. In many communities, women were not respected as individuals with differing gifts, histories, and abilities and were not encouraged to care for them-selves appropriately. Since this form of relationship to the Christ mystery was entirely inte-rior and ahistorical, it did not really matter what we did in our world so long as we did it with the proper interior attitudes. This Christology supports the consecration model of religious life. Consecrated to an intimate relationship with Christ, religious are set apart from mundane secular life by cloister, rule, and garb and seek the one thing necessary, namely, progressive contemplative assimilation to the Christ mystery. Much still remains valid in this Christology, especially the way in which Jesus does lead us into the deeper mystery of the Trinity. To become intimate with Jesus, to participate in his life does cultivate in us an entirely different perspective on reality. We are opened to transcendence; we discover the deepest reality of ourselves in the love which comes to us from the Divine Mystery. We never exhaust the need to penetrate to ever deeper levels of the divine and of our own graced reality. The second model is the historical/liberationist model. As one wave of Christology at the time of the council broke over our consciousness, we began to appreciate more clearly the full humanity of Jesus. As Elizabeth Johnson puts it, "if God became a human being, then it is very important to see what kind of human being God became.''5 This led to a full appreciation not only of Jesus' human experience, but of our own as well. As schol- To become intimate with Jesus, to participate in his life does cultivate in us an entirely different perspective on reality. ~uly-August 1994 491 Ruffing ¯ Leadership a New Way ars recovered more and more of the actual history of Jesus and the movement which he inspired, focus turned to a close examina-tion of his ministry, death, and resurrection. Jesus not only talked about the kingdom of God, but actually made it present in the way he was with people, by what he said and did. He embodied the reality of God in his concrete human history. When we began to contemplate this part of the story, we discovered incredible things. It became apparent that Jesus favored the poor, the marginalized, the outcasts. Women were a primary group among his disciples, and he seemed to enjoy their company. Jesus appreciated embod-ied life and drew most of his parables from nature and from com-mon human experience. The kingdom of God was already in our midst. For apostolic religious life the implications were significant. Much of the four Gospels was about Jesus' ministry--which gave us a clue about how we are to be in ministry. It became apparent that Jesus was killed because of the choices he made and what he said in his ministry. As Jesus expressed it, love is more important than law. The law was made for human benefit, not to oppress people. God's will is for abundant life, fullness of life as John's Gospel puts it; God's primary attribute is compassion rather than judgment. When Jesus was killed for upsetting the religious authorities of his day, God validated his ministry and his teaching by not allowing sin and evil to have the last word, but by raising him from the dead.6 As this reflection on Jesus' lived history continued, liberation theology began to develop among poor and oppressed peoples. Drawing on the choices Jesus made in his ministry to share life with the poor and to offer wholeness and liberation to the oppressed, poor and oppressed Christians added social critique and praxis to Christology. Thus, liberation Christologies begin in the context of the suffering of a particular oppressed group. The process of this reflection is communal. Oppressed people come together to reflect on their situation, to pray, and to seek actions that will change things for the better. These actions become the subject for further reflection. Thus, thought and action are intertwined. Liberation theologies emphasize the social nature of sin and grace by reflecting on how the community experiences them within their social structures. These theologies also consider how God and Christ are present in the community as it struggles for 492 Review for Religious justice. Typically there are three steps to this method. A situa-tion is recognized to be oppressive, is called sinful, and is ana-lyzed for its causes, including the way Christian tradition has contributed to the oppression: Has there been complicity in the church and its preaching? Has Christ been understood in a way that is helpful to the oppressor? In this step, liberation tMology is quite critical of the tradition. In the third step, guided by the experience of the oppressed, Christian tradi-tion is searched for elements that would yield new understanding and a new liberating practice. In liber-ation theology, discipleship always entails a change in praxis--activity on behalf of the kingdom of God, judged to be more a present real-ity than an entirely future one. It is out of this theology that Medellin developed the notion of the preferential option for the poor. Massive injustice is analyzed as social sin and not as God's will. There is a mystical side to this Christology, but it is more a spiri-tuality of a people than of individuals. Faith influences base com-munities as they reflect on the Scriptures, the concrete situation of the poor, and action taken to address it. Frequently, when reli-gious espouse voluntary solidarity with the poor, they discover a new experience of God, experiencing Christ in the poor them-selves. Poor people become the ongoing occasion for conversion. Elizabeth Johnson notes that this. theology is also conflictual. The powers within either church or culture do not like to be chal-lenged. To act and live in solidarity with the poor is to risk cer-tain conflict even as Jesus did in his ministry. In this Christology there is less an imitation of the interior attitudes of Jesus than a willingness to accept the consequences of a liberating praxis. What differentiates solidarity with the poor, in this theological per-spective, from involvement with the poor in the earlier mystical model is concrete social analysis. Rather than simply relieving the poor in a loving way, one joins them in their struggle. Frequently, when religious espouse voluntary solidarity with the poor, they discover a new experience of God, experiencing Christ in the poor themselves. July-August 1994 493 Ruffing ¯ Leadership a New Way In the third model, a feminist Christology, we find similari-ties to the historical/liberation perspective. Feminist theology is liberation theology done from the perspective of women's expe-rience. It draws inspiration from the historical material about Jesus' compassionate healing and liberating treatment of women and a discipleship of equals among the men and women who fol-lowed him in the early community. Women clearly understand that their oppression in all cultures is not willed by God. The same steps of analysis and action and prayer as described above are applied to the situation of women. Feminist theology in first-world countries recognizes the resources in Christology for women's liberation.7 The Jesus tradition is a powerful and important spiritual resource for Christian women in their struggle for full participa-tion and personhood in church and society. Feminist theologians in third-world countries pay attention to the situation of women everywhere. The God Jesus reveals cannot be hostile to the deep-est reality of women; women as well as men are fitting images of this God. Likewise, women disciples of Jesus are images of Christ, are every bit as much "altera Christa" as men are "alter Chrisms." Women recognize their suffering and oppression reconciled, healed, and overcome in the death and resurrection of Jesus fully as much as other oppressed groups. Women in religious communities probably lie along the entire continuum of these three Christologies. For some, their rela-tionship with Jesus is primarily a mystical/interpersonal one that has not been significantly changed by reflection on the actual his-torical situation of Jesus' life. Others have deeply appropriated this historical perspective and have assimilated it to their mysti-cal experience of Jesus. The Jesus they meet in prayer is the embodiment of God's compassion. To be involved with him is to be involved with all who suffer. If the FORUS study is correct in its conclusion that service with the poor is not a fully operative priority in communities, it is because a significant portion of the membership has not made the historical/liberation turn. Religious life is constructed on the dominant understanding of what the following of Christ entails in a given historical period. The larger church--both ordinary parishioners and the hierarchy--is more comfortable with religious doing good work motivated by a mys-tical Christology than it is with a stance of prophetic solidarity based on either a liberationist model or a feminist Christology. 494 Review for Religious Feminist Christologies are arising all over the world because even countries that began to address the structural causes of poverty were doing so from the perspective of men rather than women. As worldwide statistics on women become available, it is clear that in every culture women (with their children) constitute the masses of poor people and suffer additionally purely because of their gender. Religious institutes whose originating charisms focused on women and children can reappropriate those charisms in the contemporary context by adopting some form of Christian feminism.8 This is the development our constitutions and chap-ter statements document, but I suspect that they are not fully internalized because our operative Christologies have not yet caught up with them. Religious life has historically been lived longer from the mystical model, which did not necessarily entail apostolic life. Further, religious life has also been lived by women in contexts determined by masculine consciousness and explained in theologies rooted in masculine experience. As apostolic reli-gious and as women, our challenge is to integrate a personally appropriated Christ mysticism with historical consciousness and liberationist praxis in our postmodern context in a way that is fully consonant with our feminine experience. These are the Christologies that support both a prophetic and a contemplative religious life for women. Conclusion In her theological monograph commissioned by the FORUS study, Elizabeth Johnson points to what she calls a "new experi-ence of God emerging in the context of postmodern conscious-ness." The paradoxical experience so many of us have of presence in absence, the loss of familiar ways of experiencing God, and the emergence of something deeper or different are all of a piece. She asserts that a shift is going on in our understanding of the nature of God revealed to us in Jesus. In this essay I have described some of these changes through a Christological lens. However, these changes in Christology also initiate changes in our experi-ence of God. Johnson describes the features of this new experience this way: If there be a God at all, then this is absolute holy mystery that can never be fathomed. Not literally a male person writ large, the sacred can be pointed to by any created good: .~-uly-/lugust 1994 495 Ruffing * Leadership a New Way male, female, animal, cosmic. This mystery does not dwell in isolation from the world but encompasses it as the Matrix of its being and becoming. God in the world and the world in God--panentheism--describes the mutual relation. Thus related, the Holy One of Blessing is a God of pathos who participates in the suffering of the world in order to trans-form it from within. Divine power is the strength of love, rather than raw, monarchical omnipotence. Passionate for justice and peace and compassionate over pain, Holy Wisdom typically self-reveals in the fragmentary break-throughs of well-being that come about through human partnership with divine purpose. Forever God acts to cre-ate a fresh, new future: liberation is her signature deed. A God like this calls for an ethic of critical compassion. We are impelled so to utter the word of God that the world will be changed and renewed by it. She goes on to describe this experience of divine absence and presence as: an experience of the Spirit of God: radically transcendent, like the wind blowing where it will; and at the same time radically immanent, dwelling at the heart of the world to vivify and renew all things. Empowered by the Spirit in our age, people of faith who treasure the living memory of Jesus seek the hidden God of life (contemplation) and live out the passion of God for the world in need (prophecy).9 Rather than a return to the old securities that would quench the fiery Spirit moving in our midst, we need more profound prayer, more attentive listening to the experience of God break-ing through in our midst, and acting from its liberating energy toward a more just, more contemplative, and more novel future. One of the tasks of religious leadership is to contribute to this new naming of God in ways that unite contemplation and prophecy, compassion and action, women's well-being and that of the earth, nonviolence and conflictual change. This task can-not be accomplished without thinking theologically as well as psychologically, without the courage to articulate one's own core religious experience and that of the community, without a sus-taining hope grounded in God's faithfulness. Whatever the even-tual shape of the next form of religious life, it will both emerge from and disclose this new experience of God. It is the task of religious leaders to tell the new story of the surpassing gift of God's fidelity, love, and emancipating compas-sion. It is the task of leaders to uncover the foundational experi- 496 Review for Religious ence of God in every woman in the community and in every inter-action with one another. Religious leaders must forge a new vocab-ulary of the Spirit's presence that honors everyone's experience of God and also points to the "new experiences" emerging in our times and in many of our members. If religious life clearly man-ifests this profound rootedness in the Holy Mystery, "all will be well and all manner of things will be well.''1° Notes ' Lavinia Byrne, ed., The Hidden Tradition: Women's Spiritual Writings Rediscovered. An Anthology (New York: Crossroad, 1991), p. 23. 2 David Nygren, Miriam Ukeritis, John McClelland, et al., "Religious Leadership Competencies," Review for Religious 52, no. 3 (May-June 1993): 412. 3 Nygren and Ukeritis, "The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary," Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 11. Interpretation theory also suggests a similar process by bringing the pos-sible interpretations together in dialogue, to arbitrate among, and to seek agreement. Paul Ricoeur, Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth: Texas Christian University Press, 1976), p. 79. 4 For a readable survey of these contemporary changes in Christology see Elizabeth Johnson, Consider Jesus: Waves of Renewal in Christology (New York: Crossroad, 1991). 5 Johnson, Consider Jesus, p. 50. 6 Albert Nolan, Jesus before Christianity (Maryknoll: Orbis, 1992), is still the most accessible form of this insight into Christology. Originally published in 1976, it is being superseded by John Meier's and Dominic Crossan's recent works, A Marginal Jew and The Historical Jesus. 7 See Elizabeth Johnson, She Who Is (New York: Crossroad, 1992) and Consider Jesus, for ample bibliography of feminist theologies. 8 For an example of this process, see Janet Ruffing and Theresa Moser, "An Option for Women?" Way Supplement 74 (Women and Ignatian Spirituality in Dialogue, summer 1992): 89-100. 9 Elizabeth Johnson, "Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God," Review for Religious 53, no. 1 (January- February 1994): 22 and 23-24. 10 Julian of Norwich, Showings of Divine Love. .)~uly-August 1994 497 PETER J. SANFILIPPO An Introduction to Orthodox Spirituality traditions Editor's Note: Out of respect for his religious heritage, the author retains man and masculine reference when the theological roots of Orthodox faith and the tradi-tional expressions of its writers are being reflected. The Orthodox Church knows no dichotomy between her theology, spirituality, liturgy, use of Scripture, and even her iconography. The church experiences all these as inseparable components in an organic whole, which have as their common matrix a doctrine which stands at the very center of her ecclesial consciousness: theosis, the deification of man (for the inclusive meaning of the term man, see Gn 5:2, RSV) and, with him, of the whole created cosmos. Contemplating the masters of the incarnation, St. Irenaeus of Lyons wrote in the 2nd century that "God became what we are so that we could become what he is." This reached its ultimate conclusion two centuries later in the writings of St. Athanasius the Great, champion of orthodoxy at the anti-Arian Council of Nicaea in A.D. 3 2 5 and later archbishop of Alexandria: God became man so that man could become God/ Father Peter SanFilippo, ordained in 1988, is the founding pastor of St. Stephen the First Martyr parish in Roblin, Manitoba, Canada, where he resides with his wife, Joann, and their four children. He studied theology at St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary in New York. His address is P.O. Box 1397; Roblin, Manitoba R0L 1P0; Canada. 498 Review for Religious This is not to be confused with the Buddhist ~oncept of nir-vana, according to which complete union with the Transcendent ends in the annihilation of self. The goal of Buddhist spiritual-ity is sometimes described by means of an analogy in which a man made of sand progresses by stages into the ocean until he disintegrates, entirely swallowed up and ceasing to exist as him-self. In the final analysis, this is a hopelessly pessimistic spiritu-ality, for its aim is not the salvation but the destruction of the human person. On the contrary, the spiritual doctrine of theosis represents a powerful affirmation of the innate goodness of the human person as a whole--in the composite, trinitarian nature of spirit, soul and body--created in the image of God. Theosis neither obliter-ates nor even diminishes anything that belongs to human nature or human personhood: in other words, what I am and who I am. It is rather the eschatological manifestation of the children of God, experienced by degrees as a foretaste in this present life. This raises three points which require elaboration: 1. The Platonizing tendency borrowed by classical Western theology to regard man as a soul created in the image of God, "imprisoned" in a body which it longs to shed, is foreign to Orthodox theology. The inadequacy of this philosophical schema is that only a "part" of man (his soul) is thought to possess the divine image and to be destined for immortality, while the other "part" (his body) is bereft of that image, ultimately valueless and irreversibly mortal. This is not to say that certain writers in the Christian East did not lend prestige to such notions from time to time. But in the end they were condemned as a departure from the church's more holistic scriptural tradition. Orthodox theo-logical anthropology postulates the human person as a harmo-niously ordered, inseparable unity of spirit, soul and body, all of which participate in the image of God, all of which were created for eternal life, and all of which are engaged in the process of theosis. Death and the separation of the soul from the body are unnatural to man as God created him. 2. What is destroyed in the process of theosis is neither humanhood nor personhood, but sin. The patristic heritage of the East, in its assertion of the inherent holiness of all that is authentically human, does not view sin as intrinsic to, but contrary July-August 1994 499 SanFilippo ¯ An Introduction to Orthodox Spirituality to, human nature. Paradoxically, the deification of man reveals most brilliantly all that is genuinely human. 3. Theosis begins and is experienced in this present life, while its full manifestation awaits the resurrection on the last day. Theologians have debated for years whether eschatology is pres-ent or future and have even posited the two as if they were not the same reality. The late Father Georges Florovsky, eminent Orthodox theologian and author, merged the two concepts as they ought to be by coining the phrase "inaugurated eschatology": "Thou hast endowed us [already] with Thy kingdom which is to come" (from the Eucharistic canon of St. John Chrysostom). The deification of man does not add persons to the Holy Trinity so that God ceases to be Trinity and becomes "Multiplicity"! While man is admitted to full participation in divine life, he does not become "worshipable," for God remains eternally immutable in the divine essence. We begin to comprehend the nature of this mystery, if only imperfectly and in images, by bearing in mind St. Athanasius's maxim that the incarnation of God and the deification of man are reciprocal movements. According to the doctrinal formulation of the Council of Chalcedon (A.D. 451) on the incarnation, the divine-human union in the person of the Son was accomplished with neither division nor confusion (or mingling), each of the two natures preserving the fullness of its properties and attributes intact and undiluted. This means that no hybridization or cross-breeding has taken place in the incarnation of Christ, while at the same time the union of the human nature with the divine in his person remains perfect, complete, and uni.mpeded. This sheds some light by analogy on our understanding of theosis. However, a critical distinction must be drawn between the incarnation and deification: God became man by nature, while man becomes God not by nature but solely by participation or by grace. This is why the Scripture refers to Christ as the "only-begotten" (or only "natural") Son of God, and to us as children of God "by adoption." Theosis begins neither at conception nor at birth, for the fall has rendered man incapable of attaining the divine destiny for which he was created. Something more is needed to set him on his 500 Review for Religiot~s way, and that is rebirth in the waters of baptism: "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God" On 3:5). Baptism in the Orthodox Church, from the elaborate blessingof the water to the actual immersion, unfolds as a liturgical reenactment of creation which effects, not so much the juridical removal of the stain or guilt of original sin, but the total re-creation of the human person: a rebirth in the profoundest sense of the word, a putting off of the old man and putting on of the new, a mystical dying and rising with Christ in order to "walk in newness of life" towards the eter-nal destiny for which we were created. The white robe prescribed in most baptismal rubrics is com-monly taken to symbolize the virtues, or the virtuous life, to which the neophyte has been called, as if Christ had come for no other purpose than to produce well-behaved people. The Orthodox baptismal liturgy contains a rubric of immense importance for our topic, the full significance of which is nearly always over-looked: while the newly baptized is clothed with the white robe, the congregation, choir, or cantor sings: Grant unto me the robe of light, O most merciful Christ our God, who clothest Thyself with light as with a garment! The real meaning of the white robe, and indeed of baptism itself, is that God has come down from heaven and become incar-nate in order to clothe mortal human flesh in his divinity and immortality, the very "garment" in which he himself is "clothed" from all eternity (Ps 104:2). Immediately after the immersion and the putting on of the white robe, the Holy Spirit is conferred on the neophyte in the sacrament of chrismation (confirmation in the West). This is pos-sible because, in the Orthodox East, the administration of chris-mation has always been delegated to the priest and has never required the presence of the bishop (the consecrated chrism is supplied by the bishop, however). Baptism completes in each per-son what was inaugurated in the incarnation: human flesh is made receptive to the descent and .permanent indwelling of the Holy Spirit, received as a gift in chrismation as the firstfruits of deifi-cation and of the world to come. The Orthodox rites of initiation culminate finally in the Eucharist, in which the mystical union between God and man is SanFilippo ¯ An Introduction to Orthodox Spirituality consummated. The Eucharist is the summit of man's Godward ascent in this life, his fullest experience of deification as he becomes one with God, who became one with us, and the most perfect foretaste of the life to come: "Grant that we may more perfectly partake of Thee in the never-ending day of Thy king-dom" (from the prayer after Communion). (The Orthodox Church administers chrismation and Communion even to infants as soon as they are baptized.) The church expects iconographers to undertake their work in an atmosphere of prayer and fasting, together with confession and Communion. There is a cosmic dimension to all we have spoken of here. St. Paul writes that "the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. because the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in travail together until now" (Rm 8:19-22). In another place he writes that God was pleased "to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven" (Col 1:20). Since the whole created order participated in the fall of man, it likewise awaits and shares in his redemption, being transfigured into the new heaven and the new earth filled with Christ, who makes all things new through the Holy Spirit. In the eucharis-tic canon of the liturgy, immediately pre-ceding the actual consecration of the gifts, the celebrant exclaims, "Thine own of Thine own we offer unto Thee, on behalf of all men and for all things"! Orthodox theology recognizes the intrinsic sacramentality of all things, which was lost however as a consequence of the fall. All things were given by God as an act of loving and life-giving communion with man, and in communing with God man was to have lived forever. But because of the cosmic reper-cussions of the fall, created things were stripped of their capacity to communicate eternal life to man, and he died. The holy mys-teries, or sacraments, are the firstfruits of the redemption of the cosmos, the restoration of creation to its Edenic function, for 502 Review for Religious through ordinary elements--water, oil, bread, wine, and even conjugal union--divine-human communion is reestablished and man lives forever once again. The connection between the sacra-ments and their respective "elements" is not at all extraneous: the sacraments are revelatory of the very nature of things. The restoration of created matter to its primeval theophorous (God-bearing) nature is manifested also in the church's iconog-raphy. The painting of an authentic Orthodok icon (much which is not authentic has crept into the church in recent centuries), unlike the typically Western, humanistic approach to religious art, is never an instance of artistic self-expression, but rather a deliberate act of ascetical self-effacement whereby the iconogra-pher surrenders himself to the promptings of the Spirit. The church expects iconographers to undertake their work in an atmo-sphere of prayer and fasting, together with confession and Communion. What is conveyed through the colors, shapes, and lines of the icon is a mystical Sense of presence, an otherworldly beauty devoid of all carnality, and a window into the transfigured world to come. The person embarking on the spiritual journey towards mys-tical union with God collides immediately with the grim reality of the fall and sin. The primordial triadic unity of man's nature has been torn asunder through his own transgression, creating an immense gulf of alienation on every level of existence: between man and God, man and man, man and the universe, man and his own self. This profound alienation is felt acutely in every sphere of life--whether spiritual, physical, emotional, psychological, social--culminating in the final horrific moment of death, what the existentialist ph!losophers have rightly called the "ultimate absurdity". "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" the Lord cries moments before his own de~ithl Perhaps nowhere are the full tragedy and pathos Of man's condition so poignantly expressed as in the shortest verse of the New Testament: "Jesus wept" (Jn 11:35). The God of the universe sheds human tears at the collective tomb of the human race, whom God had created in his own image for beauty and life, now reduced to a rotting, stink-ing corpse. And to all he issues the vivifying call: "Lazarus, come forth!" Orthodox spirituality lays out practically and concretely for monastic and laypersonalike a single path by which to "come j-~uly-August 1994 503 SanFilippo ¯ An Introduction to Orthodox Spirituality forth" from the "tomb" to the fullness of divine life in communion with God. The principle difference between the two lies solely in the degree of intensity. The path we are speaking of is that of asceticism. The "life in Christ" to which every Christian is called is essentially an ascetical life. There is simply no other kind of Christian life to be found in the Gospels. Asceticism comes from the Greek word meaning athletic training or discipline, implying the complete orientation of one's daily activities towards a single goal. It is neither a system of iuridically meritorious or propitiatory suffering, nor giving up something (usually something trivial) as "my sacrifice for God," nor finally a legislated (and repealable) religious obligation. Asceticism is rather an ontological spiritual necessity for the Christian, whose call it is to d~vest himself of every trace of ego-centrism and become limpidly transparent to Christ, whom he has put on in baptism, with whose Spirit he has been anointed, and on whose body and blood he has been nourished. The ascetic echoes the apostle Paul, "For me to live is Christ." Fundamental to the praxis of ascetical spirituality are prayer and fasting. At the heart of the Orthodox tradition of prayer stands the Jesus prayer: Lord ffesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. With this the Orthodox ascetic strives to attain, by grace, to a state of "ceaseless prayer" (1 Th 5:17), purifying the chamber of his heart to make it into a fitting temple for the Lord to come and take up his abode. "The kingdom of God is within you." Enormous self-exertion is required at first to repeat the prayer continuously, during times set aside for this purpose and throughout the day's activities, with inner attentiveness. With time the prayer develops a certain cadence and becomes increas-ingly effortless. Finally, under the direct action of grace, the mind descends into the heart and the prayer begins to say itself, as if it had a will and action of its own, and becomes truly ceaseless, even during sleep. Orthodox spiritual writers understand the descent of the mind into the heart to mean the total reintegration of a per-son's inner faculties so that mind and heart become wholly united and focused in prayer. This is effected by grace alone and cannot be self-induced. In contrast to the Western approach to contemplative prayer, the person who practices the Jesus prayer rids his mind strenu-ously of all images, even images of Christ or episodes from his life, for these are inevitably the products of human self-will and imag- 504 Review for Religious ination. The task of the ascetic is to strip himself bare before God so that grace itself can act on him without intermediary. Fasting is the necessary corollary to prayer. This axiom of the spiritual life, widely recognized not only in Eastern Christendom but in non-Christian traditions as well, has van-ished oddly from Western Christian con-sciousness. In his fallen, unspiritual, and carnal state, man has become enslaved to an obses-sive preoccupation with his own needs, desires, comforts, and pleasures. His inner hierarchy, whereby the body is the servant of the spirit-- the two functioning in perfect harmony and complementarity--has been overturned and the spirit has been asphyxiated. Man is largely unconscious of the depth of his self-enslavement. The moral or virtu-ous person whose libido is under control and who lives moderately may even deny in all sin-cerity that he is enslaved at all. Yet every day of his life, his every thought is: "I am hungry. I am thirsty. I am hot. I am cold. I am uncomfortable. I want this. I want that." The deification of the person, inaugurated as we have said through his sacramental incorporation into the body of Christ, remains locked up within him as a dormant potentiality, in a state of suspended animation, so long as he is governed by his bodily impulses. There is question here not of combatting sinful incli-nations only, but of suppressing even normal bodily needs to the bare minimum, enabling a person's innermost spiritual self to move to the fore and flourish in an abundance of life, reasserting in stages its mastery over the flesh. Two heretical and spiritually disastrous tendencies threaten the ascetic. The first is the Pelagian notion that a person can, through his own efforts, achieve sanctity. Only through grace is a person saved, sanctified, deified. Prayer and fasting, combined with fidelity to all the other gospel commands, renders a person progressively more receptive to grace and provides the Holy Spirit with fertile ground in which to work. God and man work together to give birth to the new creation. Expressed in another way, "God does all the work, man does all the sweating." A person's most heroic ascetical efforts are puny and insignificant in comparison to the grace of God, but nevertheless indispensable because God At the heart of the Orthodox tradition of prayer stands the Jesus prayer. July-August 1994 505 SanFilippo ¯ An Introduction to Orthodox Spirituality respects human freedom absolutely and saves no one against his will. The idea of "merits" is entirely foreign to Orthodox theol-ogy and spirituality. The second is a Manichaean hatred of the body. The Orthodox ascetic, knowing that his body is destined for resur-rection on the last day, loves the body but hates "the flesh"--car-nality in all its manifestations. Through fasting the ascetic strikes a blow at the very core of his self-absorption: his need to eat, for food, for survival. "Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." The ascetic has made this the motto for his life, not through bourgeois modulation, but through evan-gelical radicalism, the "violence" by which "men of violence" take the kingdom "by force." Finally, it is through prayer and fasting that the ascetic lives out his days in anticipation of the eschato-logical parousia, so that he may not be found "eating and drink-ing and making merry" when the Lord returns in glory. "Behold, the Bridegroom comes at midnight," the church sings during the first days of Passion Week, "and blessed is the servant whom he shall find watchful." Fasting.degenerates into a flirtation with the demonic in the absence of humility. Humility is the refusal to let others know one is fasting, or to sit in judgment over those who do not fast, or to believe one is doing anything commendable or praiseworthy by fasting. Asceticism must be grounded in the unshakable conviction of one's utter nothingness before God and man. "Let us enter the season of the Fast with joy," the church sings on the eve of Great Lent. The ascetical Christian is the joy-ful Christian, for he has exchanged the fleeting happiness which comes from the things of this world for the joy and peace which surpass all understanding. 506 Review for Religious OVEY N. MOHAMMED Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen lSican Council II's Declaration on the Relationship of the ~" Church to Non-Christian Religions (Nostra aerate, §2), says that "in Hinduism men [and women] contemplate the divine mys-tery., through ascetical practices or deep meditation" and that Buddhism "teaches a path by which men [and women], in devout and confident spirit, can either reach a state of absolute freedom or attain enlightenment." And Pope John Paul II, speaking on Christian dialogue with Hindus and Buddhists on 21 June 1991, observed that "dialogue with the great religions of Asia recalls for us the universal value of self-discipline, silence, and contem-plation in developing the human person and in opening hearts to God and neighbor." ~ These statements focus, not on doctrines and theology, but on the praxis of contemplation that leads to direct religious experi-ence. They recognize that the dialogue between Christianity and Eastern religions must be of a different kind from that with Judaism and Islam, which centers on theological issues. And indeed, because Hindus and Buddhists emphasize the priority of experience over faith, a dialogue with them may well be impossi-ble without a dialogue on contemplative prayer. However, as the pope's observation seems to concede, the church today is ill prepared to enter into such a dialogue. For though contemplative prayer has enjoyed pride of place in the history of Christian spirituality, since the Reformation it has not Ovey N. Mohammed sJ is professor of systematic theology at Regis College. His address is Regis College; 15 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario; Canada M4Y 2R5. ~ly-dugust 1994 507 Mohammed * Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen been a primary conscious emphasis in the church. The fear that claims to an immediate experience of God would diminish if not challenge the teaching authority of the church, the memory of the havoc that false mysticism had created in the past, and the scientism and rationalism of the 19th century that esteemed con-cepts and ideas rather than ineffable experience have all con-tributed to the church's emphasis on dogmas, duties, and prohibitions rather than on religious experience. Understandably, when by the turn of the century people were more and more reacting against the mere acceptance of dogma and were search-ing for a faith that is living and personal, the church had diffi-culty in meeting this need out of its own spiritual treasury. At this very juncture, yoga and Zen methods of meditation and exercises for entering the contemplative state became known in the West, beginning with the World Parliament of Religions held in Chicago in 1893. Because of the Christian interest in experience over doctrine, many began to turn to Eastern reli-gions for their contemplative education. By the time of the Second Vatican Council, even members of Catholic religious orders were in dialogue with yoga and Zen masters, not to convert them to the Christian religious outlook, but to learn attitudes and exercises which might be helpful to Christians in their own prayer life. The Jesuits were among those in religious orders who engaged in this dialogue on contemplative prayer because the spirituality of Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556) also offers methods and tech-niques to those in search of a contemplative spirituality. Though much has been written by Jesuits on the dialogue with Zen,2 lit-tle has been written on the dialogue with yoga.3 This article com-pares the techniques of yoga and Zen Buddhism with Christian prayer, especially the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. The aim is not only better understanding as dialogue demands, but also better ways of giving of the Exercises today, when the prac-tices of yoga and Zen have great appeal. It will be shown, too, that Zen methods of concentration which differ from those of Ignatius can be found in the Christian tradition. Yoga and Ignatius Etymologically, yoga is a Sanskrit word from the rootyuj (to hold fast, to bind together). In Hinduism it designates any asceti-cal technique or method of meditation.4 The rootyuj also governs 508 Review for Religious the Latin iugum, the Frenchjoug, and the English yoke as it appears in Matthew 11:29: "Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me." The word yoga, then, like the word yoke, connotes the need for discipline in the spiritual life.5 The techniques of yoga go back centuries before someone named Patanjali wrote his ~ga Sutras (Aphorisms), sometime between the 2nd century B.C. and the 4th century A.D. Hindus, however, acknowledge this work as the classical text on yoga. It also happens to be the exposition of yoga practices best known to Westerners. For both these reasons, then, we will rely on Patanjali's Yoga Sutras in our comparison of the techniques of yoga with those of the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius.6 According to Patanjali, yoga is a means of controlling the mind and the senses (YS I, 2), and its purpose is to lead one to a suprasensory and extrarational experience of God (YS I, 1). Yoga includes a number of angas (members, elements). They can be regarded as stages through which one must progress if one is to reach one's goal: (i) various forms of abstention from evil-doing (yama), (2) various observances (niyamas), (3) posture (asana), (4) rhythm of respiration (pranayama), (5) withdrawal of the mind from sense objects (pratyahara), (6) concentration (dharana), (7) meditation (dhyana) and (8) enstasis (samadht), a state of consum-mate interiority that is at once stasis and transcendental con-sciousness.( YS II, 29).7 The first member or element (yama) introduces us to the need for purgation in the spiritual life and aims at freeing us from the evils of social sin. It consists of five abstentions: "from harming others, from falsehood, from theft, from incontinence, and from greed" (YS II, 30). These abstentions parallel the last five com-mandments God gave to Moses (Ex 20:13-17): "You shall not kill" (harm), "you shall not commit adultery" (incontinence), "You shall not steal" (theft), "You shall not bear false witness" (false-hood), and "You shall not covet., anything that is your neigh-bor's" (greed). Ignatius, too, introduces us to the purgative way (SE §10) when he states that exercitants should begin the Exercises with a consideration and contemplation of sin (SE §4). And, like Patanjali, he focuses on the social consequences of sin (SE §§45- 71) and on the commandments relating to it (SE §§238-243). Patanjali's second element (niyama) is also purgative, but cen-ters on personal sin. It involves five observances--"purity, con- ~dy-August 1994 509 Mohammed ¯ Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen tentment, mortification, study, and devotion to God" (YS II, 32)-- aimed at suppressing the egoistic tendencies that impede the gen-erous offering of ourselves to God. Ignatius, like Patanjali, expects exercitants to attack the roots of their personal sins by getting to know the slightest disorder in themselves. He expects them to desire "a deep knowledge of [their] sins and a feeling of abhorrence for them; an understand-ing of the disorder of [their] actions, that filled with horror of them, they may amend [their] life and put it in order" (SE §63). Toward this end he advises them to recall the sins of their past life (SE §56) and examine their conscience twice daily (SE §§25-31). Elsewhere he instructs exercitants to enter the Exercises "with magnanimity and generosity," offering God their "entire will and liberty" and the disposition of their person (SE §5). He insists that people "must keep in mind that in all that concerns the spir-itual life [their] progress will be in proportion to [their] surren-der of self-love, and of [their] own will and interests" (SE §189). Patanjali's third element is posture (asana). In the Hindu tra-dition posture refers to two things: the place where one chooses to meditate and the bodily position in which one meditates. The place where one meditates should be free from external distrac-tions. Patanjali does not say that one bodily position is better than another, but he does say that the body should be "firm and relaxed" (YS II, 46). The purpose of maintaining a fixed and com-fortable position is to realize a certain neutrality of the senses so that consciousness is no longer troubled by the presence of the body. The following passage from the Bhagavad Gita illustrates the meaning of posture common among Hindus: Let the athlete of the spirit ever integrate [him]self stand-ing in a place apart, alone, his thoughts and self restrained. . Let him set up for [him]self a steady seat in a clean place. . There let him sit and make his mind a single point; let him restrain the operations of his thought and senses and practice integration., to purify the self. [Remaining] still, let him keep body, head, and neck in a straight line, unmov-ing; let him fix his eye on the tip of his nose, not looking round about him . [There] let him sit., intent on Me. . ; then will he approach that peace., which subsists in Me (6:10-15).8 Ignatius, too, recognizes the need for solitude in meditation, making much of withdrawing from friends and acquaintances and 510 Review for Religious from worldly cares to make the soul more fit to approach and be united with God (SE §20). Like Patanjali he does not claim that any one bodily position is to be preferred during meditation, but he does say that one should find a comfortable position and remain in it (SE §76). He agrees with the Gita that the restraint of the eyes is helpful in meditation (SE §81). The fourth element is rhythmic breathing (pranayama). As Patanjali puts it, "After mastering posture, one must practice con-trol of one's breathing" (YS II, 49). He gave this instruction because our respiration is generally unrhythmic, and unrhythmic breathing can hinder the mind's repose. Moreover, since the mind and the body act and react upon each other, rhythmic breathing can bring calmness and concentration of mind (YS II, 53). Practice is very elaborate, but on the whole it aims at slowing the breath, making the inhalation and exhalation even, and reducing the amount of air required. Ignatius also recognizes the importance of rhythmic breathing as an aid to deepening concentration (SE §258). The fifth element of yoga is pratyahara, that state in which the senses abide within themselves (YS II, 54). V~hen one remains motionless, keeps one's eyes and attention fixed on a single point, and breathes rhythmically, the mind is invaded by fewer distrac-tions and becomes more and more concentrated and unified. According to Patanjali, to test one's ability to concentrate at this stage, one must listen to the positive and negative echoes of one's being; for even with the withdrawal of the senses from exter-nal stimuli, difficulties arise, most of them produced by the sub-conscious. The trouble arising from doubt is the most dangerous of the obstacles that bar the road to concentration. Doubt "may be motivated by greed, anger or self-interest" (YS II, 34); "men-tal illness, lack of enthusiasm, sloth, craving for sense pleasure, false perception . and failure to concentrate" (YS I, 30). These distractions are often accompanied by grief and despondency (YS I, 31). To overcome doubt, Patanjali recommends implanting the contrary thought: "To free from thoughts tl'iat distract one from yoga, thoughts of the opposite kind must be cultivated" (YS II, 33). Ign~itius also says that the senses must be brought under con-trol and turned inward. Like Patanjali he observes that difficulties in concentration at this stage come from the subconscious, because of our +raving for "sensual delights and gratifications" (SE §314), our "inclination to what is low and earthly" (SE §317), or "because we have been tepid, slothful, or negligent in our exercises of piety" .~ly-August 1994 511 Mohammed * Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen (SE §322). Like Patanjali he notes that these distractions are often accompanied by "anxiety, . sadness," and "fallacious reasonings" which disturb the soul (SE §315). To cope with these difficulties, Ignatius says that every effort should be made to plant the contrary thought: "If the soul chance to be inordinately attached or inclined to anything, it is very proper that it rouse itself by the exertion of all its powers to desire the opposite of that to which it is wrongly attached" (SE §16; also §155 and §157). Patanjali's sixth element of yoga is concentration (dharana) to remove distractions (YS I, 32). He defines concentration as the fixing of the mind on a single idea or object by trying to visual-ize it (YS III, 1). Visualization calls for the use of the senses and discursive reasoning to focus the mind and so make the object of concentration present. An Indian image illustrates his point: just as an elephant's trunk sways to and fro and reaches out for nearby objects until it is given an iron ball to hold, so the wavering mind will settle down if given something specific to focus on. Ignatius promotes mental concentration in a similar way, rec-ommending in the first or second prelude of almost every medi-tation that we fix in the mind some scene, real or imagined, and try to make it present by visualizing it (SE §§47, 65, 91,103, 112, 138, 151, 192, 202, 220, and 232). He frequently directs the exercitant not only to see, but also to hear, smell, taste and touch in the imagination what is taking place in the meditation (SE §§66ff, 92, 103, 106, 121ff, 143ff, and 194ff). In pondering the matter and significance of the particular meditation, like Patanjali he expects one to apply one's intellect, will, memory, imagina-tion, and reflective ability (SE ~§3, 77, 78, 130, 206, 209, etc.). As concentration deepens, we arrive at the seventh element of yoga called meditation (dhyana). Meditation sweetens the dryness of intellectual discrimination and calls forth the highest form of love. Patanjali defines it as an "unbroken flow of thought toward the object of concentration" (YS III, 2), in which discursive and notional knowledge begin to give way to an experiential and intu-itive mode of knowing. For Ignatius, too, there is a progressive deepening from the discursive mode of knowing to the nondiscursive and intuitive. As he explains in SE §50, for example, one practices rational reflection on the subject matter so that the will may move the affections to a way of knowing beyond the intellect. That is, a deeper and simpler interiority leads to higher spiritual percep- 512 Review for Religious tions and an experiential knowledge of the truth. That is the aim of all true meditation, for as Ignatius explains, "It is not much knowledge which fills and satisfies the soul, but rather the inte-rior understanding of and relish of the truth" (SE §2). When one has intensified the power of meditation to such an extent that the totality of one's consciousness is indistinguishable from the meaning of the idea or object of one's meditation, one has reached the eighth and final step of yoga, samadbi, which Christians regu-larly refer to as a mystical union with God (YS II, 45; III, 3; III, 11). This mystical union is a state of contempla-tion in which one encounters God directly in an experience that is ineffa-ble- beyond words, beyond thought, beyond all conceiving. For Ignatius, too, meditation should lead to a mystical union with God, who can be found in all things (SE §235); the soul embraces divine things without any intervening agency. He seems to imply that this state of soul is the supreme end of prayer when he refers to a soul find-ing its Creator and Lord in a "consolation without previous cause" (SE §330 and §336). There is "direct" contact; God inflames the soul with "his love and praise" (SE §15; also §20), enabling it to "taste the infinite sweetness of divinity" (SE ~124). Ignatius describes this state of soul in his famous letter to Sister Teresa Rejadell: It frequently happens that our Lord moves and urges the soul to this or that activity. He begins by enlightening the soul; that is to say, by speaking interiorly to it without the din of words, lifting it up wholly to his divine love and our-selves to his meaning without any possibility of resistance on our part, even should we wish to resist.9 Meditation sweetens the dryness of intellectual discrimination and calls forth the highest form of love. The letter's wordless experience ("without the din of words") means that it is an experience "without concepts," "without par-ticular objects of thought."1° In other words, the person who obtains this direct experience of God has an ineffable experience of the divine. Ignatius empha-sizes this point at the end of the letter to Sister Rejadell when he 3~uly-Augus't 1994 513 Mohammed ¯ Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen says: "We have touched on a matter which can hardly be dealt with in a letter, at least without a much longer treatment. Even then there could be matters that could better be felt than put into words, let alone written down in a letter." ~i In his Spiritual Diary he writes that his own mystical experience can be compared only with the speech or music of heaven.~2 As we have seen, the eight elements of yoga given by Patanjali are paralleled in Ignatian spirituality. Let us now bring Zen Buddhism into our discussion, highlighting the techniques of Zen which differ from those of Ignatius but can be found in the Christian tradition. Zen, Yoga, and Ignatius To better understand Zen Buddhism, it may be helpful to know something of its background. Siddhartha Gautama (563- 483 B.C.) was an Indian prince who lived in what is now Nepal. Finding that religious truth based on the authority of others was at best a secondhand truth that can be called into question by competing truth claims, he renounced his kingdom to find through direct religious experience a way of salvation that is beyond words and creeds. One day while meditating near Caya, which is south of the present city of Patna, he received enlight-enment and became the Buddha, the Awakened One. Having found what he was seeking, out of compassion he spent the rest of his life teaching others how they, too, could find the truth first-hand. His teaching spread widely through two schools of thought: Theravada, which favored withdrawing into a monastery to pur-sue the path, and Mahayana, which maintained that the path to enlightenment is as applicable in the world as in the monastery. Zen Buddhism belongs to the Mahayana school of Buddhism found in Japan. In fact, the very word Zen is the Japanese coun-terpart of the Chinese word ch'an, which in turn is a translitera-tion of the Sanskrit word dhyan.a, meaning the meditation that leads to enlightenment. Thus the roots of Zen reach back into yoga, with its discipline of mind and body and its practice of med-itation. 13 The Zen Buddhist method of finding enlightenment can be found in a concise r~sum~ as given by Siddhartha himself: "Do not what is evil. Do what is good. Keep the mind pure. This is the teaching of Buddha." 14 514 Review for Religious The first step of Zen, "Do not what is evil," centers on social sin and corresponds to the first element of yoga given by Patanjali and found also in Ignatius. Avoiding evil is spelled out in the Five Buddhist Precepts (Pancha Sila) in terms of five abstentions: from killing, stealing, lying, illicit sex, and intoxicants. These absten-tions remind us of the Old Testament commandments and empha-size that the climb to enlightenment begins with purgation.'s The second step of Zen, "Do what is good," centers on char-ity and also parallels the second step of Patanjali and Ignatius. In the Buddhist tradition, doing what is good may be described as the practice of brotherhood in thought, word, and deed or compared to the love and good works of St. Paul (1 Co 13:4-7). It is a personal attitude and is purgative, too, inasmuch charity calls for detach-ment in the generous offering of oneself for the good of others. The third injunction, "Keep the mind pure"--or, in less poetic imagery, to discipline and purify the mind--again shows the influ-ence of yoga. Stages three to five in Zen parallel stages three to five in Patanjali (posture, breathing, and withdrawal of the senses), though there are differences in details. Stages six to eight (con-centration, meditation, and enlightenment) are so closely related that they form a unity, but in our discussion they will be treated separately, as in our comparison of Ignatius and Patanjali. Buddha's third injunction recalls one of the beatitudes of Jesus, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). Doubtless, St. Paul had some discipline in mind when he said, "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind" (Rm 12:2), and exhorted us to train ourselves in godliness (1 Tm 4:7). More con-cretely, Zen's third element, like Patanjali's, is posture and refers to the place where one chooses to meditate as well as to the bod-ily position in which one meditates. With respect to the place, one should select a quiet spot in which to sit. But with respect to the position of the body, one is not allowed--as in Patanjali and Ignatius--to experiment to find a position that is stable and relaxed. One should normally meditate while sitting. And whether one sits in the full-lotus position or the half-lotus, or on one's heels and calves, or on a chair, one should satisfy at least three requirements: keep the head and spine erect; lower one's gaze to a point a yard or so away without focusing on anything in par-ticular; and fold one's hands, thumbs and first fingers pressed tightly together, and res~ them on the lap. In Zen experience these requirements facilitate the unification of the mind.~6 Mohammed * Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen The Bible recognizes the importance of place and posture in prayer. In the Old Testament God takes Hosea into solitude to hedge up all the ways he used to run after the desires and thoughts of the world (Ho 2:6). Moses retires to the wilderness to better commune with God (Ex 18:5, 19; 34:27-28), as does Elijah (1 K 17:3-6), and Ezekiel lies on his side for a long time (Ezk 4:4-5:1). In the New Testament, too, Paul (Ga 1:17), John the Baptist (Mt 3:1-6) and Jesus himself (Mt 4:1-2) go into the desert to be alone. Contemplative prayer, has to be inward, and this calls for disci-pline. Hence the advice of Jesus to his disciples: When you pray, go into a room by yore:self, shut the door, sit, and then pray to your Father in private (Mt 6:6). The fourth lesson is breathing, but not in the controlled form prescribed by Patanjali. Rather, when one has established oneself in a stable sitting position, one should take a deep breath, hold it momentarily, and then exhale through the nose slowly and quietly. After doing this two or three times, one should breathe natu-rally. 17 The fifth element of Zen deals with the mind abiding within itself and with the distractions that come from within (makyo). It corresponds to Patanjali's fifth element of yoga (pratyabara). Motionless, with head and spine erect and eyes lowered, breath-ing naturally, one begi~ns to experience a certain detachment from the world, but thoughts, memories, feelings may bubble up to the surface of the mind from the subconscious)8 These obstacles to concentration are due to doubt, sense desire, sloth, and tor-por and are often accompanied by excitedness and worry.19 Unlike Pataniali and Ignatius, who suggest implanting a contrary thought to eliminate these distractions (makyo), Zen teaches that one should merely ignore them. The Bible acknowledges the need to cope with distractions in prayer so that only the still small voice of God is heard, soft and light as an exhalation (1 K 19:12). The sixth element of Zen is concentration. Because the human mind cannot rest inactive, it has to be prevented from dispersing itself among a multiplicity of thoughts and memories by being provided with some inner task to satisfy its need for activity. The task can be to focus on fi chosen topic or idea by means of images or discursive reasoning, as we saw in Patanjali and Ignatius. But even Patanjali and Ignatius recognize that this is not the only way of achieving one-pointed concentration. Another way recalls the saying of Matthew 6:7 that in praying we should not heap up 516 Review for Religious empty phrases, thinking that we will be heard for our many words. This other way, by contrast, consists in only one word or one short phrase repeated over and over attentively. To still the mind by thus restricting one's rational consciousness has a long history in both Eastern and Christian spirituality and is the method taught by the Hare Krishna and Transcendental Meditation movements. Patanjali, echoing Proverbs 18: i 0 that "The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runs into it and is safe," teaches that the attentive repetition of the name of God, like the use of images and discursive reasoning, can lead one into the intuitive consciousness of meditation in stage seven (YS I, 28). And Ignatius teaches, in his second and third methods of prayer, that the rep-etition of a single word or phrase, coordinated with one's breath-ing, can deepen concentration (SE §252 and §258). A 14th-century Catholic mystic explains this method of concentration in The Cloud of Unknowing: If you want to gather all your desire into one simple word that the mind can easily retain, choose a short word rather than a long one. A one-syllable word such as "God" or "love" is best. But choose one that is meaningful to you. Then fix it in your mind so that it will remain there come what may . Use it to beat upon the cloud of darkness above you and subdue all distractions, consigning them to the cloud of forgetting beneath you. Should some thought go on annoying you, demanding to know what you are doing, answer it with this word alone. If your mind begins to intellectualize over the meaning and connotations of this little word, remind yourself that its value lies in its sim-plicity. Do this and I assure you that these thoughts will vanish. Why? Because you have refused to develop them with arguing.2° In the history of Christian spirituality, John Cassian (360?-432?) was the first person to describe this practice of rep-etition, which he learned from the desertfathers. He does so in chapter i0 of his Tenth Conference, one of the most beautiful passages in Christian writing, using this verse: "Come to my help, 0 God; Lord, hurry to my rescue" (Ps 69:2).2~ John Climacus (579-649) attaches particular importance to the repetition of the Jesus Prayer.22 Later on, the standard form of this prayer, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me," was widely prac-ticed in the monasteries of Mount Athos. This prayer, combined with respiratory discipline and bodily posture as a preparation j~uly-Aug.ust 1994 517 Mohammed ¯ Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen for entrance into meditation (techniques similar to those found in yoga), became the soul of the Hesychast movement in the 13th century23 and in recent centuries has spread widely among the Orthodox churches, whence comes that little gem of a book The VVay of a Pilgrim.24 A similar method of deepening concentration appears both in the repetition of the Hail Mary in the rosary and in Gregorian chants. In all these examples from Hinduism and Christianity, repetition is a way of restricting reflective consciousness. It is a kind of weapon for warding off discursive reasoning, thinking, and conceptualization. It narrows the horizon of rational con-sciousness and prepares the mind for a breakthrough into intuitive consciousness in stage seven. While Patanjali and some Christian writers teach a method for developing concentration that avoids a multiplicity of words, so concerned is Zen with the limitations of words and ideas that it makes transcending them the central point of its method. The two principal schools of Zen, the Soto and the Rinzai, teach meth-ods of concentration that try to get one unhooked from words and thoughts from the very start. The Soto school proposes con-centration on one's breath, inhalation and exhalation, instead of on any words, while the Rinzai school makes use of a koan (a puz-zle or paradox) to put pressure on the mind until the structures of ordinary thinking collapse completely, clearing the way for one's entrance into intuitive consciousness in stage seven and for the sudden flash of insight or enlightenment in stage eight.25 The koan functions in a manner not unlike the sayings of Jesus that oblige one to reach for insight beyond the normal conventions of thought: "Those who find their life will lose it" (Mt 10:39) and "Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (Jn 12:24). Ignatius does not mention either of these methods (Soto and Rinzai) among his prayer suggestions. The Zen distrust of words as keys to concentration reminds us that the prohibition of images of God enjoined at Mount Sinai (Ex 20:1-5 and Dt 5:8-9) goes well beyond images engraved on stone or wood to include our words and concepts. Since no one has ever seen God (Ex 33:17-23; Jn 1 : 18), God is a mystery and so unknowable. Isaiah's confession of God's hiddenness implies that God lies beyond the range of the intellect (Is 45:15). Paul makes the same point when he says that God dwells in "unap- 518 Review for Religious proachable light" (1 Tm 6:16) and when he tells us that any expe-rience of God surpasses all understanding (Ph 4:7). For Paul, to be morbidly concerned over mere verbal questions and quibbles leads us to lose our grasp of the truth (i Tm 6:5). He and Jeremiah go as far as to say that clinging to images of God is an impediment to finding the living God and is a form of idolatry (Rm 1:23; Jr 2:11). The Zen attitude to words reminds us that not everyone who says "Lord, Lord" shall enter the kingdom (Mr 7:21-23) and that, to encounter God, we must be still and let God be God (Ps 46:10). Many Christian mystics teach a wordless nondiscursive path to God that resembles the teaching of Zen. For example, Dionysius in the early 6th cen-tury says that "as you look for a sight of mysterious things," you "must leave behind you every-thing perceived and understood" and "strive upward as much as you can toward union with him who is beyond being and knowl-edge.'' 26 In the 14th century the anonymous author of The Book of Privy Counselling gives this advice to his disciples: "When you go apart to be alone., reject all thoughts, be they good or be they evil.''27 The French Jesuit Jean-Pierre de Caussade (1675-1751) writes that we should pray "with a simple gaze., without using any reasoning" and "pay no attention to distractions.'2s John of the Cross (i 542-1591) advocates the abandonment of thinking in order to make way for intuitive consciousness in stage seven when he observes: "The attitude necessary., is to pay no attention to discursive meditation." All that is required is to liberate oneself "from the impediment and fatigue of ideas and thoughts and care not about thinking," for "desires disquiet the soul and distract it from the peaceful quiet and sweet idleness of the contemplation which is being communicated to it.''29 The Benedictine historian and exegete John Chapman (1865-1933) considers the spiritual-ity of John of the Cross to be Buddhistic;3° the Cistercian Thomas Merton (1915-1968) believes that "Zen is nothing but John of the Cross without the Christian vocabulary.''31 Many Christian mystics teach a wordless nondiscursive path to God that resembles the teaching of Zen. July-August 1994 519 Mohammed ¯ Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen The sudden coming of enlightenment at stage eight in Zen has many parallels in Christian spirituality: "The Lord spoke sud-denly to Moses" (Nb 12:4), and on the road to Damascus "sud-denly a great light shone about [Saul]" (Ac 22:6). The enlightenment experience, whenever it appears, is ineffable. When Jeremiah encounters God directly, he does not know how to speak (Jr 1:6). When Paul is "caught up into Paradise," he is unable to say what happened to him (2 Co 12:3). St. Thomas Aquinas, fol-lowing the Zen dictum that those who know do not tell and those who tell do not know, chooses to say nothing except that his enlightenment leaves the Summa Theologiae looking like so much straw. Enlightenment brings joy and a feeling of oneness with all things and a heightened sense of reality. It is an experience not unlike that which Ignatius had on the bank of the Cardoner: As he sat there the eyes of his understanding were opened, and though he saw no vision he understood and perceived many things, numerous spiritual things as well as matters touching on faith and learning, and this was with an eluci-dation so bright that all these things seemed new to him. He cannot expound in detail what he then understood, for they were many things, but he can state that he received such a lucidity in understanding that during the course of his entire life--now having passed his sixty-second year--if he were to gather all the helps he received from God and everything he knew and add them together, he does not think that they would add up to all that he received on that one occasion.32 Seeing reality more clearly and the cosmic feeling that all created things are bound up together belongs to the very essence of Ignatian mysticism, as it does to Zen. This accounts for the cry of the soul expressed early in the Exercises: "The heavens, sun, moon, stars, and the elements; the fruits, birds, fishes, and other animals--why have they all been at my service?" (SE ~60), and accounts as well for the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God at the end (SE §§230-237). Personal Prayer and Interreligious Dialogue Our study has shown that Patanjali, Ignatius, and Buddha all agree that, for religion to be personally authentic, it must involve some direct religious experience and not be merely an affirmation of propositions accepted on the basis of authority--a teaching 520 Review for Religious that seems to be alluded to in the Epistle of James. Moreover, in spite of certain denials, all three make it clear that a personal, direct experience of the ground of one's salvation requires some kind of prior discipline to establish oneself in silence, not just physical silence but a silence of the senses, a silence of the mind, until that silence is reached for which there is no word. Contemplative prayer is the usual name for such a discipline. There are at least eight elements in the praxis of contemplation, and these elements are common to yoga, Ignatius, and Zen. Elements three and four (posture and breathing) in all three spir-itualities insist that contemplative prayer is not exclusively a men-tal or inner activity, but is accomplished in unison with the body, though Zen emphasizes posture more than yoga and Ignatius do and yoga places more stress on breathing than either Zen or Ignatius. In element six, both Patanjali and Ignatius teach a dis-cursive method for deepening concentration, based on the use of images and reason, and a nondiscursive method, based on the repetition of a word or short phrase. Zen teaches only a nondis-cursive method aimed at emptying the mind of all thoughts and images. Patanjali acknowledges that the Zen method of concen-tration can lead one into intuitive consciousness, as do many Christian mystics, though Ignatius makes no mention of it. If today Zen and Hindu meditation movements, like Transcendental Meditation, have a wide appeal among Westerners, it is in large part due to the fact that they teach nondiscursive techniques for entering contemplation. This is a significant point, not only for the dialogue between Ignatian spirituality and Eastern religions, but also--inasmuch as many Christians ignore the contribution of the body to prayer and many others are disaffected with discur-sive prayer--for the directing of Ignatian retreats. Notes ~ "Address to the Staff Members of the World Council of Churches Sub-Unit and the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue," in The Bulletin of the Pontificium Consilium pro Dialogo inter Religiones 78 (1991): 26/3,307-308. z For example, Heinrich Dumoulin, A History of Zen Buddhism (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969) and Christianity Meets Buddhism (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing Company, 1974); H.M. Enomiya-Lassalle, Zen Meditation for Christians (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing Company, 1974) and Zen--VVay to Enlightenment (London: Sheed and Ward, 1976); J.K. Kadowaki, Zen and the Bible (London: Routledge and d71~ly-August 1994 521 Mohammed ¯ Yoga, Christian Prayer, and Zen Kegan Paul, 1980); Daniel J. O'Hanlon, "Zen and the Spiritual Exercises: A Dialogue between Faiths," Theological Studies 39, no. 4 (December 1978): 737-768; William Johnston, The Still Point (New York: Fordham University Press, 1970), The Inner Eye of Love (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1978), Silent Music (New York: Harper and Row, 1974), and Christian Zen (New York: Harper and Row, 1971). 3 O-bey N. Mohammed, "Ignatian Spirituality and the Bhagavad Gita," Thought 62, no. 247 (December 1987): 423-434. 4 Mircea Eliade, Yoga (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971), p. 4. s Dom Aelred Graham, Zen Catholicism (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1963), p. 123. 6 For references to the I~ga Sutras, see Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood, trans., How to Know God: The Yoga Aphorisms of Patanjali (New York: New American Library, 1953), or I.K. Taimni, The Science of Yoga: The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (Wheaton, Illinois: Theosophical Publishing House, 1975). Hereafter all references to the Yoga Sutras are indicated as YS. For references to the Spiritual Exercises, see Louis J. Puhl, trans., The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1951). Hereafter all references to the Spiritual Exercises are indicated as SE. 7 Eliade, pp. 48-49. 8 R.C. Zaehner, trans., The Bhagavad Gita (London: Oxford University Press, 1973). 9 Letters of St. Ignatius of Loyola, trans. William J. Young (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1959), p. 22. ~0 Karl Rahner, The Dynamic Element in the Church (Montreal: Palm Publishers, 1964), p. 153. ~ Letters, p. 23. ~2 The Spiritual Diary of St. Ignatius of Loyola, trans. William J. Young (Woodstock: Woodstock College Press, 1958), p. 44. ~3 For material on Zen written by non-Jesuits, see C.H. Hambrick, "Zen Buddhism," in The Encyclopedic Dictionary of Religion (Washington, D.C.: Corpus Publications, 1979); Alan W. Watts, The Way of Zen (New York: Vintage, 1957); Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind (New York: Weatherhill, 1970); D.T. Suzuki, An Introduction to Zen Buddhism (London: Arrow Books, 1959) and Essays in Zen Buddhism. First Series. (London: Rider and Company, 1970); Christian Humphreys, Zen Buddhism (London: Unwin Books, 1971); Thomas Merton, Mystics and Zen Masters (New York: Dell Publications, 1967) and Zen and the Birds of Appetite (New York: New Directions, 1968); Philip Kapleau, The Three Pillars of Zen (Boston: Beacon Press, 1967); Graham, Zen Catholicism (see note 5). ,4 The Dhammapada, trans. Juan Mascaro (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1973), verse 183. 522 Review for Religious ~s Christian Humphreys, Buddhism (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1975), pp. 111-115. ,6 On posture see Johnston, Christian Zen, pp. 105-109; Enomiya- Lassalle, Zen--Way to Enlightenment, pp. 103-109; Kapleau, pp. 18-20, 30-31, 34, 317-320. 17 On breathing see Enomiya-Lassalle, Zen--Way to Enlightenment, pp. 109-110; Johnston, Christian Zen, pp. 77-80; Kapleau, p. 32. 18 On makyo see Kapleau, pp. 38-41, 100-102; Johnston, The Still Point, pp. 9-10, 36. 19 Edward Conze, ed., Buddhist Scriptures (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1971), p. 246, "Hindrances." 20 William Johnston, trans., The Cloud of Unknowing and The Book of Privy Counselling (New York: Image Books, 1973), p. 56. 21 John Cassian, Conferences, trans. Colm Luibheid (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), pp. 132-140. 22 John Climacus, The Ladder of Divine Ascent, trans. Colm Luibheid and Norman Russell (New York: Paulist Press, 1982), pp. 45-47. 23 Eliade, pp. 63-65; Gaspar M. Koelman, Patanjala Yoga (Poona: Papal Athenaeum, 1970), pp. 195-196; J.-M. Dfichanet, Christian Yoga (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1960), pp. 173-183. 24 Translated by Helen Bacovin (Garden City: Image Books, 1978). 25 Dumoulin, A History of Zen Buddhism, pp. 135-13 6; Shunryu Suzuki, p. 33. 26 Pseudo-Dionysius, "The Mystical Theology," I, I, in The Complete Works of Pseudo-Dionysius, trans. Colin Luibheid (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), p. 135. 27 Johnston, The Cloud of Unknowing and The Book of Privy Counselling, p. 149. 28 The Spiritual Letters of P.J. de Caussade on the Practice of Self- Abandonment to Divine Providence, trans. Mgar Thorold (London: Burns, Oates and Washbourne, 1948), p. 39. 29 John of the Cross, "The Dark Night of the Soul," I:10, 4, in Selected Writings, ed. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), pp. 185-186. 3°John Chapman, Spiritual Letters (London: Sheed and Ward, 1989), p. 269. 31 Thomas Merton, Springs of Contemplation: A Retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani, ed. Jane Marie Richardson (New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1992), p. 177. 32 Joseph N. Tylenda, trans., A Pilgrim's Journey: The Autobiography of Ignatius of Loyola (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1985), pp. 38-39. July-August 1994 523 FREDERICK E. CROWE The Ignatian Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality Tere is a tendency, noted more in passing remarks than in ematic studies, to equate Jesuit spirituality with the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. I do not know whether anyone has ever made the equation in so many words, but one hears it said that the Exercises are the wellspring of Jesuit life, that Jesuit spirituality is to be found above all in the Exercises, that the Exercises are the basis of Jesuit spirituality, that Jesuits have a vision given them by the Exercises, and so on. There is a profound truth in all these statements, but just because the truth in them is so very profound and so very true, it seems to me all the more necessary to state explicitly that it is not the whole truth and to think out clearly the relationship of the Exercises to Jesuit, and any other, spirituality. Otherwise part of the truth is easily taken to be the whole truth, and so we come imper-ceptibly to identify two distinct elements in Jesuit spirituality: the Exercises, and the complex history that culminated in Ignatius's Constitutions for the Society of Jesus. Then, since innocently defi-cient ideas still have consequences, we arrive at two practical errors: pointing the Exercises toward a spirituality they do not intend and depriving Jesuit spirituality of its specific character, as found most notably in the Constitutions. Frederick E. Crowe SJ is well known for his books and articles on the thought of Bernard Lonergan SJ. He may be addressed at Lonergan Research Institute; 10 St. Mary Street, Suite 500; Toronto, Ontario M4Y 1P9; Canada. 524 Review for Religious Two simple lines of reasoning should, it seems to me, estab-lish the point I am making. The first is a thought experiment that makes the case in a more graphic way than my abstract assertion. Let us imagine two men with the proper dispositions who both make the Spiritual Exercises. One of them emerges from the thirty days with a decision to seek admission to the Jesuits. The other emerges with a decision to join the Carthusians. Is this an impos-sible scenario? Will anyone tell the Holy Spirit, "You cannot do that; the Exercises are identified with Jesuit spirituality; you really cannot use them to direct someone to the Carthusians"? Or would anyone say that the Carthusian vocation here is due to a failure of the exercitant to be guided by the Spirit, that the Spirit was directing him elsewhere, that he is in fact a Jesuit manque? I mean this, of course, as a reductio ad absurdum, for no one would dream of tak-ing such a position on what the Holy Spirit should or should not do, or of attributing a failure to respond properly if the exerci-tant does not decide to be a Jesuit. And a parallel statement could be made about two women emerging from their Ignatian retreat, one to become a Poor Clare, the other to become a social worker; or about a man and woman emerging with plans for matrimony. My other line of reasoning takes us to actual history. We might ask: What were the first companions of Ignatius doing in the years that followed their experience of making the Exercises, say between 1534 and 1540, a period in which they were steadily seeking the divine will? Why, if the Exercises had already deter-mined what the Jesuit spirituality and way of proceeding was to be, did they run through so many different options before they set-tled on that way? What, indeed, was Ignatius himself doing for nearly two decades after Manresa, wandering around Europe and the Holy Land before he found his destined way of life? And a still more pointed question: What was he doing in the dozen years of "blood, toil, tears, and sweat," during which he laboriously worked out the Jesuit Constitutions? The answer seems obvious in all these questions: Ignatius and his first companions were seeking some-thing the Exercises had not given them. Will anyone tell the Holy Spirit, "You really cannot use the Ignatian Exercises to direct someone to the Carthusians" ? July-August 1994 525 Crowe ¯ The Ignatian Exercises and yesuit Spirituality I believe that we need to face these questions and work out with all possible accuracy what role the Exercises may play in Jesuit or any other spirituality' and how that role may be complemented by the distinct and specifying roles that different spiritual tradi-tions may contribute--for Jesuits, in the way their Constitutions, above all, determine for them; for Carthusians, Poor Clares, and other religious institutes, in ways that they also have worked out for themselves and that I need not try to determine for them here. Is there then a spirituality in the Exercises? Yes, indeed, the very highest. If we leave aside the case of those who are not dis-posed to go beyond the First Week (§18),2 the aim of the Exercises is to bring exercitants, whatever their state in life is to be and wherever God will direct them, to choose to live under the stan-dard of Christ: "We shall also think about how we ought to dis-pose ourselves in order to come to perfection in whatsoever state or way of life God our Lord may grant us to elect" (~135)3- which means embracing the way of Christ, in the highest poverty, spiritual poverty certainly and if God wills it in actual poverty as well; in willingness also to bear opprobrium and injuries in order to imitate him the better (§147); and again, when God is served equally by either of the two alternatives, to choose poverty with Christ poor rather than riches, opprobrium with Christ covered with opprobrium rather than honors, to be counted vain and stupid with Christ so counted rather than wise and prudent in this world (§167); and so forth. The real question is: How does this spirituality relate to the various specific spiritualities to which various individual exercitants may be called? I will suggest a few ways of conceiving the relation, ways that follow more traditional lines of thought and shed some light on the matter, none of them quite satisfactory, but each adding an element of understanding. And then I will propose another approach to the whole question. The obvious pair of terms to define the relationship in ques-tion is generic and specific: the Exercises have a generic spiritual-ity, the following of Christ; then, giving more determinate content to this, we have the specific spiritualities of Jesuit, Carthusian, and so on. I have drawn on these concepts already to start dis-cussion; they contribute some clarity, but they use the language of logic, which seems simply inadequate for so spiritual a question. Another useful set of terms would be infrastructure and super-structure. To follow Christ is infrastructure for whatever way of life 526 Review for Religious we choose to follow; on this basis one builds a superstructure of, say, the Jesuit way of proceeding. These terms from the world of civil engineering clarify our question rather nicely. Still, they make the following of Christ the invisible element, or at any rate not the focus of attention--a situation that does not correspond to any voca-tion emerging from the Exercises. A third set might be the concepts of the compact and the differentiated that have now come into general use, mainly, I believe, through the influ-ence of Eric Voegelin. Bernard Lonergan also has some helpful pages on the process from the compactness of the symbol, where very profound truths may be contained and grasped, to the enucleated and analyzed differ-entiations of scientists, philosophers, and theologians. He illustrates the process by Christology and the "tran-sition from a more compact symbolic consciousness expressed in the New Testament to a more enucleated theo-logical consciousness expressed in the great Greek councils.''4 Once again we have a pair of terms that provide some understanding--certainly the various spiritualities are differentiated from one another (one has only to adduce again the example of Carthusian and jesuit)- but do they also contain the unwelcome hint that the various dif-ferentiations divide up something that the compact contained in its wholeness? A fourth pair, made familiar in social studies, is the communal or collective and the particular or individual. Our communal spiri-tuality is the way of Christ; our individual spirituality is the par-ticular way of life in which we follow Christ. This seems a promising line of thought, but working out the relation between the communal and the individual, we would need to see how the communal is explicit in the particular andhow the particular con-tains without loss the whole of the communal. No doubt we could add to this list and pursue similar paired meanings with considerable profit, but I wonder if in the end it We need to work out with all possible accuracy what role the Exercises may play in Jesuit or any other spirituality. July-August 1994 527 Crowe ¯ The Ignatian Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality would bring us to the heart of the matter. I wonder in fact if our aim here is not a bit off center, if we should not approach the problem from another perspective altogether. For in the various pairs we have considered, the first member seems to remain incomplete until the second is added, and the second has always to be concerned that it incorporates the whole of the first. Further, the second term in each pair is thought of as an end product with its meaning determined: what a Jesuit is, what a Carthusian is-- these are already more or less clearly defined, belong to an estab-lished order, are in some measure static. Does such thinking deal adequately with the dynamism of the Exercises? I would like to explore a somewhat different approach. In this line of thought it is the heuristic character and therefore the dynamism of the Exercises that will be the focus. But all dynamic movement, all searching, all heuristic activity suppose and take place within a horizon that determines the activity and defines the source of energy for the search; I therefore need to study first the idea of horizon. For both terms, horizon and heuristic, I draw directly on the work of Bernard Lonergan. For the meaning of horizon, it will be best simply to quote Lonergan's account of the matter: In its literal sense the word, horizon, denotes the bound-ing circle, the line at which earth and sky appear to meet. This line is the limit of one's field of vision. As one moves about, it recedes in front and closes in behind so that, for different standpoints, there are different hori-zons. Moreover, for each different standpoint and hori-zon, there are different divisions of the totality of visible objects. Beyond the horizon lie the objects that, at least for the moment, cannot be seen. Within the horizon lie the objects that can now be seen. As our field of vision, so too the scope of our knowl-edge, and the range of our interests are bounded. As fields of vision vary with one's standpoint, so too the scope of one's knowledge and the range of one's interests vary with the period in which one lives, one's social back-ground and milieu, one's education and personal devel-opment. So there has arisen a metaphorical or perhaps analogous meaning of the word, horizon. In this sense what lies beyond one's horizon is simply outside the range of one's knowledge and interests: one neither knows nor cares. But what lies within one's horizon is in some measure, great or small, an object of interest and of knowledge,s 528 Review for Religious It is easy to apply this idea to the world of the Spiritual Exercises. One enters upon them with a given horizon, vaguely or clearly conceived: "the range of one's knowledge and interests"; for example, maybe one is led by a spirit of repentance or by anxiety about one's salvation. One makes the First Week, remaining for the most part within such a horizon--with glimpses of something beyond, to be sure, in such passages as the colloquy at the end of the first exercise (§53). But if one responds to the call of Christ in the Kingdom exercise (§91), one pushes back the previous horizon to work within a new one, far wider, with far greater potential, a horizon that is all-encompassing, a boundary that is in fact no boundary for it encloses a territory that is boundless. Now it is this ultimate hori-zon, and not any relative and con-fining horizon, that I would equate with the spirituality of the Exercises. The horizon of those who should not be led beyond the First Week is narrow and con-fining. What happens when one enters the Second Week with the mind and heart of those who would "show greater devotion and . . . distinguish themselves in total service to their eternal King and universal Lord" (§95)? What happens is the discovery of a new horizon, the horizon defined by Christ the Lord. The horizon is established in the exercises on Two Standards (§§ 136- 148) and Three Ways of Being Humble (§§165-168); details are added in the Mysteries of the Life of Christ Our Lord (§261); and in the Third and Fourth Weeks communion with Christ (what the Germans call Mitsein) fortifies the attraction of the good with the power of love and the interpersonal. This does not happen without the grace of God and a con-version. For besides the ultimate horizon there are relative hori-zons. There are shifts in our relative horizon as we move, say, from school days to the work force, and this shift may occur as a normal development of potentialities. "But it is also possible that the movement into a new horizon involves an about-face; it comes out of the old by repudiating characteristic features; it begins a Communion with Christ fortifies the attraction of the good with the power of love. 3~dy-Aug~t 1994 529 Crowe ¯ The Ignatian Exercises and yesuit Spirituality new sequence that can keep revealing ever greater depth and breadth and wealth. Such an about-face and new beginning is what is meant by a conversion.''6 Against that background we turn to the idea of the heuristic, taking as our context the fact that the Exercises are a search. Thus, the first annotation tells us: Our purpose, after removing obstacles, is to seek and to find the divine will (§1), and the fif-teenth annotation has advice for those who during the Exercises are seeking God's will (§15). Or, as is repeated over and over, recurring like a refrain, we are to seek what gives glory to God (§16). In the key stage of the Election, "While continuing our contemplations of [Christ's] life, we now begin simultaneously to explore and inquire: In which state or way of life does the Divine Majesty wish us to serve him?" (§135). And still, at the heart of the Exercises, in the meditation on the Three Classes of Men, we are seeking to "desire and know what will be more pleasing to the Divine Goodness" (§151). We are, then, in an area in which the idea of the heuristic plays a central role. My Webster's dictionary defines heuristic as "serving to guide, discover, or reveal." A helpful point: the famous "Eureka" of Archimedes is from the same Greek root; it means "I have found [it]; I have discovered the secret." Now this line of thought is thoroughly developed in Bernard Lonergan, and I find his treatment of the idea helpful for understanding the process and dynamic of spiritual search that the Exercises are. In his usage a heuristic notion tries to give some advance notice of what we hope to find; it is an anticipation of the answer we seek to a ques-tion; it is not a determinate concept, like various concepts in physics or chemistry or biology; it is an indeterminate anticipation. The nearly perfect word for this way of conceiving in antic-ipation what we have not yet deter'mined in particular is what-ever, and the nearly perfect use of whatever we can find right in Scripture. Paul, writing to the Philippians (4:8), exhorts them to focus on "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is com-mendable" (NRSI~ in the Douai translation, "whatsoever"). Well, what is true? what is honorable, just, and so on? That will emerge with each new day, and meanwhile we are guided by its anticipa-tion in that "whatever." To come, then, to the present point, Ignatius and Paul are at one in conceivin, g by anticipation what they do not yet determine 530 Revie~v for Religious in particular. Apropos of the Election, Ignatius writes that we are to "think about how we ought to dispose ourselves in order to come to perfection in whatsoever state or way of life God our Lord may grant us to elect" (§ 135). It is possible now to bring these two ideas together in a new understanding of the relationship of the Exercises and Jesuit or other spirituality. My brief statement of the case would be that the horizon of the Exercises and the spirituality they directly intend is established in the exercise on the Two Standards (§§ 136-148) and the exercises that directly relate to it; further, that the heuristic of the Exercises is epitomized in the Election (§§169-188), where we search for and discover and embrace the state of life God intends for us. And the relationship between the two is indicated in the Introduction to the Consideration of the States of Life: "We shall also think about how we ought to dispose ourselves in order to come to perfection in whatsoever state or way of life God our Lord may grant us to elect" (§135). Perfection as defined in the Two Standards and their retinue of exercises is the horizon; but "whatsoever state" God may direct us to is another matter: it rep-resents the heuristic element. The Exercises do not, therefore, intend any one spirituality; their objective ordination, what the scholastics would call their finis operis, is neither Jesuit nor Carthusian spirituality, nor any other; they intend what God will choose, and their finis operis is a "whatever." What we therefore first conceived as generic, as infrastructure, as compact, as communal, we now conceive as a horizon; and what we first conceived as specific, as superstruc-ture, as differentiated, as individual, we now conceive as the area within that horizon that we discover to be God's will for us. But in moving from one to the other we do not add some-thing specific that was not contained in the genus, for everything is contained in the horizon; and, for those who respond fully, the whole spirituality of the horizon enters every vocation and every state of life. The situation is more like that of the incarnation: as the fullness of the Godhead dwells in Christ (Col 1:19), so the fullness of the horizon of Christ is the world in which we dwell, Jesuit and Carthusian and all others that respond fully to the call of the Kingdom exercise. And similarly, the "superstructure" we conceived as our way turns out to be what we may call an "addition," but an addition to what is already complete (like the humanity of Christ added to the July-August 1994 531 Crowe ¯ The Ignatian Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality God's will is the supreme heuristic notion guiding the exercitant, and the Exercises are a heuristic device. eternal and infinite Word). The "differentiation" we spoke of is not a dividing off of a part, but the incorporation of the whole, and the "individual" contains the fullness of the communal. Thus, one is everywhere safe within the all-encompassing arms of the Christian horizon; one is never in exile, never outside the shores of home, never a wanderer like the prodigal son in dis-tant lands. One does not, therefore, go beyond this horizon to be a Jesuit or to be a Carthusian or to find some other particular vocation. There is nothing there beyond it. It is the all-encompassing. Just as within any rel-ative horizon of geography one can go north or south, east or west, with-out going beyond the horizon, so within the ultimate horizon estab-lished by Christ one can become a Jesuit or a Carthusian, but one cannot go beyond the horizon set by Christ; one can only contract that horizon by living an inauthentic Jesuit life or liv-ing an inauthentic Carthusian life. Further use of the ideas of heuris-tic and horizon is readily made. In Lonergan's thought one can speak of heuristic notions and heuristic devices. There is the notion of being, the notion of the good, and so on; but there are also the heuristic structures that promote the discoveries we seek (his rather famous scissors action of heuristic method). One could say that God's will is the supreme heuristic notion guiding the exercitant and that the Exercises are a heuristic device, an instru-ment par excellence for finding God's will, maybe with a kind of scissors action too. (I do not, however, call the Exercises the supreme heuristic device, for we do not limit God's creativity to what was divinely done in Ignatius, and we do not know what successor God may be preparing for Ignatius.) Again, still in Lonergan's thought, one can speak of interrelationships in the set of horizons, of their complementary, genetic, and dialectical differences. But that would add length to an article that is already 532 Review for Religious long enough, and introduce further specialized categories where they are already rather extensive. Notes ~ Eventually such a study should come to the details of particular spiritualities, but that is a further step. Here I intend the word in a broad sense: "spirituality" includes, therefore, elements of doctrine and practice, of vocation and way of proceeding, of tradition and orientation, of rules and constitutions, and so on, without specifying what these may be for Jesuit, Carthusian, and other vocations. 2 The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius: A Translation and Commentary, by George E. Ganss SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1992), no. 18 in the numbering that is standard for all editions. All English quota-tions will be from this edition; numbers will be given in parentheses in the text. 3 In the Latin, "ut veniamus ad perfectionem in quocumque statu seu vita, quam Deus Dominus noster eligendam nobis dederit" (§ 135). The "quocumque" is the "whatever" I will presently discuss. 4 Bernard Lonergan, Topics in Education (The Cincinnati Lectures of 1959 on the Philosophy of Education), ed. Robert M. Doran and Frederick E. Crowe (University of Toronto Press, 1992), pp. 55-58. On Eric Voegelin see Kenneth Keulman, The Balance of Consciousness: Eric Voegelin's Political Theory (Pennsylvania State University Press, 1990), pp. 92-93: "What the pattern of symbolizations indicates is the development from compact to differentiated forms . The terms "compact" and "dif-ferentiated" refer not only to the symbolizations, but also to the charac-teristic forms of consciousness that generate them." s Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (2nd ed. reprint, University of Toronto Press, 1990), pp. 235-236. 6 Ibid, pp. 237-238. I add a few helpful quotations: "Horizontal lib-erty is the exercise of liberty within a determinate horizon and from the basis of a corresponding existential stance. Vertical liberty is the exer-cise of liberty that selects that stance and the corresponding horizon" (ibid, p. 40, with a reference to Joseph de Finance). "For falling in love is a new beginning, an exercise of vertical liberty in which one's world undergoes a new organization" (ibid, p. 122). "A horizontal exercise {of freedom] is a decision or choice that occurs within an established horizon. A vertical exercise is the set of judgments and decisions by which we move from one horizon to another" (ibid, p. 237). "Further, deliberate decision about one's horizon is high achievement. For the most part peo-ple merely drift into some contemporary horizon. They do not advert to the multiplicity of horizons. They do not exercise their vertical liberty by migrating from the one they have inherited to another they have dis-covered to be better" (ibid, p. 269). July-August 1994 533 JOAN MUELLER The Suscipe Revisited " J here~T~ is little doubt that one of the most famous excerpts .~- of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises is the Suscipe--"Take, Lord, Receive." In recent years its popularity has increased through John Foley's musical rendition of the text? Those who have made a thirty-day or a nineteenth-annotation Ignatian retreat are likely to recognize this prayer: Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and all my will--all that I have and possess. You, Lord, have given all that to me. I now give it back to you, 0 Lord. All of it is yours. Dispose of it according to your will. Give me your love and your grace, for that is enough for me.2 Directors of the Spiritual Exercises soon discover a variety of responses to the Suscipe. Some retreatants admit that they decide to what degree they pray it. The prayer feels like a radical, even reckless risk. Some, then, pray "to desire to desire" to enter into this prayer. Others simply decide to pray it with less intensity than they pray other prayers that feel less radical. Some retreatants report that the Suscipe begins to move through their consciousness like a mantra without their having any memory of deciding to pray it in this way; there is a passive, almost unconscious move-ment going on. Some people, however, pray the Suscipe with gusto, as if it is their greatest joy to make the words their own. Such people experience giving everything over to God as their true freedom. Joan Mueller OSF is assistant professor of systematic theology at Saint Francis Seminary and teaches in the summer spirituality program at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska. Her address is Saint Francis Seminary; 3257 South Lake Drive; Saint Francis, Wisconsin 53235. 534 Review for Religious Even though directors are well aware that the Exercises are designed to foster personal response to the gospel, we may won-der how one prayer can elicit such a variety of responses. We could probe this question by means of various methodologies: personality theories, enneagram numbers, prayer styles, and so forth. In this essay I propose examining the question through a consideration of the dynamics of the Exercises. A Dynamic Theory of the Spiritual Life The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises can be seen as a paradigm for spiritual growth. Many such paradigms exist in the Christian spir-itual tradition: St. Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle, St. John of the Cross's Ascent of Mount

Issue 51.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1992. ; Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 6 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ° 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1992 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 6 contents religious life directions 806 Journeying Together in Faith Paul K. Hennessy CFC sets forth three themes from the Israelite covenant experience pertinent to religious life. 815 Communities of Hope Donna Markham OP suggests a dynamic of'religious life in terms of bringing forth a new way of life based on collaboration, mutuality, and respect. 823 The Service of Lay Associates Patricia McNicholas OSU examines different responses to the trend of religious communities sponsoring associate membership programs. dialogue ministry 830 Inculturation as Dialogue Diana Taufer SC suggests that interculturation better describes the task of church ministers in working among the Na~:ive American peoples. 839 Jewish-Catholic Dialogue since Vatican II Alan Altany describes how both Jews and Catholics approach the dialogue and also what dynamics the continuing dialogue will involve. formation and ministry 854 The Media and the Good News Patil F. Harman SJ challenges the Christian disciple to enter into the communications media with imagination and fortitude. 866 The Core of Ministry Laura Morgan FMSC discovers a garden of olives as the meeting place between God and us. 870 Spirituality in the Puebla Document Juan Ram6n Moren6 SJ ~aighlights the fundamental traits of a spirituality that is moving the Latin American church. 802 Review for Religious values and virtues 882 Confidentiality: Erosion and Restoration James F. Keenan SJ underscores the standard norms of confiden-tiality when therapy involves a client, a therapist, and a religious superior and community. 895 Detachment: The Enclosed Garden of the Soul Judy Bush describes various forms of everyday detachments by which God leads us to closer union. 906 The Spirit at Play Kenneth Homan describes how God's Spirit encourages us to become playful stewards. prayer and life 911 Iconoclasm for Holiness' Sake Julie Hollitt FDNSC ventures through iconoclasm to discover the extraordinary with the ordinary. 916 Four Types of Prayer Anthony H. Ostini SJ presents four ways of praying traditional in the church. 920 Broken Arrows Joseph F. Nassal CPPS reflects on a solitude necessary for heal-ing and transforming our life together. departments 804 Prisms 927 Canonical Counsel: Secular Institutes 933 Book Reviews 951 Indexes to Volume 51 November-December 1992 803 prisms ~henever we celebrate the feast of Christmas, we come face-to-face with our ways of imaging and under-standing God. Drawing close to a baby in a manger does not seem difficult for young or old, for shepherds or the-ologians. Yet the implications of such an imaging need to be appropriated anew by people in every age and culture. The Christmas tableau challenges our way of evalu-ating ourselves, our relationships with others, and our own response to God. People of our time, we find it nat-ural to stress our personal gifts and talents; we look to our strength in self-image and our self-reliance in thought and action. And, yes, we are made aware of a lot of proper healthy correctives given to us today by the psychological sciences. We are encouraged to pull our own strings, to be confrontative and even aggressive in pursuing our goals. Yet the angels' trumpeted Gloria above a stable reminds us that human dignity and personal choice are not values without restrictions or limits. Today our relationship with God centers often on gender-imaging, but with the result that something like "the force be with you" expresses the compromise of a god-without-a-face. In the midst of some overly serious abstract arguments and of our age's all-too-limiting focus on personal expe-rience comes a human baby named Jesus, whose mother is Mary. Each time we place ourselves in wonder before this creche, we are enabled to glimpse some of the deepest realities about divine and human life. Jesus comes to us as poor and humble. He is poor, not only because like any baby he is totally dependent for food and shelter on others, but also because he incarnates God's chosen way of relating to us. Jesus shows us a God who 804 Review for Religious truly needs us, who waits upon our response, who suffers our indifference as well as our petty insistences on making gods more to our own liking. Jesus brings home to us that God is not a mighty one who delights in hurling lightning bolts or an impas-sive one seated on a cloud and forever lost in contemplation. We rejoice in being led to a God who has chosen to make himself so needy that our efforts can fill what is still lacking in the redemp-tive act and that our prayers and our actions do build up the com-munity of the city of God. In fact, in recognizing such a God, we know that being poor is not a curse but a grace that makes us more like God. When we recognize our neediness as a fact in our relation to others and to God, then our poverty is truly becoming our graced choice. We are becoming like Jesus; divinity becomes us. Again like any poor person, the Son of Mary and the car-penter must labor for the necessities of life. He will say that every-thing he has is gift given by the one he knows as Abba, but at the same time, because this God is one who works, Jesus matter-of-factly professes "I work." And from the very beginning Jesus calls others to labor with him--so reminiscent of that creation account of God asking the first humans to work in bringing the garden to a greater fruitfulness. Jesus again brings home to all of us that God is the first of collaborators. If we want to grow more in the divine life, our direction is clear. To work with oth-ers is the dynamic of Christian living--in families, in workplaces, in parishes and religious communities, in ecumenical endeavors, in civil society. To celebrate Christmas is not to seek escape into magical stars and angels singing and plum puddings and once-a-year friendly greetings. We Christians worship a God who chooses to be poor like us so that we might make a similar choice and thus realize a richness which can only be God's gift. We Christians step for-ward to take on the responsibility of collaboration with God for the coming of the kingdom; like our God, we catch sight of our real selves not in doing our good works for others, but always in acting with others. God so loved the world., and in our so liv-ing and in our so working we make real our love for God, our-selves, our neighbor, and our world. That this be the Christmas grace for us all is the prayer of the editorial staff. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 1992 805 PAUL K. HENNESSY Journeying Together in Faith religious life directions A joint assembly of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM) was held August 26-30, 1992 in Greensboro, North Carolina. This article and the one which follows are the addresses of the presidents of CMSM and LCVV~R. The theme we set for ourselves, "Now is the Time . . . Religious Life at a Moment of Kairos," is calling us to a journey in faith. Contemporary congregational leaders need to journey frequently. Ministry to our sisters and brothers and those they serve requires more than a tele-phone and a fax. For communities with personnel spread far and wide, frequent-flyer credits build up quickly. One of my personal rules of travel, especially in developing countries, where bus or airplane delays can be inter-minable, is to be involved in a good novel. Ever since I read The Day of the Jackal many years ago, I have been attracted to Frederick Forsyth's books. While waiting in JFK Airport in New York before a five-week visit to our South American communities recently, I began his Deceiver. In this three-part novel, an older German gendeman spy falls in love with a much younger prostitute, whom he later kills because of her infidelity. The novel's protagonist, Sam McCready, consults a psychiatrist about Paul K. Hennessy CFC, provincial of the Eastern American province of the Congregation of Christian Brothers, is midway through his two-year term as president of Conference of Major Superiors of Men. His address is 21 Pryer Terrace; New Rochelle, New York 10804-4499. 806 Review for Religious possible reactions this fellow, spy may have, since he needs him to complete a job. The German has disappeared. The ensuing dia- 10gue struck me as pertinent on many levels and precipitated some thoughts ~:or this address, which I wrote in Peru, a country very close to God in its poverty and dependence and, therefore, ani-mated by wonderful hope. The passage is as follows: "Fugue," Dr. Carr purst~ed as he speared a forkful of tender sole meuni~re, "means flight. Flight from reality, especially ~iarsh, unpleasant reality. I think your man will by now be in a really bad way." "What will he actually do?" asked McCready. "Where will he go?" "He will go to a sanctuary, somewhere he feels safe, ~ome,where he can hide, where all the problems will go away and people will leave him alone. He may even return to a Childlike state. I had a patient once who, overcome by prob-lems, returned to tied, curled into the fetal position, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and stayed there. Wouldn't come out. Childlike, you see. Safety, security. No problems. Excellent sole, by the way. Yes, a little more Meursault. Thank you." Each of us, I am sure, encounters people, inside or outside our communities, who prefer to look to the future through the rear-' view mirror: "Let's go back to where we were. Times really haven't changed." Underlying this, of course, is the implication that the past was better than the present. As we know, such comparisons can involve value judgments about loyalty and authenticity. As I journeyed aboizt South America and reflected upon the struggle inherent in continual conversions and authentic renewal and i'efounding, I could not help reflecting upon the journey our ancestors in faith, the Israelites, were called to make from Egypt to Canaan, from the old to the new. Are we not also daughters and sons ot the covenant? Three themes fr6m the covenant experience, from covenant theology, seem especially pertinent to us today: first, God's initiative in creation, in vocation, i.n pouring forth wisdom and giving.us discerning hei~rts; second, the attraction of returning to Egypt from the confusion of the journey, but the irresponsibiiity of doing so; third, the promise, which is faithful and immutable. Although the two creation narratives in Genesis differ sub-stantially in origin and in content, the common element.is that the initiative is God's. "In the beginning, when God created the heav-ens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and dark- Nove~nber-December 1992 807 Hennessy ¯ Journeying Together in Faith ness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said . . ." (Gn 1:1-3). In the second account: "At the time when the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, while as yet there was no field shrub on earth and no grass of the field had sprtuted., the Lord God formed man." (Gn 2:4a-7). The belief of our biblical forebears was that God is the initiator of all that is good and meaningful. We have the capacity to be selfish, to be confused about who is in charge. We have the capacity to sin, bu~ we cannot create something new without God. The call of the great leader Moses, together with his sister Miriam and his brother Aaron, is forthrightly a call, a vocation, from God. The call to minister, to lead, is not one we take upon ourselves. "Come, now! I will send you to Pharaoh to lead my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt" (Ex 3:10). Throughout the Scriptures we are reminded that, in some mysterious and yet direct way, it is God who calls and sends forth: Abraham and Sarah; Hannah and her son, Samuel; David; Zechariah and Elizabeth; Mary and, yes, Jesus. "Then a voice came from the heavens: 'You are my beloved Son. On you my favor rests.' At that point the Spirit sent him out toward the desert [and he was] put to the test there by Satan" (Mk 1:11-13). While Solomon is the prototype of dependence on God for wisdom and understanding, the theme runs throughout our Scriptures. The forceful poetic rendition of this message in chap-ter 38 of the Book of Job is one I heard a retreat master recite from memory: "Then the Lord addressed Job out of the storm and said: Who is this that obscures divine plans with words of ignorance? Gird up your loins now, like a man; I will question you, and you tell me the answers! Where were you when I founded the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding" and so forth. Note in a much different context the wise advice of Gamaliel before the Sanhedrin after the apostles are tried: "My advice is that you have nothing to do with these men. Let them alone. If their purpose or activity is human in its origins, it will destroy itself. If, on the other hand, it comes from God, you will not be able to destroy them without fighting God" (Ac 5:38-39). The author of this account clearly understands the prophetic statement as an inspired one. The duty of a leader is to search prayerfully for the wisdom which is of God and not to depend on that wisdom which is solely our own. This leads us to the discernment of spirits. The spirit in our 808 Review for Religious Scriptures, which are the testimony of the faith of our Jewish and Christian forebears, is always a fructifying one which leads us to integrity and joy. Note in Psalm 1 that the person who delights in the law of God and meditates on it day and night is like a tree planted near running water that yields fruit in due season and whose leaves never fade. Integrity and joy as well as peace and kindness are always hall-marks of the Spirit's presence (see Ga 5:22- 26). The Book of Sirach reminds us that people who open their lips in prayer and ask pardon for sin will be filled with the spirit of understanding and will pour forth words of wisdom and give thanks to the Lord (see Si 39:6). What is the application of all this for leadership in religious communities in today's world, especially here in the United States? Clearly, we must be people of faith and hope supported by prayer: faith that the God who worked in unexpected and wonderful ways in ages past has not deserted us; hope and prayer, because we have to have the courage to express our inabilities, our own sinfulness, and our own confidence in the promise. There is a natural concern in our societies today for new mem-bership, and we could be discouraged by a naive understanding of fruitfulness. Looking again at Psalm 1, we note that the tree by the running water does not clone or multiply itself. It ~inks even deeper roots into the fertile ground so that its own integrity is more secure--reminding us that the quality of our religious lives depends on us and that we have control over it in ways in which we cannot control the number of members. There is a clear hunger among us for a greater understanding of contemplation and its fundamental place in our own spiritual lives. In our common discernment in Louisville in 1989, it was identified as one of the most important Of the transformative ele-ments which would lead us to the next century. Last year it was the theme for the LCWR assembly in Albuquerque. There are voices which, without entering into our processes and our prayer, would criticize our direction. We cannot mistrust the movement of the Spirit which we leaders, numbering one thousand, experience. The quality of our religious lives depends on us, and we have control over it in ways in which we cannot control the number of members. Noventber-Decentber 1992 809 Hennessy ¯ ffourneying Togetber in Faith We must challenge ourselves and those we serve to form new communities of women and men, confessing their dependence on God's initiative and joyously reflecting God's beauty and wis-dom. This is a gotd ~hat clearly re.sponds to the creativity of Yahweh throughout our sacred history. In Louisville we identified the first three transformative elements as calls to prophetic wit- .ness, contemplation, and a clear Option fo.r the poor. Can we have go.tten closer to covenant theology? Reconsidering the advice of Gamaliel, we must be convinced that, if our "purpose or activity is human in origin, it wil! destroy itself." If, on the other hafid, it comes from God, "people will not be able to destroy it without fighting God." The Bdok of Exodus reflects our journey. It is a wonde.rful source for meditation. We read of high aspirations of fidelity and great sinfulness in cowardice and betrayal. I began this address with a quotation from Forsyth about a character tempted to reg,ress into the past. Do we not see this same confused longing among the Israelites? Do we not identify with Moses and Myriam? After all they have done to free the people from Egypt, in a short time, we are told, these same peopl.e "grumbled against Misses and Aaron" and said to them, "Would that we had died . . . in the land of Egypt, as we sat by our fleshpots and ate our fill of bread! Bu.t you had to lead us into the desert to make the wl~ole community die of famine" (Ex ~6:2-3). Over and over, lived experience depicted in literature, both sacred and secu!ar, reflects perennial wisdom that we can never go home a.gain. Sefin Sammon FMS, in his presidential address at the CMSM assembly in San Antonio last August, reflected the reac-tions of people in the midst of major periods of transition. Certain!y one of these is to deny there is change going on. Another is to blame the leader, as the Israelites did. I am quite confident that the vast majority of the communities of women and'men religious in the United States have maturely and prayer-fully addressed the impact of the changes in society on our con-secrated lives. I am sure we have made mistakes and are willing to admit them, but I feel that overall we have been on target. While it is natural that some members within our communities have not welcomed the changes necessitated by a changed society, we have also had to expend a lot of energy defending ourselves from crit-icisms from outside our commu.nities, from people who have not walked in our 'moccasins. This is unfortunate, and we may need to 810 Review for Religious be very careful that we do not neglect that prophetic leadership which the vast majority of our members has called us to give. We are called to let the individual founding charisms which brought our communities into existence shine brightly in a transformed society. I have been privileged for the last four years to serve in a leadership position in CMSM. This has brought me into close contact with the men and women leading both our conferences. I trust my experience. I have observed firsthand how mature and faith-filled women and men can come together to listen, to respect, to collaborate, and to grow in love. Together we have learned and we continue to learn about prayer, about witness, about the poor, about the environment, and about striving for peace based on justice. Many in this room were gathered in Louisville three years ago and experienced our solidarity about our future. Why should we doubt that God is leading us? Theologians have consistently identified the sensus fidelium, the prayerful and thoughtful experience of good Christians, as one of the focal points for determining the will of God. Let us trust our own experience and continue to move forward. Certainly, we can be misled at times individually and even collectively, but we do not seek easy answers. Jesus reserves his harshest criticism for those with easy answers. He does not always question their sincerity, although sometimes he does, but he reminds them that God is continually pouring forth new wisdom. The Pharisees were not bad people, but they were terrified of change. Their monolithic understanding, as devout as it may have been, did not allow God to continue to bring forth the new, to pour new wine into new wineskins. The desire to go back to Egypt may have been attractive in the midst of uncertainty, but was it faithful to the call? Almost twenty years ago Thomas E. Clarke SJ, the philoso-pher and writer, collected a series of his essays into a book enti-tled New Pentecost or New Passion? The Direction of Religious Life Today (Paulist, 1973). In the foreword he said: How are we to disengage Christian faith from the time-bound cultural expressions and vehicles of the past without the loss of integrity? That is indeed the question at the heart of the anguish, tensions, and polarizations character-istic of a period which has turned out to be as much a new Passion as a new Pentecost. No group in the church has November-December 1992 811 Hennessy ¯ Journeying Together in Faith had to deal with the question with greater seriousness than members of religious communities and particularly of American communities of religious women. In my opinion, these last represent the cutting edge of renewal and have yielded in the past several years the most courageous and intelligent leadership which we have in the church today. Our living God not only inspires and challenges us to seek faith-ful, even if difficult, answers. God also calls us to responsibility. The third and final theme from our covenant theology that I wish to note, although I have referred to it already, is that there is a promise of a future of peace, based on love and justice; this pledge is faithful and immutable. The German theology of hope of the 1950s and 60s (names like Moltmann, Pannenberg, and Metz come to mind) found its way, with some permutations, into a Latin American theology of liberation closer to our own time. In my recent visit to Peru, I was struck once again how these peo-ple are really hope-filled. It seems to me that the word esperanza appears in practically every hymn and popular song. That hope is not just for a better Peru or even for a mundo mejor, a better world; it is a deeply religious belief in a better life which will never end. The promise to Abram and Sarai that they would be led to "a land that I will show you" (Gn 12:1) is at the very heart of the pil-grim spirituality of the people of Israel and is their reason to hope. If God is faithful, so must Yahweh's people be. "Keep all the commandments, then, which I enjoin on you today, that you may be strong enough to enter in and take possession of the land into which you are crossing, and that you may have long life on the land which the Lord swore to your fathers [and mothers] he would give to them and their descendants, a land flowing with milk and honey" (Dt 11:8-9). Psalm 135 exhorts us to keep the faith, to have hope "because the covenant fidelity," the hesed of Yahweh, "endures forever." In a properly understood theology of hope, as in liberation theology, our expectation is neither passive nor blind. The prophets used many words and much energy reminding the peo-ple that they also were responsible for bringing about a better world through their industry and ingenuity. Jesus, too, stresses the personal responsibility of each of his followers to bring about a world in which the hungry are fed, the thirsty are assuaged, and the naked are clothed (see Mt 25). Nearly thirty years have passed since Martin Luther King Jr.'s 812 Reviem for Religious prophetic words resounded from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Reflecting on the covenant promises expressed in the United States Constitution, that prophet reminded the pilgrims who marched on Washington that the reality had not yet come close to the vision set forth in the Constitution. King reminded the world that even the freedom associated with the name Abraham Lincoln was not yet realized for all races. Coming from the shadow of the massive likeness of Lincoln, King's words wafted like a liberating breeze across the mall on that warm August day in 1963. The phrase still echoes in my memory: "Now is the time . . . now is the time." In a properly understood theology of hope, prophetic leaders remind the people of the orig-inal covenant. They do not ignore the chasm that exists between the promise and the reality. They are neither shy in telling the story of the way things could be, nor unrealistic about the way things are. And because they are people of hope, they proclaim confidently and continu-ously, "Now is the time., now is the time." It is my conviction that those of us in roles of religious lead-ership are obligated to reflect upon the instrumental position we play in the realization of the promise. We must, first of all, rec-ognize our own absolute dependence on God, and therefore we must spend significant time in prayer. Without such prayer we take ourselves all too seriously. Prayer becomes especially neces-sary, it would seem, when conflicts and misunderstandings arise within our communities or in the broader sphere of the church, of which we are both members and leaders. At those times par-ticularly, the promise must be our consolation. We are each called upon to bring our talents, our insights, our faith, our ingenuity, and our industry to bear in order to assure that we are faithful to the Gospel of Jesus and the original inspirations of our founders and foundresses. Our continuing call is to discern the signs of our times. While I have emphasized that reverting to the past is not an option for people of the promise, we need to study those aspects of covenant theology which are our greatest challenges today. We must not be blind to the fact that our proven North American We have been called to a community in baptism; we are saved as a community. November-December 1992 813 Hennessy ¯ Journeying Together in Faitls individualism creates real problems for the communitarian empha-sis in salvation history. We have been called to a community in baptism; we are saved as a community. Our founders and foundresses called us to community. While we cannot return to a time which canonized uniformity and called it unity, we have a key role to play in our church and in the world; we need to witness to the transcendent value of unity in heart and mind witnessed pub-licly. Our various founders and foundresses had different inten-tions in this area, and so a monolithic understanding of community is inappropriate and indeed impossible. However, when the affinity of our members with one another is so loose that true community is more in the imagination than in reality, we might have missed the mark. I indeed believe that in this area very necessary self-critiques are taking place within our houses. What do we mean by common prayer, common life, and so forth? It is appropriate that the examinations be internal since we seek the original inspirations and intentions of our various founders and foundresses. I am certain that the call to real community is an essential part of the covenant between God and ourselves. I believe that religious are in a privileged position for witnessing to com-munity forthrightly. It is an opportunity we cannot neglect for the sake of a world and a church in which people are crying for meaning, affiliation, and fulfillment. The Scriptures, which we call "sacred," are written expres-sions of an experience of God which is normative for us. The 'faith experience that the Scriptures report is not very different from our own. We are called to journey, to be confident people on pilgrimage. God is both initiator and fulfillment. We are called to faithfulness, exhibited in common lives of joy, love, and hope. "Now is the time., now is the time." In Memoriam David J. Hassel sJ died in Chicago, Illinois, on 26 September 1992. Father Hassel, a well-known author and contributor to this journal, recendy completed his term as a member of our advisory board. Please remember him in your prayers. 814 Review for Religious DONNA MARKHAM Communities of Hope Mtaphor is a window into the heart of human desire nd longing. It reveals the human spirit as it fuses our deepest-he!d beliefs with our lived experience. Metaphor expresses the kernel of What has been forgotten, lost in the whirlwind of our distracted lives. It holds the power to break through all that stands in the way of the proclamation of truth. Metaphor is at the center of the power of the mystic, the therapist, and the artist tO effect profound healing and change at the core of the human spirit. Because it touches the center of truth, a metaphor inter-preted always provokes change. Consequently, metaphors are often very disturbing--both to the speak.er and to the listener. A metaphor disturbs because it cannot be pursued very far without our being led to the very boundaries of what is most "sacred. It cannot be g,rasped at the level of the intellect alone--it is an empathic resonance of the spirit, an expression of what is true. like a parable, metaphor uses ordinary language to exprgss the extraordinary truth of what it.means to be human. Community, as metaphor, expresses the truth of our longing for relationship, the best expression of our humanness. Com-munity enge.nders awe and wonder as it webs together hearts in a world where individualism, separatism, and nationalism collude to keep us isolated and disempowered. Central to the birthing of an alternative world grounded in compassion and justice, com-munity threatens the prevailing culture by drawing near to and Donna Markham OP recently completed her one-year term as the Leadership Conference of Women Religious president. Her address is 8808 Cameron Street; Silver Spring, Maryland 20910. This presentation by the LCWR president (see introduction on page 806) was previously published in Origins 22, no. 14 (17 September 1992). November-December" 1992 815 Markham ¯ Communities of Hope conspiring with the transformative power of God. The presence of a community of hope disturbs and disquiets because it disrupts the social drift toward autonomy and self-sufficiency. It disturbs those of us who aspire to live it, and it unsettles the environment in which it is situated. It threatens change on every level and demonstrates that conversion and healing are, indeed, painful processes. Truly, community is a healing metaphor for a frag-mented world. It is not an option. It is an obligation essential for the survival of the planet. It is our obligation as religious women and men who have committed our lives to working for the reign of God in our world. The Prevailing Mood The most profound longings of our contemporary human spirit are variously contained in the language of critics, scholars, theologians, and poets--and those ordinary folks who are capable of verbalizing their inner pain. Repeatedly we find references to persons feeling alone and orphaned, individuals searching for meaning. Not too long ago, a 31-year-old mother of two sat with me in tears as she said, "I don't feel like I belong anywhere or to anyone. I just feel unwanted and not connected to anybody. I keep looking for things to make me feel better, but nothing is working." She went on to tell me how she had bought a high res-olution TV and a new VCR and, most recent!y, had gotten a sta-tionary bike. In spite of her new acquisitions, she continued, "I feel like I'm on the verge of dropping out, giving up. I can't sustain a lasting friendship or belong to a group for any length of time. Noth!ng lasts. The pain is horrible. I am trapped, cold and alone. I can't get out. Nothing makes sense anymore." Her expression is that of a prisoner in self-enforced solitary confinement. "I am trapped, cold and alone. I can't get out"--the deepest truth of her experience expressed in analytic metaphor. In the act of expressing her truth and in the response of someone interpreting her excruciating pain of helplessness and isolation, she begins her journey toward freedom. Similar experiences of disengaged subjectivity and alienation have often resulted in an escalation of materialism and con-sumerism-- a desperate effort to capture some solace and com-fort. In a rather disturbing commentary on contemporary experience, Robert Bellah notes that one of the most prized and 816 Review for Religious inexpendable commodities which we Americans possess is a microwave oven--the antithesis of the sacrament of the family meal (The Good Society, 93). A family's shared preparation of, par-ticipation in, and cleaning up after Sunday dinner all-too-fre-quently is replaced by each member "zapping" his or her own favorite microwave-ready food and rushing off to the next sched-uled event. Daily news commentaries unveil progressive fragmentation and self-serving separatism. Separatism, often disguised and jus-tified as American "pluralism," promotes scandalous division and destruction in every corner of our lived experience. Recently we have had our own experience with this type of heretical rational-ization and have experienced its painful effects. In an attempt to recover from the stunning and disheartening consequences of enforced and formalized division, we face with greater determi-nation our commitment to call for union and collaboration among those who are committed to justice, peace, and the common good. We know well from our own experience that the obsessive pursuit of private agendas, often driven by politics, has resulted in personal, ecclesial, and national crises of meaning and belong-ing. Repeatedly our poets, spiritual writers, ecolog.ists, sociolo-gists, and even business analysts reflect to us the dangers and numbing effects of individualism, separatism, and the disregard for unity and the good in common. Communities of Hope Entwined in these commentaries of our day is the longing for connection, meaning, and belonging. Community is the delib-erate human expression of such profound yearning for intimacy and purpose. I am convinced it is our final hope for establishing reconciling communication in a pained world. And it is our hope for the future of a religious life that finds itself immersed in an era roiled by exclusion, competition, and confrontation. Communities of hope become the bridges between islands of the spirit where compassion, friendship, and commitment to the mission of the Gospel still flourish. Vibrant communities of hope hold the power to proclaim the truth that we are profoundly interconnected with God and with ill creation. We are part of a living system which is our home. Communities of hope witness to our being embedded in the whole Noveraber-December 1992 817 Markham ¯ Communities of Hope of God's creation and, as living parts of this system, they are agents for the conversion of all those who promote fierce com-mitment to their own separate survival. What are the demands and conseq.uences of living at the heart of the metaphor? What does it mean for us, women and men reli-gious at a very precarious moment in history, to commit and entrhst 6urselves to ultimate belonging--to the creation of com-munities of hope which attest to the truthfulness of God's rela-tionship with us and with our world? This question is currently a. focus for many provincial and general chapters. It is a question which we are addressing with a degree of candor and self-critique that attests the maturity of American religious life. And it is a ~luestion we are answering by calling ourselves to no less than the profound communal transformation of con.temporary religious life. We know well that norms and lifestyles which were sufficient and effective yes.terday are painfully inadequate' to address the crises o.f today. Yet, in spite of uncertainty and the lack of clear direction, and often in the midst of misunderstanding and criticism from those upon whom we have counted, we entrust Ourselves to our faithful God and move on. We are taking the charism of religious life extremely seri-ously. We ar~ risking new ways of being communities of celebra-tion that radiate coherence and hope into society. More and more we are immersing ourselves among the marginated and most vul-nerable. In the blighted core of an inner city, a group of religious engaged in various ministries opens its home to neighbors--a place for prayer, respi.te, and hospitality--a contradiction in an environment charged with violence and suspicion. In a border town young adults and religious ~'espond to the needs of Central American refugees by establishing a center 'for illegal aliens. Theological reflection, common prayer, radical simplicity, and advocacy form the nonnegotiable basis of their communal life. Surrounded by affluent retirement communitieF, a growing enclave of destitute migrant workers is attended by wonderfully altruistic college students, religious brothers, and some commit-ted. couples who live among, pray with, and work on behalf of this neighborhood of preyiously ignored people. Such communities of hope are growing in strength and num-bers across the country. Increasingly we are embedding ourselves in uncomfortable places where we are bound to challenge the dominant norms of our church and our society. Counting on the 818 Review for Religious binding friendship of God, we are often venturing into places where many--and, indeed, where we--may not wish to go. Nevertheless, with all the metaphoric power of being part of a greater whole--a part which contains and is contained by every other part--we are conspiring in and committed to the healing and unify-ing transformation of the earth. While we have reason to be encouraged, we realize we have much to which to call ourselves and our congregations. Such a growing commitment to be communities of hope is inspired by the covenanted intentionality of God. We become more closely bound to God as we bind ourselves increasingly to God's will for mercy, justice, and peace. This binding intimacy--and the continued conversion to which it calls us--destabilizes the status quo and, consequently, is perceived as subver-sive by those who feel more at home in an environment of sepa-ratism and elitism. Such people fiercely resist the "subversion" they do not want to see. Increasingly we are embedding ourselves in uncomfortable places where we are bound to challenge the dominant norms of our church and our society. The Cost of Commitment Clearly, there are obligations which follow from taking responsibility to live at the core of metaphor. To begin with, com-munities of hope relinquish the security of the rigid constructs and protective routines that once defined community life. They are resilient and responsive to the ebb and flow of the needs of those among whom they li',;e, all the while claiming contemplative space, some time set apart. Participation in these transformative communities calls us to let go of our own accommodation to per-sonal comfort and possessions, to lay aside rugged autonomy and private agendas, in order to respond together to those needs which are most urgent. Those who live in the metaphor strive to rep-resent that which is most true. For many of us, that calls us away from what has been more comfortable. Communities of hope call us to be marginated anawim while, at the same time, being surrounded by the dominant culture. That November-December 1992 819 Markham ¯ Communities of Hope is, we are called to make a home with the dispossessed and vul-nerable in the midst of a culture that rejects them. We commit ourselves to live in the midst of prevalent social norms while maintaining a distinct identity as outsiders who refuse to be domesticated. We commit ourselves to responsible criticism of the prevailing culture, to search for and proclaim the truth of what we see and experience. We do this through the rigorous practice of a shared faith, through nondefensive and honest inter-action with those who oppose us, and through an uncompromis-ing commitment to contemplation, common prayer, and, most importantly, a reconciling compassion. Further, communities of hope hold the capacity to grieve together as they remember what has been forgotten and feel the shared pain of being outsiders. The catharsis of grieving yields to the.celebration of a faithful God who is friend and companion, who has called us together to be an organic conspiracy for the healing of our world. The inability of persons to feel and admit sadness marks a dulling adaptation to the existing state of affairs. One of the more disturbing symptoms an individual or a group can exhibit is the absence of the human emotion of sadness. Those who are unable to grieve have closed themselves to the transfor-mative power of empathic love and compassion. They have sealed themselves in smug detachment. As members of transformative communities, we must have the hope and the stamina to sustain rejection, misunderstanding, and unfair judgment--even ridicule--from the dominant major-ity. Walter Brueggemann addresses this in his Interpretation and Obedience, saying that exiles "must hold and practice faith in an empire that is deeply hostile., to our most precious social vision" (206). He continues, "The empire has a plan for the exiles: that they should be forever displaced, homeless, at risk, restless, admin-istrated (223). The empire will never understand. In the end, however, it will yield" (232). Staying Faithful Communities of hope are consistently faced with the risk of becoming sidetracked from their dynamic function of bringing forth a new way of life based on collaboration, mutuality, and respect. The dominant system will try to entice us to set aside our own agenda and replace it with its own. It will consistently and 820 Review for Religious untiringly try to seduce us into spending time and energy in reac-tion to it rather than in being about the threatening task of pro-claiming truth, justice, and compassion. It may even attempt to entrap us, freeze us out, and isolate us in the hope that we will feel just as imprisoned as that 31-year-old mother. But as long as com-munities remain faithful expressions of the human desire for heal-ing, for solidarity with the suffering and the vulnerable, and for communion with God and with creation, we will continue to agi-tate and disturb the pervasive system--and we will continue to promote its healing. The prevailing culture will attempt to undermine communi-ties of hope by coopting individual members to submit t6 a more comfortable existence, removed from the stringent demands .of proclaiming what is true and just. The dominant system cleverly realizes that solitary persons will not survive long as outsiders in its midst. They are ripe to be picked off and assimilated, thereby losing their power to convert and transform. Nowhere is the evil of the dominant system more apparent than when it works to devalue and fragment those who are bound together to work for the common good. The more hostile, intransigent, and wily the environment, the greater the need for the community to gather hope, strengthen desire, and realize vision. Leading at the Heart of Truth Good leaders have the courage to interpret the metaphor. They know that meaning is wrapped in the heart of metaphor. Leaders risk telling the truth. They realize that, left uninter-preted, the metaphor is bereft of the fullness of its power to bring about change. But the metaphor can be interpreted only from a posture of deep love. If there is any element of judgment or reprisal, the interpretation will be rejected. To prepare ourselves for the act of interpretation, we know that we must love with a passion that transforms our whole being, that is rooted in and nourished by contemplative relationship with God. We pray for a love that is so transparent and pervasive that it gives us the greatness to accept our own failings and those of our sisters and brothers, the courage to proclaim the vision of an alternative world ruled by the good in common, and the wisdom to challenge any acquiescence to the status quo. This is the foun-dation of interpretation. November-December 1992 821 Markham ¯ Communities of Hope What might interpretation entail for leaders today? It would entail: ¯ recalling the memory, the charism, and the values of the covenant; ¯ acknowledging, supporting, and celebrating deepening com-munities of hope; ¯ sharing the sorrow of the community of outsiders as they struggle to maintain integrity and unity in the face of misunder-standing, stereotyping, or ridicule; ¯ challenging those who are being tempted toward assimila-tion by the prevailing norms of individualism and materialism; ¯ asking difficult questions when the obliteration of bound-aries begins to diminish the identity of the community and moves it to compromise its prophetic purpose. It is in the honesty of the interpretive act that truth is revealed and continued conversion is realized. We who take on the respon-sibility to interpret must know that we will be called to profound experiences of inner conversion that happen only when we love the community so very deeply. In this act of interpretation, we are led with our communities to the edge of what is, simultane-ously, overwhelming and most sacred. A~ we continue to promote the coming of the reign of God in this new day, we bind ourselves in communion, united in a vision of religious life that is unafraid to live truthfully in the criticism of a dominant system, and we pray in the words of the prophet that we will continue to seek God with all our heart, with a sin-gle loyalty, with a centered hope (see Jr 29:13). 822 Review for Religious PATRICIA MCNICHOLAS The Service of Lay Associates Ordinary people can do extraordinary things. Many lay people fee! called to service of the poor and needy, but c~anfiot always find appropriate or worthwhile ways to respond to thi~ call. M.any communities of women religious have the per-so. nnel, the financial resources, and the contacts that enable var-ious forms of ministry to the poor and the disenfranchised to 6perate~ successfully. These programs are now being shared with lay people who desire to work with religious .communities in coop-erative ministry projects. Are thes~ programs, which involve the !aity in a religious co.mmunity's outreach efforts, one mor6 aspect of the movement toward formal lay association with religious communities? This aru,'cle attempts to place such efforts within the broad conte~ of the associate movement as it has developed in the United States. In the last twenty years, religious communities have set up various relational structures with groups of lay persons. T,hese are usually Enown as associate members or co-members. The groups are of special interest because, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere, they have increased in numbers at a tremendous rate. Today more than 60 percent of women's communities have an associate program and another 19 percent indicate that they are developing or are interested in developing a program? The phe-nomenon continues in spite of the lack of any clear-cut struc-tures, national organization, or official impetus. In some religious communities these groups embody their hopes for the future of religious life; for others they are a threat to that v~ry same future. Patricia McNicholas osu is completing her work on a doctorate in ministry. She c~n be addressed at 4250 Shields Road; Canfield, Ohio 44406. November-December 1992 823 McNicbolas ¯ The Service of Lay Associates Rosemary Jeffries asserts: "There is a plurality of religious life modes operative at ~he current time but none seems totally ade-quate in itself. New and emerging forms of membership suggest that one model might not be sufficient. Clearly the traditional model cannot accommodate alternative forms of membership.''2 The persons who participate in associated groups typically resemble the community of which they are a part. For example, the vast majority are older, white, middle-class, educated women-- the same description that would hold for most religious commu-nities of women. In the pastr membership in religious communities was lim-ited to vowed members only. No longer is this the case. Recent research shows that associate groups participate at different lev-els within community life and that the various programs tend to follow discernible patterns in their development and in their rela-tionship to specific religious communities. Jeffries describes five trends that are generally found in such programs: 1. The associate membership programs tend to attract persons very similar to the religious themselves. 2. Decisions and responsibility for the programs are mainly in the hands of the religious. 3. The activities of associate programs are limited, and communication with associates is generally sparse. 4. Most religious and associates currently involved in the associate programs are ambiguous about the purpose and future direction of these programs. 5. Associates are more positive about the programs than are the religious.3 In May 1989, more than 100 directors of such programs and associate members gathered at Bon Secours Spiritual center in Marriottsville, Maryland, for the first national gathering to discuss the movement. The purpose of the gathering was described as exploring "how spiritualities or charisms of the church, previ-ously identified with particular religious congregations, were being assimilated by groups of lay people who claim the identity, history, and traditions of a particular spirituality as their own.''4 Although the groups differed in the frequency with which they gathered, in the typg of commitment required, and in the kind of formation provided by the rel!gious community, what they seemed to have in common was the forming of bonds between the laypersons and the religious on the basis of the charism and 824 Review for Religious mission of the community. The persons at this assembly also emphasized the importance of spiritual growth and of the expe-rience of community. In some religious communities, associate groups have become so integrated within the community itself that they may now be considered co-members of the institute. Rose Marie Jasinski CBS and Peter Foley describe what they identify as four "generations" of associates. The first-generation associate was a person look-ing to the religious for spiritual growth. It was assumed that the religious took the leadership in the movement. In the second gen-eration, there was a growing sense that the laypersons and the religious journeyed together on this spiritual path. In the third generation, the associates were invited to participate in the com-munity life of the congregation. In the fourth and current gen-eration, associates actively participate in the mission of the congregation and may be considered co-members.5 Should all associate groups move toward the vision suggested byJasinski's schema? Conleth Overrfian seems to believe so. He thinks associate groups will be the very stimulus needed to create a future for religious institutes that are currently losing mem-bership. He calls on reiigious communities to extend member-ship to the laity. He says, "The future of religious life lies, not in some foi'm of 'non-canonical' organization, but in a vital amal-gamation of the fully vowed religious membership and an associ-ation of l~y people who would in actual fact be members of the religious institute.''6 He envisions a group of dedicated prayerful people who share the spirit of the institute and collaborate with vowed members in fulfilling the community's mission in the church.7 Out of this experience Overman sees religious institutes revitalized with a torrent of new life. This vision of religious life extends the meaning of what it means to be a religious, just as in earlier centuries the concept of being a religious was expanded from the notions of enclosed cloister to apostolic religious com-munities. Paula Gonzales SC also envisions co-membership as important for the renewal of religious communities. She main-tains that the emergence of associate/co-membership is the begin-ning i~f a marked transformation in the very identity and understanding of religious life.8 In March 1990, Region VI of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious met in Cincinnati to discuss the movement. In preparation for the meeting, the members completed a mail sur- November-December 1992 825 McNicbolas ¯ The Sei'vice of Lay Associates vey about their experiences regarding the associate movement. Doris Gott~moeller reported the results of the siar~ey and then summarized her finding in an article in Review for R~ligi~)us.9 Many questions about the movemen~ emerged. The most basic one concerned the very nature of associate groups. Are they really iaew forms of membership !n [he congregation,, or are they essentially noncanon, ic.al, lay associations connected to various religious institutes? Jeffries maintain~ that [h~ emergence of the associate movement and 6ther altei'- native forms of membership re,deals the need to reconcep-tualize religious life as a plurif6rm mod~l inclusi;ce of different ways of belonging rather than ~is one model . Possibly the more pluriform reality of contemporary reli-gious life provides an appropriate atmosphere for the growth of nonclinical forms of association.~° If these new organizations do represent a visionary refound-ing of th~ institutes and a new form of membership within the institute, what effect will such programs have on the existing corl-gregation and on its sense of ideritity? What rights do the asso-ciates have? Should associates be invited to participate in congregational events such as chapters, assemblies, and celebra-tions? Gottemoeller is clear about the need to clarify and answer these questions. Elizabeth McDonough criticizes.the popular belief that ~associates should be given rights to participate in inter-nal commuriity matters. She says: Perhaps religious ~vary of this ti'end instinctively sense the accuracy of the . . . analysis by sociologist Wittberg, who notes that the associate/co-membership t~'end is far from a contemporary i'efounding. It is me~ely t'i!pical behavior for ¯ . . groups that have no central communitai'ian identity by wbicb, they can attract others or into which they can incor-porate newcomers or from which they c~n claim the ongo-ing allegiance of or make significant demands on--those who belong.~ Her view would seem to suggest that the question is no~ just one concerning levelsof membership, but one concerning the ver~ identity of the institute itself. If associates are seen as mem-bers, then is the institute graying the boundaries that create its i.dentity and in that very process conti'ibuting to its own demise? In a re(ent issue of Human Developm6nt, Donfia Markham also raises the question of boundaries. She sa~,s that l~aders of reli- 826 Review for Religious gious institutes in this time of tremendous change need to "call the group to hope and to a bold vision for the future. They push at the boundaries of how the group has defined itself.''~2 Later in the same article, though, she notes that it can be a form of denial for a community to "make its boundaries so permeable that they no longer truly exist.''~3 Thus the nature and identity of these associational groups is the most significant one to be answered by any congregation as they form and develop associate programs. Experts in canon law also have serious questions about the move toward membership rights for associates. In a bulletin pub-lished by the Canon Law Society of America, David Hynous OP states: It is not appropriate to use the terminology of membership to designate those women and men collaborating with us in our ministries. It may very well be inspired by the sincere hope of stimulating our lay colleagues to give serious con-sideration to a lifetime commitment in religious life. But, insofar as we are discussing lay participation in the apos-tolic endeavors of religious institutes, it is misleading to use the terminology of membership,t4 He raises concerns when associates are invited to live and work with religious. These include questions regarding appropriate formation, issues surrounding celibacy, and financial concerns including hospitalization and retirement. These are serious issues around the question of membership. Gottemoeller, in her reflections, also raises the question of what kind of formation should be provided.'5 She asks, too, whether the program is intended to support the congregational members or whether it is outwardly focused, that is, intended to promote the mission of the church. She challenges the view that associate membership will be a way to ensure the continuity of congregation-sponsored ministries. Most associates seem more concerned about their personal relationship with the congrega-tion than with the future of the congregation's institutions. She states, "My impression is that very few associates are in positions of responsibility in congregational ministries, with the talent and energy to direct the ministries in the future.''~6 In addition, Jeffries notes that most associates reflect the aging patterns of their respective communities.'7 Gottemoeller concludes by not-ing that, given the nature and number of the questions about the associate relationship identified here, any conclusions about November-December 1992 827 McNicbolas ¯ The Service of Lay Associates its long-term contribution to religious life are decidedly premature. Perhaps the best stance to take is to be cautious about either overstating the potential of associate programs to redefine religious life or underestimating the power of the Spirit to use this vehicle to revitalize an age-old phe-nomenon within the church.~8 In spite of the questions raised concerning the nature of such groups, many communities are continuing to sponsor or plan for these types of associate groups within their community structure. These associate membership groups will continue to provide one way for lay people to fulfill their baptismal call to contribute to the mission of the church, namely, through cooperation with the efforts of a specific religious community. At the same time, those who participate will enable the community to expand its own con-cept of what it means to be a "member" of that specific commu-nity. The participants in associate programs will come to some understanding of the community's history and charism and will participate in the mission of the community. There is a need for continued research on this relatively new phenomenon within religious life. In the meantime many layper-sons are finding fulfillment in a variety of ministerial experiences related to the charisms and works of specific communities. If the results of the trend are positive for the religious communities that sponsor such associations, for the lay people who participate in them, and for the poor and the needy who benefit from them, this trend may well be with us for a very long time to come. Notes ~ Rosemary Jeffries RSM, "Results of the Survey on Associate Membership in Religious Life," Horizon: Journal of the National Religious Vocation Conference 16 (winter 1991): 65. 2 Ibid, p. 63. 3 Ibid, p. 74. 4 Rose Marie Jasinski CBS and Peter Foley, "Reflections on the Associate Movement in Religious Life," Occasional Papers, a publication of The Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 16 (October 1989): 7. s Ibid, p. 8. 6 Conleth Overman CP, "The Need for Religious Institutes to Develop a Strong Outreach of Lay Associates," Sisters Today 57 (February 1986): 345. 7 Ibid, p. 347. s Paula Gonz~ilez SC suggested this in an address at the First National 828 Review f~r Religious. Conferences of Associate/Co-Membership, as quoted in Karen Schwarz, "Alternative Membership in Religious Congregations," Review for Religious 50 (July/August 1991): 559. 9 Doris Gottemoeller RSM, "Looking at Associate Membership Today," Review for Religious 50 (May/June 1991): 391-393. 10 Jeffries, p. 64. 1~ Elizabeth McDonough OP, "The Past Is Prologue: Quid Agis?" Review for Religious 50 (January-February 1992): 93. The reference to Wittberg is from Patricia Wittberg SC, Creating a Future for Religious Life (New York: Paulist Press, 1991), esp. chapters 2, 3, and 4. ~2 Donna J. Markham OP, "Making Friends with the Dragon: Women's Leadership in a Time of Transformation," Human Development 12 (sum-mer 1991): 29. 13 Ibid, p. 32. ,4 David M. Hynous OP, "Associate Membership in Religious Institutes," Bulletin on Issues of Religious Law 6 (Silver Spring, Maryland: Canon Law Society of America et al., 1990): 6. is Gottemoeller, p. 393. ~6 Ibid, p. 396. 17 Jeffries, p. 65. ,8 Gottemoeller, p. 397. Signs The straws in the wind at the door of a cave were signs, of a sort, of the brush of the Spirit-- but who caught the hint the Messiah would have a crib of rough chaff in that draft, or so near it? P.C. Ghotiolo SJ November-December 1992 829 DIANA TAUFER Inculturation as Dialogue dialogue ministry During a 1991 conference, Basic Directions in Native American Ministry, Sister Genevieve Cuny asked the Pueblo Indians present, "What gifts can the church share with you?" Again and again individuals answered for their groups, "Respect." This response indicates how church ministers can make the quincentennial years of Columbus's voyages years of reparation. It is the way of inculturation, of ongoing dialogue between faith and culture, because true dialogue fosters respect in and for all participants. But too often inculturation is a monologue by the church. The word lends itself to this misinterpretation. A better word would be "interculturation," which emphasizes that real ongoing dialogue clarifies the truth in both faith and cul-ture and thus leads to the mutual transformation of both. And dialogue requires a pervading presence of church min-isters among the people. Christ's message contains, at least implicidy, the whole truth for our living as God's people. The church, how-ever, has in its humanness proclaimed it imperfecdy, espe-cially by giving it overtones of Euro-American culture. The Native American and other cultures can offer insights which point out foreign and neglected elements in church teaching. Interculturation is also a matter of justice. An old def- Diana Taufer SC drew upon her work as a docent at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center for her reflections in this article. Her address is 1014 South George Drive; Tempe, Arizona 85218. 830 Review for Religious inition of justice is "giving each one his or her due." Christ's mes-sage is due to ~ill people in all its purity with respect for them as persons and with respect for the truth that is in them. Church history is full of examples of how missionaries of old, influenced by the limitations of the times, failed to dialogue because they did not r~spect the culture and were not really present among thd people. The quincentennial presents an opportunity for church min-isters, ordained and nonordained, to learn from the way inter-culturation did or did not happen in the past when Catholic missionaries worked fimong Native Americans. A good starting point is With the Pueblo Indians of the Southwest, 90 percent of whom are baptized Catholics. While practicing also their native religion, they have maintained their language and cul-ture better than any other group of Native Americans. As early as 1528, Spanish explorers, accompanied by Franciscan missionaries, began to make inroads into Pueblo territ6ry. The first permanent settlement in New Mexico was made in 1598, nine years befoi'e the establishment of the colony at Jamestown. The Franciscans were men of their times, and the times were the years after the Protestant Reformation and the Council of Trent when the fear of heresy permei~ted the church. A~ a result, close relationships between the friars and the Indians Were discouraged by their superiors, and the friars were advised not to learn the native language. It became Franciscan policy to shift the priests frequently from one mission to another and to send them back at times to Mexico. The' priests emphasized the differences between the indigenous religion and the Catholic faith rather than the similarities, contrary to the practice of many earlier priests in Mexico. Coercion became the order of the day. The policy for con-version, as framed by the king of Spain and announced by the friars, stated that, if the natives accepted the Catholic faith once it was explained to them, great rewards would follow. If they did not, all of them would be enslaved, which consequence would be their own fault. Those Indians who did not cooperate sufficiently. An old definition of justice is "giving each one his or her due." November-Decen~ber 1992 831 Taufer ¯ Inculturation in their own "conversion" were whipped, humiliated, and other-wise punished. When the Indians later resisted the destruction of their nativ~ religious paraphernalia, some multioffenders were hanged. Joe Savilla, who with his wife, Peggy, heads the ministry to Native Amei-icans in the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, has begun to call these latter Indians martyrs. Coercion also invaded the Indian workday. The massive churches--sandstone set in adobe mud, with huge roof beams brought from mountains many miles away--were constructed with conscripted labor from the pueblos. To make matters even more unpalatable, men were often required tO do what they con-sidered women's work, for instance, plastering walls. In addition, the Pueblo Indians were expected to support the missions with food and other necessities. The NIexican government's economic system added to these burdens by awarding to local Spaniards tribute exacted from the native peoples in the form of labor, corn, blankets, hides, and so forth. By J680 the Spanish colonials and missionaries had so alien-ated the native peoples that they revolted. When the friars refused to leave, twenty-three out of thirty-one of them were killed along with about three hundred colonists; the remainder were driven out'of the area. Father Ed Savilla, a Pueblo Indian and pastor at Tats Pueblo, calls the 1680 revolt a spiritual power struggle between the Indian spiritual leaders and the missionaries. After the Spanish returned and regained control (1692-1698), coercion eased. Nevertheless, about 1773 Father Joaqu~n de Jestis noted: The petty governor and the lieutenant have their places at the door so that people may not leave during the hour of prayer and Mass. When all are in their places,., the father takes atten-dance to see whether everyone is there . If anyone is missing, the petty governor goes to fetch him. If he is not in the pueblo., he is punished on the following Sunday. The pueblos responded to these policies by taking their native practices underground, literally in some cases because kivas were at least in part below the ground. Anthropologists like Edmund Spicer describe their present pattern of belief as compartmental-ization, the practice of two religions kept separate. Ed Savilla thinks a better term to desEribe the relationship between their two beliefs is "parallel." A Pueblo woman told me that she wor-ships the one God in two ways, but she values the Eucharist above 832 Review for Religious all else. A Taos man, who spoke at the 1992 conference on Indian spirituality in Santa Fe, described his native and Catholic beliefs as interwoven. When I questioned him further, he answered that this description, he felt, fitted the majority of his people. Joe Sando, who was raised in Jemez Pueblo and still main-tains ties with the village, summarizes the beliefs of his people in his latest book, Pueblo Nations: Eight Centuries of Pueblo Indian History (1992): Elements of Catholic ritual that have been accepted are: worship on Sundays and receiving the various sacraments, confirmation, baptism, weddings, and the native social dances of the saints' days, Christmas, and Easter. These rit-uals are now accepted as traditional Pueblo social and cul-tural patterns. When I questioned him in an interview concerning what Catholic teachings Pueblos might disagree with, he said he knew of none. Presumably he is acquainted with at least the basic Catholic doctrines since he is a graduate of the Jemez mission school. Is the Pueblo culture in any way transforming the Catholic Church in New Mexico? If the interiors of the churches are any evidence, the answer is "a little." The old church at Zuni is being decorated with life-size representations of Zuni ceremonial figures. A church or two have been painted with Indian designs and have bowls of corn meal at the feet of statues. The interiors of most of them are old European in style. If the liturgies are any evidence of Pueblo cultural influence on the church, the answer is "very little" except on major feast days. Then the statues are carried in wocession after Mass to a shrine in one of the plazas, and the dancing begins. The Mass itself, homily and all, does not incorporate Indian elements, even when the readings could be linked to Indian spirituality. On the other hand, Sister Ann Rosalia Sazbo and the Tewa choir at San Juan Pueblo have translated sung parts of the Mass into Tewa and set the words to music. The factor that seems to make the biggest difference in the amount of interculturation that has occurred is the residency or nonresidence of a priest in the pueblo. These pieces of evidence are externals only, but if they are so slight, it is unlikely that much interculturation is taking place on a deeper level. The whole church would be much richer if authentic interculturation did occur. Even a little understanding November-December 1992 833 Taufer ¯ Inculturation of the Indian belief in the interdependence of all creatures would make a big difference in the American way of living. The Pueblo Indian believes that, if you intend to kill an animal, you have to let it know why and ask for understanding. An unusual instance of this realization was thd 1980 grasshopper invasion of the Rio Grande Valley. The elders advised their people: "Talk to them, tell them to have mercy. Tell them to eat, but to remember that we have children to feed too. Ask them to go on to another place and do not make war on them." Many Pueblos used the wooden plow long after the iron plow was introduced by the Spaniards. The wooden plow was gentler to Mother Earth because it did not scar so deeply. Ironically, a headline in the 29 June 1992 i~sue of Time states: "The plow is being displaced by new technique that protects the land." Another headline reads: "By the year 2000 no-till farming will be used in 80 percent of the cropland. It will be the greatest change in agri-culture in 100.years." The Pueblo Indians strive also for harmony among them-selves. They regard a schism in the village as the worst of evil. They believe that striving for wealth, social prestige, or personal power can weaken the harmony in the village. Often persons will refuse an office until they can no longer hold out against those urging acceptance. Traditionally, personal excellence is not regarded as success. When Maria Martfnez rediscovered the lost secret of black pottery for which she became world famous, she shared it with others without asking for any compensation. One's place depends upon fulfilling communal obligations. Surely the rest of us can learn from such attitudes even if we prefer not to imitate them in detail. There is no part of their culture that I have experienced more than their practice of sharing. The Bureau of Indian Affairs tried to stamp out their practice of it because the authorities regarded it as improvident. Nevertheless, the "throw" persists to this day. I was invited to be present for one at Laguna when the family was celebrating the name days of several members. Several persons stood on the rooftop and threw food and household items to a cr6wd of two hundred or more gathered below. Another sharing custom occurs on important feast days: families invite friends and strangers into their homes for a meal as a special prayer offering in honor of the day. This custom was explained to me by a young man when he realized that it was my first time to have been 834 Revieiv for Religious extended an invitation. Later I was glad that I did not linger too long, when I learned that courtesy requires that you leave so as to make room for others to be seated. On Christmas Day a Pueblo man at the rear door of Santo Domingo Church was giving each visitor a loaf of oven bread. When I asked if I could give something in return, he suggested a donation to the church. The visitor register showed that people from all over--Canada, Mexico, the Netherlands, Switzerland, New Zealand, Morocco, and so forth--had experienced that day the Indian gift of sharing. Later that year a woman I had just met invited me to visit her home in Santa Clara Pueblo. As I was leaving, she gave me a black-on-black pot that she had made. Greatest, however, of all their gifts is the example of a life permeated by religious beliefs. At Jemez State Monument a plaque reads: "We have no word for 'religion.' We have a spiritual life that is part of us 24 hours a day; it deter-mines our relation with the natural world and our fellow man." The Pueblo Indians engaged in many struggles with the American government because of their determination to main-tain traditions essential to the practice of their beliefs. In 1924 Charles Burke, commissioner of Indian Affairs, ordered the erad-ication of some observances which he regarded as sadistic and obscene. In response the council of all the New Mexico Pueblos issued a formal declaration: "Our religion to us is sacred and is more important than anything else in life . There is no future for the race of Indians if its religion is killed." When the American government wanted to incorporate into public lands the sacred Blue Lake of Taos, the elders refused to accept all arrangements, including those reimbursing them for lost lands, until in 1971 Blue Lake was returned to them. What Joseph E. Brown says of the Native American in gen-eral can be applied to the Pueblo Indian in particular: 'We have no word for "religion." We have a spiritual life that is part of us 24 hours a day.' With the American Indian we are dealing ultimately with a quality of culture wherein action and contemplation are interrelated and integrated . It may be said that special rituals and ceremonials, as well as the routine of daily life, Novevnber-Deceraber 1992 835 Taufer ¯ Inculturation constitute meditative acts that open to the exceptional per-son at least possibilities of pure contemplation. The dance, as a form of worship, is as ancient as their legends and has roots deeply embedded in their traditions, stories, poetry, and whole way of life. Students of their way of life have been much impressed by the depth to which the dance has entered into their spirituality. The Pueblos dance for all the important com-munal needs and occasions of the year: spring planting, harvest-ing, feasts of the Catholic Church year, installation of their officials, hunting, and so forth. The very young and the very old participate by the hundreds in the most common of the dances, the Corn Dance. In times past the men in a pueblo spent a major portion of their lives in native religious duties. Such is not the case today because of changes in pueblo economy and ways of earning a liv-ing. It is virtually impossible today for a non-Pueblo person to examine their religious life closely enough to verify statements such as these. Pueblo secrecy concerning their indigenous reli-gious practices stems from two principal sources. There is a deep-rooted belief among them that "power talked about is power lost." Some of them tell how informants died soon after they had given away their power by divulging secrets to anthropologists. Secondly, resentment persists at the conduct of the church, the government, and anthropologists. Church and government tried to eradicate many Pueblo practices while anthropologists enhanced their professional reputations and finances by writing about guarded details of Pueblo life. Pueblo Nations states: "The traditional Pueblo framework still remains. However, judging from this writer's traditional upbringing, it is rapidly disintegrat-ing in the face of a new order and a new lifestyle." At the 1991 conference on Indian spirituality, a young Pueblo man suggested very tentatively that perhaps the Pueblos should open secret ceremonies to priests and sisters so that they might better understand the Pueblo people. An elderly woman, a devout Catholic, emphatically rejected this suggestion because the Pueblos would then have nothing that was just their own. At the 1992 conference Sister Jose Hobday, mindful of their reticence, urged them gently to share their gifts. Father Matthew Fox, among others, has indicated the type of dialogue, the type of interculturation, that could tak.e place between Indian cultures and the Catholic faith. Pueblo people 836 Review for Religious have told me, "He talks like an Indian." Fox advocates "panen-theism," which emphasizes that "God is in everything and every-thing is in God." He condemns the dualistic mentality that sets up a subject-object mentality leading to manipulation of other crea-tures, puts one's feelings against one's thoughts, and divides a per-son into body and soul. He prefers an approach to the universe based on the cycles of nature rather than on a "mythical state of perfection in the past." For dialogue to be truly intercul-turation, the Catho-lic Church needs to examine a number of important teach-ings in the light of Native American experience, espe-cially the role of Jesus and the mission of the church. Carl Starkloff expressed the need well: Christian Indians "seek. a deeper penetration of Christianity into areas where, because of the missionaries' lack of imagination or knowledge, the church has never gone." Jesus needs to be shown free of the overtones of Western cul-ture. That necessity has long been recognized, but much more needs to be done about it. In addition, among the Pueblo Indians, and probably others, the role of Jesus as savior meets obstacles. The traditional Pueblo view regards the hereafter as similar to life on earth and as generally independent of the good or evil a person has done in the here and now. This view seems to leave lit-tle room for repentance and reconciliation with a God who willed Christ's sacrifice on the cross. The traditional Indian sees evil as excess and imbalance for which each person answers to the com-munity. The Pueblos find it difficult to understand how the death of one person centuries ago could affect their chief obligations designed to bring food, well-being, harmony, and protection to the village. The church's mission to teach all nations puzzles many Native Americans. They believe that the Great Spirit has entrusted to For dialogue to be truly interculturation, the Catholic Church needs to examine a number of important teachings in the light of Native American experience, especially the role of Jesus and the mission of the church. Novonber-December 1992 837 Taufer ¯ Inculturation them beliefs that they are to adhere to and guard. He has done the same, they say, for other peoples because he understands their needs and environment, and so there is no point to or need for conversion. Interculturation is an ongoing process, and the quincentennial could stimulate a real dialogue between Native American culture and the Catholic faith, leading to a mutual transformation through clarifying the truth in each. It could also serve the cause of justice by giving both groups their due: respect for the persons involved and for the truth that is in them. As Max Warren has said, "Our first task in approaching another people, another culture, another religion, is to take off our shoes, for the place is holy; else . . . we may forget that God was there before our arrival." Dialogue obviously requires not only that we approach and arrive, but also that we be truly present among the people. I hear again and again from Native Americans--from Hispanics too-- that church ministers are not present among them, that we remain closed away in our convents, rectories, and offices. They regard our absence as a sign of an aloof and superior attitude. Respect for and presence among persons of another culture is essential to interculturation, whether that culture is different from our own because of race, nationality, economic level, religion, sex, or age. Bibliography Brown, Joseph Epes. The Spiritual Legacy of the American Indian. New York: Crossroad, 1982. Department of Education, U.S. Catholic Conference. Faith and Culture. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1987. Starkloff, Carl T. The People of the Center: American Indian Religion and Christianity. New York: Paulist Press, 1974. 838 Review for Religious ALAN ALTANY Jewish-Catholic Dialogue since Vatican II Tmhe Second Vatican Council of the Roman Catholic Church arks for many people 'the .beginning of a significan~ change in the church's relati6ns with Jud.aism, a change away from excltisiveness and triumphalism to a more dialogic and apprecia-tive attitude towards Judaism as a living.and holy religious tradi-tion. From the Jewish point of view, this development has b~en seen as a beginning, but certainly not a completed process. It is the intention here not to discuss this ongoing dialogue chronologically up to the present, but to examine the nature of it, even the the-ology of it at times. It is important to emphasize how both Jews and Catholics approach the dialogue, bringing to it their own positions, and what dynamics the continuation of the dialogue will involve. From the historical record it is apparent that the Jewish peo-ple have been the victims of two millennia of persecution, oppres-sion, and capitai crime at the hands of Christians. The Jewish people know this s.tory and its trail'of wounds, but Catholics have too often ignored it; "ignorance of and negative attitudes toward the Jews permeate each on~ of us."~ As the Jewish writer Henry Siegmah has said, "Anti-Semitism from the first century to the twentieth century is a Christian creation and a Christian respon-sibility.'' 2 When one side of a dialogue has exercised political, social, and economic control over the other side for much of history, a Alan Altany is assistant professor of religious studies at Marshall University. His address is Department of Religious Studies; Marshall University; 400 Hal Greer Boulevard; Huntington, West Virginia 25755. November-DeceTnber 1992 839 Altany ¯ ffewisb-Catbolic Dialoffue buildup of trust is necessary if the dialogue is not to be taken by the minority side as a further means of control and domination. The Jewish people have had to face this problem in the context of suffering, for "no doubt the memory of Jewish suffering at the hands of the church makes it difficult for Jews to take as seriously as they should their own classical affirmation of the religious worth of Christianity.''3 One person who went a long way in developing the needed trust and love was Pope John XXIII, even though he died in 1963 before the council he had called was completed (1962-1965) and before the declaration on the Jewish religion was issued. The Jewish author Arthur Gilbert has written that "certainly no pope had communicated as clear and consistent an attitude of friend-ship toward the Jewish people and Judaism in all of history as had Pope John XXIII.''4 The very fact of dialogue can be considered an advance over earlier times, although not everyone agreed that there should be such communication or what the nature of it should be if it did occur. On the one hand there was the position of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, leader of the American Orthodox Jews: "Jews need not withdraw from cooperation on social problems, but there is no value at all in theological conversation, nor, for that makter, is such conversation possible.''s The conservative Catholic theolo-gians who wanted to maintain the old triumphalism in theology were also very skeptical of dialogue, for they felt they could gain little from it, having theologically denied the living worth of Judaism. Martin Buber has spoken about a different perspective on dia-logue, each group living in the heart of its own faith while appre-ciating the other: "It behooves both you [Christians] and us to hold inviolably fast to our own true faith, that is, to our own deepest relationship to truth. It behooves both of us to show a religious respect for the true faith of the other.''6 Another prominent Jewish thinker, Abraham Heschel, has also addressed the nature of dialogue, saying that we should not seek to expose the inner mystery of our faith to the other; rather, "the supreme issue is whether we are alive or dead to the challenge and expectation of the living God.''7 The Jewish perspective is emphasized here, for the church needs to see its historical perse-cution of Jews with great honesty; "while there are notable excep-tions . . . the history of the church's persecution of Judaism and 840 Review for Religious the Jewish people is even today not part of the consciousness of the church.''8 The dynamics of the dialogue are theologically and historically unique and must be understood. For a dialogue to be authentic, its participants must know the history both of the rel.ationship between Jews and Christians and of the anti-Semitism which has afflicted that encounter. Jews involved in the dialogue tend to emphasize this history of oppression whereas Christians have been inclined to focus upon the theological aspects of the relationship. From the time of the Vatican Council II, there has been a renewed look at the history of Jewish-Christian relations. Jews have wanted to remind Christians that to know this history is a moral responsibility because "the Christian experience of salvation has., been disconnected from the peo-plehood of Israel and the fate of the community of Israel through-out the ages.''9 There has been an abyss of Christian unawareness of the lived history of the Jewish community. The dialogue has caused the question to arise whether the interpretation of the Christian Scriptures needs some revision to remove ideas that, over the centuries, led to anti-Semitism. The Patristic period is important in this discussion, "for the [church] Fathers made no effort to understand the Judaism of their age on its terms, and certainly none to recognize in the Synagogue an authentic, if non-Christian, form of biblica! religion . The old wineskins cannot suffice. The new wine, flowing in the consciousness of post-Auschwitz theologians, must seek more suitable wineskins for its ferment.''~° Isolated and oppressed, the Jewish communities through the ages have been involved in a history of tragedy that deeply influ-ences the Jewish perspective on the dialogue. Rabbi Agus reminds us that "to put one community outside the pale of humanity as being at once charged with a metaphysical sin and condemned to an inscrutable fate is to lay the groundwork for the madness of mythological anti-Semitism." ~ Rosemary Ruether says it simply: "This very suppression of Jewish history and experience from 'The supreme issue is whether we are alive or dead to the challenge and expectation of the living God.' November-December 1992 841 Altany ¯ Jewish-Catholic Dialogue Christian consciousness is tacidy genocidal. What it says, in effect, is that Jews have no further right to exist after Jesus.''~z After becoming more familiar with the realities of history, the Christians in the dialogue have been confronted with Judaism as a living religion, a heritage of faith that does not define itself within Christian ~heological thought. This is at the very heart of the Catholic-Jewish discussion, for it says that the two religions, while sharing a unique relationship, are two separate religions that need to define themselves on their own terms, not on those of the other. Christians have had the major share of clarification to do here: "Christians must be ~ble to accept the thesis that it is not necessary for Jews to have the story about Jesus in order to have a foundation of faith and a hope for salvation.'''3 This amounts to Catholics realizing tha.t "Judaism can develop an inter gral self-definition without direct reference to. Christianity, while Christianity of nec.essity must include Judaism as a reference point in its self-definition.''~4 In the past a refusal or inability to see this reality has led Christian theologians to declare Judaism an essentially dead religion, serving only as a sterile witness to Christianity. The dialogue has brought this religious exclusivism into the light of criticism where it is understood' that Judaism can define itself without reference to Christianity: "Judaism does not usually define itself in relation to Christianity at all. Ra,ther, it represents an autonomous biblical religion which has passed through many stages, of growth quite independent of Christian assumptions concerning its character.''Is The Catholic Church's official statement on relations with Judaism is included in the council's Declaration on the Relationship of the Church to Non-Christian Religions.16 The final version was weakened in content from the original draft because of pressure from conservative bishops a.nd those bishops from Arab countries who said they feared reprisals against Christians in their countries if the statement was very strongly appreciative of Judai.sm's worth and herit.age. The major watering down of the statement was the decision not to include an explicit condemnation of charging the Jews with "deicide." !t was further criticized for a lack of penitential expression of Christian respon-sibility for persecution: "In vain does one search the Declaration of Vatican II for the slightest positive sign of Christian penite.nce. Because none is present, a.n opportunity of the century was betrayed.''~7 Another deficiency is noted by Henr~ Siegman, who 842 Review for Religious writes that "the failure of the Vatican Guidelines (1975)18 to deal with the theological dimension of the Jewish relationship to the land of Israel constitutes a grievous omission.''19 Yet Rabbi Siegman does say that the two major statements from the Vatican on relations with Jews signal a new spirit of respect and compas-sion that "bracket the past decade [ca. 1965-1975] like a set of bookends,''2° with the Declaration on Non- Christian Religions (Nostra Aerate) "marking a turning point in the history of the Catholic Church and the Jewish people.''2' The Guidelines, although a full decade passed before they were issued, speak more strongly than the conciliar statement about the vitality of Judaism when they state that "the history of Judaism did not end with the destruction of Jerusalem, but rather went on to develop a religious tradition . . . rich in religious values.''z2 We return here to our real theme, that the Jewish-Catholic dialogue must revolve around the realization that each tradition is a vital religion offering a path to God for its members. This recognition is also found in the statement of the U.S. bishops on Catholic-Jewish relations, where there is an exhorta-tion that homilists and liturgists "promote among the Catholic people a genuine appreciation of the special place of the Jewish people as God's first-chosen in the history of salvation and in no way slight the honor and dignity that is theirs,m3 The French bishops had issued in 1973 their own statement putting Nostra Aerate in a developmental perspective: "The posi-tion taken b.y, the Second Vaucan Councd should be considered a beginning rather than a final.achievement.''z4 This document goes on to demand Christian acceptance of the religious identity and spirituality of Judaism: "The Jewish people must not be looked upon by Christians as a mere social and historical reality, but most of all as a religious one; not as the relic of a venerable and finished past but as a reality alive through the ages.''25 The French bish-ops also said that, "far from envisaging the disappearance of the Jewish community, the church is in search of a living bond with 1t."26 A block to such a bond in the past has been the Christian focus of its relationship with Judaism on a theological level. By Each tradition is a vital religion offering a path to God for its members. Novernber-Decentber 1992 843 Altany ¯ Jewish-Catholic Dialogue that is meant a Christian theological perspective that saw no pres-ent validity in Judaism because Jews have not accepted Jesus as the Messiah. This has been coupled with the disasterously false accu-sation of "Christ killers" and the resultant "theology of curse," in which the Jews were thought to be cursed by God throughout the ages for their refusal to accept Jesus as the Jewish Messiah. The notion ofservitusJudaeorum, of Jews being destined to suf-fer always in this era of salvation history, grew very deep roots. Christians no longer related to Jews as to authentically religious people, but to a negative legend of Jewishness that arose from the dark depths and persistence of anti-Semitism. What has the Jewish-Catholic dialogue done to transform this situation? Discussions of the relation between Jews, Christians, and covenant took place. The French bishops said that "the First Covenant was not made invalid by the Second.''27 Monika Hellwig's attitude on this issue is that "living out the implications of contemporary theology may make Christians look a great deal more like Jews, and they may discover that they are after all one tree with them, rooted in the one covenant."z8 What is the relationship between the Jewish and the Christian covenant(s)? What does "chosen people" mean? What is the rela-tion between the church and Israel? These are theological ques-tions that are beyond the scope of this discussion, but they do suggest the need for a continuation of the dialogue into the 2 1st century and for ongoing theologizing to interpret past and present positions and to develop new insights and opportunities for deeper cooperation and dialogue. Coloring all of the discussions between Catholics and Jews are, and must be, the two pivotal realities for all Jews (and in a real sense for all Christians), the Holocaust and the founding of the modern state of Israel. In the consciousness of the Jewish partic-ipants, these realities have been constant factors determining the nature and direction of the dialogue itself. The deadly irony was that, by denying the living status of Judaism and of the Jewish people as still "chosen," the Christian churches down through history contributed to the brutal "choos-ing" of the Jews for persecution. This was the background for the evil of the Holocaust. Rabbi Agus speaks of an expanded under-standing of "chosen" when he says: "It seemed that there could be only one Chosen People, and all who were not so chosen would be cast into outer darkness. Today many of us interpret 'chosen- 844 Review for Religious ness' in the sense of an example, not of an exception. The greater the number of people covenanting with the Lord, the better.''29 The ages-long Christian exclusion of the Jews from the main-stream of Christian theological understanding, in the sense of refutingJudaism's authenticity as a living religion, built the foun-dations for persecutions, for the Holocaust. The Catholic John Pawlikowski has said that "Hitler and his collaborators could never have attained the heights they did if it were not for the centuries-long tradition of anti-Semitism in Christian theology and preaching.''3° The Holocaust is at the end of an ancient and tenaciously tri-umphalistic tradition of anti- Judaism and anti-Semitism. "The Holocaust acted out the church's fantasy that the Jews were a nonpeople, that they had no place before God, and that they should have disap-peared long ago by accepting Christ.''31 The Holocaust incorporates all the acts of hostility, barbarity, and fearsome hatred that Christians have enacted against the Jews over the centuries. Without such a historical founda-tion, it is very unlikely that the Holocaust could have been carried out by the pagan Nazis. The dialogue has encouraged a radical look at the Holocaust and has encouraged the incipient efforts to seek its meaning for Jews and all peoples. Rabbi Irving Greenberg sees the Holocaust as revealing an existential division within Christianity: "The redemption and revelation of Christianity is inescapably contra-dicted by the constellation of its classic understanding of Judaism.''32 This division within the Christian theological inter-pretations could, through wisdom and compassion in the dia-logue, be critically transformed. The dreadful absurdity of the Holocaust is portrayed by Rabbi Greenberg when he says that, "were Jesus and his mother alive in Europe in the 1940s, they would have been sent to Auschwitz.''33 Generations of Jews and Christians will have the responsi-bility to reflect upon its causes and meaning, although its mean- Coloring all of the discussions between Catholics and Jews are the two pivotal realities: the Holocaust and the founding of the modern state of Israel. November-December 1992 845 /litany ¯ Jewish-Catholic Dialogue ing escapes all logical analysis. From the Catholic viewpoint, the church must keep the Holocaust in its consciousness. Gregory Baum sees it as revelation that must be incorporated into the church's own understanding of itself, an encounter that is a turn-ing point for the church's vision of itself.34 The Holocaust is coupled in Jewish awareness with the found-ing of the modern state of Israel after World War II. It was men-tioned earlier that the Vatican Guidelines were criticized for their failure to address the vital relationship between the Jewish peo-ple and the land of Israel. The importance of this failure is high-lighted when the Jewish position is made clear that Israel rose from the ashes of the death camps: "Israel's faith in the God of History demands that an unprecedented event of destruction [the Holocaust] be matched by an unprecedented act of redemption, and this has happened [the establishment of the state of Israeli.''3s In the dialogue this Jewish attachment to a particular place has reminded Christians, who may overly tend toward abstract uni-versalisms, that people live in place and time, that their religious heritages are founded and developed within history. Christians have faith in the person of Jesus, not in some neutral, impersonal force. So, too, Jews regard Israel in a very personal and commu-nal way; it is the "place" of the people of the covenant and has a crucial role in the salvation of the people. "One Jewish scholar in an. address to a Christian audience said that 'for us Jews Israel is our Jesus.'''36 Israel remains a top-priority issue in the dialogue. Each one of the issues mentioned so far, such as covenant, the Holocaust, Israel, and the church documents could have been the topic for this whole discussion. However, they have been men-tioned briefly as the necessary foundation for the main purpose, to discuss the very core of the Jewish-Catholic dialogue, which is the awareness and appreciation of one's own faith and of the reli-gious tradition and faith of the other. From here we will deal with one of the main dialogic developments that may prove to be a means of drawing Jews and Catholics (and all Christians) into more theological communication in the future and of helping Jews and Christians address in solidarity the human task of being human. The development has to do with the interpretation of redemption and eschatology, that is, the final events of salvation history. Christians have always announced that the messianic age was here, that the kingdom of God was activated and present in Christ. Review for Religious The Jews have responded by pointing out the window at the suf-fering and evil still present in the world--so how could the mes-sianic times be here? It is on this point that the Jewish-Catholic dialogue has wrestled theologically, and we can look at some of the early results of that intimate and intense grappling. The French bishops have said: "Though Jews and Christians accomplish their vocation along dissimilar lines, history shows that their paths cross incessantly. Is not the messianic time their common concern?''37 For Jews Israel has a crucial role in the mes-sianic reality of building the kingdom of God through God's ini-tiation and responsive human participation. Israel became the center of the hope for messianic fulfillment for the Jews and all peoples. Rabbi Agus says that in Jewish awareness Israel is a "part of the universal messianic vision''38 and that "in modern Israel the ~fterglow of the messianic mystique is a potent reality, and Jews the world over respond to its perennial allure . ,,39 This was the expression of an "Israel-centered eschatology [that] favored the rebuilding of a Jewish state as a further step in the fulfillment of the messianic hope for all mankind.''4° "Fulfillment has become a centering point in the dialogue.''4~ It is fascinating that, in a relationship so often stained with blood (Jewish blood) in the past, a new relationship of compassion and plain humanity is being encouraged and formed through dis-cussion of the future and through eschatological theology: "This eschatological turn [new focus on eschatology by Christians] has brought the Church closer to the Synagtgue: both Jews and Christians now yearn for the messianic days when God will tri-umph over the power of darkness.''42 Rosemary Ruether speaks of unfulfilled and fulfilled redemp-tion. This approach opens doors for dialogue, including a look by Christians at what they mean by the parousia, the second com-ing of Christ. For Christians the present age is not yet completely fulfilled messianically, and the hope remains for a future fulfill-ment at Christ's return. In his introduction to Ruether's Faith and Fratricide, Gregory Baum addresses this future hope of fulfill-ment: ". the incompleteness of present redemption. Jesus is a significant beginning, an irreversible turning point, and a promise for future fu!fillment . The early Christians had a special vocab-ulary'for speaking about the unfinished character of the present redemption: they spoke of the second coming.''43 Pinchas Lapide and Hans Kiing engaged in a Jewish-Catholic November-December 1992 847 /litany ¯ Jewish-Catholic Dialogue dialogue, and a couple of their discussions are pertinent here, as well as displaying the warmth and humor necessary for dialogue to flourish. First K~ing, the Catholic: "We would also agree with you in this decisive argument which is continually raised by Jews against the Christian message: that redemption in the sense of consummation is not yet truly present . lit is] in this sense [that] Jesus Christ . . . announced this kingdom.''44 Lapide, the Jew, later said: "You are waiting for the parousia; with you, too, the fullness of the redemption is still in the future; I await its coming, but the second coming is also a coming. If the Messiah comes and then turns out.to be Jesus of Nazareth, I would say that I do not know of any Jew in this world who would have anything against it.''4s It is significant that Jews and Catholics can agree that redemp-tion will be further realized and fulfilled in the future through the revealed and mysterious action of a saving God, as shown by their acknowledgment that "the eschatological tension has not been resolved. What may be expected in the messianic fulfillment has not yet become manifest in the world . The messianic event should be seen as lengthy, complex, unfinished, and mys-terious." 46 For the Catholic Church, theologizing in this way can open up directions for and development of a theology of, and for the purpose of, dialogue with Judaism. Such a theology can help to melt the religious exclusivity and transform triumphalism into cooperation. The Christian can remain Christian and not suc-cumb to some kind of syncretism or eclecticism, while still seeing that God graces all humanity. The old "no salvation outside the church" (extra ecclesiam nulla salus) used as a weapon for con-demning all non-Catholics becomes an historical relic that can be buried. Our age is a time of new openings for dia!ogue among religions, and people begin to see more clearly that God's love touches, all human beings: "Since the divine redemption is not finished in Jesus, except by way of anticipation, the church is not the unique vehicle of grace: room remains in world history for other ways of grace, for many religions, and in particular for the other biblical faith, for Judaism.''47 Of course, Jews do not need to be told that Judaism is a vehicle of God's grace, but it helps for Christians, too, to have this understanding. So we return here to what was stated at the beginning, that the dialogue needs to be conducted with mutual appreciation Of each 848 Review for Religious other's religion, with special emphasis given, because of the his- .torical realities, to a Christian awareness of Judaism as a living and holy religious heritage. In looking at the Church's Guidelines document, Rabbi Siegman has written that "the Guidelines are the first Catholic document on the highest level of authority that view Judaism as a rich and vital religious movement in the period following the rise of Christianity as well [that is, not only in pre- Christian, patriarchal times]."qs Then in 1985 the Vatican's Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews pub!ished a document called "The Jews and Judaism in Preaching and Catechesis," Without such awareness by Catholics that Judaism has been and continues to be a living religious tradition, there could be no dialogue at all. But a change in the negative momentum of two millennia begins as Catholicism sees that God comes to the Jews through the Jewish religion, that God does hear the prayers of the Jews. Baum has said it clearly: "God continues to operate in the Jewish people. Christians must regard the Jewish re!igion as an authentic, God-inspired, supernatural worship of the one'true God.''49 History must be remembered; Jews and Catholics must remember and must envision new possibilities. Auschwitz and hope must be permanent parts of consciousness. For just as "no Jew is likely to forget Auschwitz, . . . no Christian can afford to blot its horror from his memory, for theology, like history, has changed its character, and nothing can reverse the situation.''s° By studying the traditions of rabbinic Judaism and learning the teachings of the Jewish sages, Catholics can be enriched; they can discover this living wisdom and faith. By taking a fresh look at Jesus and by studying the Christian sages of spirituality, Jews can be enriched; they can discover this living wisdom and faith. For Christians Jesus himself is their Jewish point of contact for "Jesus the Jew thought as a Jew, loved as a Jew, . . . suffered as a Jew, and died a Jew. It is impossible to understand Jesus without under-standing his Jewish concept of God's people and of God's covenant with his people.''51 The dialogue is thus not simply a work for small groups of A theology can help melt religious exclusivity and transform triumphalism into cooperation. November-December 1992 849 Altany ¯ Jewish.-Catholic Dialogue theologians. It has become part of the religious atmosphere, a process that surely is still at an early stage of progress. Yet steadily, implicitly or explicitly, the dialogue has meaning. Rabbi Siegman has said: "Given his or her own self-understanding, the Christian cannot avoid being confronted by the persistence 6f a living, thriv-ing Judaism. That living reality poses for the Christian the ques-tion of ultimate truth, and that is what makes the dialogue necessary and compelling.''52 And the dialogue demands action, especially from Catholics as they reconceive history. How can there re.ally be dialogue if there is an absence of genuine Catholic repentanc.e? How can the dialogue continue into the future with-out moral reconciliation? "Professor [Friedrich] Heer [a Catholic] asks: 'How is this church of ours to answer, today and tomorrow and the day after, for what she has done over these two thousand years to Jesus the Jew, to his people, to mankind, and to herself?.' V~e must confess our sin; we must ask God's forgiveness and that of the world community of Israel. But we must also perform deeds of reconciliation.''53 The time is now past when the facts about persecution of Jews by Christians over the course of history, facts deeply infused in Jewish experience, can be absent from Christian conscious-ness. Any claim to ignorance of such tragedies has no more excuse. Contemporary Jewish and Catholic theologies need to be devel-oped in the burning reality and memory of the Holocaust. M1 of this means that the dialogue demands radical reformation and compassion; Jews and Catholics mus~ recognize in each other a witness to God's saving love: "To be a b!essing unto people and a light unto nations is to be Israel. Toward that vocation both Christians and Jews feel themselves called. May we be worthy of our name.''54 Notes ~ Eugene Fisher, Faith Without Prejudice (New York: Paulist Press, 1977), p. 14. "[That] the church can understand its own nature only in dia-logue with a living Judaism is literally breathtaking to one who knows the history of the dark days of suspicion and polemics" (p. 27). 2 Henry Siegman, "A Decade of Catholic-Jewish Relations: A Reassessment," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 15, no. 2 (spring 1978): 249. 3 Ibid, p. 254. 4 Arthur Gilbert, The Vatican Council and the Jews (Cleveland: Word Publishing Co., 1968), p. 85. 850 Review for Religious s lbid, p. 125. 6 Ben Zion Bokser, Judaism and the Christian Predicament (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1967), p. 377. 7 Siegman, "A Decade of Catholic-Jewish Relations," p. 246. 8 Ibid, p. 248. 9 Monika Hellwig, "From the Jesus of Story to the Christ of Dogma," in Anti-Semitism and the Foundations of Christianity, Alan T. Davies, ed. (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), p. 126. 10 Alan T. Davies, Anti-Semitism and the Christian Mind (New York: Herder & Herder, 1969), p. 90. 1~ Jean Dani~lou, Dialogue with Israel (Baltimore: Helicon, 1968), p. 121. Rabbi Jacob Agus wrote a response to the views of Dani~lou in the book. 12 Rosemary Ruether, Faith and Fratricide (New York: Seabury Press, 1974), p. 258. 13 Ibid, p. 256. ~4 John Pawlikowski, "The Contemporary Jewish-Christian Theological Dialogue Agenda," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 11, no. 4 (fall 1974): 608. "Despite their shared biblical heritage and other simi-larities, Judaism and Christianity are essentially distinct religions, each one emphasizing different but complementary aspects of our religious dimen-sion" (p. 605). is Davies, Anti-Semitism and the Christian Mind, p. 104. 16 The very phrase "non-Christian religions" gives a sense of at least implicit exclusivism. ~7 A. Roy Eckardt, Your People, My People (New York: New York Times Book Co., 1974), p. 51. 18 The council statement was issued in 1965, while "Guidelines and Suggestions for Implementing the Conciliar Declaration Nostra Aestate" (n. 4) was issued in 1975 by the Vatican Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews. 19 Siegman, "A Decade of Catholic-Jewish Relations," p. 251. 20 Henry Siegman, "An Overview of Christian-Jewish Relations," Jewish Digest 20, no. 9 (June 1976): 66. "There seems to have been no comparable developments of similar import for Christian-Jewish rela-tions during this entire decade in Protestant and Orthodox Christianity" (p. 66). 2, Ibid, p. 69. 22 Guidelines, 1975. 23 "Statement on Catholic-Jewish Relations by the U.S. National Conference of Catholic Bishops," November 1975, in Stepping Stones to FurtherJewish-Christian Relations, ed. Helga Croner (New York: Stimulus Books, 1977), p. 34. 24 Ibid, p. 60. "Statement by the French Bishops Committee for Relations with Jews," April 1973. November-December 1992 851 Altany ¯ Jewish-Catholic Dialogue 25 Ibid, p. 61. 26 Ibid, p. 64. 27 Ibid, p. 62. 28 Monika Hellwig, "Christian Theology and the Covenant of Israel," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 7, no. 1 (winter 1970): 51. 29 Dani6lou, Dialogue with lsrael, p. 113. 30 Pawlikowski, "Contemporary Jewish-Christian Agenda," p. 613. 31 Gregory Baum, "Catholic Dogma after Auschwitz," Anti-Semitism and the Foundations of Christianity, ed. Alan T. Davies (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), p. 142. "The church's negation of Jewish existence before God created symbols and produced an atmosphere in which it was pos-sible for Hitler to make the Jews a scapegoat for the ills of society, and count on much popular support for his anti-Semitic campaigns" (p. 139). 32 Irving Greenberg, "New Revelations and New Patterns in the Relationship of Judaism and Christianity," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 16, no. 2 (spring 1979): 257. "Never again should official badge or pro-fessed religious belief allow murderers to escape condemnation and excommunication or allow victims to be excluded from the circle of humanity. Surrendering religious exclusivism or triumphalism is a crucial moral step" (p. 260). 33 Ibid, p. 258. 34 Baum, "Catholic Dogma after Auschwitz," p. 141. 3s Greenberg, "New Revelations and New Patterns," p. 263. 36 Pawlikowski, "Contemporary Jewish-Christian Agenda," p. 599. 37 Croner, Stepping Stones to Further Jewish-Christian Relations, p. 65. 38 Jacob Agus, "Israel and Jewish-Christian Dialogue," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 6, no. 1 (1969): 31. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid, p. 18. 41 Ibid. 42 Baum, in Davies, ed., Anti-Semitism and the Foundations of Christianity, p. 147. 43 Ruether, Faith and Fratricide, p. 17. ~ Hans K~ing and Pinchas Lapide, "Is Jesus a Bond or Barrier? A Jewish-Christian Dialogue," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 14, no. 3 (summer 1977): 480. 45 Ibid, p. 482. 46 Hellwig, "Christian Theology and the Covenant of Israel," pp. 49-50. 47 Baum, in Ruether, Faith and Fratricide, p. 18. "Because Christianity proclaims an unfilled messianism, the church is not the only instrument that serves the coming of the final kingdom: there is room for other vehi-cles of grace" (p. 203). 48 Siegman, "A Decade of Catholic-Jewish Relations," p. 258. 852 Review for Religious 49 Gilbert, Vatican Council and the Jews, p. 207. "Today we encounter the divinely inspired tradition of a living Judaism as a tradition, like our own, 'rich in religious value'" (Fisher, Faith Without Prejudice, p. 7). so Davies, Anti-Semitism and the Christian Mind, p. 190. Sl Friedrich Heer, "The Catholic Church and Jews Today," Midstream 17, no. 5 (May 1971): 26. s2 Siegman, "A Decade of Catholic-Jewish Relations," p. 245. s3 Eckardt, Your People, My People, p. 250. s4 Gilbert, Vatican Council and the Jews, p. 242. Crib Chiaroscuro Always, by distance of darkness, You lay far as a star away. Always, the darkness was the gentle despair of knowing You were there, Your haloed-hair glowing against brown, slatted wood, but that I could not bridge that black of my own love-lack. Then, at my midnight moment of clarity when the sky of my spirit was spun by the sweet suddenness of Your smile to a cosmic charity-~even then I could not come near it, the crib reeling with a radiance too concealing. But now, dimmer than daystar at dawn, the crib is a pale glimmer of grace obscurity framing Your face and Your purity. I touch the Intangible. Marilyn Eynon Scott November-December 1992 853 PAUL F. HARMAN The Media and the Good News Raymond Carver, the widely acclaimed short-story writer from the Northwest who died just two years ago, gave one of his stories the title "Where I'm Calling From." Let me begin these remarks about formation and the communica6ons apostolate by telling you "where I'm call-ing from." In 1984 John O'Brien SJ, who was then the commu-nication secretary in the Roman curia of the Society of Jesus, wrote a position paper on "Jesuit Formation in Social Communication." He proposed introducing a com-munications component at every stage of the Society's for-mation process and sketched this out in some detail. His proposal met with only polite interest. Talking with Jack a few years later in Rome, I felt he was disappointed that there had not been more enthusiasm. Yet when I reread his proposal recently, it was clear that many of his recom-mendations had, in fact, found their way into the Jesuit formation program in the United States. Moreover, when Father Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, the superior general of the Society of Jesus, gave his "State of the Society" address to the provincials gathered at Loyola in 1991, he was able to report that "formation in communication for all Paul E Harman SJ is the Secretary for Formation for the Jesuit Conference in the United States. This article is the substance of an address he gave in Denver on 2 August 1992 to JESCOM, an association of Jesuits and their fellow workers in communi-cations apostolates. He can be addressed at Suite 300; 1424 16th Street N.W.; Washington, D.C. 20036. 854 Review for Religious scholastics is now becoming a fairly regular occurrence." The Jesuit major superiors of Africa and Madagascar, for example, have given their approval for an integrated program of training in communication covering the whole of Jesuit formation from novi-tiate to ordination. There is no lack of very clear and specific communications from all quarters about what formation should and should not be doing. In April 1992 the pope issued the official papal response to the 1990 Synod of Bishops on priestly formation. In November 1992 the U.S. bishops are looking at the fourth edition of "The Program for Priestly Formation," the document which is nor-mative for all seminaries and religious houses of priestly forma-tion in the United States; the revisions have taken almost two ~ears of committee work and gone through several drafts. Over the past eight years I have read at least forW pastoral letters, major addresses, and Roman documents--all published in Origins--on the identity, formation, education, spirituality, and ministry of priests. And, of course, there are the more controversial writings on Jesuit formation past, present, and future: Frank Houdek's "T.h.e Road Too Often Traveled,''1 Peter McDonough's Men Astutel.y Trained,2 and Joseph Becker's The Re-Formed Jesuits, vol-ume 1.3 (The latter two works, ~hough from different perspec-tives, look back with more than a little nostalgia to an older formation program and raise questions about the 9hanges intro-duced by the Second Vatican Council and General Congregations 31 and 32 of the Society.) If eight years ago formation personnel did not rush to imPle-ment every recommendation in Jack O'Brien's position paper, it was not for any lack of interest in or commitment to the com-munications apostolate. Rather it was because then, as now, those responsible for formation--perhaps this has always been and always will be the case--were concerned about "overload." The formation period is both too long .and too short. The list of all that needs to be accomplished in the space of the formation years g~'ows and grows and grows. There are, first of all, the "basics": formation in religious life, in community,, and in the spirituality of the order or congregation; introduction to its history, its traditions, and its varied aposto-lates. 'The essential academic studies of philosophy and theology demand large amounts of time as do the study of language, history, art, science, literature, economics, and psychology. And--along November-December 1992 855 Harman ¯ The Media and the Good News the way--issues of community life, interpersonal relationships, psychosexual development, addictions, and family disorders may need to be addressed. Can we do more in formation in the years between the novi-tiate and final profession? Of course we can, and we will because the times and circumstances demand it of us. Could we do for-mation, differently, so that it is not simply a matter of adding more and more components to a process that is al~'eady very long, con-sidering that the average entrance age is 26? Perhaps. There are always efforts in that direction. After eight years of looking at formation at close range, I am more and more inclined to think that we need to put less empha-sis on formation and more emphasis on mission. In doing so, we might discover that, in formation, less is definitely more. I was in the Far East earlier this year and met some of the novices and scholastics there; they were, on the average, about the same age as our novices and scholastics (that is, late twen-ties), generous, eager, intelligent, self-posses~ed, many of them with stories that I will not easily forget (as is true of our own entering novices in the United States). I listened intently to the discussions of formation issues in Korea, Indonesia, China, Vietnam, Japan, and Singapore, but I kept asking myself the same question that I ask here in the United States: Do we expect too much of formation? In my notebook I wrote: "Enough of forma-tion! Just ~et them free to become saints and martyrs. Mother Teresa says, 'Do something beautiful for God.' Here at home the Nike ads tell us, 'Just do it!'" So that is "where I'm calling from." Having said that we should talk less about formation and more about mission, let me say something about mission and the com-munications apostolate. If someone were to ask me to list the places in the text of the Exercises from which Jesuits over the centuries have drawn par-ticular energy and motivation for their lives, one of the first texts I would point to is §106 in the first contemplation of the first day of the Second Week. In this contemplation'on the incarnation, St. Ignatius proposes that the exercitant "see" all the people on the face of the earth "in such great diversity in dress and in manner of acting. Some are white, some black; some at peace, and some 856 ~Review for Religious at war; some weeping, some laughing, some well, some sick, some coming into the world, and some dying . " Put very simply, the exercitant is invited to look at the masses, not with the dis-passionate eye of the statistician or social scientist, but with the loving gaze of the Trinity. It is almost fifty years since a special Labor Day Weekend me~ting at West Baden, Indiana, of some 200 Jesuits gathered to assess the situation of the Society vis-a-vis the social situation in the United States. Peter McDonough makes much of this 1943 assembly in his book Men Astutely Trained. Unfortunately, there was nothing like JESCOM around then, but Father Dan Lord, who knew a thing or twO about the media, spoke forcefully aboui: reaching the masses, noting in passing that the Communist party in the United States showed more zeal in this respect than did the Society. (Jesuits seemed to rely more on the "trickle down" theory--focus-ing principally on the educational apostolate.) Many religious congregations, now more than ever, are becoming aware of a mission to reach the many, the masses, as well as the few. How do religious communities--all of us, not just those in formation--take i'esponsibility for this mission? Let me concentrate on one part of the mission, naniely, the Catholic masses. The Official Catholic Directory puts the number of bap-tized Roman Catholics in flae United States at almost 60 million; we are nearly one-fourth of the total population, and we are an increasingly diverse group. It has been said that Roman Catholics are now the only major religious denomination that truly has everybody in it. Now that is a mission with some challenge! Of the 60 million Catholics, 15 millionwa fourth of the Catholic population--are "inactive." Eighteen million Catholics have not attended Mass in any given month. The level of educa-tion among U.S. Catholics has risen dramatically in the last gen-eration and is actually slightly higher than the average national statistics; but young Catholics, for the

Issue 42.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1983. ; REVIEW FOR R~.L~c, lous (ISSN 0034-639X), published evcry 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. Rv.vw.w FOR REI.IGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1983 by R~.v~Ew ~:oR REIAG~OUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVI~:W I.'OR REHC.tOIIS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1983 Volume 42 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REWEW ~'OR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Oul of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms Intergational; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Trends in Religious Life Today John M. Lozano, C.M.F. On the evening of June 16, in joint sponsorship with St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS launched the fi~st of an annual series of lectures and colloquies on a subject of pertinence to religious life as such. The first lecture in this series, the basis of the present article, was given by Father John Lozano, already known to our readers as an author specializing in the history and theology of religious life. Father Lozano has taught at universities both here and abroad; he is presently superior of the Claretian house of studies in Chicago and teaches at the Catholic Theological Union there. He may be addressed at his residence: Claret House; 5540 S. Everett; Chicago, IL 60637. The following reflections are offered as a sort of aerial photograph of the most prominent features emerging on the landscape of the religious life. We will take a look at some of the main trends that seem to be shaping the future .of this landscape, and examine some of the main difficulties that its terrain presents for the religious traveler today. Many of these trends and difficulties seem to be closely interrelated. At the end of our survey we will concentrate on one major difficulty that seems to arise from causes that are more general than is sometimes supposed. I will be speaking mainly from the viewpoint of the northern hemisphere (North American and Europe), but my work in some other parts of the globe (Latin America, Australia and the Philippines) has shown that the same trends are emerging in broad areas throughout the Church. The rapidity of modern communications and the international outreach of books and reviews has tended to hasten the spread of ideas and attitudes from one continent to another. I base these reflections on my personal experience. During the last twenty years, which I have dedicated to studying the religious life and working with a broad spectrum of men's and women's religious communities, I have always striven to relate a theological vision of the religious life to the experiences that I 481 4119 / Review for Religious, July-August; 1983 and those I worked with were undergoing at the time. I have also had to pay close attention to what others were writing on these subjects. Naturally, my nearness to the phenomena I deal with (my own present) has been a somewhat mixed blessing: on the one hand, it has given me the immediacy of an "insider's" experience of these phenomena; on the other, it has been a real test of objectivity, since I had to write about them with a degree of passionate involvement. For this is a history we are all enjoying and suffering together~ In the exposition that follows, I have chosen not to separate trends in theology from trends in life, since common sense and all my previous work have shown them to be intimately related. There is no need to dwell on the particular circumstances that lead us to reflect on the present state of the religious life. It is a well-known fact that it is currently undergoing a serious crisis of growth and adaptation. Many are wondering if it really has a future,~ while a number of religious communities who have felt a sharp decrease in membership are worrying whether they will manage to survive. In view of these facts, it makes little sense to try to lay the blame for them on individual failures. What we are going through is a failure of institutions as such? This is not surprising if we bear in mind the profound technological and cultural changes that have taken place in our society, as well as the rapidity with which they have occurred and will continue to occur. The Second Vatican Council spoke of our times as a new epoch in history and tried to make the Church face up to it. In a memorable address to the Wes~on School of Theology, Karl Rahner stated that "the second Vatican Council is, in a rudimentary form still groping for identity, the Cl~urch's first self-actualiza-tion as a World Church.'~ Thus the third great epoch of the Church's history is beginning to open up, after the. very brief Judeo-Christian Epoch and the Occidental Epoch that started when Paul brought the gospel to the Gentiles and began incarnating it in their culture. The deep changes which this new epoch will bring, although they will surely be of great consequence for the Church, can as yet hardly be glimpsed. If the Church is already witnessing some of these profound changes, then the religious life, which in its various forms has always tried to respond to the needs of the Church, will itself have to undergo a necessary crisis of readjust-ment. That is why we simply have to reflect on what is going on. In dealing with the mosi general trends observable in the religious life today, it seemed appropriate to group them under the following six headings: 1) the centrality of the person, 2) the growing advocacy of women's rights, 3) the predominance of life over institutions, 4) ministerial openness to the world, 5) the reinterpretation of religious life, and 6) the problem of lifelong commitment. Finally, we will consider a single issue of great concern: the scarcity of vocations. 1. The Centrality of the Person The frequency with which certain aspects of religious life are discussed, and Trends in Religious I~fe / 411~ the way in which certain concrete situations are handled, reveal a growing tendency to regard the religious person as a central criterion. This theme has been the object of deep philosophical reflection by Christian thinkers during our century. In France, it was first dealt with by Jacques Maritain and then in a quite different way by Emmanuel Mounier. In Europe generally, the trauma of modern dictatorships--which made party or national loyalty the life-or-death criterion for the individual--also helped us see the dangers latent in the way some religious families viewed issues of solidarity and obedience. The trauma was a salutary one, because both the theoretical authoritarianism of anti-democrats like Charles Maurras and the practical authoritarianism of dictators like Mussolini, Salazar, Franco and Peron had no small influence in some ecclesiastical and religious circles. But since the time of John XXIII, a new definition of the common good has begun to leave its mark on magisterial teachings and statements.4 This definition regards the common good not as the sum of common goals (to which individuals are sacrificed), but as an environ-ment of freedom, peace and solidarity where persons may more readily achieve development and fulfillment. Even in the darkest hours of the past, no matter how much we conformed, somewhere in the back of our memory we could never quite let go of the Loi'd's saying that "the sabbath was made for human beings, not human beings for the sabbath," or of the pastoral axiom that "the sacraments are for persons." But clearly, our more democratic milieu and the institutional images it projects, together with the spread of the new psycholo-gies of personal development in Europe and North America, have made us more sensitive to this theme. 1.1. The Development of One's Own Talents. This is not only an important concern for individual religious, but also figures in a whole series of renewed constitutions. In the past, constitutions ordinarily asked community leaders to watch over the spiritual and physical welfare of their sisters and brothers.5 The new texts ask them to facilitate the overall growth of their sisters and brothers, whether on the level of psychological health, education or professional prepa-ration. 6 In fact, a number of the new constitutions speak of the overall growth of the religious, and make the community co-responsible with the individual in achieving this growth.7 The now-common secretariats and programs for con-tinuing formation and education point in the same direction. But individual religious share this concern. There is a general tendency to affirm oneself and develop one's gifts. This has had its effect on spirituality, which is viewed as a means for achieving one's full potential (holiness/whole-ness), and on the theology of the vows, which are viewed dynamically, as means to personal growth.8 The achievement of personal fulfillment was already a goal in the teaching of Aquinas and Bonaventure, who treated the vows as means for arriving at the perfection of charity,9 although greater stress is laid today on the overall aspect of maturity. One difficulty felt by many religious and frequently echoed in religious chapters and congresses, can be summed up in the question: How are one's 411~ / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 personal fulfillment and gifts to be related to the common good, aims and ministries of the institute?10 Theoretically, the issue seems clear enough. On the one hand, the members of every religious community share a common voca-tion and have received from God the same charism that was first given to their founder or foundress. On the other hand, each member is a different personal-ity, with different gifts that he or she has a duty to cultivate and make bear fruit. In short, it is a matter of a diversity of personalities being united in communion. We should perhaps note in passing that actual, absolute liberty, that is, the real possibility of developing one's personality to the maximum, simply does not exist. Every adult, even one who is single and free, has to build his or her existence within a limited gamut of possibilities, and always with some attendant sacrifices. No one, let alone a person committed to one or more persons in a family, in matrimony or in a celibate community, can work out his or her own development without reference to solidarity to others. Anyone who persists in trying to evade solidarity will end up psychologically warped or stunted. Individual religious must always be ready to make sacri-rices, and these sacrifices will definitely make them grow. However, on its part, the community cannot pursue its common good or goals through a systematic policy of sacrificing its members. The development and happiness of individual members carries over into the common good of the group. The concrete solution to this problem is to be sought and found in a sense of communion and real dialogue between the group (its representatives) and the individual. 1.2. Freedom. Isaac Hecker, with fine American sense, wrote that "a great and large freedom of action should be the spirit" of the Paulist community.~1 It is significant that the terms "freedom" and "liberty" occur so frequently in revised constitutions.'2 Of course, individual freedom of choice has always been required for acceptance into community. One was--and is--in community, out of a desire to be in community. But community and obedience were commonly seen from the viewpoint of sacrificing one's individual freedom. In the new type of community there is ample room for individual freedom and initiative. We have referred in passing to the disappearance of the disciplinary type of community that began forming in the 19th century, with its peculiar stresses in reaction to the French Revolution: a type of community dominated by uniformity in dress, in timetables and, in lay communities of women and men, in the kind of ministry practiced. The new constitutions contain few disciplinary regulations. The local community can now, ordinarily, determine its own internal norms and make its own decisions. The number of community acts, which were excessive in many communities founded in the last few centuries, has been reduced to a minimum. Not only religious men, but reli-gious women as well, now have to seek out their own ministerial works, rather than receive them passively from the community. Recently a sister told me: "We ourselves have to create our own jobs and living conditions." Obviously, this kind of freedom has its price. A religious must now make a real effort to maintain communion with his or her own group. Today's community tends to Trends in Religious Life / 4115 be seen in the light of unity in essentials, liberty in what does not affect the common values of religious lifeor the charism and spirit of the institute, and a definite effort at establishing a communion of love. Initially, the downfall of restrictive norms and community acts, together with the broadening field for autonomous, individual decisions, left a good number of religious with the impression that community life had all but disappeared. However, after a period of personal search, religious began to feel the need to return to a more intensely lived form of community, this time based on interpersonal relationships. More spontaneous and creative acts of common prayer began to appear. Nevertheless, there are quite a few men and women religious who have kept their liberty without managing to create com-munion. Of course, many religious live in community, in the sense that they come home to sleep under the same roof, share meals together and treat each other with respect. But the number of religious who are living alone, when they could be living in community, is somewhat notable. The fact that more women than men are living alone may be traced to a number of factors. For one thing, the number of men whose work is tied to institutions (parishes, schools, retreat houses) is proportionately greater. Moreover, women religious may have a greater psychological need for living alone. In the past, women's communities were far more restrictive than men's, and thus the reaction of the former has been that much stronger. Besides this, as we shall see in more detail later, all women, and religious women in particular, are struggling to emerge as persons, against the restrictions still imposed on them by the ecclesiastical community. 1.3. Pluralism in Community. This brings us to the subject of pluralism, which was so warmly debated in not a few chapters of renewal. In the past, there was a strong tendency toward uniformity. Everyone studied the same theology and followed the same methods of prayer. Each institute had a uniform theological or spiritual language. Today the great variety of theological positions in the Church is reflected within religious families, and often within the same reli-gious house. This affects the way we view the religious life and its objectives, and these different views are translated into different life-styles. Pluralism can immensely enrich our communities, provided it does not jeopardize essentials, thus weakening or undermining spiritual cohesion. But pluralism has now reached a transitional phase in which it can give rise to considerable suffering. Those who are inclined toward a more traditional type of life, to a distinctive habit, or to a more devotional form of piety, may suffer and feel lost among others who are leading a different type of life. Those who are inclined to a more personal life-style, with a more modem sensibility, often feel that they are the object of suspicion and insinuations. Theological plural-ism, above all for initiates, can cause acute moral suffering. We may some-times be offered an image of Christ, or a paradigm for relationships with Christ, that wounds our feelings. We might do well to recall that pluralism in freedom caused serious prob-lems for the tiny ecclesial communities of Paul, both on the theological level 41~6 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 (the role of the Law) and on the practical level (eating food offered to idols). Paul's recommendation was that all should practice a delicate charity toward one another. Those who felt more restricted should respect the conscience of others, while those who felt more free in these matters should exercise their freedom without inflicting unnecessary wounds on those of a different persua-sion. "Each of you should regard, not your own interests, but the other per-son's" (I Co 10:24). There are religious who worry too much about what others are saying or doing. And there are religious who speak and act without regard for the sufferings they may be causing others. After all, what good will our theology or our achievement of practical freedom do us ifthey are done without love? 1.4. Personal Ministries. In the past, congregations with the most priests prac-ticed two different types of ministries: one, institutional, in which the religious collaborated in a common work (schools, retreat houses, parishes), the other, personal (teaching in centers outside the institute, preaching, conferences, books). Lay communities of men or women were limited to working within their own institutions (hospitals, schools). In many women's communities and in some brothers' institutes, there is now a trend favoring personal ministries: counseling, spiritual direction and giving conferences. This has fundamentally modified the type of community life led in these institutes. We read also, for example, that the Franciscan Province of Santa Barbara has adopted, as a criterion of priority in assignments to ministries, the talents and availability of individual members, rather than the needs of existing institutions.13 This trend can be noted with lesser force in institutes that have a greater number of institutions (schools, parishes, hospitals). 1.5. Emphasis on Local Community. Partly because of this affirmation of the centrality of the person in societies and institutions, and partly because of the current stress on the Church as a communion that is realized above all in the local church, greater importance is being attached to the local religious com-munity. Many constitutions have changed the vertical presentation of their governmental structures from the once-common descending order (general government, provinces, local communities) to an ascending order (local, pro-vincial, general),~4 while even more constitutions affirm the primary value of the local community. In contrast with the mainly disciplinary content of former texts, the new ones bring out the theological and ecclesial meaning of the local community as a community of faith, worship and mission, and as the privileged locus of Christian communion.~5 1.6. Small Communities. Starting very soon after the Council, there was a growing emphasis on a trend that had already appeared in religious institutes founded a few decades earlier: the formation of small local communities with a family-like structure. Large communities that staffed various institutions (schools or parishes), or were at the service of some large institution (a univer-sity), began dividing up into small groups. Many factors motivated this shift: a Trends in Religious Life / 4117 desire to establish closer interpersonal relationships, an attempt to lessen the difficulties inherent in large-group interaction, a tendency to live closer to the people, and an endeavor to free the group from quasi-monastic structures. Paul VI dealt with this trend in his apostolic exhortation, Evangelica Testif!- catio,~6 noting that this type of community makes greater demands of its members. For one thing, in this setting the individual constantly emerges in face-to-face relationships that strongly reveal his or her good points and short-comings. Small communities demand better communication, greater respect for individual differences, and a more thoroughgoing effort to adapt oneself to others. In large communities it is easier to avoid communication and, above all, confrontation with certain community members. Interestingly enough, it is not just older persons accustomed to a more institutionalized type of life, but also younger religious less inclined to intimate communication, who prefer to live in larger groups. 1.7. Authority and Obedience. The Second Vatican Council, in its decree Perfectae Caritatis,17 clearly established principles for a deep renewal of the practice of authority and obedience as we had heretofore known it. Doubtless, the concepts expressed in this decree belong to the tradition of the religious life in its richest moments. Nevertheless, the emphasis on certain aspects of this tradition, such as "active collaboration," the service rendered by the commu-nity leader, the recommendation that the leader respect his or her fellow religious as sons or daughters of God and as human persons, the insistence on dialogue as an integral part of the unifying process of obedience (and not just as a last resort in facing difficult decisions)--all of these paved the way for a theological and practical reinterpretation of the leader's role, and of the nature of common obedience.~8 Even those institutes that have not modified their vertical structures of government have had to reread their constitutions with a new sensitivity.~9 The Council stated that the manner of governing religious institutes had to be examined and brought into harmony with the physical and psychological conditions of today's religious, with the needs of the apostolate, with cultural requirements, and with socioeconomic realities.20 The great majority of the revised constitutions of institutes founded in an age when another image of authority prevailed, have modified their systems of govern-ment by introducing dialogue prior to decision making, or have even left certain decisions to the group itself. Some constitutions have made the group the ordinary decision-making body in matters important to the local commu-nity. In Practice, there has also been a tendency to allow a wide margin for individual decisions and initiatives in matters that do not touch upon the life of the group. 2. The Emancipation of Women Closely related to the preceding theme (the value of the person as such), another trend has had a growing impact on religious life: the progressive 41111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 emergence of the religious woman, and her assumption of a public mission in the Church and in civil society. We are touching here on a painful topic: the struggle of women (and the Holy Spirit with them) to liberate themselves from a situation of confinement and subordination. No need to go into the details of Mary Ward's way of the cross, or the fate of the Ursulines after the death of Angela Merici, or the changes forced upon the Order of the Visitation, or the tremendous difficulties that Louise de Marillac and her Daughters of Charity had to face. As late as the 19th century, especially in France, every women's institute was forced to have a male ecclesiastical superior with powers equal and sometimes superior to those of the mother general. Some institutes were arbitrarily divided, and some foundresses were practically expelled from their own communities (Clara Pfaender, Bonifacia Rodriguez, Maria Rosa Zangara), or deposed (Jeanne de Lestonnac, Alix Le Clercq, Alfonsa Cavin, Rafaela of the Sacred Heart). Fortunately, circumstances have changed radi-cally and will continue to do so, as we shall see. 2.1. Emancipation. A large number of religious women are more or less fully committed to the feminist movement, and still more are deeply affected by it.2~ In the past every religious woman, upon reaching maturity, had to bring her femininity to bear on her milieu so to speak implicitly, by letting it shine through in her life and work (think of Teresa's influence on her theologian friends, or the changes Jeanne de Chantal brought about in Francois de Sales). Nowadays, however, the condition of women is explicitly posited and vindi-cated. In affirming their identity, religious women are bringing a new dimen-sion into spirituality and religious life in general: the feminine perspective?2 They not only are setting up a feminine symbology to counterbalance the overstated male symbology of religion (a function always at work in women like Clare of Assisi, Catherine of Siena, Teresa of Jesus and Margaret Mary Alacoque), but are also discovering the feminine aspects of God (something rarely done in the past, although one can always point to the example of Dame Julian of Norwich). The arrival of large numbers of women in the once segregated halls of theology is bound to give rise to deep changes in the task of interpreting the experience of God. The theology of the religious life will surely have to take much more serious note of this phenomenon. 2.2. The Revision of Constitutions. Today, religious women are revising their own constitutions, sometimes with the help of outside experts, both men and women. We are getting farther and farther away from the days when men could write rules for women (Pachomius, perhaps Augustine, Caesarius of Arles, Leander), or when women had to adopt and adapt rules written for men's communities (Benedictines). There is an exquisitely feminine style and sensibility in not a few of the new constitutions. 2.3. Personal Ministries. With growing frequency, women are taking on per-sonal ministries not connected with their own institutions. They are teaching in outside centers, writing books, doing spiritual direction, directing retreats and Trends in Religious Life / 489 spiritual exercises, counseling, ministering in parishes, and so forth. Their influence is beginning to be strongly felt in male formation communities, by the balance they bring to young men who receive their information in an otherwise strictly masculine environment. This gives these men a more positive and educative,perception of the feminine image. 2.4. The First Apostolic Community. In our judgment, the women religious of North America have built the first fully apostolic feminine community in history. Many of them live in small groups not bound to institutions, and are dedicated to personal ministries. While men religious are frequently tied down to an ecclesiastical institution (parish, college), women religious, by the very fact of being non-ordained ministers, enjoy a greater freedom of movement. 2.5. Economic Dependence. This freedom is very relative, however, because many women religious are faced with the anguishing problem of economic dependence. Adding to the painfulness of this situation is the fact that the work they do is usually underpaid. Moreover, those women who do not have their own institutions must either depend on other institutions, or else become free-lancers at the mercy of fortune. A few.years ago, one mother general told me that her institute was unable to implement an option for the poor and the marginated because they depended for their sustenance on the salaries they received from the diocese, which did not allow enough for it. 3. Life Over Institutions Another clearly perceptible trend in today's religious life seems to be a distinct prevalence of a concept and an experience of a life lived simply, freely and creatively, over against more institutional forms of living. Significantly, the first schema on religious life submitted to the Second Vatican Council was overloaded with canonical-institutional vocabulary, reflected in its title: status religiosus--the religious state. It had obviously been drafted by.a group of conservative canonists and theologians. When this text was brought to the floor for discussion, the Council gave it h change of direction and chose to speak of the religious life, understood not as a sort of entity that could be classified and regulated, but as a life that is really lived. This trend is more apparent in Perfectae Caritatis (October, 1965) than in Chapter IV of Lumen Gentium (November, 1964~). But even in Lumen Gentium, the basis stated for both the religious state and form of life are the charisms of the Spirit,23 and the movement leading a Christian to consecrate his or her life to the service of God is described in similar terms.24 Perfectae Caritatis describes various con-crete aspects of this life which must be renewed and adapted to conditions as they really exist. This has been a recurring trend throughout history, especially during peri-ods of creativity. Basil and Macrina created fraternal groups, free of the unwieldiness of the Pachomian institutions that had formed in Egypt. Francis of Assisi was very traditional in his concept of the religious life ("to live 490 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 according to the Gospel"), yet he launched a project of profound renewal by distancing himself from existing monastic institutions. The Dominicans origi-nally followed this same trend. The first Jesuits and the Daughters of Charity, each in their own way, were simply Christian companions committed to serv-ice. A few decades ago, the Little Brothers and Sisters of Jesus returned to this simplicity, to a lived life and to creativity. The phenomenon we have been describing is now appearing under various forms. 3.1. The Fall of Structure. In most communities many structures have disap-peared. The 19th century left us a legacy of methods and detailed regulations for prayer, for the organization of our day, for work, etc. In Europe,.a number of founders went so far as to include a basic menu in their constitutions. As the monks of Solesmes had striven to unify liturgical rubrics against a welter of national liturgies, religious superiors strove to unify religious life with regula-tions and timetables. In today's ~onstitutions and community discussions, the emphasis is on the quality of life. Religious are concerned about the extent to which their real life constitutes a witness, now that neither uniform habits nor characteristic buildings nor special timetables distinguish them from the rest of the citizenry. Religious tend to "value more the influence of their life attitudes and personal witness than they do the impact of service to an institution.'~5 To put it another way, there is a sort of diffuse Franciscanism in our times, representing a desire to connect with the original and fundamental sense of the religious life: a life-style that is significant in itself. 3.2. Prayer. This same trend can be felt in the prayer life of religious. In the not-too-distant past, communities imposed numerous acts of community prayer, many of them devotional in character. Even personal meditation and spiritual reading were made into community acts. Some quite detailed methods of meditation were very popular. Apostolic communities have largely done away with these numerous community acts and have returned mental prayer to the responsibility and initiative of the individual. Initially, more than a few religious felt left in the lurch by all of this, so that one often heard the complaint, "We aren't praying anymore!" Others, on the contrary, looked upon the new approach as a license to improvise, and began to forget the lessons of the spiritual masters, lessons that were themselves the fruit of pro-longed experience. We believe that this situation has been largely corrected. Left in greater liberty, religious themselves have had to face up to their respon-sibility. But even here, some exaggerations exist. One sometimes gets the impression that some people regard prayer as a strictly private responsibility, despite the fact that constitutions clearly represent it as an essential life-trait for all members of the institute. Our prayer-life is a commitment we make to the community, and other members of the community have every right to be concerned when we give the impression that we are failing in prayer. 3.3. A New Understanding of Law. Another commonly observable trend is the new way in which the revised constitutions and rules of life are presented. A Trends in Religious Life / 491 little background may clarify this trend. In many texts submitted to the Holy See by 19th-century founders and foundresses, there was an overload of asceti-cal exhortations and a dearth of canonical structures. In reaction to this, the Roman Curia, around the turn of the century, issued its Normae secundum quas, excluding all these ascetical passages and adding the necessary structural sections.26 This had the unfortunate effect of reducing most constitutions to the bare bones of a canonical and disciplinary text, containing an abundance of precise norms on how to do things, on the practice of mortification, and on rules for cloister and silence. We were left with a code of precepts. In the new constitutions and rules of life, few norms remain, and those that do are canon-ical, almost to the exclusion of those of a purely disciplinary nature. In con-trast, these new texts give us a description of the vocation and spirit of the religious who belong to each institute. We have passed, so to speak, from a "decalogue" code of observances to a "beatitudes" rule of life; from a minimum we must observe, to a maximum toward which we must strive. Instead of observance, we now tend to speak of growing fidelity. Saint Thomas observed long ago that the twofold gospel precept of love (with all one's heart) is not something we fulfill here and now in an instant, but is rather a goal toward which we must constantly strive and tend. This is the evangelical vision to which the new rules of life invite us. Hence, for all their dearth of precepts, these new rules are on the whole more demanding. 3.4. Individual and Community Discernment. The greater freedom allotted to individuals and to local communities, the reinterpretation of the fundamental law as a description of vocation and spirit, and the relative absence of discipli-nary norms have all placed a greater burden of responsibility on local com-munities and their members. Local communities must frequently assume the role of discerning what is here and now God's salvific will for the group and its members. In this respect, the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus has set a good example for us all. Speaking of the mission of the Jesuits today, the Congregation stated: "We must undertake a thoroughgoing assess-ment of our traditional apostolic methods, attitudes and institutions with a view to adapting them to the new needs of the times and to a world of rapid change. All this demands that we practice discernment, that spiritual discern-ment which Saint Ignatius teaches us in the Exercises. Moreover, discerning will yield a deeper grasp of the movements, aspirations and struggles in the hearts of our contemporaries."27 A little later, the decree restates the same idea: "What is required is not so much a research program as a process of reflection and evaluation inspired by the Ignatian tradition of spiritual discernment."~s The Ignatian practice of spiritual discernment, once largely restricted to circles of the Society of Jesus, has now become generalized to the point that it is present in all schools of spirituality. Recent bibliography abundantly bears out this development,~9 and we should all be glad of it. 3.5. A Blurred Image of Church. As we round out this section, we can hardly 492 Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 avoid mentioning one painful fact: the disinterest or distaste that some reli-gious feel toward the ecclesiastical institution. Francis of Assisi, who was called to rebuild God's tottering house, was distinguished from other leaders of poverty movements in his day by his fidelity to the Church's leaders.3° Saint Ignatius Loyola, another great religious reformer, recommended that we "feel with the hierarchical Church.TM Today, although most religious are strongly attracted to the Church as communion and mystery, a number of them tend to experience the Church institution as something alienating. The fact is that the image of the Church projected by Leo XIII, Pius X1 and Pius XI1 has largely disappeared, and new images are struggling to emerge. There is a significant amount of writing on various "models of the Church."32 We all know that institutions, in this earthly phase of things, are as necessary for the Church's presence and action as the body is for the self's. We must of course take care of the body and control it, since here, too, an overly heavy body can impede the action of the individual spirit. 4. Ministerial Openness to the World Another group of factors that seems to constitute a characteristic trend in today's religious life is the positive reevaluation of the world and of the reli-gious life as service to the Church and the world.33 Isaac Hecker introduced a typically American sensibility into spirituality by underscoring the positive character of the encounter of grace with our humanity, and by consistently speaking of this encounter in positive terms.3a The classic synthesis of Thomas Aquinas began to reappear with new accents. In the United States today, there are many spiritualities which evaluate the created world positively, and asso-ciate spiritual progress with overall progress (holiness/wholeness). In Europe, Louvain accustomed us to a theology of earthly values.35 In France, where great stress had always been laid on the Incarnation, a high value was placed on Christian presence among the masses (the priest-worker movement). Vati-can II, above all in Gaudium et Spes, gave us a realistic vision of the world that was rich in positive traits. John XXIII's Pacem in Terris decidedly opted for democratic social values. All of this has had its impact on the life of the Church. Secular Institutes are precisely secular institutions that aim at enliven-ing the human and civil "world" from within. The charisms of the religious life are now spoken of, not as gifts to help us flee from the world, but rather as gifts that enable us to penetrate the world more deeply, in order to transcend it. We no longer speak of afuga mundi, but rather of a penetration of the world, in order to induce it to return to its Creator, and transcend itself. Thomas Merton personified this "return to the world" movement in almost paradigmatic fashion. His early works, written at a time when he regarded the Abbey of Gethsemani as "the only real city in America,"36 reflect the critical reactions of a convert, as well as a somewhat elitist monastic theology. In Seeds of Contemplation (1949), the theme of a holy person's positive outlook on the world alternates with a negative view of the secular city from which the Trends in Religious Life / 493 Christian must strive to escape.37 In The Inner Experience (1959), his attitude toward contemplatives is more realistic, and the possibility of a lived expe-rience of God in the world emerges more clearly,as One can notice an effort to situate contemplation in the living context of everyday life. Contemplation means an indepth look at reality not in order to evade it, but in order to transcend it;39 it supposes a reading of events.4° The new chapter, "Solitude is Not Separation," added to New Seeds of Contemplation,4~ reveals at last a total contemplative openness to the world. Thomas Merton would soon become a prophet of peace and justice. The contemplative--as Teresa of Jesus had experienced long before Merton--is someone who brings the world, its agonies and its ecstasies, before God.42 This phenomenon has occurred frequently in the course 0~" history. We might, in fact, speak of a phasic alternation between periods of Incarnation and periods of Transcendence, although we should add that each swing toward the Incarnational pole has left us definitively closer to the world. The 12th century witnessed a cultural rebirth in which "nature" began to lose its sacral, symbolic value and gained some measure of autonomy.43 The married laity ceased being referred to as "children and weaklings who simply cannot embrace celibacy" (an oft-repeated phrase in earlier ecclesiastical texts),4~ and were instead spoken of as persons who profess the "common rule," that is, the Gospel. The Third Orders of the 13th century owe their existence, in part, to this change of mentality. In an early Franciscan legend, Madonna Povert~ (Lady Poverty) asks a group of Friars to show her their cloister. They lead her to the top of a high hill and show her the whole world, telling her: "This, Lady, is our cloister.-45 Then came what we generally call "the Renaissance," and we fell in love with the philosophers, writers and heroes of the Greco-Roman world. A positive and overly innocent view of the world infiltrated our con-sciousness. Jesuits made their residence in the midst of cities. More than a few institutes of the time chose not to take vows (Oratorians and Eudists). The Daughters of Charity dispers+d through the streets in peasant garb; for them, the world was the space in which the sons and daughters of God were suffer-ing. But there was also Luther's teaching on our "corrupted nature," and Bishop Jansenius and the Port Royalists held the dark view that every human value not explicitly elevated by a supernatural intention is simply sinful. Jansenism, with its excessive moral demands, had a baneful influence on the spirituality of religious. Finally, the trauma of the French and socialist revolu-tions filled religious leaders with fears and misapprehensions, so that they tended to stress the deep incompatibility between the Church and modern society. We were in urgent need of a return to the world. 4.1. A More Positive Vision of the World. For religious, too, the world is the ager dominicus, the Lord's field. It is the creation wounded by our sins, yet fundamentally good; the place where we must live our faith, hope and love, and in which we must work and suffer. This more positive, yet realistic vision of the world has positive consequences and gives rise to its own problematic. 494 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 The distance between the religious and secular worlds has been shortened. The barriers of habits, special buildings and institutions filled with religious sym-bols, have largely fallen. This explains a number of recent developments. In the past, new forms of religious life inexorably fell under the influence of forms that had a longer and more prestigious history: Pachomians and Basilians became monks; canons regular and mendicants adopted a monastic or quasi-monastic way of life; apostolic congregations of women imitated cloistered nuns, etc. In our times, the trend seems to be running in the opposite direction: the traditional forms of religious life are getting closer to the life-style of secular institutes. We are referring here not merely to the absence of habits or the irrelevance of details that were once considered very important in Europe (such as not being allowed to enter a movie-picture theater), but to such truly important items as the near absence of community life or its reduction to a minimum, and to the growing trend toward working in secular institutions. The fact remains, however, that religious life, precisely because its witness is aimed at helping the world transcend itself, must not only incarnate itself in secular culture, but also act as a counterculture.46 Religious life accomplishes this essentially by actualizing the charisms that distinguish it as a form of Christian life: celibacy and community, with a public witness of poverty. Note that we say celibacy, not bachelorhood or the single state, since celibacy is understood as an exclusive commitment to the concerns of the Lord, and as a life lived for the love of the Lord. And this is extremely demanding. So also is the radical self-divestment which characterizes the Christian poverty of a reli-gious: a self-divestment that makes no sense at all except as an act of solidarity with the poor and the outcast. All of this must be reflected in our life-style, attitudes and options. 4.2. An Open Community. Our communities have opened up. The practice of hospitality has been greatly enlarged. Religious are praying and working with groups outside the community proper, thus creating a network of relation-ships. Many of us belong to prayer groups (charismatic or otherwise) or to pastoral teams.47 Monastery guesthouses, especially in the United States, are usually filled with other religious and laypersons who come there to pray. Some contemplative monasteries have opened up to share their prayer life with others on a more permanent basis. The Trappists of Our Lady of Guadalupe have established a Center for Contemplative Studies. The Carmel of the Resurrection in Indianapolis has opened its prayer life to a group of the faithful who pray there. Many small apostolic communities practice an aposto-late of presence by living among the poor. This is something that the mendi-cants strove to do in the 13th century, and which the Little Brothers and Sisters of Jesus reintroduced some decades ago. Obviously, such groups have to manage the difficult task of balancing their openness toward the rest of the Church with the special communion of charism and spirit they must keep among their own members. Trends in Religious Life / 495 4.3. Celibacy and Friendship. One effect of this more optimistic vision of the world and of the human person in the world has been the rediscovery of the positive and fully human vision of celibacy expressed in the New Testament. Although Jesus, in his logion about eunuchs (Mt 19:12), was defending a spiritual impotence caused by a strong commitment to the Kingdom, Paul tells us, .in a positive way, that being celibate for the sake of the Gospel consists in living lives exclusively dedicated to the concerns of the risen Lord (his Church, his poor), and for his love (1 Co 7:32-34). Celibacy is both a commitment and a relationship of love in which we can grow, and not simply a state defined by non-bonding to another person in matrimony,as The focus of today's religious has shifted, significantly, from chastity to celibacy as a way of life. From yet another point of view, the modern notion of the human being has highlighted (sometimes excessively) our sexual condition. Sexuality is rightly understood as a positive reality,49 in which affective balance plays an important part. Thus conceived, sexuality is being incorporated into a positive and inclusive vision of celibacy. It might be noted, in passing, that religious, like others in this rich culture which is concerned with overeating, also engage in sports and look after their body and physical appearance. But it must be admitted ihat the fall of barriers in this context (locked doors, permissions to go out, opened mail, the habit, etc.) also eliminated a series of social pressures aimed at protecting celibacy. Just as the permanence of marriages is now left to married couples themselves (since urban and indus-trialized society, unlike rural societies of the past, undermines rather than upholds the stability of marriage), so celibacy is left to the grace of God and the responsibility of the individual. The community can offer little help to those in crisis, except prayer and friendship. A positive evaluation of friend-ship has important consequences in this area. The husband-wife relationship is beginning to pale as the only model for male-female relationships. Friendships between religious and persons of the opposite sex (whether priests, religious or laity) are now more feasible and frequentP° This is, of course, not something completely new: a good number of saints, especially founders and foundresses, seem to have come in pairs. But now there is a greater awareness of the implications and values of friendship as a help toward celibate balance, which it indeed can be. But this is still fragile ground, because of the possibility of being "carried away," and because the word "friendship" often covers a number of relationships of diverse intensityPI The celibate is committed to live exclusively for the concerns of the Lord and for his love, and this rules out not just physical relationships, but also exclusive affective commitments. This means that certain affecfive needs of the celibate cannot be satisfied directly, but must be diverted into channels of loving service. 4.4. The Poor: the New "Desert. ,~2 Religious feel a lively interest and concern for the world of which they are part. This is quite apparent in questions of justice. In a host of ways, religious have been associated with works of charity 498 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 throughout history. But today there is a clearer consciousness that not a few evils have social roots, and that religious in a democratic society have a great opportunity to work collectively and individually in defense of the weak and the oppressed. Most of us (even religious dedicated to social works) inherited a vision of poverty that did not have much of an express or lived relationship to the poor of the world. It was a poverty fit for a neoplatonic or neopythagorean community: a poverty understood as a form of personal purification and as a means for arriving more readily at contemplation. The important thing was dependence on the superior, and great individual austerity. On an analogy with the Synoptic saying of Jesus, "Sell what you have and give to the poor" (Mk 10:21 and par.), one might say that the monks of the desert, who worked hard to support the poor, fulfilled the second part of the saying ("and give to the poor"), whereas later religious stressed the first part ("sell what you have"). In Evangelica Testificatio, Paul V1 brought the Church's teaching on religious poverty back to its origins by beginning the section on poverty with a call to hear "the cry of the poor.'~3 If all Christian poverty is a descent with Christ into the hell of human suffering--a participation in his kenosis (cf. 2 Co 8:9)54--then the testimonial poverty of religious should signal an abandonment of the world's logic and a crossing over its borders into the new desert which, especially in today's materialistic society, is constituted by the poor. A number of religious have abandoned their houses in middle-class neigh-borhoods and have gone to live with the poor in ghettoes. Whole institutes have declared in their chapters a preferential option for evangelizing the poor. Religious men and women have joined other Christians in their struggle for the liberation of the poor, especially in Latin America and the Philippines. In the United States, some religious have run for national or state office in defense of minorities, while others have been appointed to posts of particular social significance. Many U.S. religious are committed to a variety of social causes: disarmament, human rights in the Third World, the fights of the unborn, the rights of homosexuals, ecology, the struggle against a capitalism that would sacrifice human lives for economic gain (the Nestle boycott), and so forth. Here again, there are problems and difficulties. For one thing, it is easier for those living in well-to-do environments to protest abuses (as they must) than it is to protect themselves against the contagion of a consumerist society. Those who are truly and deeply committed to the defense of the poor know that they can carry out their work only by becoming poor themselves. Our poverty is also a protest against a materialistic interpretation of life, and hence must be manifested in personal and collective simplicity and austerity. Those who personally commit themselves to poverty run the risk of mere improvisa-tion, or of being manipulated by others. One thinks of the way certain reac-tionary thinkers have tried to use Mother Teresa of Calcutta, proposing her as an example of what all religious should be doing--which they interpret as "athering up the dying from the sidewalks (which is undoubtedly a heroically ~eautiful act of Christian love), and then leaving the world to the powers that Trends in Religious L~fe / 497 be (which would undoubtedly be an act of unChristian cowardice, since the one behind the "powers that be" is often Satan, the first murderer). Manipulation, though, is also practiced from a revolutionary viewpoint. There is a danger of becoming involved in partisan politics that pursue a determined type of society. The religious and the Christian as such do not have a distinctive political model, but only a set of fundamental principles (Pacem in Terris), according to which they raise their voice in protest against all forms that oppress and manipulate the sons and daughters of God. Great maturity is requi~ed for a commitment of this kind. One must be prepared to lose one's life: witness the example of our martyrs in Central America. 4.5. Serving in a Secular Milieu. With growing frequency, religious men and Women are making a commitment in various types of human service that are not specifically religious in nature, and are performed in a secular environ-ment. We are r~ferring here mainly to those religious who are engaged in the investigation and teaching of profane disciplines. Religious have been doing this for centuries, of course, but as an integral part of a ministry of Christian edui:ation that was meafit to culmin~ite in catechesis. Now, we encounter a new element in that these services are being carried on in the heart of secular centers. The impact of this environment and the great demand for professional preparation it calls for can profoundly affect the spirit of a religious. This is perhaps most true of religious who practice psychotherapy in its various forms. Here,/he "secular environment" is internal. The religious has to operate with a series Of symbols, vocabularies and techniques in which religious experience is often treated either in the Context of psychological aberration, or else (as with .lung) in that of a psychic activity that neither includes nor excludes grace. Helping one's neighbors in their psychological problems, or contributing to their overall growth as persons, is just as religious an activity as helping cure their bodies, but it can create difficulties for religious therapists. Oftentimes they are living in an environment quite different from a traditional religious community, which was pervaded by religious symbols and community acts. In such cases, religious will often have to struggle in order to integrate their professional service into the framework Of their community's proper spiritual-ity. Service also tends to change meaning for religious who work as medical or nursing personnel in modern hospitals, with their intense activity and the difficulties they present for establishing personal relationships with the sick, since there are so many to attend, and the turnover is so rapid. 5. Religious Life Reinterpreted 5.1. A More Profound Notion of the Religious Ltfe. The Second Vatican Council, by setting its teaching on the religious life squarely in the context of the life of the Church and of the universal call to holiness, forced theologians to rethink this particular vocation. A significant index of this rethinking is reflected in a change in the bibliography on the religious life. During the first half of this century, it focused on canon law and ascetical conferences or 49~1 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 retreats for religious; from the Council onwards, bibliographical entries of a theological character began to multiply. New Testament exegesis began to put question marks after the texts on which some founders had based their move-ments. Often enough, disturbingly, exegetes answered these questions in the negative: "This is not what these biblical texts were saying." Moreover, the full incorporation of the secular laity into the life and holiness of the Church obliged us to rethink the relationship that exists between the call to the reli-gious life and the general call to perfection, as well as that which exists between religious life and secular life. In more than one case, the Council had felt obliged to use categories drawn from Scholasticism, in a clear effort at expanding its teaching. Concomitantly, however, scholars were at work compiling critical studies of the sources of the religious life (Pachomius, Basil, Augustine, the anonymous author of the Regula MagistrL Benedict, Francis, early Jesuit texts, etc.). These historical investigations have given us a much better knowledge of the development of the religious life. The works of Tillard, Boff, Sebastian, Moloney and others, as well as the publications of the Religious Life Institutes in Rome and Madrid, and those of the Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality (to all three of Which I have made my personal contribution), are developing a work of synthesis that has become necessary. 5.2. Religious Life: a Parable of Discipleship. In Lumen Gentium and Perfec-tae Caritatis, the Second Vatican Council abandoned the notion of "state of perfection," which had somehow crept into Sacrosanctum Concilium (the Constitution on the Liturgy), written in the period before the council began to reflect expressly on the religious life.55 All Christians are committed to growth in the perfection to which they are called in baptism, confirmation, the Eucha-rist and reconciliation, and (for some) eventually in matrimony. The religious life is no longer to be thought of as the only state in which one professes to be tending toward perfection. In Discipleship: Towards an Understanding of the Religious Life, I tried to demonstrate how religious life is a form of disciple-ship, and that the significance of the religious life consists in its being a living parable of the Gospel for all. As a form of life, the religious life is summoned to remind all Christ's disciples of the demand to follow him. It is a type of prophetic life, neither more nor less. This leaves room for secular Christians to achieve the full stature of their incorporation into evangelical spirituality. For the important thing is not the parable, but the lived life of the Christian way, to which the parable points. 5.3. Return to Charism. Another important aspect of contemporary religious life is the fact that, thanks mainly to the invitation of Perfectae Caritatis, religious institutes, especially in their chapters of renewal, have set about reflecting on their own charisms. These institutes now seem to have a far better knowledge of their vocation and spirit in the Church. The Church itself is enriched by this variety of charisms. The popes have frequently referred to this Trends in Religious L~fe / 499 theme in discussing the identity of religious families. 5.4. Turning Toward Others. Nevertheless, something new is happening. A few years back, religious institutes often gave the impression of being overly exclu-sive in promoting their own interests. There was too much insistence on "our own." Today, religious communities collaborate with one another in common novitiate programs. There are theologates (the Central Theological Union in Chicago and the General Theological Union in Berkeley are obvious exam-ples) in which students from various institutes study, pray together and inter-relate in many ways, thus mutually enriching one another without losing their identity. And there are numerous religious institutes collaborating in apostolic works, both with one another and with lay team members. The sense of belonging to the one Church of Christ is thus manifested in a forceful manner. 6. Lifelong Commitment One aspect which involves considerable suffering for many religious, and which is brought up with some frequency in public meetings and private conversations, is the meaningfulness of a perpetual commitment to the reli-gious life, and even the legitimacy of norms that impose this sort of commit-ment toward the end of one's initiation or formation. Obviously, the discussion of this theme is less related to the influence of any specific philosophy than it is to the fact that our society seems to be much more sensitive to change than to continuity. In our society, for several different reasons, it is not rare for persons to change careers at a certain age. Even marriage seems to be becom-ing more fragile.~6 6. I. A Personal Commitment. In contradistinction to a one-time or short-term commitment to do some thing, a commitment to a type of life is a personal project that requires a certain amount of time to make. Human beings develop gradually. A promise or decision to be celibate or to live for the love of someone else for just a fewdays or weeks would really be tantamount to a commitment to do some thing, rather than a life decision to be a determined type of man or woman. The commitment to love is, of its very nature, indefi-nite as to time. It tends to be projected over a whole lifetime. The fact is that, when a human being loves or chooses to give himself or herself on a deep level, he or she cannot include the idea of a temporal limit in such a choice (although there may be an implicit recognition of the possibility of failure), since this would be restricting one's love or self-gift. By making a commitment of one-self, a person aims at putting his or her love above time and its changes. 6.2. A Commitment to God. A commitment to the religious life entails a commitment to build one's life with an orientation toward certain religious ideals: living in a particular way, in celibacy and in community. Here, the depth of human commitment is at its greatest, since it is gauged by a relation-ship with God. In this case, understandably, our intention must exclude every temporal limit, even when we are making a temporal commitment. We want 5lll~ / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 to be this type of Christian and human being on the deepest level, before God and in the Church. This is a quite different kind of commitment than that made by a person who would simply like to be associated with the life, spirituality and ministry of a religious community for a set period of time. One thinks, for example, of the existing practice in Thailand whereby all boys, as a sort of analogue of military service, must spend several months in a Buddhist monastery. This sort of procedure might well be adopted, in a more systematic way, for certain types of associates of Christian religious communities. But this kind of temporal commitment, even when made on a more conscious and voluntary basis, would never suffice to constitute the person making it a religious. Our temporal vows are truly vows, to the extent that the person making them has the intention of orienting his or her whole life in this manner. 6.3. A Statement of Commitment. The real problem here refers to the public formulation of this intention to make a perpetual commitment. To express ourselves publicly and socially is an essential trait of our human nature, which never exists in a vacuum of pure interiority, but tends to unfold itself in explicit relationship with others. We already made our perpetual commitment when we responded to our vocation, before entering a community. We made it with a certain tension, with some misgivings, and sometimes even with anguish; yet we entrusted our weakness to the grace of the God who called us. On profess-ing, we renewed this response to God, but this time we did so publicly, before God and through the community, we committed ourselves to God through this community. Our commitment, then, took on an ecclesial character. This was normal and as it should be because promising to be celibate, to live in evangelical poverty and in community is not just an act that relates us directly to God. Rather, it is an act that relates us to God in his Church. Celibacy is not just the love of God, but also a great love of his sons and daughters. This does not rule out our foreseeing possible failures, or even the hypo-thetical possibility that certain experiences and circumstances might make us change. This commitment is made by human persons, with the understanding that they are expressing their actual intention, in the hope that this intention will perdure. But since fidelity in this matter is the work of grace, we place all our forces in God's hands. A religious vow or promise is at once a manifesta-tion of our intention and a petition for grace: "This is what I intend to be, so help me God." The person who makes a vow can change, can fail, or can discover that this was not to be his or her permanent vocation. There are canonized saints who, after years of profession, left their communities when they discovered that God was calling them along another way. For all these reasons, the Church wisely grants dispensations from these commitments. A dispensation dissolves the canonical aspects of one's commitment, leaving the person with his or her responsibility before God intact. Upon receiving their dispensations, these Christians remain in God's presence, just as they did at the time they believed Trends in Religious Life they had received a call from God and answered it. 7. A Prophetic Minority? The aerial photograph we promised at the beginning of this survey is not yet complete. We still need to include in it one of the most visibly preoccupying concerns for many religious and for the Church's ministers: the scarcity of vocations to the religious life which we are presently experiencing. There is no need for us to go into statistical details. All we have to do is to look at the inexorably upward trend in the median age of the members of most religious communities in the northern hemisphere. We can only suppose that what we are looking at is precisely a lack of vocations (God is calling fewer men and women to the religious life), and not a lack of correspondence to a wider call. We must suppose this, both because we do not have access to the heavenly archives, and because we find it hard to believe that human beings are cur-rently putting up a greater resistance to grace than they did in the days when our houses were filled to the rafters. One fact confirms us in our rejection of an unduly pessimistic view of the present generation: the growing number of vocations to the ministry outside the clergy and outside religious institutes. People continue to cite a whole litany of causes in order to explain the current dearth of candidates for the religious life: economic reasons (greater opportunities exist elsewhere today); social reasons (secularized environment, lowered prestige of the religious state, easier relations among young people of both sexes, sexual liberation, smaller families of the "one girl-one boy" type); psychological reasons (the identity crisis of religious makes religious life less attractive; pessimism or a lost sense of belonging leads religious to work less at promoting vocations); theological reasons (the religious life is not the only state for attaining Christian perfection). We would not like to indulge in a discussion of the many reasons alleged to explain this phenomenon. We would, however, like t.o point out that we are not talking about a scarcity of persons who want to enter a religious community, but about the considerably smaller number of persons who show clear signs of having a true vocation to the religious life. All you have to do is run a few ads in the right publications, and you will soon be swarming with requests. Some of these aspirants very soon reveal data that indicate their unfitness for the religious life. A few more serious cases must be rejected somewhat later, either after psychological testing or afte~ a few days of shared life. Present-day religious life requires stronger and more balanced personalities than was the case in the past. Formerly, less well-balanced personalities could be kept in line by a tougher practice of authority and by the more disciplinary type of community that then prevailed. Permit me to make a few observations. Until two or three decades ago, becoming a priest or a religious was the only route that enabled a Christian to consecrate his or her life to ministry in the Church. Of course, there were many Christians who were dedicated to charitable Works and catechesis on a part- 502 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 time basis. But if they wanted to orient their whole life to one of these minis-tries, they had no recourse but to become priests or religious. The need was even greater in the case of women, since they did not have a choice between secular priesthood and the religious life. Any woman who wanted to commit her life to a ministery of charity or catechesis, had to become a religious. The call to one was automatically interpreted as a call to the other. But today it is possible, though at times difficult, for a Christian to be committed to a minis-try without becoming a priest or a religious. In the past, every time a new form of religious life, better adapted to the conditions of the time, appeared, there tended to be a diminution of candidates for the forms that had prevailed up to that time. Before the 12th century, Europe had numerous monasteries; next, it witnessed the rise of whole armies of mendicants; at length, the mendicants had to share the scene with clerks regular. Also in Europe, until about the middle of the last century, there were cloistered convents in most middle-sized towns. But with the foundation of numerous apostolic congregations for women, the number of cloistered con-vents diminished considerably. Today, secular institutes and other associations of Christian life have appeared on the scene. Moreover, the Church has begun to open up its ministries to laypersons who have no connection with any institution. This must necessarily lead to a reduction in the number of candi-dates for the religious life. Hence, we should not be talking about a lack of vocations in an unquali-fied way, because the Spirit of the Lord is continuing to call Christians of all sorts to a whole gamut of commitments. We should joyfully accept the Spirit's will. It is quite possible--given our inveterate resistance in this respect--that the only way the secular laity will be able to take their rightful place in the Church's ministry will be through a considerable reduction in the number of priests and religious. Hard as some of us may find it to accept these persons on equal terms, despite their manifest charisms and responsibilities, the Spirit of the Lord may oblige us to accept them out of necessity. Does this mean that religious life in its traditional forms is destined in the future, even more than in the present and the past, to become a minority life-style? That is certainly a possibility, although we would not like to hazard such a prediction. Because history has passed through so many ups and downs, turns and returns, visions and revisions, it ill becomes a historian, who has a hard enough task sorting out the vagaries of the past, to presume to know the future. But if things did happen to turn out in the way we have hypothesized, there would be nothing to be surprised at. After all, we have described the religious life as a prophetic calling. And isn't a truly prophetic mission always and essentially a minority calling? Trends in Religious Life NOTES ~Thomas Dubay offers one answer in What is Religious ~fe? Questions Religious are Asking (Denville, N.J.: Dimension Books, 1979), pp. 32-34. See C. Maloney, "Evangelization and Social Change," Religious and the Evangelization of the World, Donum Dei Series, no. 21 (Ottawa: Publications of the Canadian Religious Conference, 1974), p. 63. See also B. Boyce, C.SS.R., "A Sociological Appraisal of the New Trends," New Trends in Religious L~fe, Donum Dei Series, no. 14 (1969), p. 135. 2Thaddre Matura, O.F.M., The Crisis of Religious l_zfe (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1974). 3Karl Rahner, S.J., "Toward a Fundamental Theological Interpretation of Vatican I1,~ Theologi-cal Studies 40 (1979), p. 717. 4John XXIII, Mater et Magistra, AAS 53 (1961), p. 417. Gaudium et Spes, no. 74, Vatican Council I!: The Conciliar and Post Conciliar Documents, ed. Austin Flannery (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1975), p. 981. ~Constitutions S.J., ch. IV, 10, no. 5; Claretian Constitutions (1865), I, no. 31. sViatorians (1979), no. 52; de La Salle (1976), no. 140. I; Precious Blood Sisters, O'Fallon, p. 54; Combonians (1979), no. 103; Christian Brothers, (E. Rice), no. 247. 7Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word, no. 26; Marianists, Rule of l_zfe (1981), no. 39; Stigmatines (1977), no. 17. See especially Sisters of Mercy, Covenant, Fellowship and Total Growth, pp. F 4-5; Combonians, no. 42. 8This idea forms the background for the sections on the vows in many revised constitutions. 9St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 2-2, q. 184 a 3; q. 188 a 2; St. Bonaventure, Apologia Pauperum, ch. 3, no. 3. See Lumen Gentium, no. 44, Flannery, pp. 403-.404. ~0The theme of varidus personal gifts appears frequently in the new constitutions. See Sisters of St. Joseph, Core Constitutions, no. 38; Combonians, Rule of Life, nos. 38. I, 42; de La Salle (1976), p. 36; B.V.M., no. 3; Marists (1968), no. 51; Stigmatines (1977), no. 17; St. Joseph of Peace (1981), p. 6; Ursulines of Belleville (1982), no. 33; Sinsinawa Dominicans, no. 10. ~Cited in Paulist Provisional Constitutions (1970), no. 9. ~2Society of the Precious Blood, no. 39; Sisters of Mercy, Core Constitutions, p. 27; 31st Congre-gation of the Society of Jesus, Decree 17, no. 7 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), p. 161. ~3Quentin Hakenewerth, S.M., ~lllustrations of Fundamental Choices and Their Consequences," Religious Life Tomorrow, Donum Dei Series, no. 24 (1978), p. 187. ~4Claretians, no. 102 ff.; Piarists, no. 131 ff.: Combonians, no. 105 ft.; School Sisters of Notre Dame, II, no. 8 ff.; Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, no. 25 ft.; Society of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, no. 138 ff. ~Scalabrinians, no. 10; Society of Mary, no. 34 ff.; Society of the Precious Blood, no. 6 ft. 16No. 40, Flannery, pp. 698-699. 17No. 14, Flannery, pp. 619-620. ~SThe vocabulary of the revised constitutions on this theme, and the very horizons on which they move, reveal a new sensibility. When one compares them to the relevant sections in Petfectae Caritatis, one sees that the latter opened but a single door. A smaller number of constitutions chose to remain within the limits in which the conciliar decree moves. tgSee Jesuits, 31st General Congregation, Decree 17, pp. 157-166. z°Perfectae Caritatis, no. 3, Flannery, p. 613. 2~J. Doyle, B.V.M., "Choose Life," Religious Life Tomorrow, Donum Dei Series, no. 24 (1978), pp. 28-31. ~2See M. Linscott, "The Religious Woman in the Church,~ Way Supplement 19 (1973), pp. 45-62. 23No. 44, Flannery, pp. 402-403. ~lbid., pp. 403-405. Z~Hakenewerlh, art. cit., p. 186. 26"Normae secundum quas S. Congregatio Episcoporum et Regularium procedere solet in approbandis novis lnstitutis votorum simplicium." Published by Ladislaus Ravasi, C.P. in De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum (Roma: Desclee, 1958), pp. 188 ft. To be excluded 504 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 from the constitutions: quotations from the Holy Scriptures, Councils and Fathers. (n. 27), ascetic instructions, spiritual exhortations, mystical considerations (no. 33). 27Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1979), Decree 4, nos. 58-59, p. 413. 2sPoid., no. 74, p. 436. ~9Scanning the bibliography on discernment during the last 15 years (published by the Religious Formation Conference), I have counted I I articles in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ! I in Way Sup-plement, 3 in Sisters Today, and 2 each in The Way and Spiritual Ltfe. 30Saint Francis of Assisi, Rule 1221, Foreword and Cho 19; Rule 1223, ch. I; ch. 9; Testament. See Writings and Early Biographies (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1973), pp. 3 I, 46, 57, 63, 67. 3~Saint Ignatius of Loyola, "To have the true sentiment which we ought to have in the Church Militant," Ist Rule. See David L. Fleming, The Spiritual Exercises (Saint Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978), p. 230. 32See Avery Dulles, S.J., Models of the Church (Garden City, NY, Doubleday, 1974). 33Cardinal Suenen's The Nun in the World (Westminster: The Newman Press, 1963), an invita-tion to the renewal of women's religious life issued during the Council, started with a chapter on the world, followed by a chapter on women and their emancipation. The book was highly successful in its time. ~See Martin Kirk, C. M. F., "The Spirituality of Isaac Thomas Hecker: Reconciling the American Character and the Catholic Faith" (doctoral dissertation, Saint Louis University, 1980). 3~See Gustave Thils, Theologie des Realitbs Terrestres (Bruges: Desclre de Brouwer, 1946). An epoch-making book. By the same author: Christian Attitudes (Chicago: Seepper, 1959), 96 pp. 3rThe Secular Journal, April 7, 1941, (New York: Noonday, 1977), p. 183. 37Seeds of Contemplation (Norfolk: New Directions, 1949), pp. 20-23; 60-61. 3gTexts from the Inner Experience published by William H. Shannon, Thomas Merton's Dark Path, The Inner Experience of a Contemplative (New York: Farrar-Straus-Giroux, 1981), pp. 136-141. 3gIbid., p. 131. 4°Ibid., p. 124. a~New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions, 1974), pp. 52-63. 4~Saint Teresa of Jesus, Way of Perfection, 1,2; 3, I; Mansions, Epilogue, 4. 43M.-D. Chenu, O.P., Nature, Man and Society in the Twelfth Century (University of Chicago Press, 1968). 44See John M. Lozano, C.M.F., Discipleship: Towards an Understanding of the Religious Life (Chicago: Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, 1980), pp. 49-53. *s Sacrum Commercium, no. 63, St. Francis of Assisi: Omnibus of Sources (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1973), p. 1593. 46John F. Kavanaugh, S.J., has given particular attention to this theme in his Following Christ in a Consumer Society (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1981), pp. 131-142. ~TThe Constitutions of the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, in the first chapter, contain this significant text on the new attitude: "Since we participate simultaneously in various communities--the world community, the Christian community, the entire B.V.M. community and the local community--it is the responsibility and privilege of each sister to'contribute to each of these communities according to her gifts and circumstances" (no. 3). ~See Lozano, op. cit., pp. 142-170. ~9Marc Oraison, The Celibate Condition and Sex (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967). See D. Goergen, The Sexual Celibate (New York: Seabury, 1975); K. Clarke, O.F.M. Cap., An Expe-rience of Celibacy (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Mafia, 1982). ~°Also significant is the number of articles published lately on friendship between religious and persons of the opposite sex they are oriented to. In Sisters Today, M. Neuman, O.S.B., has published two articles (October 1974 and November 1976), and J. Becker has published one (May 1979). In REVIEW FOR RELIGIOrdS. 1 counted four: C. Kiesling (July 1971), T. Dubay (November 1977), B. O'Leary (March 1980) and V. Peter (March-April 1982). There is another by Y. E. Raguin in Way Supplement 19. Trends in Religiou~ Life / 505 s~Some constitutions and complementary statutes now speak positively of the relationship between friendship in general and celibacy: Marianists, Rule ofl_zfe, 11, no. 2.4; Piarists, no. 57; Sisters of Charity of the B.V.M., no. 33; Sinsinawa Dominicans, no. 13; Sisters of Saint Joseph of Lagrange, Working Document (1979), no. 42. Some texts treat of the relationship between celibacy and friendship with Christ: Jesuits, 31st General Congregation, Decree 15, no. 8, p. 152; Combonians, no. 26.1. Or they speak of friendship as the fruit of celibacy: Jesuits, op. cir., pp. 152-153; Brothers of the Christian Schools, 5d. Or they view friendship as a defense of celibacy: Jesuits, ibid. Other texts restrict their remarks to friendships within the community: Stigmatines (1982), no. 15; Holy Cross (men), no. 65; Scalabrinians, no. 80. s2Sce A. Cussianovich, S.D.B., Religious Life and the Poor (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1979). S3Evangelica Testificatio, no. 17, Flannery, p. 688; Sacrosanctum Concilium, nos. 98, 101. ~See Lozano, op. cir., ~Poverty and the Kenosis of Christ,~ pp. 191-192. ~SSacrosanctum Concilium, no. 98, 101 (December 4th, 1963), A. Flannery (pp. 27, 28) translates "religious. ~ ~6On this theme, see T. Matura, O.F.M., op. cit., pp. 72-78. The Religious as Witness The new society of love cannot be built in the future if the quality of love does not change. You are the privileged sign of this new love destined to change the world. Your love, "different" from other loves, is the image of God's love. And so your life, evangelically lived and donated, becomes, through your sincere and pure love for mankind, a convincing witness of the love of the Father who is in heaven. Here is your role in the Church. your most authentic vocation. And it is in this way that you, like Mary who believed in the word and the love of the Lord, contribute to the mission of Jesus to create the new world. And that you may live and give Christ's charity more fully, the Church exhorts you to return to the authentic spirit of the founders, to their intentions and to wholesome traditions.--John Pdul 11, To the Women Religious in Albano, 19 September, 1982. L'Osservatore Romano, 11 October, 1982, p. 5. Constitutions and the Revised Code of Canon Law David F. O'Connor, S.T. Father O'Connor is Chairman of the Department of Church Law at The Washington Theologi-cal Union. He resides at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Ave.; Silver Spring, MD 20903. On January 25, 1983, Pope John Paul II promulgated the revised Code of Canon Law, effective as the universal law of the Church for the Latin Rite on November 27, 1983, the First Sunday of Advent. While the revised Code contains nothing startling or surprising in its treatment of the consecrated life, it does bring a needed stability with its clearly stated practical ecclesial expecta-tions concerning post-Vatican II religious life. The canons reassert many of the things stated already by the Fathers of Vatican 11 and in the documents of the post-Conciliar Church. An examination of the canons and their b~i~kground manifests a fidelity to the theology of these ecclesial documents. The 1983 revised Code states in canons 578 and 587 that the constitutions must faithfully express and preserve the mind of the Founder, the spirit and character of the institute, its nature, purposes and wholesome traditions, as part of its patrimony. The constitutions must also contain those fundamental norms required by the Church for the governance of the institute, the discipline of its members, the content of the vows, as well as those norms necessary to express the formation and incorporation of its members and the proper order-ing of the institute. They should fittingly combine both spiritual-ascetical ele-ments with the practical-juridical ones (canon 587 § 3). Once approved, this fundamental code can not be changed without the consent of the proper ecclesiastical authority (canon 587, § 2). Ecclesial Approbation of Religious Institutes and Their Constitutions Through the formal ecclesial approbation .of the constitutions or funda- 506 Constitutions and the Revised Code / 5117 mental book of each institute, the authority of the Church brings into existence the institutes as an ecclesial body or confirms it if it is already established. Constitutions have always been of great importance to institutes because they are particular and specific to each religious family. They help articulate the identity, mission and life-style of the institute and its members. Unfortunately, in the early part of the century this uniqueness was often overshadowed and submerged when constitutions were forced into an excessive conformity with other norms. As a result, there was an inappropriate similarity between many of the constitutions because they were saddled with details, secondary ele-ments, minutiae and multiple regulations which made them all somewhat identical in style and content and overly rigid in form. This was due principally to the Normae of 1901. Consequently, constitutions appeared to be only a verbatim repetition of those norms so that their individuality was lost. This pattern was altered by the Vatican II revisions required by Perfectae caritatis, 3 and 4, and Ecclesiae sanctae, If, 6-11. Fundamentally the revised Code reaffirms the place of religious institutes as progeny of the Church and gifts of the Holy Spirit (canons 575 and 577). In accordance with Lumen gentium, 43, the Code states that it is the authority of the bishops which, recognizing the work of the Spirit, brings into ecclesial existence the various religious institutes (canon 573). It is the right and duty of the pastors of the Church, the bishops, to interpret the evangelical counsels and determine how they are to be practiced and lived by those in the conse-crated life (canon 576). It is this hierarchical recognition which guarantees that the members are living a gospel life which contributes to the building up of the Church (canons 576 and 577). Historically, those groups of pious and well-meaning people who did not receive, or lost ecclesial approbation, often ended up in some form of spiritual aberrancy, schism or heresy, such as the followers of Peter Waldo or the Fraticelli of the middle ages. Today, those religious who are inclined to question the necessity of their affiliation with the pastors of the Church may risk a similar fate. Effect of the Revised Code With the revised Code going into effect, the 1917 Code and all other general or particular disciplinary laws of the Church which are contrary to or treat the same matter as the 1983 Code are abrogated (canon 6, § l) as of November 27, 1983. Therefore, many of the things which were in the 1917 Code no longer are part of the revised Code and are not required to be in the constitutions or the proper law of institutes. For example, nothing is required regarding a period of postulancy, a dowry, or the necessity to have the local Ordinary or his delegate at the election of certain superior generals, as was required in the 1917 Code. This means that institutes will have to determine for themselves whether or not they want to retain some of these things as part of their own law. The retention of some period of"postulancy" may seem to be a prudent and wise one. However, each institute is free to determine this for 508 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 itself. If an institute decides to do so, the matter becomes what canonists refer to as praeter ius, something that is required by the proper law of the institute which goes beyond the requirements of the universal law of the Church. Competency of the Roman Congregations Even though the 1983 Code abrogates all existing disciplinary law when it concerns matters which are treated in the revised Code, this does not imply that the dicasteries of the Apostolic See cease to enjoy a certain authority to make requirements not contained in the universal law. For example, the Sacred Congregation of Religious and Secular Institutes could require some-thing the 1983 Code does not require. In the approval of new constitutions, the SCRSI can require that the essential profession formula of an institute appear in the proper law of that institute. Simply because the universal law does not require this to be done does not imply that it is beyond the competence of SCRSI to do so. Also, the SCRSI certainly retains some competence to make exceptions to requirements of the universal law. Possibly, even though the new Code requires that religious profess vows and not promises (canon 607, § 2), the SCRS1 may be able to grant an exception to a particular institute which can make a good case for retaining a practice which it had during the post- Vatican II period when experimentation was permitted. The Principle of Subsidiarity and the 1983 Code of Canon Law One of the outstanding characteristics of the revised Code is its application of the principle of subsidiarity. As a principle, subsidiarity means that matters should be treated and decisions made at the level which is the most appropriate one. The most appropriate level may not be the lowest one. Whatever level is judged to be the most appropriate will also be the level of responsibility and accountability. The revised Code, therefore, unlike the 1917 Code, very fre-quently states that certain matters are to be determined by proper law. In regard to institutes of the consecrated life, the canons of the Code often state that a specific matter be treated in the constitutions or in the ius pro-prium, the proper law, of the institute. While the proper law will often be, in fact, the secondary or complementary books (Directory, Statutes), the term proper law does not exclude the constitutions or the fundamental book. There-fore, when the canons state that the proper law is to determine the matter, it means that the institute can decide to treat the matter in the constitutions and/or the directory. However, when the canons state that the matter is to be treated in the constitutions, it must be in the constitutions, even though it also may be elaborated upon in the directory. What follows is my paraphrasing of excerpts from the canons of the revised Code from the section on Institutes of the Consecrated Life (Book II, Part III, Section I, Titles I and II, ChaPters 1-6), which require, or leave the option for, complementary legislation in the constitutions or the proper law of-an institute. They are meant to be of aid to those religious institutes which are Constitutions and the Revised Code / 509 preparing their constitutions for submission to ecclesiastical authority for approbation, as well as those institutes which have their constitutions apiaroved already, but may have to make adjustments to bring them into harmony with the revised Code. The reader is advised that these do not attempt to paraphrase the complete canon in every case, but only that part which refers to material which must or may be treated in the constitutions or proper law. Canons Requiring Complementary Legislation in the Constitutions or Proper Law 1. Canons Concerning Norms Common to All Institutes C. 578. The mind of the Founders and their plans, ratified by the competent ecclesiastical authority, about the nature, purpose, spirit and character of the institute and its wholesome traditions, all of which constitute the patrimony of the institute itself, must be observed faithfully. (These are among the things which must be in the constitutions according to c. 587, § 1.) C. 581. The constitutions are to determine the competent authority who may divide the institute into parts, join parts, erect new ones or make other such arrangements. C. 587, § 1. In order to protect more faithfully the particular vocation and identity of the institute, the constitutions or fundamental code of an institute must contain and preserve, besides those things stated in can. 578, the fundamental norms about governance of the institute and the discipline of members, the incorporation and training of members, and the proper object of the sacred bonds. C. 587, § 3. Spiritual and juridical matters are to be suitably joined together; moreover, norms are not to be multiplied unless it is necessary. C. 587, § 4. Other norms established by the competent authority of the insti-tute may be appropriately collected into other books which are to be reviewed and adapted to the needs of times and places. C. 596. The authority of superiors and chapters is to be defined in the consti-tutions as well as by the universal law of the Church. C. 598. The constitutions are to define the manner in which the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience are to be lived in the institute. Members are to live the counsels according to the proper law of the institute. 2. Canons Concerning Religious Houses C. 609, § 1. Religious houses are erected by the competent authority as deter-mined in the constitutions, after having received the consent of the diocesan bishop in writing. C. 613, § 1. A religious house of canonical regulars and monks under the authority and care of its own superior is autonomous, unless the constitutions state otherwise. C. 616, § 1. The suppression of a religious house by the Superior General must ~i10 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 be done according to the constitutions and only after the diocesan bishop has been consulted. 3. Canons Concerning Government in the Institute C. 617. The role of a superior is determined according to the proper law of the institute, as well as the universal law of the Church. C. 622. A superior general has power over the whole institute, its provinces, houses, and members, exercising it according to the proper law of the institute; other superiors have power within the limits of their roles. C. 623. In order that members be validly nominated or elected to the office of superior, it is required that they have a fitting time after perpetual profession in the institute as determined by proper law. For major superiors, it is determined by the constitutions. C. 624, § I. Superiors should be constituted as such for a certain and con-venient period of time according to the ~aature and necessities of the institute, unless the constitutions determine otherwise for the Superior General or superiors of autonomous houses. C. 624, § 2. The proper law of the institute should provide suitable norms so that superiors constituted for a definite period of time do not continue for a long time without an interruption in offices of governance. C. 624, § 3. Nevertheless, superiors can be removed from office during their term or transferred to another office for reasons stated in the proper law of the institute. C. 626. When superiors confer an office or when the members participate in elections, they should observe the norms of the universal law and the proper law of the institute, abstaining from any abuse or acceptance of persons, choosing those who, before God, seem most worthy and suitable, having only God and the good of the institute before them. They must not attempt to procure votes, directly or indirectly, for themselves or for others. C. 627, § 1. According to the norm of the constitutions, superiors should have their own council, whose assistance they ought to use in carrying out the work of their office. C. 627, § 2. Besides the cases prescribed in the universal law, the proper law of the institute should determine those cases in which it is required that they seek their consent or advice for the validity of an action according to canon 127, and any other determination of proper law. C. 628, § I. Superiors who are designated for this purpose by the proper law of the institute should conduct visitations of the houses and members entrusted to them at the times designated according to the norms of the proper law. C. 629. Superiors are to reside in their own houses and not absent themselves from their house unless it is according to the norm of the proper law. C. 63 l, § I. The general chapter, which has supreme authority in the institute according to the norm of the constitutions, should be so formed that, repre-senting the whole institute, it should form a true ~ign of its unity in love, and so forth. Constitutions and the Revised Code C. 631, § 2. The composition and ambit of a chapter's authority must be defined in the constitutions. The proper law of the institute should determine the order to be observed in the conduct of the chapter, especially in regard to elections and procedures. C. 631, § 3. According to the norms of the proper law, not only provinces and local communities, but also any member at all has a fight to send freely his wishes and suggestions to the general chapter. C. 632. The proper law determines accurately those things which pertain to any chapter of the institute and to similar bodies, concerning their nature, authority, composition, mode of proceeding and time of meeting. C. 633, § 1. Organs of participation or consultation (committees and commis-sions) should faithfully carry out their duties according to their mandate and the norms of universal and proper law. In some manner, they should express the care and the participation of all members for the good of the whole institute. C. 633, § 2. In establishing these means of participation and consultation and in wisely adhering to them, discretion should be exercised so that the manner of carrying them out may conform to the nature and end of the institute. C. 634, § I. Institutes, provinces and houses, as juridical persons, have the capacity for acquiring, possessing, administering, and alienating temporal goods, unless this capacity is excluded by or limited by the constitutions. C. 635, § 2. Every institute should have appropriate norms for the use and administration of goods so that its poverty is properly fostered, guarded and expressed. C. 636, § 1. Every institute should have a treasurer, distinct from the superior, according to the norms of proper law who will care for the administration of goods under the direction of the superior. Also, every local community is to have a treasurer (bursar) distinct from the local superior. C. 636, § 2. Proper law should also determine the time and the manner for rendering an account to the competent authority. C. 638, § 1. Proper law, within the limits of universal law, determines when an act exceeds the limits and manner of ordinary administration and when an act of extraordinary administration may be placed. C. 638, § 2. Besides superiors, officials designated for this purpose according to the proper law may validly incur expenses and perform other juridical acts of ordinary administration according to their office. 4. Canons Concerning Admission of Candidates and Members of the Institute C. 641. The right to admit candidates to the novitiate belongs to the major superiors according to norms of proper law. C. 643, § 2. The proper law can place additional impediments or conditions to the valid admission of candidates beyond what is required by the Code. C. 645, § 3. The proper law can require other testimony concerning the suita-bility of the candidate and his freedom from impediments besides what is required by the Code. 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 C. 648,§ 2. The constitutions can require time for one or several apostolic experiences outside the novitiate community. However, these are not calcu-lated as part of the twelve months required for the validity of the novitiate. C. 650, § 1. The scope of the novitiate program, under the direction of a novice master, is defined by the proper law of each institute. C. 653, § 2. The novitiate being completed, a novice makes temporary vows or leaves; if there is doubt as to his suitability, he can be given a longer time of probation but not beyond six months. This is done by the major superior according to norms of proper law. C. 655. The time for temporary profession is determined by proper law, but it is not to be less than three nor more than six years. C. 657, § 2. If judged opportune, the period of temporary vows can be extended by the competent superior, according to proper law. But the whole period of temporary vows should not exceed nine years. C. 658. Proper law can also add to the appropriate requirements for the validity of perpetual profession beyond' those stated in this Code. C. 659, § 2. The proper law must define the duration and program of training after first incorporation, being always mindful of the goal and character of the institute, as well as the needs of the religious. 5. Canons Concerning Rights and Obligation~ of Members C. 663, § 3. According to prescriptions of proper law, religious should also celebrate worthily the liturgical hours and other pious exercises. C. 667, § 1. The proper law determines the character and extent of the cloister according to the nature and mission of the institute, always reserving some part of the house solely for religious members. C. 668, § 1. Before first profession, unless the constitutions provide otherwise, the members, animated by the spirit of the gospel, should cede the administra-tion of their temporal goods to whomever they choose, freely disposing of the use and usufruct thereof. C. 668, § 2. With permission of the competent superior, according to norms of proper law, religious may, for a just cause, change the disposition. C. 668, § 3. Pensions, assistance, insurance of whatever kind received by the members are acquired by the institute, unless the proper law states otherwise. C. 668, § 4. With the permission of the superior general, according to the norms of proper law, a member may renounce his goods. C. 668, § 5. If a member does so, anything that comes to him after this belongs to the institute according to the norms of proper law. C. 669, § 1. Religious should wear the habit of the institute, according to the norms of proper law, as a sign of their consecration and witness to poverty. C. 670. The institute ought to supply the members with all that is necessary according to the norms of the constitutions for achieving the end of their vocation. 6. Canons Concerning the Separation of Members from the Institute C. 684, § 4. In the case of the transfer of a professed member to another Constitutions and the Revised Code / 51:3 institute, the proper law of the new institute will determine the time and manner of probation. C. 696, § 2. For the dismissal of a member in temporary vows, even less serious reasons suffice according to the statutes of the proper law. Conclusion While religious institutes are ecclesial bodies subject to the authority of the Church according to the norms of the Code of Canon Law, nevertheless, each institute enjoys a certain autonomy in respect to its own internal life (canon 586). Once the constitutions and the proper law of each institute are approved by ecclesiastical authority,.the institute is expected to go about its internal life without the need for interference from outside agencies. Without doubt, the proper Roman dicasteries have a right, within their competency, to exercise a certain authority and vigilance over institutes of the consecrated life, especially in their relationships to other groups and persons in the Church. However, the particular style of life and the patrimony of each institute will be fostered and safeguarded more surely because of the fact that the revised Code requires (or leaves option for) each institute to determine for itself the specifics of many aspects of its internal life. Over forty canons, in application of the principle of subsidiarity, shift responsibility for the determination of certain matters to the constitutions or proper law of the institute. Therefore, the uniqueness of each religious institute will be made more evident. The rigid conformity, which was the unfortunate consequence of the Normae of 1901 and--to a certain extent--the 1917 Code, will be a thing of the past. The revised Code of Canon Law represents a significant advance in the implementation of the theological understanding which the post-Vatican II Church has of the consecrated life. While no human law is without its limita-t~ ions and deficiencies, the 1983 revised Code should help to foster the devel-opment of a vibrant religious life. Evening Prayer As gently as gravity pulls objects Toward the deepest center of the earth, From my first dawn You exerted this pull. Like a magnet, You attracted me away from other energizing forces And drew me closer and closer in Your magnetic field. Come sunset-- And I hover here, this strong power magnetizing me Even closer within the circle of Your love, The center of Your being Where I belong. Carmelita McKeever, CSJ The College of Saint Rose 432 Western Avenue Albany, NY 12203 Everyone Who Has Left Father and Mother. When a New Missionary Arrives Barry Malone, S.M. Father Malone has set forth his reactions soon after arriving in Lahore from his homeland of New Zealand. Much of this is in the experience of every radical response to Christ. Father Malone teaches at St. Anthony's High School; P.O. Box 61; Lahore, Pakistan. When you get there, you will, of course, experience quite a culture shock. Be prepared for that. It was kind of them to warn me. I had heard already of this "culture shock" and had observed it in others once or twice. Just the process of adaptation--or so I thought. What I am writing now will not, I suppose, be anything like what I will write in six months' time. But, then, part of the experience seems to be being anything but confident about next month, much less about six months' time. Is what I am feeling "culture shock"?. Does the giving of a label to an experience like this help me to own the experience? Or is such a label an aspirin, to help minimize the pain--and maybe even prevent the change that has to take place within me? Culture shock or not, there have been times of joy and excitement as I notice new sights and sounds. There have been moments of wonder and disbelief at finding myself in the midst of Asia and of Islam, in an area steeped in history and saturated with people. But there have been times, too, of being the complete stranger, times of confusion, of disorientation, of fear, of the absence of anything familiar. I can be walking jauntily along the street and be approached by someone: I cannot speak his language, and he cannot speak mine. I can be cycling along 514 Everyone Who Has Left Father and Mother / 515 (guided by my tattered map) only to discover that I'd forgotten I was in the Northern Hemisphere now, and here the midday sun lies to the south--and I am lost yet again. I, so used to school, have to ask my pupils ("Speak very slowly please, boys!") "What is this application? What is checking? What is Basant? Why do you remain standing like that?" I have biked (accidentally) into the middle of a bazaar area, and felt trapped and helpless, until a kind stall-owner had to shift his whole shop to help me squeeze past. Surely you can cope with all that? Yes, but I feel I'm not learning very fast; each confusing event seems to upset me more. The excitement and the novelty of it all has begun to evaporate but the confusion remains. Sometimes just knowing what is going on helps one to accept it all with tranquillity and confidence. But what is going on? What if all that makes sense is the image of the rough and confused underside of a tapestry? But you trust in my guiding hand and the wisdom of my purposes, surely? Surely. But how shallow can such trust be! How glib those remembered phrases from sermons I delivered or counsel I offered. The fragility of an eggshell is not obvious amid the straw of the nest. There seems to be a great desert that lies between the theory of hope, of mission, of pilgrimage, and the reality of this situation, of these people, of this particular phase. Human reasons (and sometimes motives deeper still) are tried: "You're here to replace Father X. He's the ideal person for the important tasks at Y." Of course he is. He would just be marking time here, and his gifts, his many gifts, must be used. But why me? You volunteered and when word came you had months of peace at the very prospect. I had no real idea. Really? Well . You're here to support the others. Fine. They deserve all the support they can get. They've had a rough time of it. But how can 1 support men of such inner strength when I feel the way I do? Anyway, what has been changed by my arrival--except another bread on the paten at Mass each morning, another bowl of soup on the table each evening and, for a few weeks, the laughter at my small repertoire of jokes? Come on! Now you know why the affirmations of farewell flooded in. It was to strengthen you with memories for days like these. But what about the other farewells: "What are you running away from?" "How do you know you're doing the right thing by going?" "Weal be one short here next year: there'll be no replacement for you." It's a year of preparation for the next step. What for,-exactly? Preparation for a real culture shock, when poverty is not just seen but is my lot too, when the language barrier cannot be avoided by staying with an English-speaking community and teaching in an English- 516 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 speaking medium school? Preparation for a land where even cricket is un-known, and to be a priest is to be suspected? What sort of preparation anyway? If I said purification, how would that sound? It sounds awful! But then again it sounds right. What else but purification to describe this sudden and traumatic state with nothing visibly significant to do? Was I still so chained to the merry-go-round of activity for its own sake? Was I really so reliant upon success in tasks and relationships that the lack of any prospect of success is so sour? Was I .(who read so much and reveled in change) really in such a rut that these different people, this strange place, these foreign tongues are so unsettling? Purification. Yes, that's it. One thing has to go, I know, and that is the spirit of giving a performance. Didn't I feel only yesterday, halfway through prayer, that it was a performance for God? And didn't that realization stop me dead and make me ask him to lead me? But purification for what? What kind of purification is it that involves an irritation at the discovery that the English wording of the Our Father here is different from the one I learned thirty-six years ago? What kind of purification is it that makes me so annoyed at the mistakes I made at a game of draughts last night? At draughts, for heaven's sake! What kind of purification is it that makes me feel so awkward when the teachers call me "Sir" and want to shake my hand each morning; when every one of fifteen hundred boys seems to want a personal answer to his "Good morning, Sir"?. What kind of purification is it that makes me feel I'm not coping as I was so used to coping? Why do I feel so suspicious and afraid? Ah, do you hear what you are saying? You were so used to coping! The one who is coping doesn't usually ask for help. Or so l~ve noticed. OK. I need to trust more. I walked the streets of this city; I landed at that chaotic airport; I passed those first homes of the very poor and turned to you and said: "In you, O Lord, I place my trust." Sure you did. Incidentally, I prompted that, you know. But trust now means to let go of that crumbling cliff-face that you're perched on and to hold on to me as l find a path to real safety. But what is this crumbling cliff?. Do I have all that much to let go of?. What do you think? Would my naming things just now really help? Or would it just add to the theory? Let me just gently release those fingers of yours one by one and transfer your weight onto me. It's sort of traumatic and gentle at the same time. Look down if you like, because your part'of the cliff will be down there shortly. So what do I do? Even at prayer I find my requests are selfish and I doubt my sincerity at any noble petition. That's another thing. Why do youpray as if l were unable to speak? Who was it who changed your prayer from "Gift me" to "Please continue to bless me and guide me in your service'? Who prompted your praise for all the good you see in this land of poverty? Is it just a matter of time, then? Everyone Who Has Left Father and Mother / 517 Well, time is not the enemy. I, too, shared the experience of waiting. I endured those sterile sermons in the synagogue and waited for the time when I myself would speak, l know what it's like to wait. l also know what it's like to have to change plans. Do you remember when I was in the Temple, aged twelve? Remember the results of my long retreat in the desert? Then I, discovered my mission was to be done in weakness not comfort, in powerless-ness not power, in ordinariness not in the spectacular. Didn't you preach on , that once? So what do I do? Should I write, read, visit, wander the streets and bazaars? What? What you do is less important than doing whatever it is with humility and love and with me. I find that fine for a while, but the days can become long and empty. That means you are waiting. Remember once you doubted if I wanted you to come here and you offered to call it off?. I said whether I wanted you to come or not, I would always be with you. I remember. I never looked back after that. Or have I? We'll talk again sometime. I have no intention of guarding you from the truth of these people, of yourself, of our real mission together. Keep in touch. Sure. thanks. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and I! by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The Fourth Vow of the Jesuits John R. Sheets, S.J. Father Sheets, a frequent contributor, is a member of the Department of Theology of Creighton University (Omaha, NE 68178). His topic is one of recurring media, interest, especially in view of the Jesuits' upcoming 33rd General Congregation. The recently published article on the Jesuits' fourth vow by Father John O'Malley, "The Fourth Vow in Its Ignatian Context: A Historical Study,"I has more than academic interest at this particular juncture in the history of the Society of Jesus and its relationship to the Holy See. Beginning with the Jesuits' Thirty-second General Congregation (December l, 1974 to March 7, 1975), there has been a series of unfortunate contretemps between the Society and the pope. Pope Paul VI's final appraisal of the work of that congregation, as conveyed in Cardinal Villot's letter (May 2, 1975), was not enthusiastic: "From an examination of the decrees, it appears that well-known circum-stances prevented the General Congregation from achieving all that His Holiness had expected from this important event . " Nor was the Society's own appraisal of itself that positive. The first item on the agenda of every general congregation according to the statutes is the election of a commission to review the state of the Society. This commission, after reviewing the material at its disposal, issued its report to the assembled delegates. | was one of the delegates. We felt that the report was too negative. We remanded it to the commission. If my memory serves me, we voted to disband the commission itself. However, the tone of the report found its way into a decree called "Jesuits Today." It begins with the words: "What is it to be a Jesuit? It is to know that one is a sinner, yet called to be a companion of Jesus." After the commission's report, and the response of the delegates, Fr. Arrupe took up the topic in an address to the congregation: Two images he 518 The Fourth Vow of the Jesuits / 5"i9 used stand out in my memory. He compared the Society to a ship that has come through a storm, battered, but intact. He also described it as a person who is ill, but not mortally. Another series of events is more recent. In October 1981, to the surprise of e~,eryone, Pope John Paul II, in an unprecedented action, replaced the man chosen by Fr. Arrupe as his personal vicar. In his place, the pope named an Italian Jesuit, Fr. Paolo Dezza, who has had a long history of service to the Society, as his personal delegate to the Society. Predictably the reaction among Jesuits ran the gamut. On the part of many the reactions were negative: feelings of anger, resentment, indignation, confusion, suspicion, hurt. Some, on the other hand, saw it as a special sign of love and concern the Holy Father had for the Society, intended to help us prepare more fruitfully for the upcoming congregation at which a new general will.be elected. The initial bristling reaction was in large part quieted by subsequent events. The week-long meeting of the provincials from all over the world with Fr. Dezza, then their personal conference with the pope brought a great deal of mutual understanding. Finally, Fr. Dezza's letter convoking the next General Congregation to take place in September of 1983 set our faces toward the future. Fr. O'Malley's article on the fourth vow assumes, then, a special impor-tance in the light of the events just mentioned. Its implications for our collec-tive awareness of our relationships toward the Holy See merit serious attention. In what fol~lows, after an analysis of Fr. O~Malley~s article, I shall pose questions expressing my misgiving with his argumentation and his conclusion. Then I shall present Fr. Arrupe's treatment of the fourth vow in some of his recent writings. Needless to say, even in my disagreement with Fr. O'Malley, I respect him as a scholar and personal friend. The Fourth Vow However, even before I begin, I should say something about the Jesuits' fourth vow for the benefit of non-Jesuits who might read this. In establishing his religious order, St. Ignatius took over, of course, many traditional aspects of religious life. In other points he was creative and innovative. He took over, for example, the idea of the final vows that a member would make after a period of probation. But he also introduced an innovation in what arecalled "grades" in the Society~ Those who are admitted to last vows would be admitted on two grades (or levels). The first grade comprises the spiritual (priests) and temporal (lay brothers) coadjutors. The second grade is that of the professed. Besides the regular vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the professed took a fourth vow of obedience to the pope. The description of this fourth vow is found in The Formula of the Institute, the document in which Pope Julius IIl in 1550 gave his full approbation to this new congregation. 520 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 The pertinent sentences from the formula are the following: "We are obliged by a special vow to carry out whatever the present and future Roman pontiffs may order in what pertains to the progress of souls and the propaga-tion of the faith; and to go without subterfuge or excuse, as far as in us lies, to whatsoever provinces they may choose to send us . , The motive for the vow is "for the sake of our greater devotion in obedience to the Apostolic See, of greater abnegation of our own wills, and of surer direction from the Holy Spirit." Further declarations are found in the Constitutions for the Society written by St. Ignatius. "The Fourth Vow in Its Ignatian Context: A Historical Study" I come then to Fr. O'Malley's article. He describes in the Introduction the particular question that focuses his study: "The most specific and urgent ques-tion raised in the past few years is how the vow relates to the papal magiste-rium. Does the vow obligate Jesuits to an adherence to that magisterium that is different from that of other Catholics, especially Catholic theologians, and is 'special' to the members of the Society? That question, we must note right off, is asked regarding an obligation imposed by the vow" (p. 1). The article is prompted then by the problem facing Jesuits, particularly teachers, writers, editors. Does the fourth vow oblige them to support papal teaching if they judge there is room for legitimate disagreement? In Part I. St. Ignatius and Doctrine, upon examining the relevant sources, Fr. O'Malley draws the conclusion that St. Ignatius had no interest in doctrine qua doctrine, but only in its pastoral implications. "Is it too much to state that Ignatius had no real interest in doctrine or theology in the conventional sense of those terms today? A strong case can be made for that position" (p. 9). "Ignatius conceived doctrine almost entirely with a view to pastoral effective-ness" (p. 11). "The behavioral and attitudinal components emerge much stronger in this 'horizon' than do more strictly dogmatic issues" (p. 11). Part II. St. Ignatius and Orthodoxy deals with doctrine as the object of faith. Here he takes up St. Ignatius' "Rules for Thinking with the Church." He addresses himself mainly to Rule 13: "What seems to me white, I will believe (creer) black if the hierarchical Church so defines, believing (creyendo) between Christ our Lord, the spouse, and the Church, his bride, there is the same Spirit which governs us and directs us to the salvation of our souls." Rather than se.,eing this rule as applying to doctrinal orthodoxy qua orthodoxy, O'Malley interprets it more as a practical directive: "His 'rule' emerges, therefore, more as an indication of a disposition of soul (sentir) than as a practical instrument for theological discourse. It thus reflects the attitudi-nal and affective intent that pervades Ignatius' writings" (p. 15). "But, again like the rest of us, Ignatius was cautious, conventional, and even undiscrimi-nating in areas where he had no deep inte~rest. One of these areas was academic theology, and even the relationship of that theology to orthodoxy" (p. 16). According to O'Malley, then, Ignatius had little interest in academic theology, The Fourth l,'ow of the Jesuits / 521 or the relationship of theology to dogma, or interest in dogma itself, except as providing some kind of pastoral orientation. O'Malley begins Part III. St. Ignatius and the Church with a statement which seems to moderate what he said before: "If there is one exception to this vagueness on dogma in Ignatius' thinking, it lies in ecclesiology" (p. 21). But he goes on to correct this impression. What was Ignatius' idea of the Church? Not primarily a "school of doc-trine," nor a hierarchical and sacramental reality, but as a locus for ministry. "Ministry, quite ~imply, is what the Church is about. As one conceives minis-try, therefore, so does one conceive Church" (p. 24). "Rather than 'school of doctrine,' therefore, a less ambiguous term of Ignatius' idea of the Church might be 'school of the affections' or 'school of affectivity'" (p. 25). What is the identifying role of the papacy then? Since the Church is to be conceived as the locus of ministry, the pope is conceived as the universal provider for ministry in the Church. "The consensus was., that the pope was the universal pastor with certain prerogatives that made him the ultimate judge in areas where equitable settlement could otherwise not be achieved. He resolved disputes and thereby was the ultimate guarantor of order in the Church. 'Pastor' and 'judge' would be the two best words to describe his function" (p. 28). Was there such a thing as papal magisterium at the time of Ignatius? Not in the sense in which it exists today, according to O'Malley. "The pope is rarely described as 'teacher,' at least as we would be inclined to understand that word today" (p. 29). "They were very far, then, from exercising a teaching office in any regular and positive sense" (p. 29). What was it, then, that led Ignatius to conceive the fourth vow? According to O'Malley, it was mainly his sense of order. This came from his temperament and background, as well as from the contemporary world view that saw hierarchy as the natural order of the universe. "It was inevitable that he would ascribe this same structure to the Church" (p. 31). Was the vow a one-sided promise that the Society be totally at the service of the pope? Not exactly. It was a quidpro quo: "They needed the Holy See as badly as they believed the Holy See needed them . In defending the Holy See. the Jesuits were also defending their own charter to exist" (p. 32). "The relationship between the Jesuits and the pope was mutually advan-tageous" (p. 33). However functional this whole arrangement was, O'Malley concedes that Ignatius did, nevertheless, have a special regard for the Holy See. But one should not read back into his devotion to the Holy See the personalistic fervor that grew up around the person of the Holy Father in the nineteenth century (p. 33). In Part II/. St. Ignatius and the Fourth l,'ow O'Malley argues against the position of two Jesuits, a German and a~ Spaniard, who hold a position contrary to his. He feels they go too far in expanding the scope of the vow. He 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1983 grants that "the symbolic character of a vow, as an expression of a religious ideal, should be expansive, but the proper object of a vow must., be clearly localized" (p. 38). He then states again the specific question he is addressing: "Can the pope bind a Jesuit by virtue of his vow to some 'special' defense, say, of Veterum sapientia, or Populorum progressio, or Humanae vitae, or Laborem exer-cens?" (p. 40). His answer is "No." There is no indication that Ignatius or his companions ever considered this as a likelil~ood or possibility (p. 40). He rules out, then, the possibility of the pope comman~ding some specific teaching by reason of the

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

Issue 34.1 of the Review for Religious, 1975. This was the first issue edited by Dan Meenan, S.J. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right (~ 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scriptiqn U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor January 1975 Volume 34 Number 1 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Review for Religious is published in January, March, May~ July, September, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edi-tion of Review for Religious is available from University Microfilm; Ann Ar-bor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1975 by Review for Religious. Symposium on Continuing Formation Peter W. Cantwell, O.F.M. Sister Margaret McGovern, R.S.M. Brother Ronald Perry, F.M.S. In the following is given the text of three talks given in March 1974 to the Combined Major Superiors' Conference of Australia. PRINCIPLES OF CONTINUING FORMATION By Peter W. Cantwell, O.F.M. (Father Cantweli is Deputy Head of the Department of Pastoral Studies at Yarra Theol?gy Union in Box Hill, Australia, and a Director of Formation for the Franciscan Fathers. His address is: Franciscan Retreat House; 39 Sackville Street; Kew, Victoria 3101; Australia.) The most obvious question to ask at the beginning of a paper such as this is: Why continuing formation at all? The Need for Continuing Formation The first answer that comes to mind is: There are no professionals in living! We never graduate from the undergraduate status in the katter of life and liv-ing. And the other side of the coin is: It is surprisingly easy to become a drop-out from the university of life, to become someone who feels that he has now arrived and earned a rest and doesn't need to learn any more, and that it is now time to rest on his laurels! Well, in God's dealings with His chosen people, as soon as laurels were seen as things to rest on, then the People of God were broken in some very real way. To be a follower of Christ is a process of con-tinuing conversion of heart; we never have the faith in a static sense, but it is something that grows in us and must keep.growing. Augustine described the process of faith as: Hands groping in the dark. It is very easy, and very human, to give up the groping and find a comfortable niche. So the real question is not: How do we justify the time given to continuingformation? but rather: How do we justify not making it more of a priority than perhaps we do? We should not be asking "Why?" but rather "Why not?" 3 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 One of the answers sometimes given to the "Why not?" question is: Someone else has to do my work while I am away, and besides l am not con-tributing to the Province during that time. The second statement is invalid, for surely ! am preparing myself to be better equipped when I come back. And possibly the first statement reflects a certain mania for productivity and an ap-proach to religious life which is over task-centered (work is primary) rather than person-centered (the person is primary). But beyond the more general human need for continuing education and re-education-- being experienced in many fields today quite outside Church circles: teachers, nurses, management, and so forth--there are several very clear reasons from within the Church which emphasize the need for continuing formation. Vatican II specifically challenged religious to respond to the needs of the contemporary world and thereby make themselves more striking and credible witnesses to the gospel. It demanded of religious that they be attentive to the signs of the times and that they speak the good news to the people of this century and not the last. The challenge of Vatican iI was and is virtually a mandate for rebirth, and it was the impetus of Vatican II which stimulated the search for a new identity for religious orders and congregations. This mandate for rebirth was made doubly complicated by the rapidity of the changes occurring in society around. Not only did religious have to catch up on ~a world that was already in front, but on a world that was accelerating at a frightening rate (see Future Shock). So in religious life at the moment we have not only abandoned many struc-tures which have ceased to be useful and begun to search for new horizons--a challenging enough task on its own--but we have to try to accomplish this in a rapidly changing environment. In a recent article Karl Rahner analyzes the whole question of change in reference to religious life and concludes that one of the primary demands on religious today is to cope with a situation of change where many of the familiar landmarks have gone for good. This in itself puts considerable pressure on people: It requires a deeper and more solidly based personal maturity to be able to cope with change than it did to live year after year in a fairly codified, unchanging, structured, more conforming religious life. So if I were to try to sum up the need for continuing formation, the sum-mary would run something like this: --if we want to keep growing as persons, we need it. --if we want to answer the challenge of ,Vatican 1I, we need it. --if we want our witness to keep pace with and be relevant to today's world, we have no other option. Definition With that in mind I would like to try to give a description of how 1 see con-tinuing formation: The facilitation of the continuing growth of the whole person so as to promote a deeper and fuller commitment to the person and mission of Christ. Symposium on Continuing Formation Put perhaps in a more simple form, I do not ~believe that the central goal of continuing formation is to give people a lot more knowledge or produce people who are a lot better informed (though that is part of it, as we shall see), but rather to help the person: believe more in himself, believe more in life, believe more in Christ. This demands a real wrestling with myself in the radical depths of my faith-committed humanity, a continuing conversion~ as I try to inch forward in growth towards a fuller realization within myself Of the fullness of the Person of Christ. IMPLICATIONS Growtl~ and Attitude Change The first term in the description is "growth." Growth is and must be the central issue in continuing formation (or any formation for that matter). And something that is closely associated with the whole notion of growth is attitude change. What is an attitude? In my day-to-day living what determines the way l am ~oing to act in various situations is the set of attitudes which my life ex-periences to date have taught me. An attitude could then be simply described as "the way I perceive a situation," and it determines the way I will behave in a given situation. If my attitude towards change is that it is unnecessary, then my behavior will probably be one of resistance. If my attitude towards myself is one of general insecurity, change will be threatening for me, and 1 will resist again but for a different reason. Attitudes are usually fairly deeply engrained, they are a distilled product of my life experiences to date, they are very much tied to the center of my per-sonhood, "where I am at now." So they change only slowly and with much ef-fort. Attitude change is usually described as a threefold process, involving: firstly, beginning to let go of the old outlook and behaviors ("unfreezing"); secondly, looking around for a new frame of reference and new behavior models ("changing"); and thirdly, trying to solidify the newly acquired outlook and behavior so that they become a permanent part of the person's functional repertoire ("refreezing"). I would like to group the,first set of principles for continuing formation un-der these various dimensions of attitude change. '° Unfreezing" The first thing we are asking the person to undertake in attitude change is to venture out of an accustomed way of acting and to look around for new possibilities. Any person does this only with great caution, very tentatively, and. in an atmosphere of trust and acceptance, and is more likely to be too slow rather than too fast in the process: Hence: 6 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 If we are aiming at real growth, we can expect varying degrees of resistance, because we are asking persons to venture out into strange territory. In this venture it is very necessary that I see the need to move and am willing to take the risk involved. It is no good if you are trying to drag me along by the scruff of the neck. So: We cannot force people to grow or be renewed. A lot of time must be spent in eliciting the molivation Io want to grow. The effectiveness of a program depends to a large extent on how open the people participating are to the goals of the program, I feel it must be a terribly strong temptation for a superior, often out of sheer desperation, to use a large amount of moral and even physical pressure on those who are dragging their renewal heels to do programs that they simply do not want to do. Well, they might learn some new information, but they cannot possibly grow unless they want to. Father Nebreda, in his framework of catechesis, speaks of pre-evangelization: a kind of remote preparation for the proclamation of the good news. I think we need a type of pre-evangelization in the renewal work, almost like watering the ground before the plough comes along. There is a basic psy-chological axiom which says: People cannot be taught or learn who feel at the same time that they are being attacked. I feel that at times we need to spend more time watering the ground, gently listening to people and freeing them from the threat that they are about to be put through the compulsory sausage machine. Quite frequently we might find a surprising willingness under the camouflage of opposition. The next principle is perhaps self-explanatory: The longer a person has been in a relatively unchanging structure, the more resistance there is likely to be to change. Behavior patterns that have been in operation for a longer period of time, especially with people who are less secure in themselves, tend to become such a part of the person that change, while dearly Wished for, should not be expected. 1 often feel that the best and most that we can do for such people is to create opportunities for growth, encourage participation, but be open to the possibility that change may not be likely and that psychologically the person will remain where he or she is. The superior is then faced with the difficult situation of trying to find a niche for him which will be meaningful and enable him to feel that he is contributing something worthwhile, which will not de-mand change, but at the same time not create unnecessary hardships for those in the community who are trying to change. Quite a job! The last principle in this section is one which is very important: Real growth involves risk-taking and pain and tension, and may include the need for special help for a period of time. Sometimes, no matter how well one prepares a program and how well one screens people for it, an individual comes along who cannot cope with it and Symposium on Continuing Formation / 7 wl~o suddenly finds that he needs specialized help. (l would evenlike to extend the.principle and say that at some of the more critical phases of our individual growth most of us need something more than the ordinary help!) But to get back to renewal. In our experience, some superiors tend to overreact to this temporary inability of one of their subjects to cope. Well, if casualties con-stantly happened with the one program then one should ask some serious questions about the program. But an equally valid approach where real growth is concerned might see such a time of passing personal conflict as a not-to-be-unexpected factor of real efforts to grow, and if rightly handled by the right person such conflicts can be catalysts for very real growth. In fact we grow only through tension and conflict. And it could be far better for such tension and conflict to come to the surface in a controlled situation such as a program rather than when the person is busily engaged in the normal commitment to the apostolate. I am saying that to want "growth without casualties" is unreal and is perhaps wanting to avoid one of the unavoidables in growth. "Changing" We now come to the second stage of attitude change. Having tried to let go of an accustomed way of acting, the person is left in a state of confusion or doubt. That is an uncomfortable feeling, and gives rise to a strong motivation to resolve it. There are two ways that the person will usually try to do this. The first is to try to have a clear idea of the new goal that he is heading for, to seek to try to establish a new conceptual framework, to find ideas and ex-planations which are more in accord with life as he now sees it: lectures, books, reflection, the experience of others, and so forth--all the ways that we can find things out. He is looking for a new vision as to where he is heading. It is here that we treat of the place of new information in continuing education: Input and new information is an essential element of growth, but it can be, and often has been, wrongly made equivalent to growth. I think we all know the positive need and real benefits of new information, so just let me state some of the things that worry me about overemphasis on in-formation. Knowing does not necessarily by any means mean doing, and knowing how I should change does not mean that I am any closer to actually changing. I believe that in the early days of renewal within the Church we made the error of thinking that if we could get the latest lecturer with the latest idea on the latest subject then all would be well and we would immediately transform our orders and congregations. Such a notion of growth is one-sided. Know.ledge is essential, it provides a necessary frame of reference for un-derstanding experiences, and it elicits motivation for further growth. But the identification of knowledge with growth, as I think often happened in the older type of seminary training, can have unfortunate consequences. From the in-dividual's point of view it tends to produce the person who can mouth the latest I~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 catchword (be it "caring and sharing" or "togetherness" or whatever) without there being any internal experience to go with it and make sense of it. And from the point of view of the congregation in the context of renewal, it leads to disappointment and cynicism because the expected fruits are not forthcom-ing. But to get back to the positive side, the first need of someone who is trying to change is to have a real and valid frame of reference so that he can see and understand where he is going. A second need to help him in this crucial mo-ment of change is to see this new vision realized in some way or another in the lives of significant people around him. Such significant people would include those who are trying to inject the new ideas (fine words without example are dry), but more particularly the people back hgme, the members of the com-munity and province, and possibly most particularly the leadership in the province. So we say: Change of attitude is greatly assisted where the leadership in a province (overall, not just the provincial or general) approaches some kind of exemplification of the goals of renewal. "Refreezing" The final stage of attitude change is the "refreezing," which simply means that we try to make sure that the acquired learnings persist and become a nor-mal part of the person's behavior. And here the whole environment of a com-munity and a province plays a very significant role. It is not unusual for people to undergo some change, but not be able to maintain it. Many mental hospital patients, for instance, recover in hospital where they are away from the interaction with members of their family or other persons who played an important part in bringing about their breakdown. On leaving the hospital in a reasonably healthy state ofbody and mind they go back to the old context of relationships which promptly brings about a relapse. Either the behavior patterns were not deeply engrained enough, or the environment and atmosphere were so negative as to be destruc-tive. Hence the principle: If growth changes are to be lasting, there is need for a supportive environment and con-tinuing reinforcement. An extreme example of this would be: a religious is removed from an en-vironment which is hostile to any change, given a short intensive program which requires a lot of reintegration on the personal level, and is then returned to the same situation with no follow-up! The more intensive aspects of personal renewal need to be prepared for, nurtured during the moments of change, and solidified through support and follow-up. In other words there needs to be an atmosphere of renewal in a prov.ince, renewal cannot be considered a "oncer" which we now get all our people through and then get back to normal life and work. Some of our friars reflect this wrong attitude when they now say: "1 have done my renewal!" Symposium on Continuing Formation / 9 The Whole Person The second aspect of our definition is that continuing formation is meant to promote the growth of the whole person. I would like to touch on a couple of principles very briefly. The first principle really sums up two things I have said already: Real renewal in a province requires an atmosphere which is "person-centered" as con-trasted to "task-centered" (excessive concern with productivity). If renewal is an urgent need today, then it must come first in practice as well as theory. One of the tensions that many religious whom 1 am counseling are facing today is that numbers in the congregation are dwindling, the same number of commitments is being maintained, and so people are being stretched beyond their elastic limit., and break. That is almost the direct opposite of the at-mosphere which is needed for real renewal. If people are going to be able to have the time and energy necessary to do some real personal reflection and reintegration, to keep pace with changing life today, and to survive in their religious commitments, then possibly they should be doing less than they were before--at least till they do some catching up! The second principle has ]already been touched on too: The whole person--intellectual, spiritual, human--must be considered if renewal is to be lasting: I feel the emphasis has been something like this: the intellectual has been overcatered for, the spiritual has been undercatered for, and the whole human dimension has often been completely neglected. Enough has been said on the intellectual area and the need for information. What of the spiritual? The last part of the description of continuing formation says.~that the overall and primary goal of renewal is "to promote a deeper and fuller commitment to the person and mission of Christ." The faith-prayer-Christ dimensior~ must ob-viously be the air we breathe when talking of renewal, for nothing makes sense outside of this framework. Today, at the very grass roots of religious con-gregations, there is a real awakening of a need for spiritual direction and counseling, .for depth of prayer and the need for reflection--maybe because these have been partly left out of some renewal efforts to date! On the human level, the level of normal personal maturing, the level of adequate preparation for the various stages of life (especially the later stages), the level of the development of a sense of self-worth and self-value, the whole field of a psy-chology and theology of leisure and the creative use of leisure time, we have often been abysmally lacking. But the other papers will fill this out more. The third principle: The whole of each person must be considered if renewal is to be lasting. To achieve this the different members of a province need to have access to a variety of programs. The simple point 1 am making by way of principle is this: In any province we have a variety of people with a variety of needs: the young and the old, those 10 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 who have done a lot of renewal and those who have done little, those brought up under the older formation programs and those under the newer, those who need pre-evangelization and those who need follow-up, those who need something pretty solid for a longer period of time, those groups with special needs (for example, superiors), programs for a single community, coedu-cational programs, intellectual versus experiential programs, and so forth. We cannot hope to find an ultimate program that will suit everyone, that we can put them through, and then imagine that all is done. Finally: A n atmosphere of renewal in a province, and a variety of possible programs to cope with differing needs, is more likely to avoid the dangers of polarization (where few people get a lot and the rest nothing). I feel that a province should, as far as possible, move as a whole,.but within a very broad unity. Pluralism within a broad unity. That might mean that some members need to do less and move more slowly, and others more and move more quickly. A variety of programs helps to spread the leaven as far as possi-ble and avoid dangerous splitting. Conclusion By way of conclusion, I would like to do no more than mention three broad principles which might help us to be as realistic, and even as optimistric, as possible about religious life today: Because growth is a slow and painful process, we should not expect too much too soon from any person or program. Conflict is functional: that is, growth occurs only in a situation of reasonable conflict and tension. In the absence of all ~tension a group stagnales. One of the goals of renewal should be to create a wise pluralism within a broad unity so as to be as open as possible to whatever direction the Spirit moves in. CREATIVE RENEWAL AND RELIGIOUS WOMEN By Sister Margaret McGovern, R.S.M. (Sister Margaret McGovern, R.S.M., is Director of the Social Work Department at the Mater Hospital; Pacific Highway; Crows Nest, N.S.W. 2065; Australia. She is also deeply involved in renewal work for religious throughout Australia.) The previous paper described some of the principles which must be considered when offering and organizing continuing education programs for members of religious congregations. The next paper by Brother Perry outlines in detail how some of the existing programs attempt to meet these needs and shows where there are gaps and overlapping. Here we should like to attempt to tease out some of the difficulties in renewing the total person, with particular application to women religious. Programs designed to stimulate the process of renewal in Symposium on Continuing Formation the individual should not be confused with renewal itself. The latter is the work of the Spirit in the human heart. Programs of renewal are merely predisposing stimuli to the person to enter into the process of rendering himself more aware and able to appreciate and cooperate with the action of the Spirit. Multiple Options of Renewal Stimuli A very basic and fundamental principle here is the necessity of keeping a wide variety of programs continually open as options for a variety of people. We all need education and continuing formation in all aspects of total Chris-tian living. We need to learn and learn again, so that we may deepen and broaden our commitment to the truth who is Christ. Some of us need depthing in one particular area at one stage of our lives, and something quite different at another. Where people's needs are concerned we cannot have a neat, chronological, tightly-boxed sequence of renewal programs. For instance, it seems quite reasonable to presume that people who have been out on the apostolate for fifteen years might like a fairly intensive period of renewal. But even within that one group, what each wants and what each gets from any given program will, predictably, be quite different. (Incidentally~ the attitude behind phrases that one often hears today; "They've had their renewal," "She has done her renewal," betrays a very superficial outlook. Renewal must be a life's task.) Pluralism of opportunity is essential in any attempt to provide stimulus for an individual's growth and conversion.-Conversion is ultimately an individual phenomenon between God and the pers.on concerned: The community does play an important role in terms of support, atmosphere, and encouragement, both humanly and spiritually; but ultimately each individual must face his own conversion alone and against the background of his own individual uniqueness. So there can be no package deals for conversion. Nonetheless, our social condition means that stimuli to growth and renewal will often be provided by some kind of organized course, retreat, and so forth. Optimal Size of Programs Probably the most effective programs are those offered on a small group basis where the chances of remaining uninvolved or untouched are lessened. If a course is offered on a small group basis there is far more likelihood that it can be tailored to the needs of this particular group of people, thus lessening the frustration of those who have already been through a particular experience but are asked to do it again "for the sake of those who haven't done it yet." A small group renewal experience is more likely to get to where the person is at, and to be real formation as well as imparting a certain amount of information. Both of these elements are essential, as the other two papers emphasize. Types of Programs The kinds of continuing formation programs which might well operate for 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 the renewal of the total person over a period of years would include the following: updating in some of the key areas of modern theology; exposure to a variety of experiences in prayer forms; opportunities for indepth spiritual renewal, as, for instance, in varied forms of retreats (small groups, private, directed, communal), time in a house of prayer, individual direction; education in methods, forms, and process of community sharing; programs which foster self-awareness in relationship to others; workshops which assist the superior to learn to operate comfortably and.effectively in that role; some education on an even broader basis, for instance, some psychology, sociology, history and so forth, on the principle that some understanding of human and social phenomena lessen the threat of change and adaptation. Some of these programs are more directly spiritual in nature, others are more oriented to the development of the full, human person. Some will be more pertinent to a person at one stage of her growth and others at another. But both are necessary to grow into full maturity in Christ. Combining Resources A major problem is worth mentioning here. Organizationally it is very dif-ficult for major superiors, particularly if working merely with members of their own orders, to continually provide such a wide variety of programs as is suggested here. Intercongregational cooperation would seem to offer a partial solution. While it is quite true that it is important for some of the.renewal ex-periences to be assimilated just with members of one's own congregation (for example, a re-discovery of the charism of the founder), many of the other programs suggested could well be offered on a broader basis, particularly those that are information-oriented. And while major superiors are being mentioned, another point could be made: that it is very important for the major superior not only to arrange programs for the other sisters, but insofar as possible to at-tend and participate and thus model what renewal is all about. Is The Latest The Best? One of the less fortunate attitudes around in the renewal field today is that of equating the latest with the best. There are many courses and programs and experiences provided in the whole field of renewal, and they tend to wax and wane in cycles of popularity, and as the need determines. But they are all'valid and even necessary in the right context.~Choice made on the basis of"the latest is the best" can be not only unhelpful but be positively retrogressive, as for in-stance in the case of a person d6ing a fairly advanced program without the necessary preparation. One of the most recent renewal booms has been in the area of directed retreats: six to eight days, thirty days, and so forth. One cannot avoid the im-pression that a great number of sisters are enrolling to do one of these because it is the latest renewal "must." Speaking to this subject, David Fleming says: Symposium on Continuing Formation The accomplishment of having spent thirty days in prayer can easily be set up as a false criterion for determining who the really renewed religious are. It is not so much a con-scious putdown of the "have nots"., but rather a whole atmosphere is being created for the desirability and even necessity of being among this new elite in order to be the good religious (See David Fleming, S.J., "The Danger of Faddism and the Thirty-Day Retreat," Review for Religious, 1974, p. 97.) What we must try to do is to continually provide a wide variety of renewal opportunities to satisfy a factually wide variety of needs, including the latest types of programs but not overemphasizing these. It is a subtle and ticklish thing not only to spread the canvas wide but to present the various facets of the canvas objectively, so that those who are beginning a renewal process in their lives will begin at the right place, without at the same time feeling inferior to or outmastered by those who have been on the path for some time. And perhaps one of the more difficult and time-consuming tasks of the major superior is to keep encouraging each member to continually grow from where she is at and in whatever way she feels best. What of the Non-Participants? We need to make sure that renewal stimuli can get to all--or maybe we should say that all have the opportunity of getting tO renewal. Over recent years there has been a spate of workshops in the areas of personal awareness, communication skills, and so forth. These are good and necessary and serve a specific function. But what of the sisters who are not touched by these and who are perhaps frightened of becoming involved in such a course? We have left behind, in many cases, the second novitiate concept and taken on four to six week renewal programs. These are usually quite eclectic in terms of offering a broad smorgasboard of renewal possibilities. But not all will be touched by these either. What of them? For major superiors this differential rate of participation can be worrying, as it can seem that the more they supply to their communities the more it looks like a case of "to those who have, more will be given." And the worrying other side of the coin is the impression that the fearful ones are falling further behind. It is unfortunate if renewal becomes a cause of polarization, and yet, in many communities, it appears to be just that. Creative Leisure One of the questions that needs more attention in renewal today, especially for female religious, is the whole question of education for some form of creative leisure. The appreciation of and provision for Ieisure was by tradition abysmally lacking in many women's congregations. This has no doubt been responsible for a lot of the maladjustment and discontent of many women religious who were trained in and lived under that system. We are not talking about an easier way of life! We are speaking of the opportunity, and the regular opportunity, to just stop and be, to be able to get out of and away from 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 the pressure of the normal workaday job, to restore, revitalize, and refresh one's inner body and spirit., in whatever way each individual best enjoys do-ing that. Leisure is the chance for me to experience myself in relation to myself, others, and creation. Some appreciation and cultivation of leisure is very necessary to cultivate prayer in depth. We are still very heavily tainted by the good old Protestant work ethic of productivity, consumerism, materialism, getting the job done even if it means working ourselves into the ground doing it. And often we do just that and ruin even our productive hours of work ,because we are too exhausted or dried up. Leisure includes simple things like taking exercise--according to the medical profession a very healthy activity. How many women in your com-munity get any regular creative exercise: playing tennis, squash, golf, swim-ming, doing yoga, going on bush walks, and so forth? Women by their nature are creative: someone cooks nicely, sews beautifully, paints, and so forth. But how often do they get the chance to do it just for the sheer joy of doing it? And in the leisure field there are limitless possibilities in adult education courses: pottery, basket weaving, literature, history, and so forth. In many cases for women religious this part of their lives has been neglected for so long that. they almost have a need to be educated towards leisure and the creative use of such. And this is where leadership is needed in terms of providing opportunity for and positively encouraging women religious towards developing themselves in this area. Conclusion And that brings us back to where we started from: that renewal can only be thought of in terms of a continual, ongoing, lifelong process embracing the whole Christian person, body, mind, and spirit. That means trying to keep the body fresh, the mind informed, and the spirit as close to the Lord as possible; These conditions assist the woman religious today to witness to the simple gospel message of the good news of Christ in a world where the only constant is change, where adaptation is continually being demanded of her, and where the pressure on her to really be something for modern man is steadily increasing. RENEWAL AND CONTINUING EDUCATION: WHAT IS HAPPENING AND WHAT HAPPENS? By Brother Ronald Perry, F.M,S. (Brother Ronald Perry has contributed much to the renewal of religious life in Australia and is the Director of the Sydney Archdiocesan Institute of Counselling. His address is: Marist Brothers; 16 Dorahy Street; Dundas, N.S.W. 2117; Australia.) We may distinguish forms of continuing education under three possible headings: remedial, retraining, and continuing stimulation. By "remedial" we mean any form of continuing education that involves updating in all its variations, where, the attitude change that we all vaguely call renewal is'en- Symposium on Continuing Formation couraged or stimulated or begins to take place. The religious life document from the council is subtitled the "appropriate renewal" or the "adaptation and renewal" of religious life. Most renewal programs are heavily geared in this direction with the stress often on what is "new." By "retraining" we mean the process where we either prepare a person or a group for a new role or task or, without such specific goals, strive to develop the talent and potential of individuals or groups. This is basically a process in-volving a good deal of time and depthing. This retraining may be developmen-tal, and aimed therefore at improving the potential of a person in a rather general way; or specific, where it aims to prepare a person for a specific task or role, such as novice master, spiritual director, counselor, and so forth. In either case it involves much forward planning, consultation with the person con-cerned, a reasonably clear statement of aims, and often withdrawal from pres-ent activities for a time. By "continuing stimulation" we mean the type of program where we aim to call persons to continuing conversion, to recall the challenge and the grace of the gospel gift and call, and to depth the experience of the faith again. This we must do always. But in particular we must ensure that it can happen at every stage of a person's passage through life. This type of program is also always "new" but in a different sense of new to what we were referring to abo','e: it is the newness of the gospel and its constant challenge to us. RENEWAL IS OFTEN REMEDIAL Factors in Renewal Firstly, it is important to reflect on where renewal leads us and what is in-cluded. As we try to analyze the different aspects of renewal programs and the different sorts of skills and knowledge that are required for us to begin to change in a very fundamental way, three distinguishable aspects emerge: (a) We need a great deal of new intellectual knowledge that will enable us to establish new cognitive frames of reference to help us think with the Church. Specifically today this means becoming up-to-date in thinking with the Church, in, for instance, the whole new emphases in dogmatic theology that have emerged since the Council. Again, moral theology is a particularly impor-tant area where a fuller understanding of sin, reconciliation, penance, law, and authority is very important to enable us to move away from an approach to morality that was geared primarily to laws and "do's and don't's?' Recent developments in Scripture, what it means and what its central importance is in the life of the Christian, must be a vital area of concern in all our attempts at renewal. (b) We need a new capacity to share in community. This second aspect of renewal seems to consist in the development of a real capacity to share with others and to support others in community (in whatever situation that might happen to be), to share one's faith vision with others, and to communicate in charity and truth. This has been one of the great riches of the renewal in the 16 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Church over the last several years. It reflects something that is happening in society at large, and has led us, by comparison to older forms of religious life, to a deeper understanding of the Church as community. (c) We need a new possibility of self-understanding and self-awareness before God. It has always been said that real renewal is personal renewal, and one aspect of the movement away from structures is that each person is called and challenged to look at himself more closely, more truly, and to face himself before God in a way that is more genuine (see Review for Religous, 1974, pp. 78-84 for an illustration of this). These three areas involve great variety and richness, and their attainment also means overcoming some difficulties, as for instance the development of a particular climate and particUlar skills. But it would seem that we have no choice in facing all three of these areas. The Church frequently calls us to this. Even if we would escape such a call, the pressure of our own contemporaries on us to become more effective witnesses of the Christ of the Gospels leaves no other alternative. The Process of Renewal It is difficult to analyze what we actually expect from all sorts of renewal programs. Perl~aps the following various expectations. schema might tie together some of the Personal self-awareness P A W Listening PRAYERFUL R C I (ableto meet) Community Development A T T Loving HOPEFUL Y I N (tolerant) New frames of reference E O E Relevant COMPASSIONATE (knowledge) R N S (understandable) S Development in the three areas of personal self-awareness, community, and new knowledge will result, if it happens properly, in a new understanding of and new capacity for prayer, but understood in a very different way to "saying prayers." Such a development will take time, and many religious have agonized through the difficulty of abandoning some prayer, shortening their time of prayer, rejecting some forms of prayer, finding some prayers meaningless, and so forth. The above diagram is not meant to imply any miraculous immediacy of results; it is more a question of what does happen frequently and what can happen for all of us. And if our prayer becomes more truly genuine, it should appear as a more credible witness in the action that is the apostolate both inside one's own community and beyond it. In that apostolate, then, we shall be relevant, what we say will be un-derstandable, we will be able as St. Peter suggests to have an answer for those who question us about the faith. We will also be more loving people in that we are more tolerant of others, more open to them however different they may be to us in belief or way of life. And we will be listening people because, with such a message, we are' able to meet them. Therefore, the person who is renewed by whatever process would be seen as Symposium on Continuing Formation prayer-ful, because in a real way in contact with the Lord and expressing that directly; hope-ful, because he is able to offer the world its only hope of un-derstanding meaning in life and seeing hope in what we live; and com-passionate, because able to live with and suffer with and be with fellow humans as Jesus, incarnate on earth, was able to be. Some Principles for Renewal Some principles that apply in the renewal of the whole person would include the following: (a) Development in one area without the others can be problematic. For in-stance, to be offered a solid diet of new understanding of theology without an additional capacity to understand self and to share with others in community, can produce isolated and confused people. On the other hand, to offer people considerable personal development through counseling, group work, and even spiritual direction, without an adequate understanding of the moral and dogmatic principles that are relevant can also lead to confusion. (b) Very few people are too rigid for some change. We often despair in renewal programs and cause polarization because we feel that many people are too rigid to change. I think we need to remember that we have come from a very structured situation and a very structured upbringing. This is probably true of ordinary Catholics, but particularly true of religious, and it is a slow process to change that older frame of reference~ A few people will be too.rigid in character structure to change, but this is the exception rather than the rule and usually results from some personality difficulty. But we should not give up on people too easily. Rather, as suggested by Father Cantwell in the earlieroar-ticle, we should be able to cushion the demands for chahge so that people are asked only to do a small amount at~a time and in ways that can be seen as valid and true for them. (c) This principle of renewal is really a corollary of the last: it is vital not to omit any group. It is very easy to concentrate on the younger ones and the pliable middle age ones! But this is just another way of reinforcing possible polarization. (d) Often, in the initial stages of renewal, it will be important to encourage and help develop some key leaders in order that through these people and their efforts the process will permeate the whole group. This is not the only possible method, and many successful programs have begun with a gathering of the whole province and operating on the principle of unity. However, the latter is not always easy to carry out. In any case, some special attention will need to be paid to encourage leaders to act as bridge-builders: that is, to encourage those who can see what needs to be done, to help them do it with as little aggression and hostility as possible, and with as much resp.ect for each age group and each person as possible. (e) Finally, and perhaps most obviously, renewal is written first in the lives of men. Persons leading renewal must be seen as credible. 1~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/I Types of Programs As we have said already, many types of programs with varied goals are usually gathered together under the one head of renewal. For instance, many a "month of renewal,' is based largely on lectures (knowledge), but takes place within the context of a large group of members of the same community or con-gregation, so that the whole dimension of community development and the challenge of deeper self-awareness become very significant elements of the overall experience. On the other hand, some courses in moral theology, while focusing prin-cipally on lectures and new information, cannot but challenge one's personal understanding of conscience, sin, law, and so forth, and therefore include a good deal of the self-awareness aspect of renewal, though less of the com-munity element. A number of courses on spirituality and spiritual theology are very deep challenges to personal awareness and depthing, would include some know-ledge, but may play down the community dimension a good deal. The in-dividually directed retreat is a good example of this. Some types of community development sessions that focus on group in-tei'action seem to consist mainly of an ensemble of what we have listed as com-munity development and self-awareness. Some sessions that involve training in communication skills would appear to concentrate almost entirely on com-munity development. It might be worth noting here that in the final section labeled "Continuing Stimulation," what has been variously called self-understanding, self-awareness, and so forth becomes self-appraisal, self-examination, self-depthing, the theological experience of conversion and reconciliation . . . because obviously the "self" part means "self before God." RETRAINING: LEARNING THROUGHOUT ONE'S ENTIRE LIFE In the first place we have already mentioned the obvious need for special training for special appointments. We could well ask ourselves if we are always prepared to give sufficient time to this, to look far enough ahead, and to prepare people sufficiently for the actual program. Secondly~ there is the obvious necessity for us to develop the talents that God has given us. But this is a somewhat paradoxical question in Christianity. Two quotations from the Holy Father illustrate this. The first is from Populorum progressio: In the design of God, every man is called upon to develop and fulfill himself, for every life is a vocation. At birth, everyone is granted, in germ, a set of aptitudes and qualities for him to bring to fruition. Their coming to maturity, which will be the result of education received from the environment a0d personal efforts, will allow each man to direct himself towards the destiny intended f9r him by his Creator. Endowed with intelligence and freedom, he is responsible for his fulfillment as he is for his salvation. The second quotation is from a recent talk by the Holy Father on religious life (5/11/72): Symposium on Continuing Formation Let us be clear: the form of religious life must not sacrifice natural talents or personal charisms. It must serve the vocation of each person. And it is a very heavy task for you, Superiors, to see to it that each of your sisters may develop in it, may be treated with con-sideration, be recognized and loved, and be able to bring the best of herself to her com-rhunity and to the world. However, the paradox of the Gospel, which you, more than others, are called to accept :fully, must not be forgotten: "For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mr 16:25). Be assured: this love ofthe Lord, lived to the extent of renunciation of yourselves, cannot remain without fruit. Bringing you deep joy and the hope of eternal life, it will mysteriously open up for souls the way to the God of love. Yes, in this sense, do not fear to be fully religious. This is a problem for each Christian as he or she faces life. In religious life it is both the vow of obedience and our commitment to each other in com-munity that are necessary constraints to our "self fulfillment." This is a reality of our commitment, and any renewal that refuses to face it is utopian and un-christian, and certainly is not closely connected with religious life and the demands, both personal and apostolic, that it makes. However this is not to say, as the Holy Father emphasizes, that we can afford to "despise natural talents or personal charisms." A third aspect of retraining we hear voiced in all circles today, but par-ticularly among professional people: the necessity for commitment to lifelong education. The phenomenon of professional obsolescence is becoming in-creasingly frequent. Do we realize on the merely practical level how many religious feel a bit obsolescent? Finally, we may need a structure of some kind to facilitate retraining: for instance a committee, a director of studies, to take close consultation with per-sons about their potential and hopes. Again, we are not advocating "doing one's own thing" and that that is the only, or even primary, goal in retraining. Any such studies are obviously done in the context of the whole province, its commitments, and its capacities. (For a general treatment of the various aspects of continuing education, see Review for Religious, 1972, pp. 226-36; 1973, pp. 1325-35.) The Needs of the Different Age Groups The needs of the different age groups must be considered in all retraining programs, It may be useful here to highlight .some of the needs that seem to surface most readily in th~ religious life context. The Young The young have a special need for ideals: frames of reference that point high for them and help them to make the effort to take on the mind of Christ by means of the life style and prayer structures that are offered them. We must be very careful today not to structure too much for the young. But it is worth noting that many novices and junior professed these days complain about not being clear enough on what is expected of them. While we do not wish tO return to an older, highiy structured framework, this demand makes a valid point that all of those concerned with formation must take into account. 20 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Next, and perhaps even more obviously, the young need welcome-- welcome from the person in charge of their formation and welcome from the total community. They do not belong and they are aware of this. To a small extent they accept it but it is a great thrill for them gradually to come to be-long to the group they have joined. (Could I point out here the need for them to learn their traditions, the traditions both in their origins, and in the local history of the group which they are joining?) Under this same heading they need reasonable support from each other, coupled with the chance to build up a community, to recognize others, and allow them to be different. They also need, and this is perhaps stressed less, independence. They need to gradually learn the solitude and the capacity to be alone, a learning very fun-damental in growth towards real celibacy. This includes the capacity to gradually face themselves. We cannot demand this too early of the young, and ttie excessively long periods of silence in older novitiates were not always help-ful in this regard. On the other hand, an excessive stress on community may not be the answer either. The young also need a forum to work out their questions. They will ask some of these aggressively, and people in formation know to their cost that they have to accept and allow for much of this questioning these days. But while they do allow for it, they do not need to become doormats! All these various needs demand some new goals and ideals, some values that are chosen and followed, some structures that are agreed on and kept to but that are real and relevant. It also assumes that psychologically these y.oung religious are very much on the way to self-discovery, even though the journey has just begun. Early Apostolic Life In their early apostolic life many of the above needs continue with perhaps these additions: They need to acquire professional skill and competerice. This is absolutely essential today and is strongly emphasized in Perfectae caritatis. They need to grow in the capacity to help each other in community. Sometimes the pressure for growth in professional skill crowds this out a little. Like all young people serving in the apostolate, they need the chance and the help to take initiatives, to strive, to succeed, to be recognized, to take risks, to fail, and to be supported by the older members through all this. The task of the older ones is not to withdraw and let them "fail or succeed," but to support them with their maturity and experience, and not to let themselves (the older ones) lose confidence in their role just because they do not have all the bright ideas ~or the quickness of thinking of some younger people. Their maturity, their balance, and their experience are things that the young simply cannot have or do without. They need continuing idealism, encouragement and assistance to center their lives on Christ and to grow towards Him (Eph 4:14). This assumes that Symposium on Continuing Formation they gradually become accustomed to "belonging" to Christ in this community with which they are gradually becoming identified. Middle Age At the present time some of the skills needed and the qualities to be ac-quired by the middle-aged religious would include the capacity to lose hold of some of their acquired frames of reference and to adopt new ones. This is often quite difficult for some middle-aged religious. It is so frequent to hear a major superior say that it is not the old ones who make changes difficult, but those in their forties and fiftie!! Such a change of attitude includes the whole process of "unfreezing" that Father Cantwell has referred to in his earlier paper in this symposium. Then there is the need of the ability to face oneself, with the inevitable feel-ing of failure that often becomes so clear at this stage--a fairly common feel-ing, but that does not make it any easier, is it not also a vital introduction to the meaning of redemption? Such a person also needs the ability to free himself or herself from excessive serf-preoccupation (again not an easy task), to see others as other, whether young or old, and to experience some inner unity. There is also the need to continue to use leisure properly, creatively. And it seems vital at this stage to receive, and to know how to receive, close personal friendship and support, and to be able to give this same support to one's peers. In later middle age some of the above needs may well continue but we may add: the capacity still to use one's potential to the fullest possible extent (it is so easy at this stage to "retire" too early); to appreciate one's own richness at a time of life when that has to mean more than one's capacity to work and to produce; and to have and to use leisure. Another vital feature of this time of life, which is perhaps just as true of earlier middle age, is the need for an opportunity to have a group situation where these personal issues can be face~t. At this stage of life it is almost in-evitable that one must face oneself deeply and personally, and as this often needs to be done with another or with others, supportive group situations are really necessary. This group may also feel the need of separate courses where they are not under pressure from the young or old. Old Age Religious at this stage need to be valued and helped to belong. It is easy for them to feel "out of it." They need to know that the values they have lived by are not abandoned. Often they are reasonably open to change, but only on con-dition they know clearly that the essentials are not denied. Such affirmation and support are an important gift that we owe to our older religious. They should be able to teach compassion to the middle-aged person. Often only the patience and understanding of an older person can help a somewhat younger person to be more tolerant and a little less task-oriented. 22 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Older religious also need to be asked to hand on their wisdom and their traditions, and to know that their function in life--be it prayer or com-panionship- is valued and appreciated and wanted. CONTINUING STIMULATION I have used this title to indicate that .not all our courses need to use "newness" as the criterion of their excellence. This "newness" has been a strong emphasis in renewal programs in recent times and much of it is both ex-plicable and justifiable. However we always have a continuing need of conver-sion: a need to be joined anew to Christ, to be detached from our own selfishness, to find God's will. It is noteworthy that the article on "spiritual direction" in Sacramentum Mundi lists the process of spiritual direction as i. helping a person to self knowledge; 2. helping a person to self acceptance; 3. helping a person to detachment from his own ego; 4. helping a person to find the present will of God. This is a process that continues at every stage of a person's life, and for which we always need courses and helps that are relevant and stimulating. While "newness" is necessary, it is not the only criterion. Conclusion Finally there is an obvious danger of institutionalizing renewal., and then we shall have to start again. To avoid this it is most important that .personal responsibility be fostered, that opportunities be sought and provided, and that mutual caring and sharing be constantly deepened and encouraged. The New Law for Religious: Principles, Content, Evaluation Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P. Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P., is a canon lawyer and the Director of Medical Moral Affairs; The Catholic Hospital Association; 1438 South Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63104. In 1959, on the feast of St. Paul, January 25, Pope John surprised the Catholic Church by announcing that there would be an ecumenical council. At the same time, he stated that the law of the Catholic Church would be revised. After Pope John's death, Pope Paul continued the work, appointing in 1963 a Pon-tifical Commission for the Revision of the Code of Canon Law consisting of forty cardinals. In 1964, he appointed seventy consultors to the Commission. in 1965, tlSe cardinals and consultors were placed on 13 study groups or com-mittees (coetus studiorum) and the revision of the Code of Canon Law began in earnest. The various committees have.held meetings to discuss the needs of the Church insofar as law is concerned. At present, several sections of the revised Church law are nearing completion. The section of the revision in which we are interested, De institutis perfectionis, has been completed in its preliminary form. After 14 general meetings between November 1966 and May 1974, with much work being done by the consultors between the meetings, a tentative set of canons has been produced. These canons will be presented to the Commis-sion on Revision for review, and then, if the practice followed with other sec-tions of the revision is adhered to, they will be sent by Pope Paul to the bishops of the world for evaluation. Because of the nature of the matter, perhaps they will be sent to conferences of major superiors as well. After comments, obser-vations, criticisms, and additions are received, the Committee on Institutes of Perfection will rework the section in light of the additional material and then present it to the Pontifical Commission for Revision for final approval. Since the Holy Father, in collegial union with the bishops, is the legislator in the Church, nothing will be final until his approval is given to the new text. 24 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Though the tentative text has not been published officially, several accounts of the work of the Commission have been published in the official journal of the Pontifical Commission for Revision, Communicationes.' These accounts, along with some articles written by members of the study group composing the canons, enable us to form a rather accurate picture of the principles, outline, and content of the new canons.~ The purpose of our endeavor, then, will be to present the principles, outline, and content of the new canons for institutes of perfection, and to offer an evaluation of the work that has been completed to date. PRINCIPLES OF THE REVISION Though the first two meetings of the Committee, then known under the ti-tle, De religiosis,3 were productive, at the third session the group determined to formulate principles before proceeding further. These principles would make the work orderly and the discussions less abstract. Accordingly, principles were formulated in accord with the Decree on Religious Life of Vatican Council I I, Perfectae caritatis, with the document implementing the conciliar decrees for religious, Ecclesiae sanctaeo and with the Principles for the Renewal of the Code issued by the Pontifical Commission for Revision? As a result of the Committee's discussion, the following principles were formulated to guide the revision of the laws for institutes of perfection. Spirituality Principle 1. The canons should be stated in such a way that they foster the gift of religious vocation and the presence of grace in the life of those consecrated to the Lord. In other words, the juridical formulation of the canons ought to be harmonized wisely with the theological and mystical elements which lead to the fullness of the spiritual life. Through this principle, the Committee wished to avbid a multiplication of norms and to dispel the idea, held even by some in the consecrated life, that formal and external observance of general or particular laws would lead to perfection. In order to implement this principle, the Com-mittee did two things: Scriptural statements and theological elements were added to the canons, and pastoral canons, hortatory in nature, were als6 employed. aCommunicationes, 1970, pp. 168-81; 1973, pp. 47-69; 1974, pp. 72-93. 2j. Beyer, S.J., "De institutorum vitae consecratae novo jure," Periodica, 1974, pp. 145-68; 179- 222; Mark Said, O.P, secretary of the Committee, "'Progetto della riforma della legislazione codiciale: De religiosis, un giro d'orizzonte," manuscript of a talk given in 1974 to an international conference of major superiors. , 3The title was changed to institutes of perfection after the fourth session, April 1968. Thus, religious life was no longer the paradigm for other institutes in which people practiced the evangelical counsels. The practical changes resulting from this new vision are significant, es-pecially insofar as terminology is concerned. 4Communicationes. 1969, p. 80. The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation Individuality Principle 2. The second principle is: the common law of the Church ought to be to foster and conserve the patrimony proper to each religious family. This patrimony consists in the proper and particular charism, the goal, mission, spirit, character, and the tested tradition of each institute. Hence, the canons should be general, all detailed and minute regulations being eliminated since the proper liberty should be afforded each institute. The tendency to group all persons devoted to the following of the evangelical counsels into one category is hereby renounced by the Church. In this manner, the canons will stimulate the self-understanding in each institute, increase an appreciation of the charism of the institute, develop an awareness of the graces received and of the role of the institute in the mission of the Church, and prompt institutes to study and conserve the spirit of the founder. This principle, of course, is in accord with the documents of the Council and seeks to overcome the "leveling" influence of the Code of Canon Law which legislated in too great detail. Subsidiarity Principle 3. The third principle follows from the second. While the constitutive or es-sential principles of the consecrated life should be precisely and clearly stated, other norms should have a certain flexibility so that they may .be applied fit-tingly to different conditions and needs of the Church and institutes of perfec-tion. Essential principles are the same for all institutes dedicated to the evangelical counsels, but in other norms, especially disciplinary norms, sub-sidiarity is needed in order to promote apostolic life and allow adaptation to social and community needs. This principle is contained in the general princi-ple approved by the Pontifical Commission for Revision, but it is applied in this section more liberally because people in institutes of perfecti6n have answered God's call to vocation and should ha~,e greater maturity and respon-sibility. Shared Responsibility Principle 4. The fourth principle, following the admonition of the Conciliar fathers, postulates the need for a more democratic exercise of power in the internal af-fairs of institutes of perfection. Hence, canons which concern the governmental structure.and administration should allo~; representation and cooperation of all members of the institute. Each institute should design suitable governmen-tal programs in light of its nature, spirit, goals, and apostolic mission. Ample freedom must be afforded to develop particular methods of representation and participation in government. Respecting the genius and spirit of each institute, governments should be designed so that the same person does not have office for too long a time, nor too often. Equality Principle 5. The last principle, developed after the Committee had undertaken its 26 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 work,5 concerns equality. Insofar as possible, all institutes of perfection should be treated the same. Hence, there is no longer any distinction in the common law between orders and congregations; between regulars and non-regulars; between solemn and simple vows, granting that there may be some theological difference. Moreover, the Committee sought to eliminate the divisions and divisiveness which arise because of exemption. Hence, exemption, in accord with the documents of the Council, is stressed as a quality affecting the internal life of a community that possesses it. Lastly, the Committee sought to remove all signs of discrimination between institutes of men and women, and between members of each institute. Distinctions might be retained by particular in-stitutes among members, but they are no'longer contained in the general law. The motivation for eliminating all these distinctions was to allow the necessary freedom, thus enabling institutes to find their own identity, to rediscover the spirit of the founder, and after prayer and study, to formulate a body of legislation adapted to their own needs. In doing this, the Committee was aware of certain risks, especially in institutes with less experience; but the risks were considered worthwhile in view of the potential benefits for each in-stitute. For purposes of convenience, I have given each one of these principles a ti-tle. Hence, the five principles which guided the consultors as they wrote the new canons for institutes of perfection might be entitled: 1. The principle of spirituality 2. The principle of individuality 3. The principle of subsidiarity 4. The principle of shared responsibility 5. The principle of equality CHARACTERISTICS OF THE NEW LAW FOR INSTITUTES OF PERFECTION As a result of these principles, according to the secretary (relator) of the Committee, the consultors sought to incorporate certain characteristics into the law during its formulation.6 These characteristics are noted in the following paragraphs. Respect for the Activity of the Holy Spirit All institutes of perfection come into being as a result of the love of the Holy Spirit. God inspires the founder of a community to choose a way of life which enables people to follow Christ more closely. After the institute is ap-proved by the Church, the influence of the Holy Spirit continues; and those who wish to remain faithful to their vocation must follow the way of life given to the founder under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. This is why there is such respect for the charism, vocation, genius, mission, spirit, and tradition of each institute shown in the new canons. ~See Said, "Progetto," p. 6. ~lbid., p. 7. The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation Respect for Suitable Autonomy As a result of the principle of ~ubsidiarity, the legislation avoids detailed and minute statements. Autonomy and diversity are promoted by allowing in-stitutes to make the necessary applications of general principles whenever possible. Respect for the Theological Element The consultors realized that they were writing laws, but they also realized that the laws were stated in the Code of Canon Law in an arid and stultifying manner. Hence they sought to give the new laws greater theological flavor, realizing that they were writing for people who were totally dedicated to the pursuit of perfect charity. Respect for Maturity In the future the particular laws of institutes of perfection will be more im-portant than the g~neral laws. Through the particular laws, the character of the institute will be formulated, and in it the specific characteristics of mission and vocation will be stated. Without doubt, an institute will require members who are mature and capable in order to compose this legislation. Moderators and members of the institutes will be given responsibilities of self-determination that will require prayer, insight, and maturity. Respect for Rights of the Church Founded upon the word and example of Christ, institutes of perfection are a gift from God to the Church, the Body of Christ. Hence the Church con-serves and guides these institutes under the direction of the Holy Spirit. All members of institutes of perfection must be committed to building up the Body of Christ, according to the vocation of each institute. People in institutes of perfection have the obligation to bring Christ to the world. Hence, this legisla-tion recalls continuously that the life of people in institutes of perfection must be lived in union with Christ. But in order to live in close union with Christ, those in institutes of perfection must be in close union with the Church. CONTENTS OF THE PROPOSED NEW LAW In this section, I shall give an outline of the proposed law, then make a few preliminary and general remarks, and finally discuss various points in the con-tents of the proposed law. Outline of the Proposed Law INSTITUTES OF PERFECTION Preliminary Canons cc. 1-6 Part I Common to Institutes of Perfection Title I Constitution, Institutes and Their Parts cc. 7-13 21~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 Title I1 Dependence of Institutes upon Ecclesiastical Authority cc. 14-24 Title III Government of Institutes of Perfection cc. 25-36 Title IV Administration of Goods cc. 37-43 Title V Admission into an Institute cc. 44 Article 1 Requirements of Candidates cc. 45-49 Article 2 Formation of Candidates cc. 50-56 Article 3 Incorpora.tion into the Institute cc. 57-64 Article 4 Formation of Members of the Institute cc. 65-67 Title VI Obligations of Institutes and Their Members cc. 68-75 Title VII Separation from an Institute Article I Transfer to another Institute cc. 76-77 Article 2 Departure from an Institute cc. 78-82 Article 3 Dismissal from an Institute cc. 83-87 Article 4 Juridical Condition of Those Separated from an Institute cc. 88-90 Part 1I Proper to Different Institutes of Perfection Preliminary Canons cc. 91-94 Title I Religious Institutes cc. 95-99 Chapter I Article I Article 2 Chapter II Article 1 Article 2 ¯ Article 3 Title II Title Ill Monastic Institutes cc. 100 Monks cc. 101-106 Nuns cc. 107-109 Religious Institutes Dedicated to Apostolic Works cc. I10- 113 Canonical Institutes cc. 114-115 Conventu.al Institutes cc. 116-117 Apostolic Institutes cc. 118-120 Institutes United for Apostolic Life cc. 121-124 Secular Institutes cc. 125-127 General Remarks on the Proposed Law In order to treat adequately and clearly the various forms of institutes dedicated to the consecrated life, the matter is divided into general and par-ticular considerations. Though some of the titles contained in the first part of the division are also contained in the Code of Canon Law, the matter is treated in an entirely new manner, and for the most part, the content is changed con-siderably. The matter in the second part of the division is entirely new. The main purpose in this section of this article will be to present a rather detailed account of the contents of the new law for institutes of perfection. Since the text is still under development, changes will be made in it before it is submitted to the episcopal conferences; and many more changes will be made in it before it is promulgated. Hence, specific statements should npt be con-sidered as final. Nonetheless, the general thrust o.f the new law can be perceived The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation by concentrating on what has been formulated thus far. In translating from the Latin, I have tried to be accurate rather than elegant. The text, therefore, with all its clauses and phrases may not read as smoothly as it would if originally written in English. One familiar with the Code of Canon Law will notice that many new terms are used in the new law. The main reason for these changes is the fact that religious life is no longer presented as the paradigm for all institutes of perfec-tion. Hence, more general terms had to be found which would be applicable to all institutes of perfection. Following are some of the terms used in the Code and their counterparts in the new law: Code vita religiosa = religious life religio = religious institute religiosi = religious subjecti = subjects soperiores = superiors domus = house votum = vow novitius = novice novitiatus = novitiate magister novitiorum = novice master professio = profession professio perpetua = perpetual profession professio temporaria = temporary profession New Law vita consecrata = consecrated life institutio perfectionis = institute of perfection sodales = members sodales = members moderatores = moderators sedes or coetus = house or group sacra ligamina = sacred bonds receptus or sodales nuper recepti = candidate or new members tempus probationis = canonical probation magister probationis canonicae = master of canonical probation cooptatio = incorporation cooptatio perpetua = perpetual profession cooptatio temporaria = temporary professibn Preliminary Canons The preliminary canons contain the principal elements describing and defining the consecrated life, a life devoted to a closer following of Christ through commitment to the evangelical counsels. Naturally, these preliminary can6ns are applicable to all institutes of perfection, the individual types of in-stitutes being described and defined in the second part of the tract. There are six preliminary canons. The first presents the theological elements of the con-secrated life by describing the various characteristics which constitute and specify it. It states: I. Life consecrated through the profession of the evangelical counsels is a stable form of life, by which the faithful, following Christ more closely, are dedicated totally to God loved above all, so that by a new and special title they are ordered to the honor of God, to the salvation of the world, and to the building up of the Church, seek the perfection of charity in the service of the kingdom of God, and become clear signs in the Church foretelling heavenly glory. 2. Which form of living in institutes of perfection, constituted under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and canonically erected by the competent authority of the Church, the 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 faithful freely accept, who through vows or other sacred bonds, profess to observe ac-cording to the particular laws of these institutes the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, and who are united to the mystery of the Church in a special manner by charity, to which the counsels lead. Though the purpose of this presentation does not include analyzing the various definitions given in this tract, because of its importance, we shall schematize the theological notion of the consecrated life in the following out-line. Consecrated life: 1. is a stable form of life 2. dedicates people to God loved above all things 3. orders them by a new and special title to: a. the honor of God b. the salvation of the world c. the building up of the Church 4. enables its members to seek the perfection of charity in service of the kingdom of God and witness heavenly glory in the Church 5. is constituted by inspiration of the Holy Spirit 6. is canonically erected by competent ecclesiastical authority 7. is accepted by professing, through vows or other sacred bonds, the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, according to the laws of particular institutes 8. unites the faithful to the mystery of the Church in a special manner through charity to which the counsels lead. The charismatic nature of the consecrated life is stated in the second preliminary canon. It affirms that the status of those in institutes of perfection, though not pertaining to the hierarchical structure of the Church, does pertain to its life and sanctity and must be held in honor by all. Both clerics and lay people may be called to this state by divine vocation and thus participate in the saving mission of the Church. The evangelical counsels, the third canon declares, are founded in the teaching and example of Christ. They are a divine gift to the Church from God and it is the duty of the Church to conserve this gift. In early versions of the revision, the right of the Church to govern institutes of perfection was spelled out here, but this power is now treated in Title I1. The fourth canon repeats the thought of Lumen gentium, no. 46, by stating that the profession of the evangelical counsels, though entailing the renuncia-tion of certain values which are to be undoubtedly esteemed, does not detract from a genuine development of human persons, but rather by its very nature is helpful to that development. Those who profess the evangelical counsels, by their consecration do not become strangers to their fellowmen or useless citizens of this earthly city, for even though they sometimes do not directly assist their contemporaries, still they help them spiritually by prayer, sacrifice, and preaching the gospel. All, however, also those who offer service to others and direct the building up of the earthly city to God, give testimony to Christ so that the Heavenly Father may be glorified in all things. The distinction between clerical and lay institutes is explained in canon five, as well as the difference between institutes of diocesan right and pontifical The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation right. The distinction between clerical and lay institutes is slightly different from that of canon 498, no. 4 in the Code. Clerical institutes are now defined as institutes which assume the exercise of sacred orders in their particular legisla-tion, said legislation being approved by competent authority. Institutes of pon-tifical right are erected and approved by the Holy See, while diocesan institutes have been erected by a local ordinary but not by the Holy See. The last preliminary canon declares that what is stated concerning members of in-stitutes of perfection pertains to both sexes, unless the context or nature of the case indicates otherwise. This has been called the principle of equality by the secretary of the Committee,~ but the content of the canon fails to justify this laudable title. Part I Those Things Common to Institutes of Perfection Title l The Constitution of Institutes and Their Parts This section was originally entitled, Concerning the Erection, Union, and Suppression of Institutes, Provinces, and Houses. Though the same matter is treated, the title was changed to that given above. In view of the new structures in the Church, such as the national conferences of bishops, and the application of the principle of subsidiarity, this section is changed considerably from the legislation of the Code. Diocesan institutes may be erected by local ordinaries provided the con-ference of bishops, avoiding unnecessary duplication of institutes, grants per-mission. To divide an institute into parts, to erect new parts, or to join existing parts pertains to the authority of the institutes as determined in particular law. To erect a house (sedes) or group of an institute pertains to the competent authority stated in the particular law, provided the consent of the ordinary of the place has been given in writing beforehand. Consent of the ordinary to erect a house of the institute carries with it the right to live according to the spirit, particular go~l, and particular means of the institute, to carry on the works proper to the institute, any condition contained in the permission to establish the house being observed. Moreover, clerical institutes have the right to es-tablish a church or public oratory and to carry on the sacred ministry, the com-mon law being observed. In order to change the apos.tolic purpose of a house or group, the consent of the local ordinary is required, unless it concerns the inter-nal government of discipline of the institute. Changes in institutes which affect matters determined by the Holy See require permission of the Holy See. The permission of the Holy See is also required if two or more institutes unite to form a new institute, or if they unite, one institute retaining, the other surrendering, its identity. Suppression of institutes also pertains to the Holy See which has the right to dispose of the property of the institutes. Suppression of a part of an institute, a province or a vicariate, pertains to the general chapter of the institute in accord with particular law. The supreme moderator may suppress a house, the ordinary of the place having given his consent. If 7Communicationes, 1970, p. 176. 32 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 there is difficulty, the Holy See should be consulted. Property of a suppressed house should be distributed according to particular law and justice, the inten-tion of the donors being observed. Title !! Dependence of Institutes upon Ecclesiastical Authority The revision of the Code has two sections on government; one concerns the dependence of the institute upon the Church, the other the internal government of the institute. The principle underlying the section which outlines the relationship to the Church is that an institute of perfection is constituted for the service of the whole Church. Hence, it is subject to the authority of the Church in order to insure that it achieve its own purpose and cooperate in effecting the common good. Members of institutes of perfection, therefore, are subject to the Holy Father by reason of their bond of obedience. Moreover, it pertains to competent ecclesiastical authority, led by the Holy Spirit, to moderate and interpret the practice of the evangelical counsels and to approve stable forms of life so that institutes will grow and flourish according to the spirit of the founders. The canons insist that in order to preserve their doctrinal and spiritual patrimony, institutes have autonomy of internal government and of particular legislation. The Holy See as well as the bishops must respect this autonomy. This statement is significant because it indicates that internal autonomy is a right, not a privilege nor an exemption. The possibility of exemption is mentioned in this section. Exemption, as Lumen gentium (no. 45) informs us, is the power of the Holy See to remove an institute of pe.rfection from the jurisdiction of the local ordinary and subject it to himself or another authority of the Church, in order to provide better for apostolic service and for the spiritual growth of members of the institute. Only the possibility and purpose of exemption is mentioned, no explanation being given of its meaning. Since exemption is a particular act of the Roman Pontiff, it is not fitting that it be limited through a definition of law. Institutes that are exempt carry on their apostolic life in cooperation with the local ordinary as outlined in Christus Dominus (nos. 34, 35) and Ecclesiae sanctae (1, nos. 22- 40). Thus, the new law states that houses and members of institutes are subject to episcopal authority according to the norms of law. The specific rights of local ordinaries in regard to diocesan institutes are enumerated. In respect to a diocesan institute, a local Ordinary has the right: I. to approve particular laws 2. to confirm changes in particular laws proposed by the general chapter, unless the ¯ matter pertains to the Holy See 3. to give dispensations from the particular law in single and particular (per modum ac-tus) cases 4. to visitate houses of an institute for pastoral reasons or if a particular reason warrants 5. to call members of the institute in their territory to external works of the apostolate in keeping with the purpose and slbirit of the institute, observing religious discipline and obtaining the consent of the competent moderator. The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation if the diocesan institute is located in more than one diocese the local ordinary of the principal house approves the particular law, other concerned ordinaries being consulted, and grants proper dispensations. If the principal house is to be moved from one diocese to another, the consent of both local ordinaries is re-quired, Institutes of pontifical right are subject immediately and exclusively to the Holy See in internal government and discipline, any laws to the contrary being observed. Members of these institutes are subject to the local ordinary in the public exercise of divine worship and the external work of the apostolate, ac-cording to the spirit, purpose, and discipline of each institute. Moreover, the local ordinary must visitate houses of pontifical right in regard to the above mentioned matters if grave reasons seem to require it. The last canon of this section calls for regular meetings between local ordinaries and moderators of institutes of perfection in order to improve and coordinate apostolic activity. Title 1II The Government of Institutes of Perfection In this section, the moderator or superiors of the institute are urged to accept and fulfill their responsibilities in a spirit of service toward the com-munity, governing more by promoting cooperation than by imposing precepts. Sufficient authority is provided, however, so that the moderators may wisely and prudently provide for the common good and the growth of individual members. Extensive use of the principle of subsidiarity makes this section of the new law much different from the law of the Code and the attitudes and customs in accord with the Code. In particular the section states the following: Moderators and chapters of institutes have authority to govern individuals and groups within the com-munity, carrying out their pastoral mission according to the particular laws of the institute. In clerical institutes, moderators have ecclesiastical jurisdiction for the internal and external forum. In exempt institutes, moderators possess a greater participation of ecclesiastical power and exercise it in accord with general and particular law. Major moderators in clerical instituti~s are called ordinaries. Moderators should follow the example and command of Christ: "Whoever is great among you, let him become the servant" (Mt 20:26). Moreover, they should recognize and promote the human and Christian dignity of the members, in regard to the exercise of authority, members should display an ac-tive obedience, both in executing and in initiating apostolic works. So that this might be achieved more harmoniously, moderators should listen to the members and consider them as collaborators in working for the good of the in-stitute and the Church. In order for one to be a moderator, whether supreme or subordinate, one must be incorporated definitively in the institute for a period of time deter-mined by particular law. The length of term for each office, which is determined by particular law, should be temporary, unless the spirit of the institute in- 34 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 dicates otherwise for the office of supreme moderator. For the good of the in-stitute and in'order to improve the quality of government and the spirituality of the members, particular law should provide that moderators do not stay in of-rice for too long a period. Hence, when they complete the time prescribed in particular law, they should not assume the office of moderator again until some years have expired. The supreme moderator of an institute should be designated by canonical election according to norms of particular law. Other major superiors are designated according to particular law, that is, they are either elected and then confirmed by the supreme moderator, or appointed but only after adequate and free consultation. Particular law should provide for the appointment or election of minor superiors. Members of the institute must follow the norms of common and particular law in all elections. Moreover, they must vote only for those whom they consider in the Lord to be more worthy of office, avoiding all abuses, especially that of procuring votes for themselves or for others. In order to improve communications, at regular intervals the supreme moderator should send a brief report on the condition and life of the institute to the Holy See. Moreover, moderators should communicate pertinent statements of the Holy See to the members in their care. Moderators should visitate, according to norms of particular law, houses and members under their care. Members should be honest with their moderators responding in truth and charity to legitimate questions. No one should hinder members from fulfilling their responsibilities. The spiritual duties of the moderator are considered carefully. Besides be-ing solicitous about their duties, moderators are to help members seek and love God, foster fraternal communion, promote the growth of the Church and the love of fellow °man, and help members draw closer to Christ through the prac-tice of the evangelical coun~eis. Frequently, they should communicate the word of God to the members, be present with them at the liturgy, stimulate them to the practice of virtue, and instruct by word and example in observance of the law and the worthwhile traditions of the institute. Moreover, let moderators help them in their personal needs, visit and care for the sick sedulously, correct the unruly, strengthen the weakhearted, and be patient to all. The thoughts of this canon, even some of the words, are taken from the Rule of St. Augustine. Moderators must have a permanent council, constituted according to par-ticular law, and must use the council in fulfilling their responsibilities. Consent or consultation is required according to common and particular law. Chapters and councils fulfill their office according to particular and common law, work-ing for the good of the institute or a particular group. In consultation and meetings discretion should be observed so that each institute may be effectively and aptly governed according to its spirit and goals. Moderators should leave the members free in regard to the direction of conscience, the particular law of the institute being observed. Unless members petition it spontaneously, moderators should not hear their confessions. The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation Though no one should be bound to confess to a particular priest, worthy con-fessors should be provided regularly. It is desirable that members freely and faithfully open their hearts to their moderators. Title IV Temporal Goods and Their Administration Because the administration of temporal goods in institutes of perfection is subject to the common law of the Church and also to the civil law of particular countries, this section is rather brief. In composing this,part, the Committee sought to state the principles which would foster the practice of poverty and to eliminate all requirements contained in the old law which discriminate against communities of women. The section begins with the statement that temporal goods of institutes of perfection are ecclesiastical goods and as such are Subject to the general laws concerning the patrimony of the Church, unless particular or common law states otherwise. If the particular s, pirit of an institute warrants, particular law may limit or eliminate the power of acquisition, possession, and administration of temporalgoods. Hence~ each institute should form laws which foster, protect, and express the practice, of poverty according to the spirit of the institute. Witnessing to poverty and charity, institutes should give alms and gifts when possible, particular laws being observed:. Major and minor moderators should have a treasurer, constituted accord-ing to particular law, who administrates temporal goods under their direc-tion. Particular law, following common law, should statelwhich actions exceed the goal and manner of ordinary administration. At proper times determined by particular law, administrators should give an account of their responsibility. For the validity of an alienation which exceeds the amouqt set by the episcopal conference, the consent of the Holy See is required. Title V Admission into the Institute The legislation concerning this most important topic is general, the burden for insuring proper selection and formation of candidate being put upon the in-dividual institutes. The law states that any Catholic may ibe admitted to an in-stitute of perfection who, endowed with a divine vocation, is fittingly prepared and approved by proper authority and has the qualities required by common and particular law. The rest of the title is divided into four articles, the first article concerning the preparation of those to be received. The right to admit candidates pertains to major superiors according to the norms of particular law. This responsibility should be fulfilled carefully so that only those are admitted who are of proper age, have the required health, maturity, and aptitude for the life and mission of the institute, experts being consulted to ascertain the presence of these qualities if need be. The following would be admitted invalidly to an institute: 1. those who are not yet 17 years of age 2. a .spouse who is still married 36 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 one who presently is bound by vows or other bonds in an institute of perfection one who conceals a. admission into another institute of perfection b. substantial indebtedness c. the need to render an account to legally constituted authority. Other impediments to valid admission may be stated in particular law. Before candidates are admitted they must present testimony of baptism and confirma-tion as well as the fact that they are free to enter the institute. Recent converts should not be admitted until their steadfastness is demonstrated. Particular law requires additional proof of candidates' worthiness and their freedom from impediments of particular or common law. If necessary, moderators may seek confidential information as well. Article 2 treats the formation of candidates. The purpose of the time of canonical probation,, by which the life in the institute is begun, is to enable the candidates to consider more carefully, their divine vocation, to experience life in the institute, to test and prove their commitment and worthiness, and to im-bue their hearts and mind with the spirit of the institute. The place for canonical probation may be erected, moved, and suppressed by the supreme moderator with the consent of his council. Particular law, in addition to other conditions for the validity of canonical probation, may define requisites in regard to time, provided (dummodo) the duration of canonical probation em-braces at least one continuous year. The purpose of the canonical probation requires that it be made under the direction of a master according to particular law and be adapted to the nature and goals of the institute. Many of the op-tions in regard to apostolic activity during the time of canonical probation con-tained in Renovationis causam are not contained in the new law, the institute being allowed to determine how the time of probation will be spent as long as the goals are fulfilled. Some of the innovations contained in Renovationis causam .were not thought to be successful by the Committee.8 The master of canonical probation (fgrmerly the novice master), a member definitively admitted to the institute, is design.ated according to particular law and may have assistants; but the direction of the canonical probation is the responsibility of the master under the authority of the major moderator. The formation of candidates should be under the direction of carefully selected and well-prepared members who are free from other responsibilities that would im-pede their work, most important for the institute and the good of the Church. The master and assistants should discern the vocation of (he candidates, leading them gradually to the way of perfection proper to the institute, ac-cording to the norms of particular law. The master and assistants should help the candidates develop Christian and human virtues, and educate them in the spiritual life according to the purpose, goals, spirituality, and history of the in-stitute. Other members of the institute should cooperate in formation through prayer and example. The candidates must be conscious of their responsibility 8Beyer, "De institutorum . . . novo jure," p. 200. The New Law." Principles, Content. Evaluation / 37 to cooperate actively with the master and respond to the grace of their divine vocation. In institutes which have members of different categories, the proba-tion fulfilled for one category is valid for the other, unless particular law states the contrary. Candidates may leave the institute if they wish and may be dismissed by competent authority of the institute, according to particular law. The canonical probation being completed, if the candidate is judged worthy, he or she may be admitted to the institute, otherwise she or he should be dismissed, unless there is doubt about worthiness, and then the probation may be prolonged, but not beyond six months. Article 3 is concerned with incorporation (cooptatio) into the institute. Find-ing an English word to serve as a synonym for the Latin "cooptatio" is rather difficult. A literal translation would be "election," but this does not seem to describe what happens when one professes vows or other sacred bonds in an in-stitute of perfection. The Code of Canon Law used the word "'profession" but this is a form of"cooptatio" which is proper to religious communities. Having considered many possible words, I have settled upon "'incorporation," being open to a better alternative in the future. Whatever the word, the event and process under discussion is clear; it is the action and the effects of the action by which one temporarily or permanently binds oneself through vows or other sacred bonds to follow the evangelical counsels according to the spirit and legislation of a particular institute of perfection. The canons state: No one may be incorporated into an institute, unless in the manner prescribed by particular law. Incorporation carries with it the rights and obligations defined in particular statutes, being observed under legitimate authority. Through incorporation the institute assumes the respon-sibility, under a new title, of leading the member to his goal according to the statutes of the institute. After canonical probation, incorporation should be made for a definite time, but not for less than three years or longer than nine years, unless particular law states otherwise. By temporary incorporation, members assume publicly the observance of the three evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, made firm either by vow or some other sacred bond. Particular law may permit, however, that in temporary incor-poration of the member, in place of a vow or other sacred bonds, one may be bound to the institute by another bond, the nature of which must be defined carefully by the same particular law. Always, h6wever, the member must be so incorporated that one is held to lead one's life according to the norms of the in-stitute under the authority of the legitimate moderator. For the validity of temporary incorporation, besides the conditions set down in particular law, the following are required: a. at least 1,8 years of age completed b. completion of valid canonical probation c. judgment of worthiness made according to the requirements of par-ticular law d. admission by the competent superior. 31~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 When the time of temporary incorporation is completed, one who freely petitions and is judged worthy should be admitted to definitive incorporation; otherwise one should leave or be dismissed. However, if it seems opportune or if the member spontaneously requests, the period of temporary incorporation may be prolonged by the competent moderator, not however beyond three years. Through definitive incorporation members consecrate their lives to God by a sacred bond of its nature perpetual, and also are admitted fully into the in-stitute. For valid definitive incorporation, besides the conditions of particular law, the following are required: a. at least 21 years of age completed b. previous incorporation completed, according to canon 58 c. judgment of worthiness made according to the requirements of par-ticular law d. admission by the competent superior. Those who are incorporated are bound to live according to the norms of their institute. Article 4 provides for the formation of incorporated members of the in-stitute. The new law considers the education or formation of incorporated members as well as candidates. This article gives general notions which in-dicate the necessity, purpose, and duration of continuing education and forma-tion. The details are consigned to particular law. In every institute, after first incorporation, the formation of the members must be perfected so that they will be able to lead more fully the life of the in-stitute and carry on its mission more fittingly. Hence, particular law must define the duration and purpose of this formation, being mindful of the needs of the Church, the conditions of the times, as well as the goal and spirit of the institute. During this period of formation, members should not be assigned to offices or other work which impedes their formation. This formation, under the guidance of qualified people and accommodated to the capabilities of the members, should be doctrinal as well as practical, in accord with the needs of the institute. If possible and fitting, useful academic degrees should be ob-tained. The formation of those who are destined for sacred orders is governed by common law and the course of studies (ratio studiorum) proper to each in-stitute. Throughout their whole life, members should seek spiritual, doctrinal, and professional development, and moderators, insofar as possible, should provide the time and means to do this. Title Vi Obligations of Institutes and Their Members The principal responsibility of each institute is to understa~ld its vocation in Christ and in the Church, to preserve faithfully its particular nature according to the spirit of the founder, and to strive sedulously to achieve the goals of the community, being attentive to the signs of the times. Members should keep in The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation mind that they have responded to the divine call by profession of the evangelical counsels; accordingly, being more and more liberated from the things which might diminish the fervor of charity, they are bound to live solely for God and His kingdom. Members of institutes of perfection should make the following of Christ in the Gospels the supreme rule of their life. All members have the responsibility of cooperating wholeheartedly and diligently in the building up of the Body of Christ, according to the vocation of each institute. Solicitously, therefore, let them be careful so that through them the Church show forth Christ more vividly day by day. Each institute, according to its nature and proper character, should define by particular law in its own rule of life the manner in which the counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience should be observed. Each member ought not only to observe faithfully and integrally the evangelical counsels, but also order his or her life according to the statutes of the institute, and so strive for greater perfection of charity. Let the contemplation of divine things and assiduous communication with God be as daily food to people consecrated to the service of God and the Church. Avidly, therefore, members should peruse meditatively the Sacred Scriptures, participate in the celebration of the sacred liturgy, prac-tice mental and vocal prayer, make a yearly retreat, and perform other spiritual exercises according to the norms of particular law. It is earnestly recommended that members participate daily in the sacrifice of (he Mass, and according to the condition of each one, receive the sacred Body of Christ. Let them go to confession frequently according to the norms of particular law and the counsel of their spiritual director. Moreover, let the members employ other means, whether natural or supernatural, useful for fostering the spiritual life, whether common to all or proper to their own in-stitute; most especially, let them examine their conscience, visit the Blessed Sacrament, and pray to the Blessed Virgin, especially by reciting the rosary. The members, living in fraternal community rooted and founded in charity, should be an example to others of the universal reconciliation in Christ; hence let them show forth the gentleness and kindness of Christ in their life. Title VII Separation from the Institute When treating this matter, the Committee sought to simplify the process by which one departs or is dismissed from an institute of perfection. Hence, the practice of having separate processes for those in simple and solemn vows was eliminated, as well as the differences arising from exempt and non-exempt in-stitutes. Secularization and exclaustration were dropped from the new law, as well as the distinctions between apostates and fugitives. Moreover, in accord with the principles of subsidiarity, many of the decisions which were previously made by the Holy See are now made by the institute. As a result of the simplifications and in response to the needs of our times, a person who does not cooperate with the community may be dismissed more easily than in the legislation contained in the Code. Hence, the rights of the institute are 40 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 protected more readily than they were under the legislation of the Code which gave greater protection to the individual religious. Article I Transfer to Another Institute One may not transfer from one's own institute of perfection to another un-less one has the consent of each supreme moderator and the deliberative vote of each council. Particular law should define the time and manner of proba-tion, which having been fulfilled, the member may be admitted to a new incor-poration according to the statutes. One who has been definitively incorporated before transfer, after completing.probation is definitively incorporated into the new institute; one who was not definitively incorporated assumes temporary bonds, lasting for at least three years. Until the new incorporation, the sacred bonds remaining, the particular rights and obligations that the member had in the previous institute remain suspended; when the new probation begins, however, the member is bound by the statutes of the new institute. If one is not admitted to incorporation or refuses it, one must return to the original institute unless he or she obtains a dispensation from bonds or the preceding time of incorporation has already ex-pired. Through incorporation, a member is joined to the new institute, the sacred bonds, rights, and obligations of the original institute ceasing. Article 2 Departure from an Institute The supreme moderator, having heard his council, for a grave cause may concede to a member definitively incorporated into the institute that he or she may live outside the institute, and, though still under sacred bonds, be free from obligations which cannot be reconciled with the new condition of life, but not for more than three years. A member in this state remains under the care of the superiors; however, he or she lacks active and passive voice. One who completes the time of temporary incorporation may leave the in-stitute if he so wishes. A member who during the time of temporary incorpora-tion for a grave cause petitions to leave the institute may be given an indult to depart definitively by the supreme moderator with the consent of his council. A definitively incorporated member who for most grave reasons considered before the Lord petitions an indult to depart from the institute may obtain it from the supreme moderator. In order to validly concede this induit, the supreme moderator needs the consent of his council, which for this case must consist of at least five members. Hence, if ordinary councilors are absent or lacking, others should be called according to the norms of particular law. Voting for this consent should be done secretly. An induit to depart from the institute, accepted in writing by the member, carries with it ipso iure a dispen-sation from vows or other sacred bonds and from all other obligations which arise from incorporation. A member who removes himself from the prescribed community life or from the jurisdiction of the moderator should be solicitously sought and helped by the moderators so that he might persevere in his vocation. However, if The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation within the time determined in particular law, but never less than three months, two warnings have proved useless, or the member does not return, he may be dismissed from the institute by a decree of the supreme moderator with the consent of his council. Article 3 Dismissal from an Institute A member, the time of temporary incorporation having expired, may be dismissed by the competent moderator if there are just and reasonable causes either on the part of the institute or the part of the candidate. Observing justice and charity, physical or mental infirmity, even if contracted after incorpora-tion, constitutes a just cause for dismissing one whose temporary incorporation has expired, provided the judgment of experts states that the member cannot lead the life of the institute without doing damage to himself or to the institute. Members temporarily incorporated may be dismissed by the supreme moderator of the institute with the consent of his council, respecting particular law. In order to carry out such a dismissal, it is required: a. that the cause of dismissal, either on the part of the institute or on the part of the member, is grave though it need not involve culpability b. that if the cause is culpable, warning were given in writing and proved useless c. that dismissal is not because of ill heait~ unless it was maliciously kept secret before incorporation, or unless the judgment of experts urges the dismissal in order to avoid injury to the member or the institute. The causes for dismissal should be manifested to the member in writing, full liberty to respond being granted. The response of the member, which ought also to be in writing, should be submitted to the supreme moderator and his council. Members definitively incorporated may be dismissed by a decree of the supreme moderator with the consent of the council, observing the norms of general and particular law. In order to carry out such a dismissal, it is required: a. that the causes of dismissal are grave, culpable, and juridically sound b. that before ~the dismissal, two canonical warnings which threatened dis-missal if not observed, have proved useless c. the causes of the dismissal were communicated to the member, and full liberty of defense was given after each warning. The responses of the member, given in writing, should be included in the acts which are submitted to the supreme moderator and his council for examina-tion. The supreme moderator with the consent of his council may dismiss im-mediately a member: a. who publicly professes apostasy, heresy or schism b. who attempts or contracts matrimony, even if only civil 42 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 c. who culpably was the cause of serious and most grave exterior scandal or injury to the institute. The decree of dismissal must be communicated as soon as possible to the member who has the right of appealing to the Holy See within ten days, with suspensive effect. When a member is dismissed legitimately, ipso facto all bonds, rights, and obligations coming from incorporation also cease. Article 4 Juridical Condition of Those Separated from Institute A member in sacred orders, dismissed from or having legitimately departed from his institute, in order to exercise the sacred ministry, must be accepted ac-cording to law by his own or another diocesan bishop. An institute, in a spirit of equity and gospel charity, should show proper concern for former members. In the report that is made to the Holy See, mention should be made concerning members who have been separated from the institute in any way whatsoever. Part II Things Proper to Different Institutes of Perfection In this section the different kinds of institutes of perfection and their par-ticular characteristics are considered. The foundation of the distinction between these various types of institutes is the manner of apostolate carried on by each one. In order to compose and divide this part, the Committee had to consider intently the theology of the states of perfection and the constitutive elements of the various types of institutes. The content and the theoretical and practical considerations that underlie this section of the new law have been ex-plained clearly and thoroughly by the secretary of the Committee, Mark Said, O.P., in the recent issues of Communicationes) Part II begins with four preliminary canons which apply to each kind of in-stitute. The first three canons contain the principles formulated by Vatican Council II for the vitality and renewal of religious life, and the last canon in the group confirms the eremitical life as a valid form of evangelical perfection. The canons state: There are many institutes of perfection in the Church, displaying various charisms of the Spirit and having different gifts according to the grace which has been given them. These institutes follow Christ more closely either by prayer, by active works which benefit mankind, or by communicating with people in the world. Therefore, given these differences from the Holy Spirit, the mind of the founders and their proposals concerning the nature, purpose, and character of the institute, as well as its sound traditions, must be followed by all. Norms which concern the basic elements, that is, the mind of the founder and proposals concerning the nature, purpose, and sound traditions of the in-stitute, are to be placed in the principal lawbook of each institute, whatever that book might be called; and just as these norms must be approved by the competent authority in the Church, so they may not be changed without per-aCommunicationes, 1973, pp. 63 ff.; 1974, pp. 73 ft. The New Law: Principles, Content, Evaluation / 43 mission from the same authority. Other norms, concerning life, government, and discipline, are ratified and gathered together by the competent authority of each institute, which authority, however, may change and adapt them accord-ing to particular law. In composing these texts, the spiritual and juridical should be combined, and norms should not be multiplied without reason. Though the wording here is not as clear as it might be, the meaning is ap-prehended easily. Basically, these laws repeat the distinction of Ecclesiae sanc-tae concerning constitutions, which are more general and permanent, and directives, which are concerned with changeable and less important items?° This distinction will be familiar to religious who have taken part in general chapters over the past few years. In addition to institutes of perfection, the Church recognizes the eremitical or anchoritic life by which the faithful, withdrawing more strictly from the world, consecrate their lives to the praise of God and salvation of the world through the silence of solitude and by assiduous prayer and penance. An anchorite, recognized in law as a religious, is one who professes under vow the three evangelical counsels and follows a definite rule of life under the guidance of a competent religious superior or local ordinary. Title 1 Religious Institutes These canons contain the essential and integral elements of the form of consecration known as the religious life. For most people, this type of institute of perfection is the most commonly encountered. The laws state: In each religious institute, the members must assume the responsibili!y of the three evangelical counsels, this responsibility being strengthened by public vows, at least at the time of definitive profession, and they must lead a common life ac-cording to the norms of particular law. The public witness which should be rendered to Christ and to the Church by these institutes involves separation from the world according to the spirit and purpose of each institute, as well as use of a fitting habit prescribed by particular law as a sign of the consecrated life. The profession of chastity for the kingdom of God carries with it the obser-vance of celibacy as well as perfect continence by which love of God and of all men is increased and manifested. The profession of poverty for the following of Christ involves, besides a life of work and simplicity, total dependence in the use and disposition of goods, and at least the cession of the administration of one's proper patrimony. Unless one makes a renunciation of patrimony already acquired or to be ac-quired according to the norms of particular law, members are held to make a will, and in view of future profession, to dispose freely of the use and usufruct of their goods. Whatever is acquired by members of the institute through their own work, stipend, or pension, belongs to the institute. The profession of obedience in imitation of Christ carries with it total ~°lbid., 1970, pp. 12-4. 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/1 dedication to the will of God through submission to moderators taking the place of God, offered in a spirit of faith and love according to the regulations of law. Religious should live in community in a house legally constituted, which house may have its own church or oratory in which the Eucharist is celebrated and reserved so that it is the true center of the community. Chapter I Monastic Institutes Monastic institutes are religious institutes whose members, according to the particular traditions of each institute, lead an anchoritic or coenobitic life by conversion to God through prayer and labor so that through apostolic charity and the contemplation of divine things they seek only God and His kingdom. This chapter then considers first monks and afterwards considers nuns. The principle responsibility of monks is to offer humble and noble service to the divine Master within the confines (septa) of the monastery. Monastic in-stitutes which are ordered totally to contemplation remain always a lustrous part of the Mystical Body of Christ and speak of the richness of treasures in the Church; hence, even though the need for active apostolic work is great, let them remain firmly in their state of life. Institutes, however, which would assume some legitimate apostolate or work of Christian charity, should pursue only those things which are consonant with the spirit of monastic life. Monastic institutes, per se, are neither clerical nor lay. A religious house of monks, under the care and government of a proper moderator, is called a monastery, and of itself is an independent entity, particular laws being observed. The moderator of an independent monastery, who is usually called an abbot, is by right a major moderator. Monasteries of the same monastic families may be united in federations, and these federations may be united in confederations, with the permission of the Holy See. Each federation or con-federation is governed by its own law, the autonomy of each monastery, however, being preserved. Each institute should state in its particular law the norms for the monastic and priestly formation of its members. Transfer from one monastery to another of the same family or the same rule may be made with the consent of both moderators and the deliberative vote of the chapter of the receiving monastery, particular law being observed. If one transfers, monastic profession is not repeated, unless particular law states otherwise. Other forms of transfer are governed by common law. Nuns, a more noble part of the flock of Christ, legally are those women who are dedicated primar, jly to a life of contemplation. Those things that are stated concerning monks apply to nuns as well. Monasteries of nuns affiliated with an institute of men receive their way of life and government from the statutes of these institutes. It is fitting, moreover, that they be helped in pur-suing their proper vocation by spiritual care of the institute to which they are affiliated. The papal cloister, which uniquely disposes for contemplative life, The New Law." Principles, Content, Evaluation / should be observed in monast erles of nuns. Statutes concerning the papal cloister in particular law are t~o be approved by the Holy See. Other .I monasteries should observe a cloister that is accommodated to their particular spirit and defined in particular lalw. I Chapter II Religious Institutes~Dedicated to Apostolic Works In institutes dedicated to apostolic works, apostolic activity pertains to their very nature Hence, the whole~ life of the members should be imbued with apostolic spirit, ~nd the total apostolic activity should be informed by the spirit of the instttute. Apostohc act~vtty should always proceed from an intimate union with God and should nourish and confirm this union. Apostolic activity, exercised in the name of and un[ler the guidance of the Church, should be I carried on in ecclesiai commumo,n. Works proper to the institutes should be retained faithfully though adapted to the needs of the times and places, using new and opportune methods" Members of institutes dedicated to apostolic works, by reason of their very vocation, are bound to help bishops and work for the good of the Church under the direction of their own moderators. Bishops and moderators, either alone or in groups, should take common coIunsel in planning the works of the apostolate that will be carried on by the members. Institutes have the right to carry on their proper works, the requirements of law being observed. When opportune, bishops and moderators should e~nter particular agreements for ordering and improving collaboration. In three successive articles theI proposed canons then treat of three kinds of institutes: canonical institutes, conventual institutes, and apostolic institutes. Canonical institutes offer d~wne praise, especially through solemn worship, and they carry on apostolic works[ especially by exercising the priestly ministry in parishes. In order to foster r~gular life, parishes should be committed to them which are close together or close to the principal house. Many indepen-dent chapters of regular canons~ may be brought together under the same leadership; many institutes of the same canonical type may be confederated under an abbot primate with th~ permission of the Holy See. Conventual institutes intimately join the apostolic life with divine praise and regular observance, and they also offer the particular witness of an austere life. Members live a fraternal iif~ in common, especially in the celebration of the Eucharist and the Liturgy of ihe Hours, an

Issue 31.4 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, SJ. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, SJ. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be .sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Build- ~ 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, M~souri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty me~nbers of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices beihg located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevaxd; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute, Published bimonthly and copyright © 1972 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A, Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copii~s: $1.25. 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JULY 1972 VOLUME31 NUMBER 4 SUPERIORS OF SLOVAK RELIGIOUS WOMEN Memorandum to the Government of Czechoslovakia Editor's Note: Toward* the summer of 1968 .the eyes of the world and of the Church focused on Czechoslovakia as'the Dubcek rdgime tried to put a human face on Communism. More liberty was allowed, sentences' passed prev!ously against priests and religious wdie revoked, and the leaders of the Church there were reinstated. Then came August 21 - the Russian invasion and the beginning of the return to square one. Even after the invasion, assurances were given that there would be no return to the conditions of the fifties: Developments soon indicated.that this is" exactly wh, at was happening. ~, A last-ditch stand was made by the superiors~of religious women in Slgvakia with the hope of persuading the government not to be so drastic"in its treatment of the sisters; their protest was in the form 6f a Memorandum, the full text of~vhi~h is given below. TO the President of Czechoslovakia, L. Svoboda. To the ~Secretary General of the Czechoslovak Communist Party, G. Husak. To the President of the Socialist Government of the Slovak Republic, Dr~ P. Colokta. To the Secretary General of the Slovak Republic Communist Party, S, Sad0vskY. To the Minister of Health of the Slovak Socialist Republic, Mada~ Zvaro. To the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, M, Valek. The provincial superiors of the orders and congregations for women in Slovakia take the liberty of presenting to you in the name of all their sisters the following memorandum: In the latter days of October and the first da3)~ of November we have been called personally before the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs where Comrade Oavlik t~lked with us. The following information was sent to each one of us: (1) The activity of Slovak sisters will be limited to: (a) hospitals for mentally deficients; (b) hospitals for religious sisters and elderly priests; ~ (c) assisting the sick, probably limited at all times, by the Minister of Health, to what concerns psychiatry. ¯ (2) The following will be forbidden to sisters: (a) all help in the houses of pensioners; (b) all social activity for families; (c) catechetical instruction; (d) domestic work in presbyteries; (e) admission of novices who wish to join their institute, all those'who have already been admitted must be dismissed. *With the cooperation of Aid to the Church in Need; Our~ Lady of England Priory; Storrington; Pulborough;:Sussex, England, this Memorandum was published in Supplement to Doctrine and Life, January 1972, pp, 44-9. Review for l~eligious is grateful to both Aid to the Church in Need and the editor of the Supplement for permission to reprint the Memorandum. 518 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 " (3) Comrade Pavlik, already mentioned, vehemently condemfied the.claims of the sisters to the ownership of their dwelling places. It is easy to see that if these decrees are put into effect we shall disappear without trace from the face of Slovakia. What wrofig.haVe we done? What crimes can ~ve be accused of, we who were always ~at the service,of the p~ople, not by high sounding words but by silent and " often degrading work for the m~ntally deficient, the sick, and the destitute? Is it for these services that we merit this chastisement, which will end in the disappearance of our congregations? Are we dangerous individuals for the State and society, or are' we citizens with all the rights reserved ,to those who make up the Party of this State? -The constitution and the laws of the State are stiil in for~ce in our republic. What then is the law we have transgressed? Instead of obtaining 'rdhabilitation and reparation for the wrongs we have suffered since 1950 we are still subjected to deformations of the common law. Are we to be hunted again, considered as "outside the law" and forced to undergo an unjust discrimination? Many of our isi~ters have,lost their lives or their health through su.cl~ injustices. Will such aberrations be renewed? If the work and devotion of our sisters are highly appreciated throughout the civilized world, it should be the same here in Czechoslovak.ia, since our people are considered as among the most civi!ized in ~Europe. In subjecting us sisters to new vexations without a cha~ace to defend ourselves, you are certainly doing nothi.ng to better our position as the people wish it. We call upon the people for whom we work. It is the~ people who have invited us to develop our different activities in the parishes. Consequently, if the people send us away then we shall go. Ask the people, inform yourselves: ask the factory and farm workers if they still want us in charitable and social ,works and still want our help in religious instruction. It is the parents tfiemselves who have expressly asked US. In our towns and villages many people are abandoned, old people are left alone; perhaps the homes cannot accept them; perhaps they do not want to go! What human misery! There are so many such illustrations we cannot possibly descrit~e them! In some areas the sisters are the Only people prepared to devote themselves to caring for these neglected people and to give them a little comfort. we know of many cases of people who have lived, sometimes for years~ and who still live, lives similar to those of unwanted aninials. They end their daysclothed in rags, lying in filth, and living in a stagnant shelter; no State official has ever been in these hovels, but the religious have found the time and sufficient courage to go to the aid of these miserable people., naturally within the confines of the limita-tions imposed upon us! Is this help of ours a crime? Is it to be forbidden as one of the activitieS of which :socialism does not approve? We know of children who have lived in a dog kennel directly under the balcony of a mansion, and Who were found by a sister. We know of a girl covered in.~scabS, living like an animal on the'straw in a dark stable, stooped by her painful suffering, because her parents, preoccupied with money, neglected her. A sister freed her from her horrible environment and got her into the sanitorium at' Vysne Hagy. The local authorities never sent any health or sanitary inspector to these i~nhuman places - they are no longer interested. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 519 In many other cases only the sister has found ways of hastening to these inhuman miseries. Must this be condemned? Let us now move to what ~concerns'public health: On 1 October 1969 a religious happened to go into a state hospital in Bratislava: She was welcomed by a nurse with these words: "Welcome, sister;~when are we going to have more sisters? Have pity on us and come and work with us as soon as possible! I cannot retire because there is no one to replace us in ou~ work. There is no one to take care of t.he heedy or to do night duty." She opened the door of a large ward'and said: "There is no one to care for these poor people. I cannot manage alone; I am worn out by work and age~; the young ones do not have the spirit of devotion and even less do they have the love'needed to give themselves to this service?' As if to confirm what she Said supper was brought just at that moment to a twenty-four year old student Who has lain in bed for two years not even able to lift a spoon to her mouth-. They brought the supper, but it did not concern them how she would eat it. The girl said: ="When there isa visitor, or if one of the other pati.ents comes to help me, then I can eat; otherwise no." We do not want to recall other experiences. We only want to inform you of our good will. Despite all that we have suffered up to now, there are sisters who still have sufficient love of their neighbor and the desire to do good for the abandoned, the destitute, the sick. ~ The ~ajority of us are still weak from fatigue and the hard life we have had up to nosy with the punishments of exile; but we could still do good With the help of the young girls who want to join us. But here again arise new and incomprehensible difficulties, created by your decrees. W'e have never been suppressed as religiou~ orders. In 1950 an arbitrary declaration of our governmental administration prevented us from admitting novices, we were expelled from our convents and dispersed to different places near the Bohemian border; you have sent us to work in factories and on farms and in the kolkhozes. At'the beginning these jobs were very difficult for us; yet we performed them conscientiously. After some time we were transferred to social institutions'where we looked after abnormal children. These poor unfortunates are .very de~r to us. sometimes more dear to us than to their own parents. The result of our efforts are testi.mony enough. We shall continue voluntarily in this field, for we can still do it, but for how long? We have had no recruits to strengthen our ranks for the last eighteen years. During the past year, after the Attorney-General declared that our orders were not suppressed and that as existing institutions we had the right to exist and to develop, we have accepted some young girls. It was Comrade Pavlik himself who said that the girls who were novices or postulants in 1950 could return and that we could receive them as postulants. Thanks to that we actually have some novices who wish to follow the example of devotion of the sisters and to continue the work of ~harity which we can do in our fatherland: caring for the physically and mentally sick. But later, following the conversation mentioned above with Comrade Pa~lik, we were told that all our novices are to be sent away and that we may not accept further postulants. We have asked: "By what law are we prevented from doing good?" He ieplied: "We are not discussing these things; when you receive an order you have to obey 520 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 it?' We heir discoui'ses propounded by the State authorities, by the President, by the Secretary General of the Czechslovakian Communist Party, and we recall that in the past~ Summer the President publicly declared on television: "As long as I am President I will not permit any transgression of the law." The Secretary General has declared several times: "We shall never return to the fifties." In 1950 we were uprooted from Slovakia and transferred to Bohemia. It was hard for us, but then the authorities in Bohemia mitigated our exile. Itis difficult for us to,readjust to these new privations. The social institutions in Slovakia are less well-equipped thfin in Bohemia. There they were Satisfied to have us to serve the people. Here, unfortunately, it is different; ".you wear a religious habit, so you are discriminated against." We hate to say this, but it is true. In the "charitable institutions" of our country we have not found love. They seem like prisons. The directors, placed there by the State, were paid to do nothingand to present obsta'cles to our charitable work. This period seemed to be ended, but unfortunately we now have the impression that the actual situation is in the process of leading to a new discrimination. We ask you, Mr. President, and Ministers, to allow us and the girls who want to follow, us, to live and work fdr our people, for those of our people who are suffering. We are happy that there are still girls with noble hearts wh~ desire to become mothers to the many children abandoned by their mothers, and many mentally retarded ones whose mothers disown them. There are ;till young girls who want to dry the tears of those who lie in hospital beds. Let us not stifle these last and rare ideals of our youth! For our part we e:~d~ort them to leave with these words: "Be merciful, sisters, to all those in need of aid." If all'that we have declared be judged as an offence then have the coui'age to suppress our institutions. We hope that this memorandum will meet with understanding and that we can continue pe~icefully to give help without bias to the social institutions, hosp!tals, and parishes. In this hope, we express our sincere gratitude. [There follow the signatures and addresses of the provincial superiors.] Editor's Postscript: News from Czechoslovakia confirms that the sisters' petition was not acceptable to the civil authorities and has not made them change their decision. The Slovak Minister of Culture for Ecclesiastical Affairs, Valek, was very categorical in a meeting with the bishops and told them substantially the same as Pavlik had told the sisters previously. The bishops would have to co-operate to execute the Minister's orders. This means that the Church representatives would become instruments of the government for the liquidation of the sisters. DONALD K. SWEARER and GROVER A. ZINN Monasticism .East and West, an Inquiry [Dr: Donald K. Swearer is Associate Professor of Religion at Swarthmore College; Swarth-more, Pennsylvania 19081. ~Dr. Grover A. Zinn is Assistant Professor of Religionoat Oberlin College; Oberlin, Ohio 44074.] ~ During* January 1970 a seminar on Buddhism and Christianity was ~held at Oberlin College, Oberlin, Ohio. Leaders of the seminar included Rev. Shojun Bando of otani University, Rev. Father George F. Simon of Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church (Elyria, Ohio) and Professors Donald K. Swearer and Grover A. Zinn of Oberlin College. A variety of topics were discussed but the study focused on two areas: worship and liturgy; meditation and monasticism. It is this latter area to which this paper addresses itself. Stimulated by the encounter of representatives and scholars of both Buddhism and Christianity, our efforts essay no more than a suggestion or a prolegomenonotO a topic deserving'of more intensive and thorough study. All of us who participated in the seminar were struck by the broad range of similarities to be discovered in both the form and the intent of the institution of monastic life in Europe and Asia. Yet,. these similarities were to be measured in terms of the richness of dissimilarity. Our intent during the seminar and in writing this,brief article was not to equate uncritically the monastic traditions of Buddhism and Christianity. Rather, it" was to examine as sympathetically as possible this crucial aspect of these two great historical religions with the hope of reaching a better understanding of our own faith as well as the "faith of other men." In writing this essay we, as Christians, also intend to imply our conviction that Buddhism and Christianity need to benefit from each other more significantly than has been the case up to this point in time. In particular, we believe that the monastic tradition in the West, which has tended to become ever more peripheral to the mainstream of the life of the church, needs to be rediscovered' and reinterpreted in terms of the religious needs and spiritual chaos of our own day. We are convinced that part of this rediscovery and reinterpretation might better take place in the light of the monastic tradition in Buddhism where, especially in the Theravada and certain Mahfayfana forms (for example, Zen), the monastic life puts into proper perspective many of the central teachings and practices of that religion which has been aptly ~ermed, "The Light of Asia." With the tentative nature of this essay in mind, therefore, we propose to discuss certain aspects of the foundation of monasticism and the development of the monastic life first in Buddhism and then in Christianity. *The article first appeared in Japanese Religions, v. 7, no. 1 (July 1971), pp. 29-50. It is reprinted here with the permission of the editor of Japanese Religions and of the authors.~ 522 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 For most observers of Asian religions monasticism and Buddhism go-hand in hand. Anyone who has visited Burma or Thailand, for example, is struck by the presence of a seemingly endless stream of saffron-robed Bhikkhus oi monks around temple precincts, w~alking meandering streets with beggii~g bowls tucked under their arms or, more dramatically, taking part in social reform or political protest. Even in Japan where the presence of the Buddhist monk is not so visible the visitor cannot help but be awed and inspired by such magnificent monasteries as Daitoku-ji in Kyoto :and Enkaku-ji in Kamakura, or remember being awakened by the deep, gutteral chanting of Zen monks: Moreover, the student of Asian religions is quick to point out that from its inception Buddhism seems to have~ had a "withdrawn" tradition compatible with monasticism. He may even cite the legends surrounding the founder, Siddhartha Gautama, which depict the future Enlightened One renouncing the life~iof the householder in.order to find an ~inswer tO the Problem Of life's.suffering and transience. There are, of course, some difficulties with such easy and facile observations. In particular, it would be erroneous to equate monasticism as it is now seen in Buddhist countries with the quasi-institutional forms of early Indian Buddhism, and it would also be inaccurate to think of the Buddhist monk in any period of history as a recluse'. In regard to the latter, there has been a tendency among some Western scholars to make too sharp a distinction between monk and layman in Bt]ddhism. These scholars postulate that Buddhism is fundamentally a "monkish" religion, at least in its Therawida forms, and this implies for them a group of men who have withdrawn from the world to' pursue the religious vocation. In recent years, however, students of early Buddhism have been interested in,depicting the monastic institution more specifically as part ofits cultural society rather than apart from 'it. One such scholar is Sukumar Dutt whose books, Early BuddhisrMonachism (1924), The Buddha and Five.after Centuries (1955) and Buddhist Monks and Monasteries in .India (1962) have made a great contribution to Indian Buddhist studies. His principal theme seems to be that Indian Buddhism should be viewed not as the practice of .monasticism or as. a cult-sect but as a religion of the people,l Concerning the nature of the monastic institution in India a more detailed examination must be made for which we are particularly indebted to Professor Dutt. At the time Buddhism arosein northern India in the sixth century B.C. there had already developed a tradition of religious truth seekers or homeless wanderers, In the Hindu Brahm~inical tradition they are classed as Sanny~isins (those who have cast off possessions) and are known as the fourth or last of the Four Asramas. Although this class designation was a much later development, in .Upanisadic materials pre-dating Buddhism mention is made of a variety of wandering (Parivr~i-jaka) groups including Sanny~sins as well as Bhikkhus and others. These groups shared certain characteristics which would probably class them as a cult-sect group including an initiation ritual, allegiance to a teacher (Satthh) and his teaching (Dhamma), and subsistence by" begging or alms-seeking as a sign of world-renuncia-" tion. The beginnings of Buddhist monasticism are rooted in the soil of the tradition of these wandering almsmen; consequently, the eremitic monk typical of the earliest 1Sukumar Dutt, Buddhist Monks and Monasteries in India (London: Allen and Unwin, 1962), p. 24. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 523 stratum of Buddhism has remained .the highest ideal, especially in. the Therav~ida countries of Ceyloh and Southeast Asia;We can imagine the organizational form of early Buddhism to be something-olike the following: the Buddha after his enlightenment wandered about the area ofnorthern India known as Magadha teachifig the truth he had'disco~)ered at his enlightenment; many were attracted b~ his teaching and became his' disciples; together they formed not an actual group with a particular locus but ai~ idealized community ("Bhikkhu-sangha of the Four Quarters") b~und together by~all~egiance to a common teacher and his Dhamma. The eremitic nature of the "early Buddhist community did not mean that they renounced contact with lay society,:~ On the contrary, the very fact of being almsmen meant they were depeiadent on the lay community for their physical well-being. Above all, the, followers of the Buddha's Dhamma were to seek out'that environment where they~co~ald best pursue their spiritual cultivation. AsP the Van.apattha Sutta 'puts it; monks should "dwell in a forest or ~ui't it, or dwell anywhere in ~i village, a township or a country, according as such dwelling is conducive'to his spiritual cultivation or n~ot.2" ~ The practices of the wanderihg truth-seekers included'one abetting the develop-ment of cenobitic habits, namely, the-three-inonth rain-retreat (X)assh~isa) during th~ monsoon' rains. Because of the difficulty of traveling about at this time congregations of monks wotild come- tbgether in temporary dwellings; perhaps in caves oi" residences donated by wealthy l~ndholders. D~ring this time particular forrhs of collective life graduall3~ emerged including the recital of a confessional of "faith" called the Patimbkkha° reconstructed 'from the P~ili" Dhammap~da as, "Forebearance or Patience is the highest~kind of penance -hnd Nibbana is decl~ted to be the highest. (object) by the -Buddhas - for he is never a mendicant who hurts others and he is not a'Samana who molestS: others. Abstinence~ from all evils, accumulation of all that~is good, and purification of one's own mind - this is the injunction of the Buddhas.''3 Other group cer~monies during~the rain-retreats~must have included initiation into the Bhikkhu-sangha and the Kathinaor presentation 6f new robes at the conclusion of the retreat. This period-~lso saw the b~eginning bf an oral ti'aditi0n in which -" teachings of the MaSter were'-memorized in particular settings and with sufficient hanemonic devices to insure their proper retention. Monastic life at this stage still largely emulated the,'mendicant ideal and ~t the conclusion of the three-month period the Bhikkhus went their own ways. As one might expect, however, what was intended to" be originally on13~ a temporary dwelling became more and more permanent. Thus, the ,h, wisa and ~,rama originally ¯ proposed" for limited use were transformed by degrees4nto year-round residential dwellings. There are various illtistrhtions of this' transformation in the P~li texts such as the distinction between monks with a more or less permanent residence at a particular center-(~,wisik~a) and those who came to reside there only temporarily. This trarisition probably.took place within two hundred years after the decease of ¯ the Buddha. The Bhikkhu-sangha becoming a semi-permanent and permanent establishment, obviously necessitated more elaborate living rules. The Patimokkha, initially a °confession of faith in the' Buddha's Dhamma, gradually' became a set of'rul~s. Eventually th~se were standardized into 227 in the Theravada canon although other 2Majjhima NikS.ya, 17. 3Dutt, Budclhidt Monks, p. 66. 524 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 references indicate that earlier lists contained fewer regulations. In sum, the Buddha'st.Truth or Dhamma was now complemented by rules of discipline or Vinaya. As Dutt so succinctly states it, the purpose of this code of discipline ". was ~to unite the Sang,ha on a new basis - not as of old on Dhamma alone and by affirmation and confession of faith in the injunctions (Sasana) of the Dhamma, but on a recoghized and accepted rule and standard of living for monks.''4 The Patimokkha,~while the heart of the monks' discipline, was encased in a body of "law" known as Vinaya. Probably the most impo~rtant a.spect of this law is that the Buddha is made the sole basis of authority. Hence, the Book of Discipline or Vinaya Pitaka contains many rules and regulations which gain the status of law by being promulgated by the Buddha in episodic sequence. With the evolution and elaboration of a unique communal law, the Bhikkhu-sangha became more and more a distinct entity both, in the sense, that it .was dis_tinguished from other Parivr~ijjaka groups such as the Jains and also as a distinct social entity to be afforded the same political protection as other aggregates within the body politic of ancient India. The wandering almsmen were no longer, in fact, the earlier typical follower of the Buddha, nor was the "Bhikkhu-Sangha of the Four Quarters" bound together only by a common faith, a practicable ideal. The Sangha was established as separate and distinct monk-settlements, in large part as a consequence of growth and maturity. Some of th( factors demanding the establish-ment of permanent monasteries included: a probationary period of training before ordination lasting up to ten years; the development of an exegetical and scholastic tradition demanding on-going centers of scholarship ;, and . the continu~ation and development of collective rites and ceremonies,s This did not mean that the mendicant ideal was rejected nor did it mean that this ideal was not practiced by some. However, Buddhism in India prospered in temples ~ and monasteries and continued to exercise a considerable influence in India through such great universities as Naland~i, long after it had been virtually assimilated into non- Buddhist traditions. - The Bhikkhu was the bearer of Buddhism to other parts of Asia - Ceylon and Southeast Asia, Central Asia, China, Korea and Japan. Many diverse forms evolved; yet the monk and monastery in varying manner of cultural dress have never lost their central place. They continue to be the embodiment of the universal truths and ideals of the Buddha and, historically, they have continued as the principal preserver of Buddhist culture. Throughout much of Asia where Buddhism spread the monastery became a massive landholder, engaging ~he monk in many of those very tasks the early Bhikkhus in India had renounced. Yet, at the same time, monasteries degeloped into some of the finest educational institutions in Asia and also afforded quiet retreats where, those who sought.most seriou.sly toemulate the Buddha-ideal practiced various forms of contemplation and meditation. Today in Asia these generalizations are still largely t~.ue. In Southeast Asia, for example, one finds monastic centers which include many ritualistic and cultic functions but which also house Bhikkhu universities and have rows of small cells where the most dedicated monks seek seriously to experience the Truth "seen" by the Buddha. It is.true ttiat the monk is becoming involved in politics (e.g., Vietnam, Ceylon, Burma) and that he is being trained in a variety of community development 4Ibid,, p. 71, 5 lbid,, p. 92. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 525 skills (e.g., Thailand); however, it is also true that in some areas there has been renewed interest in the practice~ of Buddhist meditation both among monks and laymen. In Japan the monastic ideai has been continued by various Buddhist sects but-none has been more important than Zen-shu. In Zen some of the themes of Buddhist monasticism as it developed in India underwent additional transforma-tion. In particular, Zen came to stress the~impottance of work and service in the mundane and practical aspects ~f'life. Many students of Zen account for this particular emphasis in Zen as a consequence of the practical attitude of the Chinese mind and draw such distinctions as that of D. T. Suzuki's: "In India the monks Ere mendicants; when they meditate they retire into the quiet corner from worldly Cares; and inasmuch as they ~are supported economically by their secular devotees, they do not propose to work in any menial employment such as Chinese and Japanese monks are used to. ,6 Even though one can hardly, dispute the transforma-tion that Buddhism underwent in China an.d.Japan, this particular distinction is, we believe, overemphasized. Monks in Therav~ida countries also perfqrm manu~il labor such as housekeeping chores around the monastery alth0.ugh w.6rk probably does not have the same degree of "sanctity" Dr. Suzuki claims for Zen Buddhism. It must also be pointed out thai mendicancy is also prac.ticed by Zen monks to a limited extent and still remains one of th~ ideals of the monastic life. Whereas Zen may differ from Therav~ida forms of Buddhism to the degree in which it ac.cepts the mundane world, the centrality of meditation (Zazen) for Zen seems to be a radicalization of the practice of meditation in Theravfida monastic-ism. If the practice of meditation in Therawida monasteries in S. E. Asia were compared with Rinzai Zen monasteries in Japan, one would conclude that meditation in Zen monasticism is both more important and more rigorous. It is also interesting to note that Zazen forms part of the p~:obationary or testing period for the Zen monk, whereas in Theravfida Buddhism the typical monk has probably° practiced little or no meditation. In the first portion of this essay we have attempted to make some generalizations about the foundation of Buddhist monasticism as well as various aspects of monastic life. Important observations have, ind~e~i, been omitted; however, one concluding remark must not be left out. The Buddhist monk and monastery are not qnly important as embodiments of the ideals of Buddhism or as the principal bearers of Buddhist culture. They are of principal religious benefit to the layman both as ~ symbol of an ideal as well as a type of.repository of merit. In Therav~ida countries, for example, the services performed by the layman for the monk are a principal means of earning merit and in Japan the model to which every Zen monk commits himself is that of the compaSSionate Bodhisattva whose mercy (Ka'runfi) extends to all sentient beings. It is~ true, as observers of Asian religions point out, that monasticism and Buddhism go hand in hand; however, neither in its historical development in India nor in its present form in Southeast Asia or Japan, can Buddhist monasticism be thought of simply as a means of withdrawn life for the single-minded pursuit of spiritual goals. Such a picture is true neither to ideal nor historical forms of Buddhist monasticism. 6Essays in Zen Buddhism, First Series (New York: Evergreen, 1961), p. 316.' Review for Re!igious, Volume 31, 1972/4 II A monk is a man who has been called by th~ Holy Spirit to relinquish the cares, desires and ambitions Of other men, and devote his entire - life to seeking God.7 In the Christian tradition the monastic life in all 6"f its varied forms has continually presented itself as the truest response to Jesus' radical demand th'at one break with the "world" - its ~mores, a.ttitudes~ and institutions - and devote himself to God and His kingdom. The d~bate Continues wi{hin the Christian tradition'.as to the righ,tness of this claim¯ There are equally good reasons for assuming that Jesus meant to teach an attitude.of mind and not specific actions bye. means of vivid examples such as his commar~d to the rich young man to "sell all~ that you'possess and give it to the poor" (Mt 19:21). Whatever the present judgment of Biblic~al exegetes a'nd theologians, the early Church was of the firm opinion thai J~sus' word~ were to b~ taken as counse!ing a specific lifestyle which included ch~istity and poveroty - for th~ l~ew, if not for 'the many. " This early Christian asc.,,eticism was practiced within the local community and was a matter of'individual lnltlatwe. Every congregation most l!kely had its virgins, continent males, and dedioated widows who participated in thEsocial and liturgical life as far as their asceticism allo~ved. Their renunciaiion was frequently accom-panied by charitable works and care'of the poor. Some of the sterne'f ascetics b'uilt hermitages" near their rill,ages or lived in abandoned tombs~ off the outskirt~'°of towns. They' continued as part of the comm'unity by w.orking in the fields for hire and using their ~arnings to 6uy food and give alms. Inclusi who were-l~cked. ¯ . o in cells were, of course, dependent upon the Cdmmunity for all heeds. ¯ During the latter half of th6 third cent'ury A. D. a radical altera'ti6n'of the asc6tic ideal took place, with the result that Christian monasticism' was born. Men felt it" was no longer possible to remain within society or the Church and totally to devote themselves to the ascetic ideal. The Desert and not the City "offered a proper environment for the s.truggle for spiritual perfection. I.ncreas~ing numbers of individuals forsook society, farhilie.s, and friends to flee into the desolate deserts of Egypt and elsewhere.o T~h.ey sought solitudd. Thus the ascetic became a monk (monos = alone). The life of these first monks, the'Desert Fathers, focused on'foui"points: the isolation of the hermit cell; severe bodily asceticism, ofte~ile.aving th.e body. met6 skin and bones; striving to attain a state of continuous'prayer and devotion; ahd engagement in work, usually "simple tasks such as plaiting palm leaves and weaving baskets. In all of this the obje~l~'was to reduce bodily needs and the Z'materiality" of human existence, with a consequent enhancement of the '~spifitual" nature of man. The idea of work has playe.d, a constant and important role in Christian monasticism, whethdr eremitic of cenobitic. The early monks had no intention "of-becoming mendicants o~ depend.e*ht~ upon gifts in any wa3~. it was a niatter of pride that they lived I~y~the work of their hands. In ' the 'cenobitic i"cbmm~nities of 7Thomas Merton, The Silent Life (New York: F~rrar, Strahs and Cudahy, 1957), p. vii. ~This portion of the paper ~s particularly indebted to studies by three Benedictine scholars: Jean Leclercq, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God (New York: Fordham University, 1961); Cuthbert Butler, Benedictine Monachism (2nd ed.; London: Longmans, 1924); and David-Knowles, From Pachomius ro Ignatius (Oxford: Clarendon, 1966). See also H. B. Workman, The Evolution o3~ the Monastic ldeal (London: Epw'orth, 1913). ~ Review for Religious, Volum~ 31, 1972/4 527 Pachomius, Basil, and Benedict work continued to have an important rble, both as an ascetical discipline and a~ a~means for- the support of the community. For Basil the operation of schools, orphanages, hospitals, ~and. other institutions of service provided monks the opportunity' to exercise the virtue of charity beyond ttie bounds of the monastic community. 'Today, as in the medieval period', the "work" of Benedictines varies greatly from the manual labor in the'~'fields in which the barliest Benedictines were engaged; it extends to te'aching,omiSsion work, scholarly researclf, work in arts and crafts, or even pastoral care. It is in the area of"work" that ~some of the ambiguity of the monastic, vocation is revealed, In working to support themselves, the desert hermits sought to be independent~ yet they weie dependent upon the very cities from which they had,fled, for there the goods they made were sold. Likewise, the ,."work" of Benedictines often must qarry them beyond the bounds of the monastic .enclosure, an act which.sets up,a tension with the fundamental vow of stability and the intention to flee the world to seek only God in theY"paradise" of the monastery. ~ . 'The new monastic movement shows, several characteristics associated with sect-type movements by sociologists of religion. The founder,of the monasti~ life was~ not Jesus, the founder of the religion. His teachings contain passages which were isolated and interpreted as. calling for the :monastic life, but the man who stands as the "founding father" ~and archetypal monk is St. Antony (2617-356). Athanasius.' Life of St. Antony was decisive, in promoting and shaping the monastic ideal in. East and West.8 At a time when the Church was establishing the.three,fold norm of Scripture, episcopate, and creed we find in the monastic movement an attenuated use of Scrfpture. It is_cited, but in a fragmented~ proof-text manner. Otherwise, it functions very much as a "sacred" object, memorized in.toto as an ascetic act of pious deed; at other times invoked, via the singing of Psalms, as, a charm against the evil demons. The locus of authority was not situated in, a written text and its interpretation. It was, rather, vested in certain charismatic figures: the elder monks of the desert,especially St. Antony. The .~'Fathers" are sources of life and knowledge, Frequently in the Sayings of the Fathers a would-be disciple approaches a master with the request "Speak to me a word; Father, that I may live." .The tradition upon which the monks relied was of their own creation: The Sayings of the Fathers contains sayings and brief anecdotal narratives of the triumphs and tragedies of the monastic vocation.9 Circulating orally, the sayings and narratives embodied the norms of the movement, such as they were, in, a graphic and easily remembered form. Throughout the history of Christian monastic-ism these sayings along with the. eyewitness account of Egyptian monasticism by Palladius (Lausiac History) and the Conferences of Cassian,1 o claiming to represent the Eastern fathers, provided one of the touchstones to which successive .monastic reformers have° referred. In the West the other touchstones were the Rule of St. Benedict and the practices of the "apostolic community" in Jerusalem in. the firSt years as described by the Book 6f the Acts of the Apostles - especially the 8Trans. by Robert T. Meyer, in "Ancient Christian writers," v. 10 (Westminster: Newman, 1950). 9Owen Chadwick, trs., Western Asceticism, "Library of Christian Classics,',' v. 12 (Phila-del1p0hLiaau: sWiaces Htmisitnosrtye, rt,r S19o 5b8y) ,R popb. e1r3t -T1.8 M9 ewyiethr, e"xAcnelclieenntt i Cnthrroidstuiacnti oWn.riters," v. 34 ('Westminster: Newman, 1965). On Cassian, see O. Chadwick, John Cassian (2nd ed.; Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1968). 528 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 common sharing of goods. Never in the early period does it seem that Jesus was claimed as an ideal.monk or the direct founder of a monastic community. The eremitic life remains to this day the ideal monastic vocation in the Eastern Church, where monasteries may resemble a conglomerate of individual cells rather than the communal facilities of a Western Benedictine house. Very early in the history of the monastic movement the rigors of isolation and the loneliness of separation were mitigated by the formation of loose and informal communities in the Egyptian desert. Indications are that the first communities were made up of the hermitages of disciples built near the cell of a particularly renowned desert ascetic. The creation of community was incidental in this case. The monks were there $o gain instruction from the master and then set off on their individual quests for spiritual perfection. Nevertheless, the way was paved for a new form of the monastic life, a form in which the individual monk would be isolated in the withdrawn community rather than in personal separation. The monastic enclosure, not the hermit's cell, gradually became the symbol of the aloneness of the monk. It was the aloneness of a community of individuals committed to a life of asceticism, meditation, prayer, work, and finally, committed to obedience to a Rule of life. The first community organized with a rule was that of Pachomius, who had lived as a hermit, but soon realized the benefits, psychic, spiritual, and physical, of a monastic community. The Rule prescribed living conditions, dress, obedience to the abbot, communal worship to be celebrated weekly, and a system of.houses grouping monks following a single trade in a single dwelling. Work continued to be an integral part of the monastic life. The cenobitic form of life was further developed and refined by St. Basil, who like Pachomius had lived as a hermit. He rejected that life as not allowing for o.the practice of Christian charity. He built monasteries near cities so that the monks might serve society through the operation of schools, orphanages, poor relief, and other works of charity. The Basilian Rule dominates the monastic life in the Eastern Church today, with less emphasis on service, to the community. It mitigated the ascetic rigors of the desert ide.al but provided that a monk might, with the consent of his abbot, leave the community to pursue spiritual perfection as a hermit. Today many eastern monasteries have hermit cells attached. In some 'cases the monks leave food for hermits li~,ing in near-by caves. The Rule of St. Benedict is generally accepted as the most perfect presentation of the cenobitic ideal. Originally written only for the 'local monastery of which Benedict was abbot, it gradually became the dominant Rule for monastic life in the Western Church during the Middle Ages. ~While it enjoined the traditional practices of chastity and poverty, the Rule required three explicit vows by the novice upon acceptance by the¯ community:., obedience, stability, and conduct of lifeJ~ Obedience meant obedience to the abbot in all things and to the Rule which laid down the conditions of life in the monastic community. Stability meant that the monk was to remain a member of the local monastic community which he entered upon profession of his vows. Conduct of life meant a continual struggle to acquire virtues and eradicate vices. From the ascetic point of view Benedict's Rule was moderate. Excessive mortification was frowned upon and discipline was focused especially in the idea of obediefice, which was the outer manifestation of true hum1 iIlsietey Bauntlde ro, Bf etnheed ircetinneu Mnocniaactihoisnm ,o Cfh .s IeXl.f-will.12 These latter two attitudes ~,ere the 12Ibid., p. 140. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 529 essence of asceticism for Benedict. The roots of the Benedictine monastery were set deep .in the soil of the land upon which it rested. The vow of stability was a major contributing factor, so that the monastic enclosure became an enduring fact of the~ local countryside from generation to generation. Monks were not to wander about constantly seeking ever-more-suitable spiritual or physical environments. The agricultural base of the monastery's life also strengthened this bond with the land. Originally, work in the fields, workshops, and other occupations was meant to make the monastery self-sufficient and independent. Ideally the monastic enclosure encompassed the fields, sheep-runs, mill, orchards, brewery, and all other necessary appurtenances to provide for the brethren, who were to leave the monastery only under extreme circumstances. Dependence upon the land within the feudal structure of Medieval Europe often brought this ideal into .conflict with a far different reality. In light of the obligations which went with the possession: of land, monasteries and parti-cularly abbots often found themselves owing knight service to nobles, administering justice in courts, collecting tolls, and generally participating in the feudal structure as any other land-holder might do. The holdings and consequently the corporate wealth ~of many houses increased due to the pious practice of giving property to monasteries in order to obtain forgiveness of sins and to insure prayers for one's self and family. Central to Benedictine life is the insistence upon the community as the essence of monastic life. The monk enters a community of like-minded men who have been "converted" from the world to monastic life. His life bounded by the enclosure, the monk shares all aspects of his life: meals are eaten in common, worship is in common, and monks sleep ino one large room, with younger monks interspersed among elder brethren. Such a life stands in direct antithesis to the eremitic ideal of the Egyptian desert monks. There are three primary activities: manual labor; celebration of the liturgy; and devotional reading. Benedict considered the liturgy the most important of the three; nothing was to interfere with it, but all activities claimed proportionate shares of the monk's time. Later developments stressed ones of the three at the expense of the others. The abbey of Cluny (tenth century) so extended the length of the liturgical offices that little time was left for anything else, and the function of the Benedictine monk was taken to be that of chanting the liturgy - and in doing this the monk carried out a religious act in6umbent upon all, but impossible to fulfill for many because of other obligations. The monks prayed for all men. The Cluniac monks were free to pray for they had serfs to work in the fields. In.the twelfth century the Cistercians sought to restore the austerity of the primitive Benedictine ideal, reducing the liturgy, adopting a plain style of life and architecture, returning to the practice of labor by the,monks, and isolating the cloister. In urging devotional reading, Benedict planted a seed which grew into a far different' plant than he intended, for Benedictinism has tended to be an erudite monasticism. Benedict meant for his monks to be literate for they had to .read Scripture and the fathers and to participate in the liturgy. But he never envisioned them as scholars: Reading was to be devotional and focused on meditation and personal spirituality. In the cultural chaos accomPanying the decay of Roman institutions after the fifth century monasteries not only were islands of calm in an often turbulent world, they also were the only centers of learning, They preserved Scripture and commented upon it; they also preserved the Latin classics. Monastic devotion to learning made possible the founding.of Western culture upon.the basis 530 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 of the literature of classical antiquity in later times. This was no small contribution for the cloistered life to have made to Western civilization. ~ Monks who were missionaries and monks who were scholars bore the burden of Christianizing and of educating Europe during the Carolingian epoch. More recently the Congregation of St. Maur (17th century) produced some of the great ecclesiastical scholars of the period and edited hundreds of ecclesiastical texts. Presently, one thinks of such eminent Benedictine scholars as the late Cuthbert Butler, Jean Leclercq, and David Knowles. They represent vital, personal devotion to the Benedictine ideal and. dedication to scholarship that knows no superior. Thus faLwe have said little of the role of contemplation and meditation in Benedictine life. At times it has been obscured by other "active" endeavors: missionary work, educational enterprises, almshouses, hospitals, farming, and the like. Yet these remain incidental to the primary goal of the monastic vocation, which is the contemplative quest. Benedictine monasticism had .and continues to have a strong contemplative tradition. Yet Benedictine practice has united the "active" life with the "contemplative" life of withdrawn reading, prayer, and meditation in such a way that the Black Monks appear to.be more "active" than contemplative. The best expression of the contemplative life is found .in two twelfth-century reform movements which remain vital orders within the Catholic Church: the Cistercians and Carthusians. Both originated in an upsurge of spiritual renewal during a period which has been characterized as open to new experiments and fresh initiatives. The Cistercians sought to re-establish the strict observance of the Benedictine,Rule, without any of the laxity, amplification of the liturgy, pursuit of secondary aims such as education, or involvement with secular society and government which characterized muchof Benedictine pra6tice in the medieval period. The life was, and is, one of simplicity, frugality, isolation of the monastic enclosure, and dedication to meditation and the contemplative life, set within the context of the common life of the Benedictine Rule. It is within this tradition that the late Thomas Merton followed his vocation. The Carthusians returned to an earlier ideal in their renewal of spirituality. The Carthusian enclosure is called a 'desert' and rightly so, for the Egyptian hermit tradition inspired it. The sides of the cloister are lined with individual hermitages; each monk lives in a small two-storied building with an enclosed garden, a workshop, and ~;alk-way on the.ground floor, and with a cell above for study, sleep,,and private meditation. The Carthusian spends by far the larger part of the day in isolation, working at a trade, praying, reading, or ~vriting. Thrice daily the brethren gather for common worship and on set occasions the community goes for walks in the countryside, gathers for discussion, or.shares a common meal; the isolatiofi of the desert is real, but it is wisely mitigated. Of all the orders of the Catholic Church, Carthusians alone can make the claim to be "never reformed, because never deformed." It is within these monasteries that one finds contempla-tion pursued most fervently within the Christian tradition. The Carthusians, like all monks, engage in work, as individuals and as a community. Earlier we observed that the monastic life now plays an attenuated role in the life. of the Church. One must return to the Middle Ages to find a presence and influence of the monastic vocation~ equal!rig in any way the present state of Buddhism. Nevertheless, the present surge of vitality within Christian monasticism must not be overlooked. Monasticism may be a phenomenon on the fringe, 6ut it is a vital fringe. Thomas Merton and the community of the Abbey of Gethsemanirepresent a renewal of Cistercian spirituality, while the bold experiments in art, architecture, Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 531 educ~ition, and liturgy at St. John's Abbey, Colleg~ville', Minnesota, demonstrate the vitality of the BenediCtine ideal in several areas. Monastic life" on the European Continent continues to bear ::fruit in education, scholarship, music, and spiritual renewal. One thinks of the leadership ~f Downside Abbey in England; the scholarship at Solesmes arid Beuron, Belgium; the Abbey of La PiErre qui Vire, France, where Benedictines of the 'Primitive Observance combine art ~cholarship with the creative artistic 'c'i'aftsmanship of L 'Atelier du Coeur MeUrtry; and" La Grande Chartreuse, the mother house of the carthu~sian Order, where the silent life of meditation has again~ been'restored. ~ : In our examination of~the .historical roots and some salient features of monastic-ism in Buddhism and Christianity, no attempt has been made to force comparisons. Nevertheless, in examining the historical record impartially one notes some striking, if obvious, similarities. In,,both:,Buddhism and Christianity the monastic life claims to represent an id6al form of .religious commitment~ In Christianity it offers a response to Jesus' call to forsake all for God and His Kingdom; in .Buddhism, the monastic community affords the ideal milieu for pursuing the highest goal, namely, Nirvfina. " ~ In both traditions eremitic and cenobitic form~ of the monastic.life exist. The ,more primitive form of the monatic.life is that of the single individual, isolated in a hermitage (Christianity)or wandering-as ,a mendicant (Buddhism).~An immediate distinction which springs to mind is the differing attitudes toward mendicancy in the early traditions. Buddhist monasticism began as a mendicant order; Christian monasticism in its eremitic and cenobitic forms strongly rejected begging and alms; monks were more likely to give alms and minister to the poor than to be the objects of such a ministry. Only with the advent of an urban economy and the need for a new style of renunciation and apostolic ministry in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries did mendicancy become an expression of poverty - and with that a new form of renunciation was formed in Christianity: the mendicant orders, which have much in common with the monastic orders, but deserve to be distinguished carefully from them as well. The necessity for rules governing the common life of monastic communities led to the development of sets of discipline which, in turn, were partially responsible for the emergence of different monastic orders. Ther~ are certain typological similarities between the degree of tension existing between the monastic commu-nity and the secular world. In neither Christianity nor Buddhism, however, can monasticism be viewed in isolation from its cultural context. On the contrary, in both religions the monastery has been at one point or another in history, a principal bearer of the cultural tradition in which it was enmeshed. The relationship of the ¯ monastery to the broader religious tradition with which it is identified is a complex phenomeflon. However, in both traditions there is a strong tendency to associate the monastic life with the truly religious life. In Buddhism, although some of the earlier scrit3tures (e.g., Thera and Therigathas) testify to the realization of Nirvfina by laymen and women, the monk soon became the religieux par excellence. Also in Indian, Buddhism the monastery came. to represent or be associated with the main stream of the tradition. In ,Christianity there is no exclusive claim to salvation through monastic profession, but in the medieval period the monastic vocation was the only one judged to be "religious"; all other occupations, including that of the 532 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 parish.priest, were secular, i.e., involved with the world. The priest, while set apart from the laity by his sacramental powers, was nevertheless one. with them in this particular: neither he nor they had been "converted" from life in the world to life in the monastic habit. It must be said, however, that in Christianity the monastic life continues tO claim superiority in its fidelity to Jesus' message. Both Christian and Buddhist monasticism exhibited certain tendencies associated with sectarian m. ovements at the point of their origin. In both, the inonastic life was integrated into a wider'tradition, with more or less success, thus allowing for diverse expressions of religio~us experience and commitment. It remains true, however, that in Buddhism monasticism has remained to this day a substantial bearer of the core of the tradition. This can be illustrated in many ways, but perhaps it will suffice within the limits of this essay to point out that the archetypical monk for Buddhism is the Buddha himself, whereas for Christianity it.is St. Antony, not Jesus. Although in this study we have examined only the origins and some aspects of ~the, development of monasticism .East and West, our concern is not merely historical. Rather, both implicit and explicit in our study is the value of the vision which inspired the monastic ideal in both Buddhism and Christianity. In this age of rapid, change in which the moral values and religious truths of an earlier day are being challenged and crumbling, there is a strong possibility that the well-spring for religious renewal: will not arise from secular models but from the most "radically" religious. Should this be the case, the precedent of monastic life East and West will offer an important stimulus and suggest patterns for lives of holiness. PROTESTANT AND ECUMENICAL RELIGIOUS LIFE [Editor's note: The following three essays originally appeared in Unit~ chr~tienne, February 1972, and are presented here in English translation with~the kind permtssion of the~editor of Unit~ chrktienne and'of the respective authol's. Specific page references to the issue of Unit~ chr~tienne will be given at the beginning of each essay. The English translation of the threat essays was done by R. F. Smith, S.J., of the.~Department bf Historical Theology; D~vinity School of St. Louis University; 220 North Spring Avenue; St. Louis, Missouri.] THE SISTERS DEACONESSES OF REUILLY By Sister Elizabeth~, Deaconess of. Reuilly 4, [This article appeared on pages 30-40 of Unit~ chr~tienne, February 1972. Sister Elizabeth's Address is: 95, rue de Reuilly; 75 Paris 12, France. I ~ The Community of the Deaconesses of Reuilly came into ex.ist.ence in P.aris in 1841. The Community was born as a small thing, but its date deserves to-be remembered because it represented the first attempt at a renewal of ~om. munit3~ life in French Protestantism. The beginnings of this foundation were not able to flc;urish perfectly in the nineteenth century, for the centu~ was too deeply haark6d " by confessional tensions. But with' the ecumenical movement, there cam~ a mbre favorable time. In its deep attachment to.its origins, the Community is untiringly seeking in its origins the meamng of its calling and the secret'of the renewals which pr.epare, and hasten "the coming of the kingdom of ~God." THE ORIGINS The historical events in which the birth of Reuilly is inscribed were (1) essentially, the religious Awakening at the beginning" of the century and (2) secondarily, the social crisis opened by the'industrial era. The spiritual motivations that were involved were (1) an ardent thi~rsting for holiness anda consecrated life and (2) a vision of the Church structured by obedience. Intertwined with all these were the providential circumstances in which the hand of God could be seen=The vocation of the founders (Antoine Vermeil and Caroline Malvesin), their meeting, their mutual accord, the astonishing receptivity of the evangelical Parisian milieu, the finding oi~a favorable implantation site in the midst of the workers' section, the first apostolate of the sisters in the service of women who had just left prison. ¯ The Awakening" ., As Pastor G.Lagny ha's clearly shown,1 the Awakening which aroused.Protestant-ism at the beginning of the nineteenth century was a part of the general movement of Christian renewal which vivified the entire Church - and in a special inanner French Catholicism as it emerged from the trials of the Revolution and the Wars of the Empire. What came forth' was a religion of,the heart in reaction to the rationalism of the Century of the Enlightenment - a religion touched by an: affectivity that romanticism might make suspect, but it was full of spontaneity and warmth and rich in works of all kinds and in innumerable sacrificeS, It was an authentic movemenVof the Spirit. '° 1 In his 1958 work Le R~veil de 1830 ~ Paris et les origines des Diaconesses de Reuilly. "534 Review for Religious,,Volume 31, 1972/4 For the Protestant Awakening historians give a precise date and place 6f origin: 1817 in Geneva with roots, however, going back into the 18th century. If th~ Awakening was begun in Geneva by Robert Haldane, a Metho'di's~ from S6otland, the t~rrain had been prepared by a small Moravian community which had been frequented ,by theological-students. Thus it was that at the origins of the ~w°akening, are found the~ Methodists, those incomparable evangelizers, and the eMoravians,-apostles of the common life and precursors of Christian unity. -- . A native of Nimes and Sprung from old Huguen.ot ~tock, Antoine Vermeil (born in 1799) was a student at Geneva during the years of the Awakening; and his piety was deeply affected by it. Having become pastor, his resolutely evangelical faith was joined to a grefft love of the Reformed Church. For sixteen years at Bordeauxhe 'showed himself gifted in preaching, in teaching, in the care of souls as well as in the coordination of multiple apostolic and charitable activities. In the latter, however, he lamented a lack - the absence "of Sisters of Charity who do so,much good in the Roman Church.''2 Accordingly, there formed in him the idea of one day restoring in the Churches of the Reform "fe'mi]aine religibus orders.'~ Caroline Malvesin was born at Marseilles in 1806. From her childhood her hbfirt ~vas drawn to" the poor and tb children!As an adolesCent, she drear~ed of involving - ~her friends in a life entirely consecrated to God in the service, of~ thos~ who s,uffered most'.'Bnuott h°i"n g" m '" P r:ote'stant"i s.m. corresponded to her asp~: r"atlons." I't "was very ° sad," ~he s.aid,, " t o see no way of entering the service of the Lord." "Since my twentieth year I regretted nothing more than the fact of not being able.to with what joy I would have submitted myself to a rule, to a Christia'n discipline." Later as a teacher at Bordeaux,)Caroline was linked in deep friendship'to Fas[br Vermeil. In 1839 under the influence of the preaching of the great apostle Adolphe Monod, her Christian life was totally renewed. The breath of the Awakening touched her.:The peace she had-.Iong desired at last filled her, soul with a joy and a power that she had not previously experienced. The Holy Spirit rekindled in her j'the ,need to consecrate herself entirely to. the service of the Lord." This need ;'devohred her.". . A Thirst for Consecration ,, In the 4th century when the Roman Empire was at peace, monasticism had appeared spontaneously as a sort of substitution for martyrdom°.'Verme.il did not hesitate to invoke the same argument in favor of a rebirth of religious life in French Protestantism of the 19th century:~ "For three centuries the agitations of the Church under the cross were able to satisfy these needs of the heart and of the expansive faith which seeks self-immolation and sacrifice; but today it is'necessary to open another outlet for them.''3 In the absence of such an outlet, many souls " "will be led toask of other sources the means to satisfy their:.thirst" (that is, they would be attracted to Roman Catholicism)~ -, At the same time the missionary impulse offered possibilities of herbic commit: ment to.Christians in love with the Absolute. Caroline Malvesin introspected herself on this point but found that her calling lay elsewhere: "Reflecting on the pressing needs of our own people, it seemed to me that the good needing to be done was Expressions taken from the founders in their own language are placed within quotation marks; the expressions are ta keii from their corresponce and from a number of brochures." Brochure distrtbuted July 30, 1841. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 535 just as great around us. ; I believe that each of us has his own interior intimation which leads him to recognize the work fitted to himself." Then this cry sprang from l~er: "For myself, I feel that my work will be to strive~by the gra~e of the Lor-d to hasten that blessed moment when there will be but one flock guided by one shepherd." A Vision of an Obedience-structureed Church At that time the Reformed Church oflFrance, which had remained united during the persecution, wa~ threatened with divisions. Deprived by the State of its national synod,:it lacked a center of authority, The separation between the Reformed and the Lutherans (essentially a regional reality'except in Paris) was not the cause. Rather, the real divisions were at the very heart of the Church. On the .level of dogma a gap had opened up and.hostilities existed between the liberal and the "orthodox" tendencies. And on the ecclesiologi-cal level the partisans of free churches (that is, separated from the State) were opposed to Christians who remained devoted to the "national" Church. And almos~ everywhere Methodists were opening their "chapels" under the shadow of the large church buildings. During 1840 Vermeil, a man of peace, was called to Paris in the hope that hl would be a conciliator. Once he had arrived, he was alarmed by the seriousness of the evil. It was then that he had the spiritual intuition that then began to come to realization. What was lacking to such a degree in Protestantism - each one's renunciation of his own will, the sense of authority in the Church, fraternal love - could be incarnated in the feminine order which he had been thinking about for a long time. "But in order that the goal be attained, there would have to be a vow of entire obedience." The "evangelical sisters of charity,!' animated by a spirit of openness, would pertain to all the Reformed communions (a truly ecumenical community before the word was even used) and would thereby be in the midst oL the divisions of the Church a leaven of unity and of a life hidden in Christ,- He wrote at once to his spiritual daughter, the humble teacher at Bordeaux. His ideas evoked a profound response in Caroline Malvesin. From this time on there began an ardent correspondence between the future founders.4 Animated by a genuine spirit of prayer, a sense of disappointment with regard to her own Church led Sister Malvesin to the vision of the Church of Christ in its totality and awakened her to the scandal of the division in the Church universal: "The .Roman Church has disfigured Christianity. but the Reform has also disfigured Christianity." "The more I, think of that project, the more I love it. I love it because of the great deeds that the Lord can grant us to do but al~o and above all because it is a step toward the fusion of the. Churches~ This is a gospel-authorized work that Protestantism has neglected.In applying oneself in a Christian way to the matter, it musf~be-acknowledged that the branches of the trees have been cut off too short and that thereby the traveler has been deprived of salutary fruits and of a greater amount of shade . will the time come when we will not use the words 'Protestants,' 'Catholics,' except to give thanks to the Lord that they no longer exist; when will the time come when the great Christian family will quench its thirst at the source of living water which springs up into life eternal?" 422 letters from February 6 to August 31 1841. 536 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 The Community Beyo~d a sympathetic reference to the "Sisters of Charity" and to the term deaconess borrowed from Biblical vocabulary (Rom 16:1), our founders borrowed nothing. They seem to have been ignorant of the patristic traditions, and they purposely kept away from Catholic sources in the supposition that they were blemished with errors and abuses. They intended to "have no other b~se than the gospel, no other foundation than Christ." Yet, remarkably, by a soft'of spiritual instinct they rediscovered the principles of traditional religious life: - Entire consecration of self to God by union with Christ." "Our Center is the One from whom comes the light; the Center of our captured wills is the Master. May each member derive her life from Jesus alone, her love from Jesus alone, her humility, her contentment, her renunciation, her abnegation, her spirit of sacrifice frorfi Jesus alone!" (Sister Malvesin, Letter to the Community, December 31, 1868). - .4 life of prayer: "My house will be called a house of prayer" was the text chosen by Antoine Vermeil when he opened the sisters' chapel.where twice a day the community would come together for praise and adoration. ~ " - .4 solemn commitment binding one to the service of the Lord)"My sister, do you ~feel penetrated by such a gratitude to God our Savior who has redeemed us at so large a cost that you are unshakably determined to consecrate to Him in the service of the Deaconesses that body and spirit of yours which belong to Him?" (textused from 1884). - Community: The vow of obedience grouped the community around the~sister superior. It included the stages 'of sister-aspirant and'of sister-n~vice before the attainment of the consecration as sister-deaconess. All remuneratiohs were for common use to be shared according to the needs of each. ~ '- "Evangelical poverty"." Antoine Vermeil gave the~ sisters as their rule the apostolic precept: "As long as we have food and clothing, let us be content with that" (! Tim 6:8). - The vision of unity: This vision was to make the community a demonstration of a reality which the Churches still needed. There wa~; however, one hesitation, and this in connection with lifelong consecrated celibacy which seemed too contrary to Protestant principles (though this was taken for granted rather than stated). The commitment of the sisters would be simply for two years and would be renewable indefinitely for the same term. Early Achievements, " Although, as we have seen, Sister Malvesin and Pastor Vermeil were preoccupied with the Situation of the Chuich, they were also tormented by the miseries in society at large. Their charity led them to~meet these miseries on all fronts, o ~ The first' act of the community, and this on the'very of day of its foundation, was the opening on the rue des 3-Sabres of a shelter for women leaving prison. (This was a consequence of the visit to Paris of Elizabeth Fry, the Quaker mystic and apostle to prisons:) Thereafter the sisters began to seek' out the. poor who were numerous in the sector of Faubourg Saint-Antoine. The condition of the children- moral debase-ment~ and physiological misery - moved them deeply. They rented two places to take care of them - one for young girls in moral danger, the other for tubercular children. Sick adults also received the compassion of the sisters, and they opened for them an infirmary with eight beds. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 537 In 1844 a large piece of property v~as found on the rue de Reuilly. The shelter (supplemented by a section for adolescents), the two projects for.children, and the infirmary were easily accommodated there. And it was also possible for Sister Malvesin to realize there the educational work which she .had cherished in her heart. She opened the first school for mothers in the sector, the first Protestant primary school, and the first nursery. But her zeal did not stop with this. After the primary school, there was need for an apprenticehood center for young girls, evening courses in reading and writing for women, and an open library for the workers. The work of evangelizatio0 was also pursued in the sector e.specia!ly by means of a Sunday School which, brought together 150 children while Pastor Vermeil organized public gatherings. Soon the first sisters were asked for by the Province. Th~ey went, alone or in small groups, to take charge of orphanages, o~f hospitals, and of old age homes. All of this was undertaken in the Course of the first six years. One may regret this intense activity on the grounds that it compromised the formation of .the first novices and the deepening of the newborn community in prayer and in the religious life. As it turned out, the life of the community was not sufficient to justify the existence of the sisters-deaconesses,, their strange dress, and their "convent" on the rue de Reuilly. As far as Protestant opi.nion was concerned (an opinion that raged over the matter for the ten years from 18,46 to 1856), both liberal and conservative Pr,otestants found in this unwanted group a point of unexpected accord. TODAY- AND TOMORROW Because of the badly prepared Protestant milieu, during the first hundred years of the existence of the community, the aspect of religious life was deliberately played down, and this by the founders themselves in the trouble and sorrow of their consciences. Christian service was giv.en priority over the service of praise and over the building up of the ecumenical Body. But there always remained a number of living realities: - entire consecration of self to God, - the authority of the sister superior, and - a strong feeling of attachment to the spiritual family of Reuilly. And these were to be sufficient supports for the renewal actually going on at the present time.s In the years of the Second World War there came a new g~neration which, e~,en if it was not numerous at the beginning, was deeply desirous of communitarian life." And without downgrading social effectiveness or apostolic zeal, the yearning .for prayer grew. The ecumenical vision that had been lost for such a long time was recovered - and with the greatest joy. The restudying of the documents of its origins (especially the letters exchanged during the prefoundation period) en-couraged the Community to take up anew on its own responsibility the project of religious lif6 that had been insufficiently realized in the past. The appearance in contemporary Protestantism of cenobitic communities (Taiz6, Grand~hamp) was an immense encouragement. Finally - a~d this was a capital point - the theological renewal during the period 5This idea, along with a number of others, has been taken from the paper, La Communaui~ de Reuilly ~ la d~couverte de sa source monastique, presented to the Faculty of Theology of Strasbourg on March 17, 1966, by Sister Marie-Madeleine Handy, Sister of Reuilly. ~ 538 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 was'favorable ~6 communitarian qifd and provided it for the first time within 'the framework of Reformed doctrine a sufficient foundatiom The Theological Foundation Theological 'vigor was wanting in the°religious movement of the"19th century, centered as it was on" the sentiments 0fthe believer and on the needs of mankind. The great wave of the'Awakening which' urged so many women to an eritire consecration of themselves to God in celibacy and in ~ommunitarian life did not find in Europe thesuppgrt of a theology capable ofhnderpinning the life. Orily the Anglicans, nourished by the fathers of the Ctiurch, knew how to~ compose such a theology. The 20th century, on the other hand, recovered the vision of one Church, of the Church as the Body o~" Christ the members of ~,,hich, being organically bonded together, are in mutual intercommunion. Accordingly, this theological renewal along with the liturgical renewal and the ecumenical movemedt favored the blossoming of community life. The little'book of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,Life Together, published at the end of the war, opened the way'~o a gre~t deal of reflection. Karl Barth recognized the place in the Church of regular communities alongside parish communities. Then there came the writings 'of Taiz~ and - less known but important for Reuilly - the thought of Louis Dali~re whose charismatic ecclesiology is completely oriented to the nearness of the kingdom of love and of the return of Christ. Theology restored baptism to the center .of all Christian life since it unites us to Christ. Accordingly, holiness no longer appeared a-s bound to the religious life as such but rather to the vow of baptism included in it; and the same could be said of the apostolate. God is the sovereign of His callings; His freedom differentiates them as it pleases; nevertheless, baptism assigns each Christian the same goal - holiness - and the same demand - witnessing. On the common basis of baptism, w~e ciar~d to reaffirm in all their plenitude the three commitments which traditionally have formed religious life' the communalty of goods, consecrated celibacy, and the acceptgnce of authority. The Community as a member of the Church is configured to the Church's image: Christocentric prayer, the sanctificatioi~ of time, unity in love, organic cohesion, dynam!sm of the Spirit, openness to the world in a great diversity of services. The theological movement in this period of the 20th century opened before us the .largest perspectives. : ° The community The essential has been said; t'he only thing left is to live it! T~o reestablish the contemplative dimension of our vocation and to restore integral community life have been our primary obJective~s; and thereby a,. new hierarchy of values became necessary. Through the adoption for daily prayer of the Office of Taiz6, the sisters entered into contact with the treasures of the universal Church and discovered the beauty of the liturgical year. A third time of common prayer was begun in the middle of the day; the Last SUpper memorial became frequent; more time was given to s~iritual retreat and to meditation on the word of God. All ~this was not easy to accomplish. And for most of us, engaged as we are in demanding works, there'is still' a searchihg for a balanc6 in the "mixed" life where Review for Religious, Volume 31, 19~72/4, 5,39~ the Divine Office and the service of the Church are the.,two aspects of the si.ngle service of God. Similarly, we have come to a better understanding of the sl~irit~al dim'ensions of the common life: "We do nbi enter community in ardor to have companionship but in order to give ourselves entirely to God. Before everything el.se the framework of common,life should help us to perseverance in interiori.ty. In place of sa.crificing.the values of communita*rian life in the name ,of the aposti~late, we realize that the radiating ~power of our service depends on the truth~and the love lived among us", (Sister Madeleine-Marie). o ~ .Daily encounter, revision of life, sharing, reflection t'ogether, ~study - it was neces~sary to find time for, all of these. It was also necessary to cease all niggardliness in the matter of the formation of the you~ng members; so too was it necessary tO reeducate the older members by continued religious, apostolic, or professional formation. But this, I think,_is the story of all the active congrega~tions of~our day. But there remains the necessity of, men~tioning matters that were problems peculiar to us. First of all, in the course of the last twenty years the com. munity of Reuilly has gradually~ separated its own identity from that of the works and institutions in which the sisters exercise ih~ apostolate. Moreover,. our statutes have been revised - still, however, imperfec.tly. Furthermore, we have choffen a qgllege of twelve sisters ~ with constant reference to the sister sup.erior.-7~.an.,d .have begun having assemblies of the community. Finally, we have devote._d the~ gre]tes~t attention to the formation of our novices; and we hav~ ~refashione~i- our liturgy, of consecration and the commitments theinselves in order tha~t ,t, ii~ey.may better express the truth of what we are. But we have not finished ali'ihis;.~'and this internal history of ours - always needing'to be reconsidered and never finished - is full'of meaning especially for those of us who are engaged in it. ~ Apostqli.c Commitment. It is a commonplace to remark t'hat we are living in ~a ti~ae of profoiand "change both iq the Church and in the world.,The present is po longer a'fixed thing but in total flux. We could speak of our apostolic engagement by enumerating its concretizations: hospitals, schools, homes for the aged,, parishes, byotherhoods, ov[rseas apbstolate, ecumenism, spiritual retreats, hostels, and so forth. Also we could justify our longstand!ng forms of the apostolate and the reasons for our new forms. But in reality we - like the rest of the Church - are m search of a new spirit. We" are in-progress, not knowing if our life's movement will succeed in one e~ndeavor and be frustrated in an.other. It is clear that in the works that were previously~ famil!.al but W.hich have now. become, in however small a way, true public services, the insertion o~" our~ sisters into the midst of numerous lay workers and the mode of the sisters' presence to'~ those whom they se rye there is in the process of thoroughgoing chg~ge. Wha~ is'the Christian character of such works and how should our witnessing be expressed in. them? Can the gospel _still pass muster and can it still transform a determined institutional milieu? Should the status of the sisters ev9lve towards, salaried. positions? These are difficult and profound problems for which a-solution can be reached only by spirits who are courageously.inve.ntive and, while ~ot losing their own identity, respectful of the vocation of each member of such works: sisters, lay ~.pe.r.sons,, technicians, Christians, agnostics. Is it possible o to attempt~ a common 540 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 project which-goes beyond the religious community without weakening the community and without denying the values that are proper to it? Will we receive the faith that moves such mountains, will we have enough love and enough humility? More than any other age, ours has need of stable places, houses, structures; do we "still know how to provide them? 'In parish work'as well as in the brotherhood apostolate, the position of the sisters it les~ complex and l~ss ambiguous. Parishes expect catechetical witnessing~ contemplative prayer and intercession can flower in the brotherhoods, These ministries are all openness, friendship, approach to people in their daily preoccupa-tions. Doubtless, however, these too pr~esent their own problems 6f insertion and of adaptation. The reasons for the sisters to be in a given milieu and the way of living the gospel there are questions that it is always necessary to ask. Beyond all others, the' real problem is always that of the gospel. How can the gospel be commuhicated to the people of our time? H6w can new modes of communicati6n be found without downgrading the word and without lessening charitable ~,ork? For a long time already the Community has been asking these que~stions. It is now fifteen years since we began our first attempts at "liturgical plays" for the celebration of great feastdays. It was with. astonishment thaVwe have seen our chapel filled with known and unknown friends. Then it became necessary to answer the appeals that °~ame from outside - from Paris or provincial parishes; in'these cases we have presented a cycle of eight days or more, thereby participating in ph~'bchial renewal and in evangelization. Finally, our modest plays as well as our audio-visual "montages" of various kinds became the messengers of our ecumenical devotion: the crypt of the Church of St. Eloi was made available to us for a greater reception of the people of the sector; Catholics included. Singing - it had begun among ourselves - made its appearance along with the accompanying instrumentation. These last summers there have been experiences in camping. In the evening there was much singing of all types together with short montages occasioned by a text of the gospel. We tried mixed teams of sistet:s and young people. The participation of the people gave us a joyous surprise as did the seriousness of their attention. "To ~hare the gospel" is one of the profound needs of our time. But perhaps even more u~'gent is the need to relearn how to pray, to rediscover.the contemplativ~ dimension without which there is no Christian life. Once it had 6ecor6e' aware of its new hierarchy of values, the Community of Reuilly wanted to share with others the grace that had been given it?'A number of room~ were furnished for the reception of persons for a spiritual retreat': Then we began to cherish an important project which was first supported by our prayer and then~ realized in September 1970: the opening at Versailles (rue Porte-de-Buc) of a house of prayer situa'~ed ~in the calm of~a beautiful park and open to receive retreatants, either.individually or in groups. We do not have a "frozen" program on the way of making a retreat; we have learned that fo~ those who come we must be an "open" community. The important thing is that each retreatant be familiarized with the particular realities of the community and .that he have ~he possibility to live with it its lifeof daily praise. Versailles will also be a special place for ecumenical dialogue. And finally for the Communit3~ itself it is the occasion of the spiritual regrounding so necessary for active sisters. Not'~verything has been said here for the Spirit is alwa~ys pushing the Church and o Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 541 communities in spite of their weakness. One last thing, howeve~r, should be sai~ about our commitment to the Third World. For the last ten years there has been a modest brotherhood in Algeria. We are present in Dahomey where we have two sisters in the ,structure of the Common Apostolic Action (an interconfessional and interracial team). In the Fon territo~ of the country and inca fully animistic background wd have an urgent and enormous medical work tl~at must be accomplished with the barest of resources. In Cameroun there has been begun a small African community at Makak; a!ready there are two novices; a community house is under construction. These are small beginnings but they are also the objects of a great hope. Sister,Malvesin in her vision of the tree (letter of February 24, 1~41), whici~ she often appealed to, foresaw a community that was both perfectly achieved (strong trunk enrooted in Christ)" and at the same t.ime.totally ope~n to the~world (many branches attesting the vitality of the $runk). The, dynamism of her vision has not been exhausted. God grant that it will always arouse the renewals that are necessary in the continuity of the Spirit. THE ORDO PACIS By Sisters ofthe Ordo Paeis [This article appeared on pages 41-48 9f Unit~ chr~tienne, February 19"/2. The address of the principal house of the Ordo Pacis: Celia St. Hildegard; Koppel 55 11;D-2 Hamburg l;West Germany.] A Com.munity "under the Peace of Christ" ° ~ Among the evangelical religious orders, our Evangelische Schwesterrischaft O,r.do Pacis [Evangelical Sisterhood of the Order.of Peace] represents ~ somewhat special type since our communit3; include~ women in every state of life: Married sisters live in their families; some celibate sisters live al6ne; and there are some sisters who live in community and form as.is said today, "a community." We are not very numer6us - actually only twenty-four sisters; the community has its residence,- the Celia Saint-Hildegard [Cell of St. Hildegard], in Hamburg; the rest of thesisters live throughout the rest of Germany. The foundation of our sisterhood b.y the consecration of its first eight sister~ took plac~e in 1953 after long years of preparation. From around 1930 the idea of sucha community was formed in the minds of some membe.rs_ of ~the Eva, ngelische Michaelsbruderschaft (founded in 1931 and now having fiv~ hundred brothers but without community life) as well as in the minds, of a group of women eage[ to commit themselves in the Church; but °the idea did not then comd to realization. After the Second World War some of the women made recofitact~ith e~ch other as well,as contact with other women; they intentionally went out to women of~'all states=the married, widows, celibates, deaconesses. This group changed its composition greatly in the course of time; and it also became more and more independent of the Evangelische Michaelsbruders~haft. Over a period of some years the group began to ask itself whether it should respond to a special calling, from God for the foundation of a sisterhood which Would include besides the states of. life already represented in the,.group (m, arried and celibate) the state of a sister committed, to communitarian life. To our knowledge 542 R~view for Religious, 'Volume 31, 1972/4 there was not then ~ind isnot now any other Protestffnt community"which includes Women of all states as full members. This group of women met together.each year for a few days of retreat in order to seek the answer to their self-question in common prayer and in Bible~stud~ together. Two Bible texts,' especially, ~were essential for their consideration'. First, there was the encounter of the two worhen, Mary and Elizabe'th, called by'God to be the im~ige and the type~of every encounter in which Christ is°the center. Secondly, thEre':was th~ appearance Of the Resurrected Christ on.Easter night in the midst of ,.His~Disdiples and with the salutation "Peace" on His:lips. The peace of Christ was to become the determining factbr in the life of each sister as well" as in the life of the small corfimunity that was eventually constituted,at Hamburg in 1956. The peace of Christ is the gift Of the,Resurrected One which we receive in order to give it tO the world in the place we are at -, in our families, in our professions, in any new work that may be undertakeh. The peac~ of Christ is the reality which unites us even though~ we live in very different circumstances and with very.different missions; this is why we have dared to take for our sisterhood .the name of the Order of Peace. We realize that we are only beginners; we have not yet a formulated rule; we are trying to live out only a few fundamental, convictions. The essential thing is that each of us be in reality an "instrument o~" the peace of Christ" as should the sisterhood as a whole. We are c0nvincedl~hat our vocation is this: The peace that has been entrusted to our community. (Naturally, we know that this peace is also entrusted to each Christian' and to the entire Church.) In order for us to actually be an-instrume'nt of peace'in the world and qn complete solidarity with the perso.ns with whom we live and work (our families, our parishes), we have thought it essential that women of all states and of all backgrounds .shou, ld be joined in a single sisterhood with sisters who ~: commit themselves to c~qmm.unity life in order to be perfectly atthe, disposal of God/We have m~any difficulties: The great differences in the life situation of each of the sisters; the considerable disiances that separate us; theJack of time and energy that affects us each day; the temptation we all have to live an isolated vocation; the temptation to see a differhrice of quality between the group of sisters committed to commumty hfe and those who remain in their civil sta~. To' live our common vocation in, spite of all these difficulties requires immense efforts; and we will attempt to describe these in the following paragraphs. First of 'all*, there is the matter of the i~rayer in which'.we live our common vocation. It is prayer that is made each day; it finds its sou'[cd both in a daily meditation on" a pas~.ag.e of the gospel (ordinarily the same passage° for all) and in the various li(e situations of the day that are gwen to tis by God. In this inatter we have learried':and ~are still learning a~great deal~.from the Churches and the ~coinmunities of "the othe{ great ~onfessions'~ and ~for this we are deeply grateful. However, our life in prayer-, our daily life "underthe peace" is basically a most delicate thing to~ describe; we have, however: risked such a description in the second part of this article, always fearful, however, of using expressions,that are too strong for the initial small experiences that we have had up to !he' present. Another part of the'" realization of our dommon .vocation consists i-n the relationship of ehch sister with the entirety of'our sisterhood. Take, for example, the relationship ~with :the sister who directs our sisterhood, who indicates the way along which the sisterhood should advance together, and who makes the de~isions which should correspond to our common goal. It is absolut'ely necessary for her Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 543 ministry that each sister keep her informed of her experiences (both positive and negative) under the sign of peace; each.sister must give the~ director full. trust as well as full obedience. Because of the great distances between us, for most of us this is done by writing or, at times, by telephone. Still another consideration is the special relationship between each sister and another sister, an adviser, appointed for the purpose. This sister-adviser should be closer (not in the sense, of friendship) than the other .sisters and should .represent to the sister the totality of the sisterhood in a simple and concrete manner. It is useful for the sister-adviser to live in the same region (to facilitate visits), to live in the same state of life, and to be more,oor_less of the same generation (to better understand the problems and the situation.of the sister-advisee). But none of these are indispensable. And it is always necessary to make the effort to really break up in ourselves the tendency to ,individualism, to open oursel~,es, to make ourselves "transparent," if we are to realize our common vocation on this adviser-advisee level. Besides the above, each sister sends every year.an account of herself to the spiritual father of our sisterho~od. This is to be an expression, of our common vocation, for what we give an account of is the gift which has been entrusted to us in common.And it should be noted,that the spiritual father of our sisterhood has the role of spiritual and theological counselor~ o_f the community in general and in particular of the sister who directs the sisterhood.,, It is he who conducts the liturgical services at our reunions; and he is also the spiritual director of some of us (since it is often difficult to find one).~ As was the case before the foundation of our sisterhood in 1953, our journey together is marked by the yearly reunion of all the sisters for ~lays of retreat and for days of reflection. The thrust that pushes us forward is to be found in a special way in these reunions, in the Bible study during, the days of retreat, in the celebration of the Eucharist, and in prayer. But, as must be clear, there are many forces which weaken this thrust and which, tempt us to.r.eo~ain where we are instead of advancing forward. A. brief mention should be given to the small community of the Celia Sair~t- Hildegard at Hamburg. The Celia is not our center, but it is an essential part of our sisterhood. The sisters of the community arg committed to a life of celiba.cy lived in a communalty of goods and in the acceptance of authority. Their residence is expected to be a place of prayer, that is, the rhythm of the day is marked by common Offices and by the personal prayer of each sister. The re.sidence has its doors open in two directions: to leave and to enter. Some of the sisters engage in a profession as an expression of real solidarity with the entire world (as well as to provide for the material existence of the community). At the same time the Celia is open to all those who wish to come there. It has a number of rooms available for those who come. And people do come - to pray, to recollect themselves, to rest, to find someone to listen to them, to share in our joy or in our frustrations, to make a retreat (alone or in small groups), to participate in an Office, to take a quick snack; they come for a few hours or a few days depending on the needs and opportunities of each °one. In short, they come to us to enter into the movement of peace which has been given to us to give to others. Prayer and Life in the Peace of C- hrist ~ "The peace of God is with us.'His peace is up6n the earth." This is the ending of all our Offices; and in it in a very concise way is summarized 544 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 the manner in'which we seek to respond to the reality of the peace of Christ. The resurrected One said to His Disciples: "Peace to you!" (Jn 20: 19). What He meant by this salutation was a reality which would henceforth determine their life and the life of the Church. In the gift of His peace the resurrected Lord gave us reconciliation with God, the salvation that envelops each man, all mankind, the entire universe. The peace is "the normal situation of the new creation" (Foerster). Understood correctly, the peace of Christ is not primarily an ideal and harmonious state of the individual; its purpose is not merely the isolated individual. Rather the peace is first of all a "collective grace" (Comblin) which Christ gives to His Disciples as a community and which they as a community ought to receive and let be operative. Peace, salvation, life - this is the gift of the resurrected One with which He sends His followers to the points where there is no peace, no salvation, no order. This is done so that the real victory of the Resurrection might be believed, be witnessed to, and transmitted to the world. In this sense the entire Church is a community under the peace of Christ. It is precisely for this reason that it is legitimate for the Church to contain within itself '~orders of the peace" ~- communities which expressly keep themselves at the disposition bf this peace, thereby grasping and realizing their own particular vocation. In the same way there are other communities (for example, those of Taiz6 and of Grandchamp) who place themselves at tl~e disposition of the gift of unity. To believe in and to give witness to the peace ot~ Christ (that is to say, to give concrete expression to this peace in our world) does not mean to propose purposes of this world (for example, the suppression of war) nor to set in motion impressive activities With regard to some sort of "program for peace." This would be to reverse the order of things. Peace in the Biblical sense is a matter that belongs to God; He it is who leads it to His own end, and to Him is reserved its "program." But He wills in an absolute way to use us as His "instruments." It is a question, then, of ourselve~ as a community in the midst of the world being completely available to the peace of Christ which is itself the real objective force "which Changes the world, society, the order of things" (Comblin). It is necessary for us to be available for that peace of Christ which is a universal force, which excludes no human being from salvation, and which leads all to become one without erasing multiplicity. Finally, we must be available to that peace of Christ which is directed toward the coming of the' Lord and toward the achievement of that new creation in the dawn of which we are ourselves living. These are brave words, given the Church as it exists in the world today, given our small sisterhood, and given the nature of each of the sisterhood's members. But this corresponds to God's way of acting which will always remain for us a paradox: God brings to the world His message and His reality by the "poor and the little"; His victories are not in any evident way linked to human possibilities. We sisters are only beginners in the discovery of the dimensions of our vocation under the peace, and all the more so when it is question of turning our knowledge into obedient action. It is as such beginners that we now try to say simply here how we in our community attempt to make room for the peace of Christ. The realization of the peace of Christ is done first of all in prayer understood in the wide sense of the word. For in prayer God is the center and His action is essential. Prayer is the place of encounter with Christ; it is in prayer that we receive His gifts; it is in prayer that our mission is always renewed; and iris in prayer that we ~nd the power for a renewed obedience. For this reason it is essential that we always penetrate more deeply into a life of prayer. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 545 This means for us the following: living by the Church, participation in the worship and the life of the parish in its plenitude and its poverty, living in the presence of Christ listening to His word and for His will, personal prayer of adoration, immolation, praise, thanksgiving, intercession, supplication, and struggle. In the course of the years our mission under the peace has found expression in a number of prayer formulas. In the morning the prayer of abandon and of intercession of all the sisters is linked to the following prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, You have said: "Peace be to you; as the Father has sent me, so also I send you'; Lord, send us also." The prayer cited above, "The peace of God is with us; His peace is upon the earth," corresp.onds to the message of Christmas;it originated as the conclusion of a special intercession on the vigil of.-Christmas. Now we are bold enough to .m.ake it the conclusion of all our Offices throughout the entire year. And always we attempt to line up our prayer anew with our daily life by professing the reality and the presence of the peace of Christ in the midst of everything that surrounds, occupies, and tires us, of everything that weighs down up.on us and upon others. Then there is a short prayer that accompanies each sister during the day in her work and in her brief moments of recollection; it is a prayer that also helps us to keep at each moment the peace, of the resurrected One as the center of the day's events: "Lord Jesus Christ, You are establishing Your Kingdom in the midst of the world. You are the Peace that has. conquered the world. We pray to You to make a place for Yourself in us and by us." In the intercession whi.ch is an essential.part of our mission under the peace, we try to present to God all men in the variety of their situations, to give and entrust them to His peace. We include both those we know as well as those outside our personal relations or interests. In intercession it is God who wishes to be active; it is His peace that acts in a definitive way. We do not present projects or proposals to God; rather we pray that He may keep a person in His peace or that His peace be victorious over a person wherever he is and in whatever set of determinants, or we pray simply that God may gi~,e a person (or ~e~sons) a part in the joy of His presence. 1.t should be evident that a community which wishes to serve the peace of Christ would be desirous of an ecumenical outlook, of havi'ng contacts with Christians of other confessions, of taking part in the prayer for unity and in the common mission of all the Churches with regard to the world of today. This is why we are gratefully happy to be able to maintain relationships and contacts with a large number of groups, congregations, and communities of different Churches. We are convinced that our mission under the peace is closely and meaningfully linked to the fact .that in our sisterhood itself are to be found members living in very different situations. We are bound to recognize that the two vocations - that of marriage and that of celibacy - mutually complement each other and mutually depend on each other. We must give to each other the freedom for different forms of the imitation of Christ - to one the freedom for communitarian life in a total commitment; to a second the liberty to be a celibate whose life is not fixed and hence ~n a certain way can be mobile, entirely available to the "today of God"; and to a thi~rd the freedom for a life in the bonds of marriage and of the family. We are forced to train ourselves to live under the peace of Christ in the tensions which naturally are not small in' a community embracing so many differences, in age, in backgrounds, in work, in ways of thinking and acting. The practice of the peace does not consist in attempts at "peaceful coexistence" or at harmonization; 546 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 neither is it to be found in an excessive zeal to find principles and clear guiding lines. But it is realized if we hold ourselves in the presence of God, turned always toward Him, ready to accept and to forgive one another, and this not only when we celebrate the Eucharist or pray together but in each situation of our life. '~ Another sphere of experiences for our mission under the peace is where we are at home in our houses or our apartments. These should be places of the presence of the peace of Christ; this is why it is most important that one praYs there. And more and more we are recognizing that in the middle of a world ~'here all order is shattered we should not hope to be able to establish oases around us that represent a sane world. The upsetting of order is not held back for us, for our homes, or for our communities:. It is not a question, then, of realizing the ideal type of marriage, of family, of communitarian life, of professional conduct, or of conquering the difficulties of life. The peace of Christ is present in our places of living when we see our state and that of the world as it really is - without salvation and without hope - and when we a~re ready to take into our empty hands the gift of God, being ready to let ourselves be penetrated by the peace of Christ, by His victory, by His pardon, and by His re-creative power. The profound disorder of our world from which so many persons are suffering today ~vill not be healed by absolutizing forms of an order that are given in advance and then held on to. It is the Working of Christ that Will heal; He has arisen, He has freed us in order that we might establish in our world (which is perishing) the sign of His victory which is already given in plenitude to the entire world. It' is natural for these places of the peace to have their doors Open not only in the sense of a normal hospitality (which shares by giving and receiving) but also to receiv~ persons who are crushed, who do not have peace. In this matter different places will act differently according to whether it is the living place of a sister living alone, of a family, or of the Celia Saint-Hildegard and according to whether the place is in a village or in a small or large city. There is no need to enumerate one by one the possibilities of realizing the peace in the numerotfs relationships, responsibilities, and missions in which each of the sisters is placed in her family, her parish, her profession, and so forth. Let us, however, emphasize here how activity and prayer are mutually founded on each other and cannot be separated. Nor must we deceive ourselves by thinking that our human capa6ities' or our success in a given .place would be proof that we are accomplishing our mission; the peace of Christ is not the result~ofour possibilities nor of human efforts. We must be present to ~the world of today, amazed by its achievements, weighed down by its burdens, affected by its maladies - and yet marked and supported by the reality of the Resurrection of Christ: "Something new has been planted~in the world. What we have to share is not our soul, nor our attitudes towards the world, nor our calm, nor our interior peace. We do not occupy ourselves with'ourselves. We do not have to share or show what- the Lord has done to us. We have only to transmit a reality; a blessing, a grace. This is the meaning of the peace of which Jesus speaks" (Comblin). In thus seeifig the peace as a gift which has been entrusted to us and which we have to accept and to carry into the world in His name, we-are professing a profound solidarity with all men under the universal power of the peace. Accordingly, our encounter with Christ cannot be "private," but together with ourselves it concerns the entire world: "Obtain the peace of Christ'and thousands around you are saved" (St. Seraphim). Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 547 THE ECUMENICAL COMMUNITY OF, BOSE ~ [This ~rticle appeared on pages 59 to 63 of the FebruarY" 1972 issue of Unit~ chr~tienne. Th~ address of the principal hous~e of the Bose Community is the following: Comunit~ di Bosch;' 03050 Magnano, Italy.] ~ ¯ , A't Bose, a section of the Commune of Magnano, amidst the hills of the S'erra in Italy there has existed for the last three years a mixed monastic community, Christians of different confessions, Catholic and Protestant, men and women,,all celibate, have joined together to seek God in poverty and in obedience,to the gospel._ The objective of their life ,together is the work of reconciliation among separated Christians, dialogue with all men, and the aw.aiting of Christ. This community whose, members. .lead an ordinary',life dependent on manual or professional work is not a religious congregation or an ecumenical sect.; much less is it a new Church; it is simply a place for the seeking~of unity among Christians, Birth of:.the Community The adyenture of Bose began in0Turip on the via Piave durihg the years of .1965 and, 1966. ItowaS there that a group of young people fgrrfied the habit ofm.ee~ting with~nzo Bianchi, then a student. The group, which~had ~fo.rmed itself in order to giv~ Christian witness to university students, commenced by sharing with the students meals followed by Bible reading and by prayer in common. These encounters continued in a number of old domiciles and finally resulted i9 a group of Catholics, Protestants, and Wa~cl, ensi ,ans" (partiCulariy numerous in Piedm00t), all of whom joined together in a brotherly search for a ne.w,.wa~y of ~living their Christianity. For the Catholic~ of ,the group, tt~e high point of their spi'ritual life. was ~their dor~estic Eucharistic celebration in the course of an eve.ningdev0ote,d~to praye.r,and revision of life. In time the group grew as did also a sense of a particular vocation.It was in this way that the monastic calling of many of the group came to be realized as welLas.the manner and form which their response to this calling should take.~ For many of th.e group the end of their studies was in sight; ahd they spontaneously .experienced the desire to continue: the valuable experience ~f.lived brotherhood. They~ f~lt they should, choose a p0or~aqd secluded area to establish a common house. Their choice fell on Magnano in the Serra, the extensive moraine that lies betw,een Riella and lvrea. ., In September 1966 they had been members of a work camp for the repairing of a crumbling church near Bose, and they had come to appreciate the locality. The c.hurcti had been sufficiently repaired to allow for common prayer.within it; late.r its restoration would be completed~by the Office of Public Mofiumen~ts. Hence, they decided to establish themselves at Bose; they rented a few small and poor houses and fixed them up suitably without, however, altering their simplicity, At the beginning these houses were used only as "second residences" for living over weekends after thei~ s.chool week or professional week was finished; they used to meet there centered around the,Eucharist and there~by made a first tentative, attempt at partial common life. ~ ¯ ~ . The real community took form ,when Enzo Bianchi met two persons:, a young Swiss Reformed pastor, Daniel Attinger, who was impelled by the same desire for ecumenical common life; and. Maria-Teresa Calloni, a young Catholic girl who also was eager to attempt a:monastic experience in a mixed mode. Common life in a small and. secluded village would not be a matter'6f holidaF 548 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4~ comfort, and 'the "~'aspirants" were well aware of this. To test their endurance, they went .t~hrough a period of novitiate to initiate themselves into the monastic life; they made this novitiate in traditional Catholic, Protestant,, and Orthodox commu-nities.~ On August 6, 1968 - they chose the Feast of the Transfiguration for the birth and the anniversaries of their community - seven Catholic and Protestant brothers and-~sisters began "their life in common. The Life of the Community The members of the community simply wanted to be Christians, that is, to take the gospel seriously and to live it not in an isolated way but together. They are. simply baptized persons who n.ormally live by .their work in' order not to be dependent; but they live~together and share their salaries in order to take care of their ownoneeds and to offer a generous fraternal hospitality, for they wish to keep themselve~ in the j6yous poverty of the Beatitudes. To the measure their professions allow (some of them work in Ivrea), they come together for prayer in the morning, at noon, and in the evening; and they also .take: their~ meals together. But in every event they pass their evenings in community, including guests withwhom they are always ready to share their concerns. It is at the'~e evening sessions that they discuss their problems and make their decisions,~ Prayer In accord with the ancient practice, their common p'rayer is the Office chanted three times a day to thee praise of God and as intercession for o~r brothers. In order~ that" this Office might,be within the grasp of all, our community has taken great care in its composition. We have translated numerous prayers from different traditional Christian liturgies and have adapted them to contemporary spirituality. We have also creaf~d flew 15rayers which take into account present-day sensibilities and the problems of our day which remain present in the heart of modern man in his dialogue with God. " Our community has also made a new translation of the Psalms; the translation, rhythmic as psalmody should be, is expressed in ordinary language which can be understood by persons of little education such as workers and peasants. In this way, prayer ceases to be an alibi, a flight from the world; rather it tends to become not only a means of praising God and of listening to His word but also an instrument that works on the world, a prelude to action. In our evening prayer God is praised and the brothers with whom we have lived and worked that day are presented to Him. There are also presented to Him the events of the world, looked at with reference to the Word'who does not ~gase to enlighten our judgme~nt and to guide our conducl?. Hospitality We offer .to our guests a welcome that is very simple but brotherly. They can share'.the life of the community: work, prayer, meals, dialogues. With us they can live in seclusion for as long as they want to examine their problems and to rethink their commitments. Catholics and Protestants, lay persons and priests, bishops and pastors, believers and nonbelievers, young people eager for reriewal - all these receive the same welcome. In 1970 some five thousand persons came to usTor individual or group retreats or for longer periods of experience of the monastic life. Hospitality is a ministry more necessary than ever in this epoch of ours when modern man suffocates in isolation Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 549 in our depersonalized cities. The absence of dialogue, especially the absence of dialogue between generations, harms modern man cruelly. It is in order to provide. interlocutors for modern man that there are springing up today communities of Christian celibates who are a!ways ready to welcome persons and who keep themselves always free to listen to each one. Our Commitment in the Church We said at the beginning that the community of Bose is not a new Church; all of its members remain in the Churches which engendered them by baptism into the life of Christ. Our community does not wish to substitute for the Church nor regard itself as a model for the Church. On the contrary, the members of Bose put themselves at the service of the Christian Churches, especially in the work of reconciliation of Christians of different confessions. The simple fact of beginning a life together after four hundred years of separation can appear to be an evangelical initiative that is audacious and perhaps a little foolish; but today it can be clearly seen that the communitarian enterprise is fundamentally prophetic - a matter that is visible not only in the interior of the community but also in its work of witnessing. Common life animated by the same~word of God, by the same rhythm of the spiritual life, by the acceptance of the same communitarian will have brought our members to a theology of peace that unites rather than divides us. Besides the "breadwinning" work of our members, the community does work for the Church: preaching, Biblical courses, colloquia between Protestants and Catholics, the sparking of encounters and the coordination of "spontaneous groups" in Piedmont. Moreover, the commun.ity illustrates a renewed form of that service of the Church which is constituted by the common monastic life. Celibacy lived with the interior certainty of a calling from God and in.~availability and openness to others expresses confident waiting for the coming of Christ. During the recent years some new vocations have come to confirm and to enrich our young community which is developing without a rigid 'program and in provisional quarters with a practice of poverty of means and of limitation of initiatives. In a word, our community wishes to be a response to an actual need to renew religious life; it accepts the responsibility of having a prophetic value for the world of today. Our Commitment in the World Commitment in the world represents for the brothers of Bose neither a free option nor a supplementary effort; since they work exactly as all other men do, they are naturally involved as the others are in the same social reality where their work is done. Wherever there is question of establishing more justice, they share the responsibilities, the solidarity, and the struggle of the other workers and with no fear of thereby soiling their hands. Each of the members has the concrete duty of choosing the political and labor methods which concretize this struggle for justice. A member's belonging (though not in a juridical way) to the monastic tradition does not dispense him. from involving himself in a concrete way in the liberation of man in the place where he works, for it is there that man is incarnated in reality. It would take a prolonged effort of creative reflection to locate in a suitable fashion the role of the believer in this work of liberation that he accomplishes in 550 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 union with all other men. "The flight from the world" must not be understood as a: throwing aside or an abandonment of our responsibilities but as a contestation with regard to the methods of the world - those methods which are called power, money,, and success. In our community, freed as it is from constraining exterior rules, the different politico-social experiences are confronted and judged only by the criterion of obedience to the gospel and to the demands of justice. A Community of Contestation? During all this time of ecclesial contestation, many groups and individuals have come to Bose to find a form of solidarity. What did they find there? They did not find that contestation "of the salon" that is nourished by gossiping at the expense of the Church and of authority, nor did they find the contestation that aims at rupture. Much less did they ,find the contestation that is a kind of publicity product and that will pass just as styles change. On the contrary, our ,contestation was intended to be serious and to be constructive, l.t limited itself to the criticism of the nonevangelical and the always increasing bureaucratic manner of organizing the life of the Church. Each time the community raised its voice, it did so with the patience and the charity of the gospel. It modeled itself on the contestation of Francis of Assisi when he castigated wealth and power: intransigent as he was in the matter of conduct, he always showed himself good willing toward men. Some difficulties have arisen between our community and the Catholic hierarchy, but we have undergone these taking them to be a sign of maturation. The Future of Bose Our community wishes to be provisory not in the sense that some day a sudden decision will put an end to it, but in the sense that it wishes "to live the today of God" without worry about a need for continuity. In October 1970 we opened at Turin a brotherhood (the address is: Fraternith Universitaria; Via Piave 8; Turin, Italy) in order to found in the city a place of welcome and of prayer destined especially for the university world. This was done at the reque§t of Catholic and Waldensian communities of the area. As soon as the number of our members permits, we hope to open in Switzerland a similar brotherhood for specifically ecumenical work. If it is possible ~o say it all in a single phrase, we at Bose want to live the gospel by means of the community. SISTER MARY SERAPHIM, P.C.P.A. Feminine Monastic Spirituality [Sister Mary Seraphim is a member of Sancta Clara Monastery; 4200 Market Avenue N.; Canton, Ohio 44714~1 In quest of directives to deepen my concept of the cloistered life and also to develop a spirituality in conformity with it, I began to search~ for some books or writings which dealt with the monastic life for women. To my astonishment, I discovered that practically nothing existed on the subject. Most, in fact all, of the books which had been recommended during my years in formation had dealt with ~he monastic life as monks lived it. The books were written by men about men and although the writers presumed that ~what they said was equally.applicable to nuns, itwas so only in an accommodated sense which left much to be desired. Pursuing my search, I consulted the New Catholic Encycloped.ia only to discover that under such headings as "Spirituality" or~"Monasticism" the word feminine does not even occur. A passing reference is made to the. rise of monasteries of virgins in the .third and fourth centuries'but~ these communities were patterned, on the existing monastic life of monks and had no specifically womanly character. The closest one could come to discovering a distindt feminine style of spiritual living in the early Church were the consecrated virgins who occtlpied a place of service and rank in the assembly of the faithful but who continued to live their dedication within the home. Some few groups~ of consecrated virgins did ,live together; for instance, St. Paula turned her house into a home for widows or virgins in Rome but this life style was not widely propagated.° In ecclesiastical documents about feminine monastic life, I found that while they dealt extensively width the externals of enclosure~ ingress and egress, ,~religious ceremonies, and so forth, very little if anything was s~iid about the spirituality of the women who were to be observing these regulations. The most insightful document, ato least to this writer's mind, which has appeared so far, is' the controversial Venite .seorsum - On the Contemplative Life and the Enclosure of Nuns. Pas~ing over any commentary on the regulations prescribed, I would like to observe that the first section of this instruction treats in an unusually perceptive manner the spirituality of contemplative nuns. However, even this instruction .touches only on some of the broad and obvious characteristics of feminine spirituality. Much more can, I feel, and should be said in this area. Turning to some of the noted women writers of the past, we find St. Teresa of Avila writing with profound insight on the life of the spirit for women, but what she teaches with rel~ard to the development oi~ that life within the confines of the monastic framework for women has not gone much beyond ther doors of Carmel. Has anyone taken her writings and sifted from them what would be applic~able to all cloistered religious ~women? It seems that such a study would be immensely profitable for that half of monast~icism which is female. Looking into my own Pogr Clare tradition I noted that St. Clare had no intention of founding a "monastic" order in the traditional sense any more than did St. 552 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/4 Francis. She accepted (because she was forced to) a modified Benedictine rule and lived it most of her life. But she never gave up her struggle to have her own conception of gospel living approved. Three days before her death a Bull was placed in.her hands attesting ~the approbation of the Church on her unique "Forha of Life:" Throughout the centUries Poor Clares have been classed as a monastic order in the Church; and although this is true from a purely juridical point of view, it is a distortion of the reality from a spiritual point of view. Not "Female Monks" Traditionally, monks are defined as solitary seekers after God who live a common life for the sake of greater freedom from mundane concerns: Now this definition does not sit easily on the hearts of cloistered women. The idea of being solitaries living in community destroys something fundamental in the why and wherefore of feminine community life. A woman cannot live as though she were a hermit even with one other woman, much less a house of twenty or more! She must interact with those around her for it is part and parcel of feminine endowment that she is alterocentric. Therefore a spirituality which does not take this truth into accourit will not meet the specific needs of feminine monastic life. The necessity of developing in writing the style of spiritual life of cloistered contemplative women is becoming increasingly important. For today the Church has asked that ea~l~ order and congregation restudy its sources and examine itself to determine whether it is living according to its own unique charism. As a result of this reexamination,' many contemplative women have become aware of the discrepancy that exists between the spiritual books which have hitherto been considered normative and the fidelity to their special role and calling that the Church is asking of them. Nuns are awakening to the fact that they are not "female monks.'

Issue 23.6 of the Review for Religious, 1964. ; Communications Media by Vatican Council II 689 Religious Life by Paul VI 698 Matthew, Chapter 19 by Lucien Legrand, M.E.P. 705 Chastity and Psychosexual Developmen.t by Richard P. Vaughan, S.J. 715 Psychosexual Development in Religious Life by Richard A. McCormick, S.J. 724 Means of Aggiornamento by Brother Philip Harris, O.S.F. 742 Sacraments--Consecrations and Dedications by Clarence R. McAuliffe, S.J. 750 Reflections of a Student-Brother by David A. Fleming, S.M. 761 The Art of Smal! Talk by Sister Rose Alice, S.S.J. 766 Religious Poverty by Paul J. Bernadicou, S.J. 770 Survey of Roman Documents 779 Views, News, Previews 785 Questions and Answers 788 Book Reviews 796 Indices for 1964 811 VOLUIHE 23 Nu~m~.R 6 November 1964 VATICAN COUNCIL II Decree on Communications Media PAUL BISHOP THE SERVANT OF THE SERVANTS OF GOD TOGETHER WITH THE FATHERS OF THE COUNCIL FOR A PERPETUAL RECORD OF THE MATTER 1. Among* the remarkable discoveries of technology which human intelligence especially in modern times has been able to make with the help of God, the Church gives a special welcome and importance to those which are principally concerned with men's minds and which have opened up new ways of easily communicating every kind of news, ideas, and principles. Outstanding among these discoveries are those media (such as the press, movies, radio, television, and the like) which of their nature are able to reach and influence not only individuals but also the masses and the whole of society. For this reason these media can rightfully be called the means of social com-munication. 2. The Church recognizes that these media, if they are rightly used, can be of the greatest service to the hu-man race since they contribute greatly to human recrea-tion and formation and to the spread and strengthening of the kingdom of God. But she also realizes that men can use these media in a way which is contrary to the plan of the Creator and can turn them to their own loss. More-over, she experiences a mother's sorrow at the harm which * The official Latin text of this decree (which begins with the words Inter rairilica) is given in dcta dpostolicae Sedis, v. 56 (1964), pp. 145-57. Paragraph enumeration in the translation is taken from the original text. Vatican Council I1 VOLUME 23, 1964 689 ÷ Vatican Cour~il !1 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS has too often resulted for human society from the wrong use of these media. Therefore, this Council, continuing the watchful care given by popes and bishops to this important matter, judges that it is its duty to deal with the principal ques-tions connected with the media of social communication. It trusts, moreover, that the teaching and directives it proposes will contribute not only to the salvation of the faithful but also to the progress of the entire human community. CHAPTER I 3. Since the Catholic Church was instituted by Christ our Lord to bring salvation to all men and is therefore under an urgent obligation to preach the gospel, she considers it to be a part of her duty to proclaim the good news of salvation by means of these media of social communications and to instruct men about their proper use. The Church, therefore, has a natural right to use and possess every type of these media insofar as they are necessary or useful for Christian education and for the work of saving souls; and it is the duty of the bishops to so train and direct the faithful that by the help of these media they may attain their own salvation and per-fection as well as that of the entire human family. On the other hand, it is the special concern of the laity to imbue these media with that humane and Chris-tian spirit which will make them fully correspond to the high expectations of the human race and to the divine plan. 4. For the right use of these media, it is absolutel~ necessary that those who use them should know the norms of the moral law and should conscientiously apply them to this area of activity. Accordingly, they should consider the matter which is communicated according to the special nature of each medium. Moreover, they must take into account all the conditions and circumstances of the purposes, persons, places, times, and so forth under which communication takes place and which can influence or' even change its morality. Among these elements there is to be included the special way in which each of thesel media works, since this is a force which can be so great that human beings, especially if they are unprepared, can' find it difficult to notice; control, and, if necessary, re-j( ct it. 5. Abbve all, however, it is necessary that all con~ cerned in the matter should form a correct conscien~ with regard'to the use of these media and especially with respect to dertain questions that are keenly discussed in our time. The first of these questions is concerned with what is termed "information"--the gathering and dissemina-tion of news. It is certainly clear that this has become a very useful and for the most part a necessary activity because of the progress of human society and the greater closeness of its members. The speedy and public com-munication of events and ,happenings provides each individual with a fuller and steady knowledge of these matters; in this way all men can contribute effectively to the common good and can assist in the further progress of civil society. Therefore, in human society there is a right to information about matters which, each in its own way, concern individual men or society. The cor-rect exercise of this right, however, requires that what is communicated should always be true and, within the bounds of justice and love, complete. Besides, the way in which it is communicated must be proper and decent; in other words, both in the gathering and divul-gation of news, moral law !and the legitimate rights and dignity of man must bei respected: not all knowl-edge is profitable and "charity builds up character" (1 Cor 8:1). 6. The second question is concerned with the rela-tionship between what are termed the rights of art and the norms of the moral law. ~Since the growing contro-versies in this matter not infrequently originate from false notions about ethics and esth~etics, the Council decrees that all must hold in an absolute way the primacy of the objective moral law which of itself surpasses and properly coordinates all other levels of human affairs, whatever their dignity and including the level of art. Only the moral order attains to man in his entire nature as a ra-tional creature of God called to a supernatural goal; and only it, if it be completely and faithfully observed, leads man to the full possession of perfection and hap-piness. 7. Finally, the narration, description, or representation of evil by means of the media of social communication can genuinely contribute to a profounder knowledge of man; and by means of appropriate dramatic contrast, it can serve to manifest and exalt the greatness of truth and goodness. Nevertheless, in order to prevent harm rather than profit coming from this, the moral law must be obeyed especially in the case of matters which require a reverent treatment or which can easily arouse evil desires in man wounded as he is by original sin. 8. Since at the present time public opinion wields the greatest influence and power on the private and public life of all classes of society, it is necessary that all members of society should fulfill their obligations of justice and love in this area; accordingly, they should + + + Communications Media VOLUME 2;1, 1964 69! Vatican Council I1 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 692 t strive to form and spread correct public opinion by means of these communications media. 9. Special obligations bind all the readers, viewers, and listeners who by their personal and free choice re-ceive the communications made by these media. Correct choice demands that they give their full support to those presentations which are distinguished for their moral, intellectual, and artistic content; moreover, they should avoid those presentations which might be for them a cause or an occasion of spiritual harm or which can lead others into danger through bad example or which hinder good presentations and promote bad ones. This last frequently happens when payment is made to those who employ communications media only for financial returns. To carry out the moral law, those who receive these communications have a duty not to omit finding out in due time the judgments that have been made by those competent in the area; likewise, they must not negle.ct to follow these judgments in accord with the norms of a correct conscience. And in order that they may more easily resist less correct inducements and give their full support to what is good, they should take care to guide and form their consciences by suitable means. 10. Those who receive these communications--espe-cially young people--should take care that they accustom themselves to moderation and self-control in the use of these media. Moreover, they should endeavor to gain a thorough knowledge of what .they see, hear, and read; they should discuss these matters with their teachers and with those expert in the particular field and thus learn to pass a correct judgment on them. Parents should be mindful of their duty to take watchful care that shows, publications, and so forth that are opposed to faith and morality do not enter the home and do not reach their children elsewhere. 11. The principal moral responsibility with regard to the right use of the media of social communication falls on journalists, writers, actors, s~enarists, producers, ex-hibitors, distributors, operators, sellers, critics, and all others who play any part in making and presenting these communications. It is evident and clear that in the, present condition of mankind all of these have serious: responsibilities since they can shape and form men and thereby lead them either to good or to evil. It is the duty of these persons, then, to take care of the financial, political, and artistic aspects of communication without opposing the common good. For the easier achievement of this, it will be worthwhile for them tO join professional associations which enjoin (if necessary~ by means of an accepted code of morality) on their mere+ bers respect for the moral law in the activities and tasks of their craft. Moreover, they should always remember that a great part of their readers and audiences is composed of young people who need writing and entertainment which offers them decent recreation and draws their minds to the higher things of culture. They should also take care that communications in the area of religion should be entrusted to competent and experienced persons and that they should be carried out with due respect. 12. Civil authority has special obligations in this matter by reason of the common good to which these media are ordered. In accord with its role, civil authority has the duty to defend and safeguard that due and just freedom of information which, especially in the case of the press, is a reaI necessity for the progress of today's society; it is likewise its duty to foster religion, culture, and the fine arts; and it should safeguard those who re-ceive the communications so that they can freely enjoy their legitimate rights. Moreover, it is the duty of civil authority to aid those projects which could not otherwise be undertaken even though they ar~ highly beneficial, especially to young people. Finally, this same public authority, since it is legiti-mately concerned with the welfare of its citizens, is bound by the obligation to pass and enforce laws whereby due and vigilant care is taken that serious harm does not come to public morals and to the progress of society by the bad use of these communications media. This watch-ful care in no way restricts the freedom of individuals and of groups, especially if there is a lack o[ adequate precaution on the part of those who are professionals in the field of these communications media. Special care should be taken to safeguard young people from printed matter and performances which may be harmful at their age. CHAPTER II 13. All the members of the Church should make a strenuous, common effort to take immediate steps to put the media of social communications into effective use in the multiple works of the apostolate as circumstances of place and time allow. They should anticipate harmful projects, especially in those regions where moral and religious progress requires a greater amount of zeal. Hence bishops should be quick to carry out their duties in this area which is so closely connected with their ordinary work of preaching. Likewise, the laity who are engaged in the use of these media should concern them-selves with witnessing to Christ, first of all by performing their duties competently and in an apostolic spirit, and 4" 4" 4- Communications Media VOLUME 23, 1964 693 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 69,t then by directly assisting the pastoral activity of the Church to the best of their technical, economic, cultural, and artistic abilities. 14. First of all, a good press should be fostered. To fully imbue readers with a Christian spirit, a truly Catholic press should be begun and promoted. This press--fostered and directed either directly by ecclesiasti-cal authority or by Catholic laymen--should be pub-lished with the manifest purpose of shaping, strengthen-ing, and fostering public opinion that is in harmony with natural law and with Catholic doctrine; it should also publicize and correctly explain events which pertain to the life of the Church. The faithful should be reminded of the need to read and spread the Catholic press in order that a Christian judgment on all events may be formed. Effective encouragement and support should be given to the production and showing of films that genuinely contribute to proper recreation and to culture and art, especially when they are destined for young people. This will be especially achieved by assisting and joining enterprises and projects for the making and distributing of good films, by commending worthwhile films through critical approval and through awards, and by fostering and consociating theatres of Catholics and other men of principle. Similar effective support should be extended to good radio and television programs, especially those that are suitable for the family. Catholic programs should be earnestly fostered, for in them the listeners and viewers are led to participate in the life of the Church and hre imbued with religious truths. Where necessary, care should be taken to inaugurate Catholic stations; but pro-vision must be made that their programs are outstanding by reason of their excellence and effectiveness. Moreover, measures should be taken that the noble and ancient art of the stage, which is now seen everywhere by means of the media of social communication, should tend to the cultural and moral improvement of its audiences. 15. To provide for the needs just enumerated, proper training should be given to priests, religious, and laymen who have the necessary abilities to adapt these media to apostolic purposes. In particular, laymen should be given an artistic, doc-trinal, and moral training. Hence, there should be an increase in schools, departments, and institutes where journalists, writers for films, radio, and television, and other such persons can secure a complete formation im-bued with the Christian spirit especially with regard to the social doctrine of the Church. Actors are also to be trained and educated so that by their art they may contribute to society. Finally, great care must be taken to prepare literary, film, radio, television, and other critics who will be highly skilled in their own fields as well as equipped with the training and inspiration to give judgments in which morality is shown in its proper light. 16. Since the media of social communication involve the participation of audiences of different ages and backgrounds, the proper use of these media requires the proper education and training of these audiences. Ac-cordingly, in Catholic schools of whatever level, in semi-naries, and in apostolic lay groups, support should be given to projects geared to achieve this purpose, especially if they are destined for young people. Such projects should be increased in number and should be directed according to the principles of Christian morality. To facilitate this, Catholic teaching and directives in this matter should be set forth and explained in catechism classes. 17. It is entirely unfitting that the Church's children should permit the word of salvation to be bound and impeded by the technical delays and expenses--great as they are--that are characteristic of these media. Hence, this Council reminds the faithful of their obligation to support and aid Catholic newspapers, magazines, film projects, and radio and television stations, the purpose of all of which is to spread and defend truth and to provide for the Christian instruction of human society. At the same time, this Council invites groups and individuals possessing great influence in financial and technical mat-ters to use their resources and experience to freely give generous support to these media insofar as they contribute to genuine culture and to the apostolate. 18. In order that the multiform apostolate of the Church with regard to communications media be effec-tively strengthened, in every diocese of the world ac-cording to the judgment of the bishops, there should be an annual day during which the faithful are instructed about their duties in this matter, are invited to pray for this cause, and are asked to make an offering to be conscientiously used for the support and development of the projects and undertakings which the Church has begun in this area in accord with the needs of the Catholic world. 19. In the carrying out of his supreme pastoral charge with regard to communications media, the supreme pontiff has available a special section of the Holy See.1 t Moreover, the fathers of the Council, gladly acceding to the re-quest of the Secretariat for the Supervision of Press and Entertain-ment, respectfully request the supreme pontiff to extend the re-sponsibility and competency of this section to all the media of Communications Media ¯ VOLUME 23, 1964 695 CouFnadtilc aI1n REVIEW,FORRELIG[OUS 696~ 20. It will be the responsibility of the bishops to watch over this kind of projects and undertakings in their own dioceses; they should promote such projects and, as far as the public apostolate is concerned, they should regulate them including those under the direction of exempt religious. 21. Since an effective national apostolate requires unity in planning and in resources, this Council de-crees and orders that national offices for press, film, radio, and television be everywhere established and promoted by every means. The special work of these offices will be to take measures that the conscience of the faithful be correctly formed with regard to the use of these media and to foster and direct whatever is done by Catholics in this area. In each country the direction of these offices is to be entrusted to a special committee of bishops or to a single delegated bishop; moreover, laymen who are ex-perts in Catholic doctrine and in these media should have a role in these offices. 22. Moreover, since the effectiveness of these media reaches beyond national boundaries and affects almost every member of the entire human race, the national of-rices begun in this area should cooperate among them-selves on an international level. The offices mentioned in number 21 should work effectively with their corre-sponding international Catholic associations. These in-ternational Catholic associations are legitimately ap-proved only by the Holy See and depend on it. CONCLUSIONS 23. In order that all the principles and norms of this Council with regard to communications media be put into effect, the Council expressly orders that a pas-toral instruction be issued by the section of the Holy See mentioned in number 19 with the help of experts of various countries. 24. Moreover, this Council is confident that its state-ment of directives and norms will be gladly accepted and conscientiously followed by all the members of the Church who accordingly in their use of these media will suffer no harm but, like salt and light, will savor the earth and enlighten the world. Moreover, the Council invites all men of good will, especially those who have charge of these media, to endeavor to use these media only for the good of human society, the fate of which more and more depends on the right use of such media. In this way, as was the case with ancient works of art, so also communication including the press and to include in its membership experts, including laymen, from 'various countries. through these new discoveries the name of the Lord will be glorified according to the saying of the Apostle: "Jesus Christ, yesterday, and today, and the same for-ever" (Heb 13:8). Each and every one of the matters set Iorth ~n this Decree were decided by the lathers o[ the Council. And We, by the apostolic power given Us by ChriJt, together with the venerable fathers, approve in the Holy Spirit, decree, enact, and order to be promulgated what has been decided in this Synod [or the glory o[ God. Given at Rome in St. Peter's on December 4, 1963. 4. 4. 4. Communications Media VOLUME 2.~ 1964 697 PAUL VI Allocution on Religious Life ÷ ÷ Paul VI REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Beloved sons: With* great joy and no small hope We look upon you who are the chosen and authoritative group of venerable and illustrious religious families; it is a matter of de-light to Us to give you Our warmest greetings and to express to you the high opinion We have of you as well as Our gratitude to you. You have come to Rome to hold the general chapters of your respective institutes; although this is a matter that primarily affects your order or congregation, still it also has repercussions on the life of the Church, which derives a great part of her vigor, apostolic zeal, and ardor for holiness from the flourishing condition of re-ligious life. Moreover, you have come to Us not only as devoted and loving sons to offer your homage to the Vicar of Christ but also to request the apostolic blessing on your-selves, your institutes, and the affairs of your chapters from which you rightly trust there will come salutary results such that the religious life will be led more in-tensely and more ardently. Although We would have gladly met each of your groups separately and would have addressed each of them in accord with its own characteristics and needs, still We have chosen to receive all of you at the same ¯ On May 23, 1964, Paul VI gave an allocution to the superiors general and the capitulars general of various religious orders and con-gregations of men. The text of the allocution (entitled Magno gaudio) is given in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 56 (1964), pp. 565-71. Except for the opening and closing paragraphs (which were translated by a staff member of the REWEW), the translation is by the Very Reverend Godfrey Poage, C.P.; Director, Pontifical Office for Religious Voca-tions; Piazza Pio XII, 3; Rome, Italy. The translation first appeared in the Newsletter of the Pontifical Office for Religious Vocations, n. 13 (September, 1964). time. This We have done in order to give greater weight to this speech made to you in common; We did this all the more readily since on this occasion We wish to set forth matters which pertain to all religious of the entire world. First of all, We wish to note the great importance of religious institutes and assert that their work is wholly necessary for the Church in these days. Admittedly, the doctrine of the universal vocation of all the faithful to holiness of life (regardless of their position or social situ-ation) has been advanced very much in modern times. This is as it should be, for it is based on the fact that all the faithful are consecrated to God by their baptism. Moreover, the very necessities of the times demand that the fervor of Christian life should inflame souls and radi-ate in the world itself. In other words, the needs of the times demand a consecration of the world; and this task pertains preeminently to the laity. All these developments are unfolding under the counsel of Divine Providence, and that is why We rejoice over such salutary undertak-ings. But for this very reason we must be on our guard lest the true notion of religious life, as it has traditionally flourished in the Church, should become obscured. We must beware lest our youth, becoming confused while thinking about their choice of a state of life, should be thereby hindered in some way from having a clear and distinct vision of the special function and immutable importance of the religious state within the Church. Accordingly, it has seemed good to Us to recall now the priceless importance and necessary function of religious life. For this stable way of life, which receives its proper character from profession of the evangelical vows, is a perfect way of living according to the example and teach-ing of Jesus Christ. It is a state of life which keeps in view the constant growth of charity and its eventual fulfill-ment; and it is to be preferred before any other kind of life, before temporal duties, lawful in themselves, no mat-ter how useful they may be. Right now it is of supreme importance for the Church to bear witness socially and publicly. Such witness is pro-claimed by the way of life in religious institutes. And the more it is stressed that the laity must live and propa-gate the Christian life in the world, so much the more must they be given the shining example of those who have in truth renounced the world and have clearly shown that "the kingdom of Christ is not of this world." 1 Thus the profession of the evangelical vows is a super-addition to that consecration which is proper to bap-tism. It is indeed a special consecration which perfects See Jn 18:~6. 4" 4. 4- Religious Li~e VOLUME" 23, 1964 699 Paul REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the former one, inasmuch as by it the follower of Christ totally commits and dedicates himself to God, thereby making his entire life a service to God alone. Now all this leads to another point, which We wish to stress with paternal solicitude. The vows of religion must be held in the highest esteem and the greatest importance must be placed on their function and practice. Only in this manner will religious be able to lead a life that is becoming and in harmony with the state they have em-braced--- a state they have freely chosen; only in this way will their state of life efficaciously help them progress toward the perfection of charity; and only in this way will the faithful see in them an example of the perfect Chris-tian life and be inspired to follow it. Although living conditions have greatly changed in recent years and the practice of the religious life has neces-sarily been modified, nevertheless the evangelical counsels have not changed and of their very nature retain their full force and cannot in any way be weakened. Accordingly, religious should cultivate obedience with the greatest diligence. This is and must remain a holo-caust of one's own will which is offered to God. A re-ligious makes this sacrifice of self by humble submission to lawful superiors, whose authority, of course, should always be exercised within the limits of charity and with due respect for the dignity of the human person, even though nowadays religious have to undertake many more burdensome offices and carry out their duties more quickly and more willingly. There must also be inculcated a love of poverty, about which there is a great deal of discussion in the Church today. Religious must surp~iss all others by their example of true evangelical poverty. Therefore, they must love that poverty to which they have spontaneously committed themselves. It is not enough for religious to depend merely on the superior's decision with regard to their use of material things. Let religious of their own will be content with the things that are needed for properly ful-filling their way of life, shunning those little extras and luxuries which weaken the religious life. Then besides the poverty proper to the individual religious we must not neglect the corporate poverty which should distin-guish the institute or the whole body of religious. Thus they should avoid excessive ornamentation in their build-ings and elaborate functions, as well as anything else that savors of luxury, always bearing in mind the social con-dition of the people among whom they live. Let them also refrain from excessive concern in gathering funds, but give their attention rather to using what temporal goods Divine Providence will provide for the assistance of their needy brethren, who may live in their own country or in other parts of the world. Finally, religious must preserve chastity as a treasured gem. Everybody knows that in the present condition of human society the practice of perfect chastity is made difficult not only by a depraved moral atmosphere but also by a false teaching which poisons souls by overem-phasis on nature. An awareness of these facts should impel religious to stir up their faith more energetically--that same faith by which we believe the declarations of Christ when He proclaims the supernatural value of chastity that is sought for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. It is this same faith which assures us beyond doubt that, with the help of divine grace, we can preserve unsullied the flower of chastity. To attain this end there should be a more diligent practice of Christian mortification and of custody of the senses. Never under the specious pretext of acquiring wider knowledge or a broader culture should religious read unbecoming books or papers or attend in-decent shows. An exception might perhaps be made if there is a proven need for such studies, but the reasons alleged must be carefully examined by religious superiors. In a world subject to so many impure suggestions the value of the sacred ministry depends in great measure upon the light of chastity which radiates from one conse-crated to God and strong with His strength. It is quite evident that the proper way of living re-ligious life requires discipline. There must be laws and suitable conditions for observing them. Therefore, the principal task of the general chapter is, as time goes on, to keep intact those norms of the religious family which were set up by its founder and lawgiver. Therefore, it is the responsibility of the capitulars to check firmly all those modes of conduct which gradually devitalize the strength of religious discipline; namely, practices which are dangerous to religious life, unnecessary dispensations, and privileges not properly approved. They must likewise gtiard against any relaxation of discipline which is urged not by true necessity but by arrogance of spirit or aversion to obedience or love of worldly things. Moreover, with respect to undertaking new projects or activities they must refrain from taking on those which do not entirely correspond to the principal work of the institute or to the mind of the founder. For religious institutes will flourish and prosper so long as the integral spirit of their founder continues to inspire their rule of life and apostolic works, as well as the actions and lives of their members. Religious commnnities, inasmuch as they resemble liv-ing bodies, rightly desire to experience continual growth. However, this growth of the institute must be based firmly on the more diligent observance of the rules rather ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li~e VOLUME 23, 1964 701 ÷ Paul ~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS than on the number of members or the making of new laws. Multiplicity of laws is not always accompanied by progress in religious life. It often happens that the more rules there are, the less people pay attention to them. Therefore, let the general chapters always use their right to make laws moderately and prudently. The most important work of the general chapter is the studied accommodation of the rules of the institute to the changed conditions of the times. This, however, must be done in such a way that the proper nature and discipline of the institute are kept intact. Every religious family has its proper function, and it must remain faithful to this role. The fruitfulness of the institute's life is based on this fidelity to its specific purpose, and in this manner an abundance of heavenly graces will never be lacking. Therefore, no renovation of discipline is to be introduced which is incompatible with the nature of the order or congregation and which, in any way, departs from the mind of the founder. Moreover, this renovation of dis-cipline demands that it proceed only from competent authority. Accordingly, until this accommodation of dis-cipline is duly processed and brought into juridic effect, let the religious members not introduce anything new on their own initiative, nor relax the restraints of discipline, nor give way to censorious criticism. Let them act in such a way that they might rather help and more promptly effect this work of renewal by their fidelity and obedience. If the desired renovation takes place in this way, then the letter of the rule will have changed, but the spirit will have remained the same. In bringing about this renewal of religious institutes, the primary concern of the capitulars must always be the spiritual life of the members. Wherefore, to all religious whose duty it is to devote themselves to works of the sacred ministry, We state that We are entirely opposed to anyone espousing that false opinion which claims that primary concern must be given to external works and only secondary attention devoted to the interior life of perfection, as though this were demanded by the spirit of the times anal the needs of the Church. Zealous activity and the cultivation of one's interior life should not bring any harm to each other; indeed, they require the closest union, in order that both may ever proceed with equal pace and progress. Therefore, let zeal for prayer, the beauty of a pure conscience, patience in adversity, active and vibrant charity devoted to the salva-tion of souls, increase in union with fervent works. When these virtues are neglected, not only will apostolic labor lack vigor and fruitfulness, but the spirit also will grad-ually lose fervor. As a consequence, the religious will not be able to avoid for long the dangers which lie hidden in the very performance of the sacred ministry. With respect to that portion of the apostolate which is entrusted to the care of religious, We wish to make some further observations. Religious institutes should sedulously adapt the work proper to their apostolates to modern conditions and circumstances. The younger re-ligious particularly are to be instructed and educated properly in this matter, but in such a way that the apos-tolic zeal with which they are inflamed does not remain circumscribed exclusively by the boundaries of their own group, but rather opens outwardly toward the great spiritual necessities of our times. Nor is this enough. For while being educated along the lines We have indi-cated, they should also cultivate an exquisite sensitivity to their duties by force of which, both in words and deeds, they will constantly show themselves as true ministers of God, distinguished by soundness of doctrine and recom-mended to the people by holiness of life. However, in these matters let not the religious be left solely to their own initiative, since their work must always be subject to the vigilance of superiors, especially if it is a matter of work that has notable relevance to civil life. It is of the greatest concern to Us that the work of the members of religious institutes should go along harmoni-ously with the norms established by the sacred hierarchy. As a matter of fact, the exemption of religious orders is in no conflict whatsoever with the divinely given constitu-tion of the Church, by force of which every priest, par-ticularly in the performance of the sacred ministry, must obey the sacred hierarchy. For the members of these re-ligious institutes are at all times and in all places subject principally to the Roman Pontiff, as to their highest superior.~ For this reason the religious institutes are at the service of the Roman Pontiff in those works which pertain to the welfare of the universal Church. With regard to the exercise of the sacred apostolate in various dioceses religious are under the jurisdiction of bishops, to whom they are bound to give assistance, al-ways without prejudice to the nature of their proper apostolate and the things that are necessary for their re-ligious life. From all this it is quite evident how much the allied and auxiliary ministry of the religious given to the diocesan clergy conduces to the good of the Church, when their united forces result in more vigorous and more effective action. From these brief observations you now know what We consider most important for the growth of religious life in our times. May all these remarks show you with what ~ C. 499, § 1. ÷ ÷ ÷ Religiom Liye VOLUME 23, 19(~4 703 solicitude We view and esteem religious life and what great hope We put in your helpful work. The road which We have pointed out tO you is certainly difficult and ardu-ous. But lift up your souls in hope, for the cause is not ours but that of Jesus Christ. Christ is our strength, our hope, our power. He will be with us always. Continue to diffuse the good odor of Christ as widely as possible by the in-tegrity of your faith, by the holiness of your lithe, by your great zeal for all the virtues. Meanwhile, as We thank you for your obedience, We pray God through the interces-sion of the blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, the fos-tering mother of religious virtues, that religious institutes may continue to grow daily and bear ever richer and more salutary fruits. A pledge of these truths will be Our apostolic blessing which We bestow in all charity on each of you, beloved sons, and on all your colleagues. Paul ¥1 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~04 LUCIEN LEGRAND, M.E.P. Matthew, Chapter. 9, and the Three Vows In Matthew 19 and in Mark 10:1-31, we find in suc-cession the three pericopes on divorce, on the little children, and on the rich young man. They would perfectly illustrate a talk on the three religious vows. In Matthew, the first section ends in a call to virginity (Mt 19:11 f.); the second one extols the spirit of humility and of spiritual childhood which corresponds to the vow of obedience; the third part deals with poverty. Would this application correspond to the thought of the evange-lists? If so, what light would it cast on the value and the significance of the three vows of perfection? Matthew 19 and the Kingdom It is clear that originally the three sections must have circulated independently in the early Christian com-munities. Their grouping belongs to the later stage of the redaction of the written Gospels. The evangelists blocked these three passages together because they found in them a common theme. Now, in the text of Mark, it is difficult to trace any common idea that would con-nect the three sections. Vincent Taylor sees some kind of topical arrangement: "After a story about marriage, it seemed fitting to record an incident regarding chil-dren." 1 Then the episode of the rich man is linked up with the previous two on account of the "Evangelist's interest in the Kingdom and in teaching abbut sacrifice and renunciation." 2 In point of fact, both suggestions are questionable. Taylor must have spoken with his tongue in his cheek when suggesting that the topic of the children follows logically that of marriage; this is better a joke than an argument, for the standpoint under which children are considered has nothing to do with 1 Vincent Taylor, The Gospel according to St. Mark (London: Macmillan, 1955), p. 422. ~ Taylor, St. Mark, p. 422. ÷ ÷ ÷ Lucien Legrand, M.E.P., is professor of Sacred Scripture at St. Peter's Semi-nary; Banga!ore 12, India. VOLUME 23, 1964 7.05 ÷ Lucien Legrand, M.E.P . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS marriage: they are not mentioned as offspring but as an example of a psychological and spiritual attitude. And as regards the observation that the three pericopes in Mark 10:1-31 are connected by a common interest in the theme of the kingdom, it should be noticed that, though this theme is actually referred to in the second (Mk 10:14 f.) and in the third section (10:23-25), it does not appear in the first part which, in Mark, deals with the question of marriage and divorce, a problem of ethics pertaining to the present world rather than to the king-dom. One has to turn to Matthew to verify entirely the suggestion of Taylor. It is in Matthew rather than in Mark that the three stories are connected by a common interest in the theme of the kingdom (Mt 19:12, 14~ 23 f.). Incidentally, this strengthens the case for a priority of Matthew in this section: the redaction of Matthew explains the present grouping of the pericopes; that of Mark cannot be explained as it stands: the text of Mark represents one more case of summary which in fact was largely a mutilation.~ Anyway, it is in the redaction of Matthew that the theological line is more clearly brought out. In Matthew, the grouping of the three pericopes was obviously deliberate: the evangelist focused his chapter neatly on the theme of the kingdom and the three pronouncement stories illustrate three ways of living "in view of the kingdom." For Matthew, celibacy, spiritual childhood, and poverty point to the kingdom. But in which sense exactly? How are these three attitudes related to the kingdom? To answer this question, we have now to consider the three pericopes separately; and since they happen to be ~ound in order of decreasing difficulty, we shall proceed back-wards from the third section to the first one; that is, from the clearest to the most enigmatic pronouncement. The Poor and the Kingdom The third part of Matthew 19 begins with the episode of the rich young man who comes to Jesus to ask Him how he can gain eternal life. Jesus first replies by simply 8 The case for a priority of Mt or at least of a proto-Mt has been ably argued by L. Vaganay, Le problOme synoptique (Paris-Tournai: Desclfie, 1954), pp. 51-85. Concerning the present passage, Vaganay shows that the saying on the eunuchs, though missing in both Mk and Lk, belonged to the source common to the three synoptics. Mk and Lk knew it but omitted it for stylistic reasons on account of its strong Se~nitic flavor that would have been unpalatable to Hellenistic audiences (p. 167; see pp. 211, 216). A more elaborate examination of the text may be found in our study on The Biblical Doctrine o] Virginity (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), pp. 38-40. recalling the main points of the Torah: "If you wish to enter life, observe the commandments" (v. 17). Then, upon a further question of the man, Jesus opens new prospects: "If you wish to be perfect, go, sell all that you possess." (v. 21). Beyond the ordinary walk of life, there is the possibility of becoming "perfect,'.' of joining the special, group of those who follow Jesus more closely. As it is narrated in Matthew, the episode implies the existence of two categories of disciples: the mass of those who do the essential by fulfilling the Law and the elite of the teleioi, the "perfect" who practice total renuncia-tion. Now, when the other two synoptic Gospels are com-pared with Matthew (Mk 10:17-22; Lk 18:18-23), they show a few slight verbal differences which eventually alter the meaning of the episode appreciably. First they do not speak of the "perfect": according to them, the man is not invited to join a particular group distinct from the others. Secondly, in the beginning of Jesus' reply, they do not have the words: "If you want to have eternal life, ob-serve the commandments." Their text does not suggest that the observance of the Law can lead to eternal life. Indeed, Jesus says according to Mark (v. 21) and Luke (v. 22)--and these words are not to be found in Matthew --"one thing is still lacking" to obtain eternal life: it is total renunciation. The overall picture is therefore quite different in Matthew on the one hand and in the other two synopo tics on the other side. Matthew knows two kinds of disciples: the "perfect" and the others; both, in their own way, can eventually reach eternal life. Mark and Luke on the contrary know two stages through which any disciple must pass: the first stage, that of the obedi-ence to the Law, is rather negative; common with the Old Testament, it represents a necessary but insufficient requirement. Beyond that, the disciple has to reach a higher level, that of utter dispossession of self. This divergence of outlook is confirmed by another detail. In Mark and Luke, the man who comes to Jesus is already a man of a certain age: he can say that he has been following the Law "from his very youth" (Mk 10:20; Lk 18:21). Now, Jesus says, it is time for him to take a further step. In Matthew, on the contrary, (and only in Matthew) the rich man is a young man (v. 20): he is going to make a start in life and it is now, at the outset, that he has to make a choice between two possible states of life. It is clear that Matthew adapts the saying of Jesus to the concrete situation existing in the Chnrch when the + + + Matthew 19 VOLUME 23, 1964 707 4. 4. 4. Lu¢ien Legrand, M.E.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 7O8 Gospel was written. The text of Mark and Luke is more original. It represents a theme fairly common in the preaching of Jesus: the disciple must be ready to meet all the requirements of his calling (see Mt 10:37-9; 16:24 f. and par.). Matthew gave a particular slant to the idea. He read into the episode his theology on the ful-fillment of the Law, and mostly he brought into the words of Jesus an allusion to the Christian practice of the two states of life. Everybody cannot actually embrace absolute poverty. Private ownership is not unlawful. The ordinary Christians keep the use of their properties and, keeping it, can reach eternal life. It is only the teleioi, the perfect, who apply the words of the Master literally by giving up all their belongings. The word teleios is definitely secondary: it did not belong to the original saying of Jesus but to the organization of the early Church. Echoing either the vocabulary of the mystery cults4 or, perhaps more likely, the terminology of the Hebrew sects,5 it refers to the inner circle of those who have received total initiation and applies to "a life of perfection which may be freely chosen but is not necessary to ordinary Christian life . Thus does Mat-thew cut a distinction between an ordinary state and a state of perfection." 6 Absolute poverty is a requirement of this perfect life. The context that follows develops this point. It is very difficult (v. 23), indeed practically impossible (v. 24), for a rich man to enter the kingdom. By right the king-dom belongs to the poor (see 5:3), and it takes all the almighty power of God to bring a rich man to the atti-tude of spiritual poverty that will enable him to get access to the kingdom (v. 25). The ordinary Christian is still struggling to realize this utter dispossession of self that will bring him into the kingdom. The teleios is he who has already done it. Like the Apostles following Jesus, the perfect hav~ given up everything (v. 27); they ha;ce already entered the kingdom. Poverty is the way of the perfect, the sign that, for some, the kingdom is al-ready a thing of the present. The teleios is no longer fighting to squeeze through the needle's eye: he is an inmate of the kingdom. 4 In general, in the mystery cults, those who are initiated to the mysteries are not called teleioi but teletai or tetelesmenoi. Yet Pythagoras divided his disciples into ndpioi (children) and teleioi. See C. Spicq, L'Epftre aux Hdbreux (Paris: Gabalda, 1953), v. 2, p. 218. ~ See B. Rigaux, "R~vfilation des myst~res et perfection h Qumran et dans le Nouveau Testament," New Testament Studies, v. 4 (1957- 1958), pp. 237-48. n Rigaux, "R(~vfilation des myst~res," p. 248. See also J. Dupont, " 'Soyez parfaits' (Mt. v, 48) 'Soyez misfiricordieux' (Lc. vi, 36)," Sacra pagina (Gembloux: Duculot, 1959), v. 2, p. 153. The Children and the Kingdom The special interest of Jesus towards the children ap-pears several times in the Gospels (Mr 18:1-7 and par.; 18:10; 19:13-5 and par.; 11:25 and par.). This interest is not merely sentimental. The text under study gives the reason of Jesus' predilection towards them: "The Kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (Mr 19:14). Like the poor man, the child is a type: he finds himself spontaneously ready to accept the kingdom. As such, he is an example of what a disciple should be. What is the reason for this? What are the qualities which childhood embodies and which give it a prece-dence in the kingdom? In modern piety the child stands as a symbol of purity yet unsullied by knowledge of evil, or as a promise in its full bloom yet unaffected by the compromises of daily existence. Is it this that Jesus saw in children? It does not seem so. When Jesus sets a child in the midst of the apostles, it is not as a model of purity or of innocence but as a model of humility. Mark (10:15) and Luke (18:17) hint at the point in their parallel passages: one must receive the kingdom with the simplicity of a child. Matthew makes the point still clearer in the previ-ous chapter where he sketches a full doctrine of spiritual childhood. In Matthew 18, the disciples quarrel about their respective rank. To solve the dispute, Jesus pro-poses the example of a child, stressing his humility: "Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven" (v. 4). To have access to the kingdom, the disciple has to humble himself like a child. Indeed, one's rank in the kingdom is determined by his similarity with the child. The hierarchy of the kingdom is a reversed one for it is based on tapein6sis, on lowliness: "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled and whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Mr 23:12). The humility of a child is the standard according to which real greatness in the kingdom is to be measured. The child is a typical citizen of the kingdom because he is a tapeinos, a lowly and mean thing, not respected and often maltreated and hustled about by the elders.7 The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these because they represent perfectly the meek to whom the new world goes by right of inheritance (Mr 5:5), the oppressed, the downtrodden who already in the Old Testament made 1This point of view may not be verified in the West where romanticism has made of childhood and of youth positive values which are made much of. It may even go to the extreme of the child being idolized and made into a tyrant. This attitude towards childhood is the consequence of the rehabilitation of childhood done by Christ and the Church. But it is not the spontaneous reaction of man towards children. Outside the West, the child will be loved + + + Matthew 19 VOLUME 23, 1964 709 Luden Legrand, ¯ M.E.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS up the community of the anawim, the group of the poor whom God chose to be His faithful remnant,s In Matthew 20:26 and following and its parallels, the type of the "servant" is presented in the same terms. The "servant" also is the greatest of all: in the theology of the Gospels, child and servant are practically synony-mous. As the child, the servant embodies the attitude of the "poor in spirit," of the lowly and the humble. Whereas "the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them" (v. 25), the disciples of Christ must not take such domi-neering airs. Their hierarchy is a hierachy of service. Those who serve best are the highest; and on the top of it stands He who rendered the greatest service to men by giving His life for them (v. 28): Jesus Himself was a servant (Lk 22:27) who did not come'to do His own will but the will of the Father (Mr 26:42 and par.). The dis-ciple must take the same attitude. Because the kingdoms of the world are based on pride and oppression, the kingdom of God must be based on obedience to God and service to men. This was already manifested during the temptation of Jesus in the desert when the new King, meeting the prince of this world, refused to begin His conquering career by an act of disobedience to God. In His baptism also, He appeared as the Servant of the Lord (Mt 3:17-Is 42:1). From that time onwards, obedience and humble subservience to God have become signs of ap-purtenance to the kingdom. It is because this sign appears almost naturally in the children that they can be con-sidered as the perfect image of the true citizen of the kingdom. Obedience turns man into a child and a servant oi~ God: it shows that.one is really a member of the king-dom which was once inaugurated by the act of perfect obedience of the Servant humbling Himself unto death and the death of the cross (see Phil 2:8). Celibacy and the Kingdom If the pericopes on poverty and childhood correspond to .well-known themes of the Gospel, the same cannot be said of the saying on the eunuchs (Mt 19:12) which concludes in Matthew the discussion on divorce at the beginning of chapter 19. We are dealing here with a hapax of thought; and it does 'not make things easier that this lonely saying, expressed in a puzzling manner, is recorded by Matthew only. Who are those voluntary "eunuchs"? The traditional answer is that Jesus means here consecrated celibacy. and petted but not considered as representing-a positive value. Concerning Jesus' outlook on childhood, see W. Grundmann, "Die Ndpioi in der urchristlichen ParanSse," New Testament Studies, v. 5,(1958-1959), pp. 201-5. 8 See A. Gelin, Les pauvres de Yahv~ (Paris: Cerf, 1953), pp. 30-52. Though this interpretation has been recently challenged with a backing of refined scholarship by exegetes of great authority? we think that it remains valid. For the audience of Jesus, the saying could not but refer to Jesus' celibate life; it might even have alluded to an insulting term used by His enemies. For the early Chris-tian readers of the Gospel, the application followed im-mediately to their problems concerning virgins and widows (see 1 Cot 7:8-9). This interpretation also corre-sponds better to the context of Matthew: the attitude of the Christian celibates who remain like eunuchs in view of the kingdom explains the hard requirements of Chris-tian matrimony (vv. 3-10). The best way to understand Jesus' exacting statements is to consider the conduct of some of the disciples who give up marriage altogether. This utmost renouncement shows what is expected from all the disciples. If all are not called to abstain from wedlock, all must have the same basic attitude towards the flesh: inner freedom and readiness to accept the sacrifice required by the Kingdom?° But another problem follows. Why should Jesus advise the disciple to live like a eunuch in view of the kingdom? What is exactly the meaning of this "in view of" (dia in Greek)? What has celibacy to do with the kingdom? Usually commentators find two possible explanations for the phrase "in view of the kingdom of heaven." it They paraphrase it either "in order the better to work for the kingdom of God" or "to enter the kingdom more ~ For J. Blinzler, "'Eisin eunouchoi: Zur Auslegung von Mt 19:12," ZeitschriIt ]fir die neutestamentliche Wissenschalt, v. 48 (1957), pp. 254-270, the logion had no real connection originally with the con-text it has in Mt: it did not belong to a discussion on marriage but to a controversy on Jesus' celibate life. Jesus was criticized £or being unmarried and called eunuch by His adversaries. Borrowing the in-suiting term used by His opponents, Jesus explains the reason o£ His state o~ life. Thus understood, the logion would be an apology rather than an invitation to celibacy. This interpretation loses much of its support i[, as we think, the logion on the eunuchs does origi-nally belong to the context o~ a discussion on marriage. Moreover, even i[ the original meaning o£ the saying would have been such as Blinzler suggests, it would remain that Mt put it in its present context and the problem remains of the meaning the logion took at the level o[ the redaction o[ the Gospel. According to J. Dupont, Mariage et divorce dans l'P.vangile (Bruges: Abbaye de St Andrfi, 1959), the saying reIers to the problem oI the husbands who had to live away from their wives. Their situa-tion can be compared to that o[ the eunuchs; yet they have to ac-cept it "in view o£ the Kingdom." This interpretation misses the reference to Jesus' own celibacy and does not explain the logion in its original form. :*J. Dupont, Mariage et divorce, p. 172, summarizing the inter-pretation o1: T. Zahn, Das Evangellum des Matthiius, pp. 592-5. n See M.-J. Lagrange, L'~vangile selon s. Matthieu (7th ed., Paris: Gabalda, 1948), p. 371. For a survey of the opinions, see J. Dupont, Mariage et divorce, p. 210. ÷ ÷ ÷ Matthew 19 VOLUME 23, 1964 711 4, 4, ÷ Lucien Legrand, M .E.P . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS easily." The first interpretation does not correspond to the context which says nothing about apostolic activities. The second explanation does correspond to a general line of thought of the Gospels which insist on the neces-sity of giving up everything for the sake of the king-dom (Mr 5:29 f.; 13:44-46). Yet it should be noticed that, at least in Matthew and Mark, "a wife" does not appear in the list of the family affections and possessions one must be ready to forgo to have access to eternal life (Mt 19:29; Mk 10:29).12 There is no trace of catharism in the Gospels: marriage is not an obstacle but a sacred institu-tion established by God Himself and sharing in the goodness of the creation (Mt 19:4-fi). The comparison with the two pericopes that follow suggests another explanation of the phrase "in view of the kingdom." Poverty and spiritual conditions are not extrinsic conditions laid on those who want to enter the kingdom. It is not even accurate to say that they facili-tate access to the kingdom. They are rather the attitudes of those who are already inside: "The kingdom belongs [in the present] to Such as these." They manifest the kingdom in its inner nature. They show it forth as a kingdom of humility and obedience to God, as an eschatological kingdom differing radically from the king-doms of the world based on wealth and might. They are the marks of the new life breaking into the world. The poor and those who are like children testify by their very life that the last times have come and that the eschatological transformation wrought by the Spirit is presently initiated. The voluntary "eunuchs" give the same testimony. Dedicated single life is not a condition to gain access to the kingdom; it is a mark of heavenly citizenship. Through it, those "to whom it has been given" share already in the life of resurrection when "they shall neither marry nor be married but will be like the angels in heaven" (Mt 22:30). The virgins are the full grown citizens of the kingdom. They constitute the retinue of the Lamb, following Him wherever He goes (Apoc 14:4). Such is the meaning of being a eunuch "in view of the kingdom." It means preserving virginity because virginity is a feature of the life in the kingdom. A proper paraphrase would be "in order to be in har-mony with the life of the kingdom." la The Christian celibate has embraced this state of life to anticipate the conditions that will prevail in the kingdom. ~ Lk has added the wife to the list to make up for his omission of the logion on the eunuchs. Following a law of harmonization of the synoptic.s, often verified in the textual criticism of the Gospels, a number of manuscripts have added also "the wife" to the text of Mt and Mk; the Vulgate has added it in Mt but not in Mk. ~8 See Legrand, The Biblical Doctrine o[ Virginity, p. 44. Synthesis: Matthew 19 and the Three Vows of Perfec-tion It would be anachronistic to contend that, when. writ-ing his chapter 19, the evangelist had in view the three vows of perfection and the present pattern of religious life. Yet it can be said that Matthew 19 is the charter of religious life based on the three vows, for it was the in-tention of the evangelist to describe the main aspects of perfect discipleship which the religious institution tries to realize concretely. Matthew 19 describes a state of life proper to those "who want to be perfect." This corresponds to the life of the early Church and already to the situation of the pre-paschal community which Jesus had gathered round Him since, among His followers, there was already an inner core of a few disciples who had a more intimate contact with the Master, a closer association with the main events of His career, and a deeper initiation into the mysteries which He revealed. This "state of perfection" is described in Matthew 19 in reference to the kingdom, that is to say to the eschato-logical renovation promised by the prophets and fulfilled in the coming of the Messiah. It may be remarked that, in Matthew, the nineteenth chapter with its three sec-tions constitutes the introduction ("the narrative sec-tion") to the fifth "livret" of the Gospel, devoted to a description of the imminent coming of the kingdom, a part that will culminate in the eschatological discourse.14 In view of this, the three sections of the chapter could be adequately characterized as the three eschatological attitudes that portend the advent of the kingdom, an-nounce its coming, and realize it proleptically to a large extent. The "perfect" are those in whom eschatology is realized. In the present age, they show forth the condi-tions that will prevail in the age to come. They bear witness to the new principle of life which animates the regenerated world. Virginity shows that the new kingdom does not expand any longer by the fecun-dity of the flesh but by faith and the power of the Spirit. Childhood signifies that the power which is at work in the new order of things is not man's but God's might and the only way to share in it and benefit by its effects consists in humble acceptance of God's will. The poor are those who have sold everything to purchase the precious pearl of the kingdom (see Mt 13:45 f.): they scorn the riches of the world because they have inherited all the wealth of heaven. UAccording to the plan adopted by P. Benoit in the Jerusalem Bible (L'l~vangile selon saint Matthieu [Paris: Cerf, 1953]). Benoit follows L. Vaganay, Le probl~rne synoptique, pp. 57-61. ÷ ÷ ÷ Matthew 19 VOLUME 23, 1964 ,: 713' Therefore virginity is not solitude but fullness of agapd and unconditional gift of self. Poverty is not want but possession of the supreme treasures. Obedience is not servitude but service. In it, man's free will is not obliterated; it reaches its plenitude by being given the dimensions of God's will. Thus are the threevows the paradoxical but perfect picture of real love, richness, and liberty. They set the pattern of the iife to come and attract the world towards it. They do not cut man from the human condition; on the contrary, they represent the pole towards which man's life and even the whole cosmos converge in the new order of things inaugurated by the Resurrection of the Lord. + ÷. + Lu¢ien Legrand, M .E.P . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 714, RICHARD P. VAUGHAN, S.J. Chastity and Psychosexual Development Psychoanalysis, just as any other theoretical position, has its contributions and limitations. One of its contribu-tions is the theory of psychosexual development, which states that sexuality, like other human processes, follows a consistent pattern of growth. That part of the pattern which refers to mental aspects, such as feelings, emotions, desires, and attitudes, is called psychosexual. It is the contention of psychoanalytic theory that there are definite stages of development which each must experience if adult sexuality is to occur. Psychoanalysis offers a detailed description of each stage. Although authorities question some aspects of the sequence, most will concede that sex follows an evolving process.1 It is not something that suddenly becomes a part of one's experience, let us say at adolescence, as once was thought. It is rather a systematically developing thing, beginning from infancy. The ultimate sexuality of the adult is the outcome of many factors, both developmental and environmental. If these factors have been favorable, the result is a mature, well-balanced person; if unfavor-able, art immature, neurotic person. According to psycho-analytic thought, the ultimate goal of the developmental process is the ability to have satisfying heterosexual rela-tionships. For the religious the vow of chastity closes the door on any future heterosexual experiences. However, he still retains his sexuality. When applied to him, therefore, the analytic theory of psychosexual development poses some special questions. What is the ultimate goal of sexual growth for the religious? Does the vow block the attaining 1 Robert R. Sears, Survey oI Objective Studies oJ Psychoanalytic Concepts (New York: New Social Science Research Council, 1943), passim; and Roland Dalbiez, Psychoanalytical Method and the Doctrine o] Freud (New York: Longmans, Green, 1941), v. 2, pp. 163- 85. Father Richard P. Vaughan, s.J., is professor of psy-chology at the University of San Francisco; San Francisco, Califor-nia 94118. VOLUME 23, 1964 ÷ ÷ R. P. Vaughan, 8.I. REVIEW. FOR RELIGIOUS 716 of the final goal? Are there other possible ultimate goals? What effect does maladjustment at one or other develop-mental stage have upon the practice of chastity? Exaggerated Dualism Much of Christian spirituality has been based upon an exaggerated dualism which overstresses the spiritual to the detriment of the corporeal.2 Man is looked upon as a dichotomized being, composed of body and soul, the ani-mal and the human, the higher nature constantly at work subduing the lower nature. Sex, when viewed in this frame of reference, ceases to be an integral part of the total functioning man. It becomes an isolated process which is essentially animal. It becomes a semi-independent entity with its own energy system and mode of operation. As such, it is often at odds with the higher nature, whose chief function is to control unruly animal impulses. Such a view of sexuality is negative and likens the vow of chas-tity to an additional strong-armed guard who is ever on the alert for the slightest manifestation of sexual stirrings. When Sigmund Freud first introduced his psychoana-lytic theory to a predominantly Christian world, he met with immediate opposition. One of the reasons for this reaction may well have been the prevalent exaggerated dualism of his time. What Freud had done was invert the order of nature. In effect, he had allowed the so-called lower nfiture to take over and relegated the higher nature to an insignificant role. The sexual part of man became all important; the rational, unimportant.3 Actually, such an interpretation is far removed from the true mind of Freud inasmuch as his concept of man was not dualistic. Freud did not accept the Christian notion of body and soul, rational and animal. He saw man as a single, inte-grated, functioning biological unit. It may be true, as many think, that he overplayed the importance of the sex instinct; but he did not regard sex as an isolated process in any way independent of the total operating personality. Unfortunately, Freud used the dualistic terminology of his time, thus creating a wrong impression. However, if one examines his writings more deeply, he soon discovers that Freud went beyond the dualistic view and considered sexuality as an integral part of the total functioning per-son. 4 An exaggerated dualism which glorifies the spiritual to the detriment of the corporeal seriously hinders any -" Louis Bouyer, Introduction to Spirituality, trans. Mary Perkins Ryan (New York: Descl~e, 1961), pp. 143-62. nSigmund Freud, "Three Contributions to the Theory of Sex," Basic Writings oI Sigmund Freud (New York: Modern Library, 1938). ~ Adrian van Kaam, "Sex and Existence," Insight, v. 2, n. 3, p. 5. rapprochement between analytic theory and the Chris-tian concept of perpetual chastity. It is only when sex is considered as a manifestation of the whole person that some of the clinically proven findings of psychoanalysis can help us better understand the meaning of perpetual chastity and the difficulty that it presents to some religious. Sexuality, a Human Function Sexuality in man is not an animal function; it is a human function. It is a manifestation of the whole person. A man can express himself by reasoning to the existence of an infinite God, by creating an original painting, or by engaging in the sex act. All these acts are human. They flow from the same principle whereby that man exists and functions. It is the man who reasons, who paints, and who engages in the sex act. It is not his intellect, his artistic ability, or his sex instinct. Sexuality is intimately con-nected with every aspect of our being. It exerts an in-fluence on our other modes of functioning, such as our thinking or creating; these other functions, in turn, exert an influence on sexuality. A distorted sexuality will, therefore, exert a distorted influence and vice versa. It is precisely at this point that the analytic theory of psycho-sexual development has a contribution to make to the better understanding of Christian chastity. Psychosexual Stages Let us briefly consider the progressive stages of psycho-sexual development as proposed by the contemporary psychoanalytic school. Before beginning, there are two preliminary notions that should be mentioned. First of all, the term "sex" is used in a wide sense. It includes not only the reaction of the reproductive organs and related feelings and emotions but also what we might generally consider the purely sensuous. When viewed in this latter sense, a limited amount of sexual experience in early childhood seems more reasonable. Secondly, no stage is clearly distinct from the next; there is overlapping and merging. During the first year and half of life, the mouth, lips, and tongue are the chief organs of satisfaction. Inasmuch as almost all the other human functions are greatly limited, it should not be surprising that the infant finds such actions as sucking or biting gratifying. This is na-ture's way of guaranteeing the great strides in physio-logical and psychological growth that must be achieved during infancy. Growth depends upon the consumption of food. It should also be noted that this is a time of life when the totality of all one's concern centers on self. There is no such thing as "otherness" in an infant's love; he loves himself totally and completely. Everything out-÷ ÷ ÷ Chastity VOLUME 23, 1964 717 ÷ ÷ ÷ R. P. Vaughan, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 718 side of himself exists to keep him well fed and comfort-able. Sex at this stage obviously refers to the sensuous experience that comes from sucking, feeling full, warm, and dry. These experiences, however, have some relation-ship to what is generally considered sexual in the more biological sense of the word inasmuch as they involve a certain sensuous pleasure that is preliminary to biological sexuality. Any distortion in growth during this period leaves the individual, in varying degrees, with an inability to realize "otherness" in his love and the confining of love to self. Successful transition through this first stage estab-lishes feelings of security and trust in others, the foun.da-tion for the close relationship of love that should typify the married state. The second stage (the most controversial) covers the next year and a half of life.5 During this period the child must learn to control the processes of bodily elimination. Up to this time he has experienced a certain pleasure in letting the process follow its natural course. Now he is forced to forego this pleasure at the wish of an all-impor-tant parent who buys conformity at the price of love and approval. The result is a struggle within the child who wants both parental love and unhampered elimination. For a time he wavers between conformity and non-con-formity; he often becomes negative, restraining the elimi-nation as long as possible. Toilet training involves the first great demand to control impulse. How this training is accomplished will influence future self-control. If it is handled in a harsh, threatening, punishing manner, a spirit of rebellion and obstinacy is apt to result and per-sist in later life. If the training is accomplished in a re-laxed, understanding, yet firm manner, the child will have a good foundation on which to build the needed control of his future sexual impulses. The important aspect of this stage is the interpersonal relationship be-tween mother and childmthe child's struggle with con-forming or nonconforming in response to the mother's giving or witholding love and approval. According to analytic theory, malformation at this stage can influence later interpersonal relationships--the giving or with-holding of love in dealing with. others. Toward'the close of the third year, the child becomes aware of sex in the physiological sense and directs his attention toward his sex organs. In the process of so doing, he derives a pleasure which analytic thinking looks upon as truly sexual. Here, as in the first stage, there is no "otherness" in his action. He is prompted by pure self-gratification. Sexuality is directed toward the self. According to psychdanalytic thought, it is also during this ~ Dalbiez, Psychoanalytical Method, p. 167. stage that the sexuality of the young child becomes tempo-rarily attached to the parent of the opposite sex. In the normal course of development, the attachment is aban-doned and the child identifies with the parent of his own sex. The boy begins to imitate his father and assume mas-culine patterns of behavior; the girl, to imitate her mother and assume feminine patterns of behavior. If the identifi-cation fails to take place and the boy remains too closely attached to the mother and her feminine interests, the seeds of homosexuality and a neurotic condition may be planted. This period is followed by a time when sexuality plays a relatively minor role. During this stage the child is concerned with the learning of academic and social skills peculiar to the elementary grades. With the advent of adolescence, sexuality becomes very much in evidence once again. Now, however, it begins to be directed toward others. The boy becomes aware of the girl as a girl; the girl, of the boy as a boy. The path during this stage is often rocky. In his frustration, the adolescent may revert to solitary gratification which gives him the illusion that his troubles are forgotten and his tensions released. Moreover, it sometimes happens that he becomes attached to one of his own sex before finally settling on the opposite sex. This latter inclination accounts for the so-called adolescent crush or even some overt homosexu-ality. Maladjustment during this stage can.result in later compulsive masturbation and homosexual tendencies. Heterosexual Orientation The ultimate aim of psychosexual growth is hetero-sexual orientation. In this final stage, the individual is drawn to the full satisfaction of sexual intercourse. His sexual inclinations become definitely attracted to those of the opposite sex. This does not mean, however, that the individual must actually experience the satisfaction of sexual intercourse but simply that his sexual inclina-tions are attracted to such a satisfaction. Since sexuality is an expression of the total self, he may choose to express himself in another way and still be a mature person. The individual who fails to attain this final stage experiences no desire for sexual intercourse. This state is sometimes mistaken for virtue; in reality, it is a form of immaturity. The religious is a person who has given himself entirely to God. His dedication excludesheterosexual experience. Yet if he is a mature person, he appreciates the value of his sex powers. He is fully aware of his attraction to the opposite sex but freely chooses not to give expression to this attraction so as to be able to express more fully his commitment to God. If he is psychologically healthy, he does not deny, distort, or repress his sexuality; he simply + + ÷ Chastity VOLUME 2~1 1964 4. 4. 4, R. P. Vaughan, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 720 chooses another goal, which demands the sacrifice of the fulfillment of his sexual possibilities. Commitme'nt and Sacrifice Every commitment calls for the expression of certain aspects of one's being and the abdication of others,e The dedicated physician is sometimes called upon to sacrifice his attachment to family life; the statesman in foreign service, his attachment to his homeland. In the case of religious, the commitment calls for the sacrifice of sexual experience so as to give one's whole attention to divine things. The vow of chastity implies a positive expression of the self. It does not mean a mere blocking or repressing of the sex powers but rather a fuller reaching out to God through the medium of the higher powers under the guidance of grace. To achieve this goal, abdication of sexuality is the cost. The deeper the commitment to God and His world, the easier should be the practice of the vow--providing immaturity in psychosexual development does not hinder the practice. Sexual Disorders Sex problems are" frequently the result of maladjust-ment at one or other psychosexual stage and the conse-quent failure to develop an integrated personality where all one's powers work together harmoniously. The reli-gious with a sex .problem to some extent still carries the unhealthy feelings and attitudes of infancy, childhood, or adolescence. If his difficulty is serious, chances are that malformation existed at each stage, one compounding the other. Since sexuality influences every other mode of ac-tion, the whole personality is distorted. The religious manifests a lack of harmony in his general functioning. It is for this reason that most psychiatrists hold out little hope of success for the person who announces that he has a masturbation or homosexuality problem and wants the psychiatrist to help him get over it. Psychiatry is not gear~ed to controlling will acts such as masturbation or homosexuality; it is, however, geared to the reconstruc-tion and development of a healthy personality. Its purpose is to promote over-all psychological growth which will allow the individual to utilize his powers and capacities in an ordered, effective manner. The approach is directed toward the development of the whole person. If psychi-atric treatment is to be successful, the religious must be willing to cooperate with this approach and not limit his efforts solely to the various ramifications of the sex prob-lem. van Kaam, "Sex and Existence," p. 6. Compulsive Masturbation Compulsive masturbation is a typical psychological dis-order which stems from a failure to.achieve sexual matu-rity. Fenichel states that masturbation is pathological un-der two circumstances: (1) when it is preferred by an adult to sexual intercourse; (2) when it is done with great frequency.7 Masturbation in the adult signifies an arrest in the normal evolution of the sex powers.8 Instead of turning the attraction out toward others, the individual with this psychological problem turns it in on himself. He reverts to an earlier level of psychosexual development. He fails to realize "otherness" in directing his love. During the turbulent years of adolescence, the insecure youth in his halting struggle to reach sexual maturity often regresses to the earlier developmental stage of self-gratification. Sometimes unaware of the full moral impli-cations (this is especially true in the case of girls), he devel-ops the habit of relieving sexual tension through the practice of masturbation. Frequently it is only after the maturing of sexuality that he is able to overcome the habit fully. A failure to achieve maturity results in a per-sistence of the habit even after adulthood has been reached. Before entering the novitiate, some young men and women are able to overcome the habit by the sheer force of will power, only to have it suddenly return a few years after profession. In many instances, these are reli-gious who never achieved a mature heterosexual orienta-tion. As far as their sexuality is concerned, they are still adolescents. While teen-agers, they felt uncertain and frightened when faced with the normal heterosexual con-tacts of young people such as attending dances and dating. Admission to the religious life closed the door once and for all on the possibility of such relationships. The vow of chastity, then, became a psychological defense instead of a free giving of self and a sacrificing of sexuality to attain a nobler goal. As a consequence, no effort was made to understand the "why" of their sexual feelings and to reorient them toward maturity. After some months or perhaps years in the religious life, they were eventually overpowered by their confused, immature sexual impulses and found themselves unable to cope with these .impulses. Compulsive masturbation is more apt to occur when there is a lack of satisfaction in one's life.9 Thtig thi~ frustrated religious, Who i~ unable to give :himself full~ to his c~lling, is more likely tofall into this' disorder. He may manifest a certain hostility over his in~tbiiity to socceed as 7Otto Fenichel, The Psychoanalytic Theory oI Neurosis (New York: Norton, 1945), p. 76. s Marc Oraison, Man and Wile (London: Longmans, 1959), p. 86. ~ Fenichel, Psychoanalytic Theory, p. 76. + + + Chastity VOLUME 2,~, 1964 721 ÷ ÷ ÷ R. P. Vaughan, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a religious and subsequently turn to masturbation as a means of gratification. Sometimes the act ceases to be a pleasurable thing and becomes an act of aggression turned in on the self out of hatred for the self. Since compulsive masturbation is a pathological symp-tom, the cure should be directed not toward the symptom but toward the reconstruction of the disordered person-ality. What is needed is the reordering of the total person. Rarely does it happen that compulsive masturbation is the only neurotic symptom. Homosexuality Homosexuality. is another pathological condition that in some instances appears to spring from distorted psycho-sexual development. During early adolescence, sexuality is somewhat adrift. It is only with full maturity that the individual becomes definitely heterosexually oriented. In the process of achieving this final goal, it is not unusual for the youth to become sexually attached to one of his own sex. Even in mature adulthood, a modicum of the attraction remains.10 In some, however, the homosexual attraction prevails, with the individual either having no attraction for the opposite sex or a nearly equal attraction for both sexes,n For centuries spiritual writers have been aware of the dangers of homosexual tendencies in the religious life. Much of the writing on the "particular friendship" gives every indication that such a relationship is a preliminary step to homosexuality. Since most retain, in varying degrees, some homosexual tendencies, it should not be surprising that spiritual authorities express con-cern. When sexual powers are deprived of their normal object, they tend to seek a second best. Lest too much emphasis be placed on this danger, there is a need to un-derstand clearly the difference between true friendship in the religious life and a "particular friendship"; other-wise charity, the essence of the Christian message, is apt to suffer. The homosexual is basically an immature person. His sexuality remains at the level of the adolescent. It can safely be said that in most instances he manifests a general immaturity, frequently accompanied by a degree of neu-roticism. His turning to his own sex and rejecting the opposite sex may result from a number of different fac-tors: (1) fear of the opposite sex; (2) early sexual experi-ences with a person of one's own sex, particularly an older person; (3) an overidentification with the parent of the opposite sex, "coupled with an unconscious hostility toward this same parent. While the causes of homosexual-lo Fenichel, Psychoanalytic Theory, p. 329. n Fenichel, Psychoanalytic Theory, pp. 328-3 I. ¯ ity are not clearly spelled out, there is sound evidence for some form of maladjustment in psychosexual, develop-merit, le Needless to say, the community aspect of religious life militates against the homosexual who enters this life. Unless he can achieve sexual maturity, which implies total psychological maturity, his chances of successfully leading the life are slight. The close contact with attrac-tive members of his own community presents a constant attack on the vow of chastity. It might also be added that under the usual conditions of religious life psychiatric treatment has limited value. In conclusion, it can be said that the well-balanced religious does attain psychosexual maturity. He freely chooses to express himself through a total cotnminnent to God and His world, which calls for a sacrificing of sexual expression. His love for God is no less an expression of the total self than the heterosexual experiences of the married. Immaturity in psychosexual development, how-ever, may seriously hinder the realization of the commit-ment inasmuch as any distortion of personality develop-ment detours one's energies in the direction of abnormal behavior and away from the object of commitment. n Dalbiez, Psychoanalytical Method, pp. 192-214; see also James Vander Veldt and Robert Odenvald, Psychiatry and Catholicism (2nd ed.; New York: McGraw-Hill, 1957), pp. 424-9. ÷ ÷ Chastity VOLUME 23~. 1964 723 RICHARD A. McCORMICK, S.]. Psychosexual Development in Religious Life Richard A. Mc- Cormick, S.J., is professor of moral theology at Bellar-mine School of The-ology; 230 S. Lin-coln Way; North Aurora, Illinois 60542. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Our purpose this morning* is to explore psychosexual development in religious life: its meaning, importance, its manifestations, itg growth, its obstacles. To do this I suggest that we make a twofold division of material in our considerations: (1) psychosexual development in general; (2) psychosexual development in religious life. Psychosexual Development in General The term "psychosexual development" is drawn from modern clinical psychology. It is not a term, therefore, which stems from Christian ascetical literature or from scholastic psychology. In attempting to describe its mean-ing I shall describe its ideal term (psychosexual maturity). Those competent in the area of psychology would be glad, I am sure, to fill in the gaps and deficiencies of my impoverishing description. "Psychosexual maturity" is a certain degree of affective relational possibility.1 It refers to the ability of the in-dividual to enter into "harmonious dialogue with any-thing and anybody, without obscure anxieties, without incoherent aggressiveness, without exclusive posses-siveness, in an increasingly fruitful rhythm of ex-changes . ,, 2 Insofar as it affects social relationships, the first note of this maturity is the ability to deal with others in general as persons rather than as objects. But psychosexual maturity says more than the capabil- * This paper was delivered as part of a seminar on psychological development and the religious life held at Catholic University of America, June 11-22, 1964. a Marc Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety (New York: Macmillan, 1963), p. 24. ~ Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety, p. 24. ity of relating to others as persons. It deals specifically with a relational possibility to the opposite sex, and as such it describes a quality of one's growth as a male or female. This maturity has been further described as an instinctive-emotional growth which "tends to a polariza-tion of the sexual drive in an intersubjective relation where the synthesis of each partner is achieved--even on the genital level--in the actual relation with 'the other regarded as a person." 3 In simpler terms I take this to mean relating sexually to another of the opposite sex as a person rather than as an object. Relating sexually should not be understood narrowly, in a merely genital sense, but in the wider sense of an overall instinctive-emotional attitude. Whatever the final commitment of the person involved, "what is important is that he achieve an interior psychological experience of his situation in relation to woman as a person. The same is true, of course, for woman in relation to man."~ "Relation to woman (or man) as a person." What does this mean? And what is the distinct character of this instinctive-emotional relationship? Relating to someone as a person means that my entire attitude and conduct reflects his total reality and dignity--a reality and dignity founded in the fact that he is a unique individual meant to be a blueprint of no one save God in whose image and likeness he was created; possessed of an immortal soul; an intellect capable of his own original thoughts; a will capable of and responsible for his own decisions, desires, purposes; emotions capable of enthusiasms, of joy and sorrow of a unique kind; of a destiny which is so magnifi-cent that it is describable only in terms of God Himself. Relating to another as a person is perhaps best under-stood by its opposite, relating to him as an obfect or means--as a thing, somthing from 'which I want to get something, to be used, manipulated, fit into a scheme, adjusted, subordinated, and twisted to a purpose. Human sexuality itself provides us with the distinctive character of this relationship to another person. Analysis of human sexuality, both in its wide and genital sense, reveals that it has two inner senses or meanings. It is, of course, fundamentally procreative. It is also essentially expressive of the deep love which brings a man and woman together to share their lives and work out their destiny by mutual complementarity. One thing is clear, then, when human sexuality is studied carefully, as Planque notes: "That the sexual function has no meaning except as related to others, and related to others in the 4- 4- P xychosexua! Developmeng s Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety, p. 109. 40raison, Illusion and Anxiety, p. 109. VOLUME 23, 1964 R. A. McCormick, sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS form of an offering." ~ There are two propositions here: first, the essential relativity or other-centeredness of sexuality; secondly, the character of an offering. Because of this basic other-centeredness of human sexuality, the-ology and psychology are at one in asserting that these goals will be achieved only through altruism of personal-ity. The distinctive character of this relation to another as person is, then, that of emotional altruism, of an offering, a self-donation, an oblation. It is to be noted again that the maturity in question does not refer to an actual mode of relational life. It says ability, possibility, capability., of an oblative rela-tionship, of a relationship of self-donation. In describing this capability of self-donation, modem psychology refers to a "healthy relationship to the opposite sex." This opposite sex aspect should not be misleading. It does not imply sexual expression or the married state. It states a condition or status of personality development. It says that the person is of such an overall maturity that a healthy sexual relationship is possible and that it can (even genitally) begin to serve the purposes of love. By contrast it says that if a person does not achieve the personality growth where a relationship with the opposite sex can be a sharing "and its typical expression a self-giving, the whole personality has failed to mature and this will affect the ability to love anyone in anyway. The emphasis falls on the ability to love. Thus Maturity consists.in the possibility of chastity or con-tinence-- provided the subject wills it--for love's sake. It is moreover quite conceivable that this maturity will permit., a celibacy oriented toward a different mode of relationM life and love of persons--social service or religious consecration in a positive possibility of chastity.° Such a maturity is said to be psychosexual. What does this mean? Generally it means that the achievement is the result of total personality development--not just, for example, of physical growth or intellec'tual endow-ment. It says both that it is the result of the harmonious growth of all personality factors (emotional, instinctive, physical, spiritual, and so forth) and that its manifesta-tions occur at all levels of the personality. More specifi-cally it is called "sexual" for at least several reasons. First of all, there is the importance attributed to the sexual instinct in this development by modern clinical psychology. Secondly, the relational possibility referred to earlier will always be stamped by the sex of the per-sons involved. Thirdly, the term is, quite naturally, generally described in terms of the man-woman relation- Daniel Planque, The Theology o[ Sex in Marriage (Notre Dame: Fides, 1962), p. 90. Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety, p. 112. ship leading to and found in marriage. Finally one of the characteristic expressions of emotional infantilism is sexual irresponsibility; hence psychosexual immaturity both gives rise to this type of thing and is in some sense the result of it. We have described in general the term or fulfillment which is called psychosexual maturity. Our concern is more immediately with psychosexual "development." This implies that this term or achievement is the result of a process of growth. Here we note two things. First of all, by describing the term we do not imply that it is a static state or that it is ever fully achieved. We should rather understand that this term is an ideal and that growth toward it continues through life. Secondly, in general this growth process is conceived by modern psychology as one beginning in the tenderest years and extending into adulthood to be continued by the very self-donation which it increasingly makes possible. More concretely, it can be said that "the child begins from a normally narcissistic position, evolves toward an object relation and should achieve a subject relation in which the other is experienced as another subject."7 In other words, the process is the gradual socialization of the sex instinct, its gradual evolution to the point where it serves the altruistic purposes of human love. This growth process is defined in terms of challenges to be met, obstacles to be overcome. The phenomenon is very complex and at some points disputed and unclear. The following summary foreshortens this complexity but it will have to do. In phase with the different stages of maturation there occur certain rhythmic oscillations of social interest. Thus, at first, the infant naturally makes no distinction between boys and girls. It is socially asexual or simply non-sexual. The child of two or three is bi-sexual, recognizing gradually that there is a difference between boys and girls, but taking no account of this in its social relations with other children. With the approach of the latency period the child withdraws to the shelter of its own sex; not exclusively, not pathologically, but simply as a natural process to allow the next phase of development to occur with the least possible turmoil. This is the stage at which the young boy of six will look on another young boy of six who plays with girls as a "sissy," and the girl of six on her companion who plays with boys as a "tomboy"--or whatever happens to be the familiar term of the peer-group. Soon, having made some progress through the latency pe-riod, the child feels emotionally strong enough to emerge from his own sex-group once more. Thus boys and girls of seven or eight or nine play happily together, recognizing that they are different but without segregation on this basis (other bases, yes: incompetence at the game, tell-taleism, breach of rule etc.). This is a hi-sexual or heterosexual phase. (The phase of de-fensive withdrawal into the shelter of one's own sex is called ~ Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety, p. 106. ÷ ÷ 4. Psychosexual Development VOLUME 2.~, 1964 ÷ ÷ ÷ R. A. McCormick, $.1. REVIEW' FOR RELIGIOUS a homosexual phase, but the term must be carefully used in this psychological sense so as to differentiate it sharply from its more usual connotation of sexual perversion. The defensive with- :trawal in question here is certainly not a perversion.) From this heterosexual phase, the child passes, with the onset of psy-chological puberty (a year or two earlier than physiological puberty) or the pre-pubertal phase referred to in our second paragraph, into a new homosexual phase (again, let us repeat that this means a withdrawal into the shelter of one's own sexual peers). It is easy to see that this withdrawal has an im-portant biological and psychological function: it enables the growing organism to take the great leap into sexual matur-ity without the disturbing stimuli of the other sex, or at any rate with these minimized. When the conscious mind of the growing child has learned, however inadequately, to come to grips with its new'found sexuality, the adolescent is then ready to enter the bi-sexual society once again. ~Thus, towards the middle of adolescence, one finds once again the child emerging from the defensive positions of its own sex, and heterosexual interests and play activities are sought once again,s In explaining this process some experts put more em-phasis on the psychological interiorization of sense and emotional experiences going on within the child from the moment of birth; others put less on such a structuralizing of early experience. At any rate, it is true to say that practically all specialists accept a growth process through several crises and e_xplain this process as leading ideally to the possibility of interpersonal relationships. It is this total development which I shall understand as "psycho-sexual development." To highlight the general importance of this develop-ment, let me try to locate it in a somewhat larger (than clinical psychology) context, the context of Christian living. The great commandment, in a sense the only commandment, is the love of God and of neighbor for God's sake. All other Christian duties are simply specifi-cations of this command. But not only is this a command; God's commands are affirmations about ourselves. In telling us that the great commandment is love of God and neighbor, Christ was actually telling us what is good for us and what we are. He was saying that our own comple-tion and fulfillment is to be found here, hence that ulti-mately our eternal h~ppiness depends on love and is love. If one is to find his life, he must lose it--in the divest-ment of self which is love. This love we call charity to highlight its supernatural origin, efficiency, object, and purpose. It is easy to conclude that just as love is the essential ideal of any state of life, so ability to love is the essential disposition, that which one should bring to it and that in which one grows through it. Every state of life is an apprenticeship in love. ¯ SE. F. O'Doherty, Religion and Personality Problems (New York: Alba, 1964), pp. 224-6. - " - " ¯ - The terms, so to speak, of our love are God and our neighbor. This is clear. But the relationship between the two is not always that clear. When we are commanded to love God and our neighbor, it is easy to imagine the two as distinct. In an obvious sense they are distinct. Yet in a very real sense they are not. St. John wrote: "If any man says I love God and hates his brother, he is a liar. For he who loves not his brother, whom he sees, how can he love God whom he does not see?" (1 Jn 4:20-1). The obvious identity here suggests the Mystical Body. Our love of neighbor is our love of God because, in a real if mysterious sense, our neighbor is God, is of His Body. Also "the good our love wants to do Him can be done only for our neighbor and it is in others that God de-mands to be recognized and loved."a What is astounding here is the correspondence between this theological reality and what I might call a psycho-logical reality. The theological reality refers to the union of God and man wherein love of man is transformed into and becomes love of God. The psychological reality refers to what we might call the dependence of our love of God on rove of men--in terms of dispositions. Oraison wrote: "In order that dialogue with God be possible, there must be an existential dialogue among men. Created love opens up the heart, primes it for divine love." ~0 What I think he is saying is that we learn to love God by learning to love men and that only by loving men can we grow in those dispositions which are basic to love of God. Con-versely, the failure to love another and others, which is ordinarily traceable to an arrested development, to an infantilism of self-enclosure, will also prohibit growth in love of God. The two loves just cannot be separated, neither onto-logically nor psychologically. If one does not love man he is de facto not loving God, St. John tells us. If one cannot love men, he will very likely be unable to love God, psychology suggests. And this is the enormous im-portance of psychosexual maturity. But if these two loves cannot be separated, they must be clearly distinguished. I mean that one may never assert that Christ's message can be reduced to the realities of clinical psychology, that grace and emotional maturity are synonymous, that the supernatural love of God is psychological maturity. Far from it. Loving God is not chiefly our doing. "The love of God has been poured into bur hearts by the Holy Spirit whom we have received" (Rum 5:5). It is simply to' assert the profound oneness and continuity of the *Vincent Rochford, "Who Is My Neighbor?" The Way, v. 4 (1964), p. 116. lo Oraison, Illusion and Anxiety, p. 43. + + + Psychosemml Development VOLUME 23, 1964 ÷ ÷ ÷ R. A. McCormick, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS human personality, a thing we should expect if we grasp even partially the fact that man was created (and not only elevated) in the image and likeness of God. It is to assert that, while the two are not the same, the subject (man) is one and hence psychosexual immaturity can be a terrible obstacle to love of God.11 For the more we know of God, the more we know that He is relation, that His very being is "being-in-and-for-another." As man comes to know more about himself through clinical psychology, it should not be surprising that his Godlikeness becomes more obvious, that he sees he is made for relational life, and that everything in his makeup (including instincts and emotions) conspires to relational possibility or, as undeveloped, hinders it. And once we know that our eternal existence will be love of God, it should not be surprising that preparation for this life should be growth in the dispositions which are so important relationally and that these dispositions reach to the depths of our being. What I am trying to say most inadequately is that we will only learn to love, hence to love God, by loving our neighbor. Now we love as human beings, divinized through grace it is true, but still as human beings--not as disincarnate spirits. That means that our love is a matter of the spiritual, the intellectual, the emotional, the physical. Thus the other-centeredness which defines all (but or-dered self) love is a matter of total personality orienta-tion and development. In other words, the personal re-lational possibility of love is founded and depends on my maturity as a male or a female. Whenever we love, we love as man or as woman. Now being a complete male or female is precisely de-pendent upon a successful negotiation of the growth process which we have mentioned. It is that which condi-tions to some extent my ability to seek and respond to any other as a person. If I am emotionally immature, I will be affectively turned in on self, closed off to others, never able to transcend my own self-interest. Summarily, then, since this growth process has a great deal to do with my being a healthy male or female, and since being a healthy male or female conditions my capacity to relate personally (hence lovingly) to others, and since charity ~s to some extent this relation supernaturalized, it is clear that fulfillment of the great commandment involves some very human underpinnings, that it is tied closely to the dynamic drama of growth upon which clinical psychology has raised the curtain. We should expect this, for we are one. Assuredly grace can accomplish miracles See Robert G. Gassert, S.J., and Bernard H. Hall, M.D., Psy-chiatry and Religious Faith (New York: Viking, 1964), pp. 49-50. (thank God) and is probably forced to work overtime with most of us. But as a general rule, arrested psychosexual growth is a very poor foundation upon which to attempt to structure a supernatural life at whose heart is a rela-tional thing: charity. Psychosexual Development in Religious. Li[e Let us recall again that psychosexual maturity is affec-tive maturity, affective relational possibility. It is obvious that growth in supernatural virtue is a result of many factors: grace, prayer, sacraments, sound ideas, direction, self-abnegation, emotional maturity, and so on. When we speak of psychosexual maturity, we are not talking about this overall maturity or growth, that is, iri super-natural virtue. We are talking about one element or aspect in it and that a very natural, even clinical one: affective relational possibility. This is an instinctive-emotional cast or posture. It should be clear that it is, therefore, not something I can will into existence, grind into existence through repetition of unselfish acts, play into existence, flog into existence through penance, propa-gandize into existence through conferences. We are simply not talking about this type of thing, the type of thing which can be produced by a simple flexing of ascetical muscles. It is, then, very important to distinguish psychosexual maturity (and its development) from supernatural virtue (and its development). If I miss the difference I will either simply naturalize virtue or go to the other extreme and try to build a supernatural life without a sound sub-structure. This would be to dehumanize supernatural living, hence eventually to destroy it.12 The importance of psychosexual development in re-ligious life could scarcely be overemphasized. It has been said that if the married Iayman remains in the world to serve and save it, the religious stands apart from it to do the same thing. Religious life is, then, an attempt to respond to the call of love of God and neighbor in a very direct way. It is the direct love of service to others. And just as the Word redeemed the whole man, so the religious extends this redemptive action through time to the whole man. Anything else would be inhuman. "Our own sal-vation depends on loving as Christ loves. He cares for the whole man; and so must we if we are to love as He loves." a3 Religious life is, briefly, growing in love of Christ by donating oneself to the total needs of Christ's own. Loving the whole man means loving men as human beings, and therefore even affectively. The greatest hu- See O'Doherty, Religion and Personality Problems, p. 56. Rochford, "Who Is My Neighbor?" p. 117. + Psychosexual Dcoelopment VOLUME 23, 1964 ,4. 4. 4. IL A. McCormick, Sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS man need is to be loved. For unloved, I remain unloving, withdrawn, self-encased. But when 1 am loved in a full human way, selfhood, personal identity, a feeling of security, a sense of worth and dignity is conferred upon me--the very things which enable me to respond to others as persons, to love them. Thus it is clear that be-cause my greatest fulfillment is the other-centeredness of love (and charity), my greatest human need is for that which creates this possibility; that is, love from others, their acceptance of me as a person. Similarly my greatest gift to them is my self-donation to them because this is also their greatest need. Modern psychology, in uncover-ing the growth process which leads to the ability of self-donation in interpersonal relationships, has not only described a capacity; it has at once described a need. And in doing this it has painted in bold colors the practical content of any act of charity toward men. (As you can see, my perspective is a bit larger than that of mere psychology. It is that of Christian fulfillment.) Clearly, then, religious life which is love of Christ in His children, demands psychosexual maturity, oblative ability, affective self-donation. Without this maturity I risk just doing things for others without really loving them totally in the process. If this is religious life, it will produce dried-up hearts, sometimes hard hearts incapable of loving even God. For we must love as human under pain of not loving at all. The problem, then, which confronts us is: how is one to grow in this affective relational possibility? How can religious life promote such growth? Let me put it more concretely. Imagine, for example, an old religious of instinctively fine virtue, mellowness, and charm. We all know such wonderful people. In spite of lovable ec-centricities (they remain individuals, after all), what stands out so often is their sensitivity of feeling for others, their delicacy and eagerness in responding to the needs of others. They are genuinely spontaneous and happy in serving others; it is apparently easy for them and a source of genuine delight. Briefly, they are at home and adjusted in their deep other-orientation, even emotionally so. Our problem: how did they get this way? Barry McLaughlin, S.J.,14 has suggested that to promote such growth certain fundamental attitudes must be culti-vated: the attitudes of presence, availability, empathy, generosity, and fidelity. By cultivating these the religious presents himself to others; he decentralizes his person-ality from self and goes out to others, is free for them; he identifies with others' sorrows, ambitions, joys and be- ~' Barry McLaughlin, S.J., Nature, Grace and Religious Develop-ment (Westminster: Newman, 1964), p. 80 ft. stows himself by forgiveness and kindness. True enough. But practically how can we cultivate these attitudes? Do we not cultivate things which issue in attitudes? What i now propose is merely tentative. Regard it as a basis for discussion and enlightened disagreement. I suggest we approach the matter analogously through marriage. By seeing growth in marriage, perhaps we can isolate those elements which contribute to psychosexual development and then locate them in religious life. Love of God and neighbor is as much a commandment for and affirmation about the married as about anyone else. The ultimate vocational purpose of marriage in the Christian scheme coincides, in this sense, with the vocational purpose of any other state of life. When two people commit their lives and personalities to each other to forge a corporate "we," they undertake a sharing enterprise whose success and happiness is assured only to the extent that one's life is aimed at giving happiness to the other. One achieves fulfillment by undertaking the fulfillment of the other. "Marriage will be for a man a means of development precisely to the extent that, in full possession of their own personalities, the spouses will make a gift of self to each other and to their chil-dren." 15 But even this sharing and fulfillment must be seen in the Christian scheme as a schooling for something greater, an apprenticeship for fulfillment of the great commandment. As Frank Wessling writes: All of us, married or not, will save our lives by learning to love as fully as possible. If I am ever going to learn to love, I shall have to learn it in my marriage by loving my wife first of all. In that love I have got to see and appreciate variety and degrees, so that when I turn outward to the world and other persons, I am able to love variety and the degrees of goodt,ess I see there,ae By learning to love their own, they learn to slough of[ self-interest and open themselves to love of God and neighbor. Most people do not bring full maturity to marriage. As a Catholic husband wrote me recently: "Few people probably enter marriage adequately prepared for such totality of commitment--but it is a goal to be worked for." Most people have to learn to love, to appreciate the sacrifices essential to it. It is extremely difficult to hdmit practically that love really demands a sacrifice of self for the other. Generally, in fact, if a man and woman are not forced by some external pressure in the beginning to sacrifice themselves, they probably will do a less than a" Planque, Theology of Sex in Marriage, p. 94. lOFrank Wessling, "Is It Immature Loving?" America, v. 110 (January-June, 1964), p. 595. + + ÷ Psychosexual Development VOLUME 23, 1964 R. A. McCormick, Sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 734 adequate job of sacrificing, hence loving, on their own. Often enough the "pressure" which shatters the romantic illusions and demands very personal payments, personal preferences of others to self, is the child. It is almost providential that just as the couple is beginning to get used to, perhaps even a bit tired of, each other, attention is drawn away from themselves in a way which ultimately forges even a closer two-in-oneness. There is need to prefer others to self. They begin, slowly at first, to ap-preciate sacrifices and to perceive their meaning. As time goes along, they begin to choose them more frequently, even get accustomed to them. 0ther-concern becomes increasingly if unnoticeably (to them) a part of their life and outlook. Their thinking changes subtly over the years. The "we" dominates their planning and thinking. All the while ~their affective liIe has taken on .increasingly the color and tone of other-centeredness. Even their intimate sexual life becomes more more tender, consider-ate, partner-oriented---hence more mature. This process is a lifetime work, but what has been going on here? Clearly there has been growth. The affec-tions have been gradually drained of selfishness. The two have grown closer to each other as persons. The rhythm of their life has taken on a mutuality and reciprocity at all levels. They are identifying themselves as married, as one. But how? What is responsible for this growth? Many things, of course: prayer, graces of the sacrament of matrimony, reception of the sacraments, intimacy, flare-ups, forgiveness, little kindnesses, and so on. For the growth is total. But in so far as this growth is psycho-sexual or instinctive-emotional, I believe I see three elements which stand out at this stage: (1) the existence of an affective relationship toward each other, very im-perfect at the beginning, deeply colored by self-interest; (2) sacrificial acts which gradually purify the affective relationship, center it more pronouncedly on others; (3) at first under pressure, but then more freely chosen. Hence greater auto-determination and responsibility. Therefore this growth is attributable not just to an affective relationship and notosimply to sacrificial acts, but to such acts, resulting increasingly from free choice, within the context of such a relationship. This combina-tion has led imperceptibly to growth in relational possi-bility. Now try to apply this conclusion to religious life. What I wish to suggest is that we must find and promote these three elements in religious life if we are to foster continu-ing psychosexual growth in it. As for sacrificial acts, I think we need say very little. They are built into religious and community living. The second element, increased auto-determination, needs much attention. For religious life, especially early religious life, by training groupwise to a "foreign ascetical ideal" risks produ~:ing conforming automata--especially if we reflect on the early and immature age of entrance into religious life. The sooner the acts and practices of religious life can convert from "pressures" into freely chosen acts, the better. This means one thing to me: early communication of responsibility. I propose that we religious have been seriously defec-tive in this regard. Perhaps we have thought of "educat-ing to religious or community life" in rather external, even military terms. This can lead to identification of responsibility with mere external performance. Certainly the virtues essential to religious life make definite mini-mal external demands. In this sense there mnst be some external uniformity if religious life is to escape the chaotic and it obedience, to cite but one example, is to be identifiable as a distinct virtue. However, the matter of emphasis is important here. An approach to religious living, expecially in what we might call its "external" aspects, demands responsibility; ~or the various external tasks of religious life are simply practical demands, options, suggestions, or extensions of this or that virtue. Virtue implies choice, voluntariety. We should expect, therefore, that the more voluntariety there is, the greater will be the perfection of, for example, the virtue of obedience, the virtue of poverty, and so on. Hence if we are intent on training to virtue (and not simply to external performance) we will be concerned above all with practices which stimulate a more responsi-ble response. More specifically, poverty can be practiced just as well and as exactly by allowing the young religious to retain a certain amount of travel money as by making him ask for it on each occasion. Indeed, one would think that responsible poverty would be more likely produced precisely by such a practice. For it tends more to make dependent use of money a matter of choice, hence more responsible. Poverty is not simply "not having material things available." It is above all dependent use of mate-rial things. Its virtuous practice means that this depend-ence is voluntarily embraced for love of Christ. Of course there will be violations and abuses. But this is the price one must pay if there is to be growth in virtue. There are many areas in which we might profitably rethink our communication of responsibility in religious life: the daily order (for example, time of retiring, time o~ meditation), travel (for example, use of cars), studies, use of money, dealing with externs, adjustments to service of others, and so on. When we over-concentrate on the materiality involved 4- 4- 4- Psychosexual Development VOLUME 23~ 1964 " + ÷ ÷ R. A. McCormick, $.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ?36 (for example, performance of an assigned task), we tend to equate this with virtue, hence with responsibility. This emptieg the notion of responsibility as well as that of virtue with terribly unfortunate effects. Thus it is not uncommon in religious life to find responsibility identi-fied with control of the mop room. Clearly responsibility means more than this. It means just what it says: re-sponsibility in the planning process and in the process of execution. Furthermore, a unilateral approach (over-emphasis on the external) to virtue means that other aspects of the virtue are overlooked. For example, if one's entire emphasis where obedience is concerned falls on "doing what you are told," the virtue is robbed of its true richness. We miss the superior's duty to govern prudently, hence to make the fullest possible consulta-tive use of the subject's prudence. We miss the correlative and sometimes onerous task of subjects of making their reflections available to their superiors--always of course with the interior preparedness to submit wholeheartedly, even eagerly, when the superior's will is final and defini-tive. Finally, if unilateral overemphasis on a single as-pect of a virtue narrows the horizons of this virtue, it necessarily unprepares the subject for later and more difficult tests in this virtue. How many adult failures in religious obedience, poverty, charity can be traced to early failures in the communication of responsibility in the educative process? The analogue to the affective relationship in married life is friendship in religious life. I propose, therefore, that psychosexual development in religious life will be pro-moted by stimulating (1) the sacrificial acts so numerously present and available in religious life; (2) undertaken with increasing responsibility in early religious life; (3) within a context of human friendships. All are essential. For if there is no growth without freely elected sacrifice, there is no affective growth without an affective relation-ship. If I am right in this analysis, one sees immediately the enormous importance of friendship in religious life. For the attitudes which issue from it are "the marks of the charity of the religious man whose task it is to bear witness to the modern world of the possibility of love." 1~ Ifa religious grows in these attitudes, "he will learn the attitudes basic to Christian love. Subsequently he must seek to give his love for every man he meets the character and depth, of his love of a friend.'us I see the problem, then, of psychosexual development in religious life as depending heavily on the existence of friendship. My final remarks will concentrate on this 17 McLaughlin, Nature, Grace and Religious Developlnent, p. 83. is McLaughlin, Nature, Grace and Religious Development, p. 83. point. Affective relationships are going to exist in re-ligious life. We are made that way. It is important that they be sound; that is, that they be true human love. Hence, from this point of view, perhaps our best.practical contribution to psychosexual development is straight thinking about friendships in religious life and incorpo-ration of this thinking into our ascetical ideals. I strongly recommend a recent article by Felix Cardegna, S.J., from which I draw heavily and verbatim in the following paragraphs.19 Marriage is self-giving, self-surrender of the whole per-son symbolized by and attested to by physical surrender. Like marriage consecrated virginity is first and foremost a surrender, a surrender of my whole person, concretely represented and signed by my body. Out of love I lay my sexual secret, so to speak, my capacity for creative sexual love in all its richness in the hands of Christ. Just as corporal possession indicates the totality and exclusivity of marriage, so virginal renunciation spells the exclusivity and totality of one's self-donation to Christ. Consecrated virginity does involve, then, renunciation. But it is important to define exactly what the virgin renounces. There are, as Father Cardegna notes, four components: (1) the pleasure which accompanies the deliberate exercise of the sexual faculties; (2) the affec-rive development brought about by conjugal love; (3) children, the fruit of married love; (4) the affective de-velopment brought about by parental love. These are profound human values and run deep in the human personality. Only when I realize how deeply personal and mysterious and good is the surrender (and self-recovery) of marriage can I begin to see how deeply mysterious, beautiful, and positive is the virginal surrender and conse-quent renunciation. The sublimity of the religious' of-fering is spelled out precisely in the value of the thing offered. But does consecrated virginity renounce human love? By no means. Human love is more extensive than sexual love. Human love is in its essence not sexual but personal, a love between persons. Love's transcendence of self through self-donation does not necessarily involve physi-cal donation of self in sexual union, as we have seen. Indeed it is only when conjugal love can learn to forego intercourse at times that it reveals its truly mature char-acter-- a fact too often overlooked by the recent (and I would add "youthful") and almost hypnotic obsession with sexual intercourse. Because virginity does not re-nounce human love, it should not be presented as so ~o Felix Cardegna, S.J., "Chastity and Human Affectivity," REVIEW FOR RELmlOUS, V. 23 (1964), pp. 309-15. + + 4- Psychosexual D~oelo~m~ent VOLUME 23, 1964 737 R, A. McCormick, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS "total" that there is nothing left for anyone else. This would lead to a glowering withdrawal from the human scene. Rather because the surrender is virginal, there is much left for everyone else--and that much is human love. While the virgin renounces married love and its nuances, he does not renounce the love that is human friendship. Indeed it is impossible to imagine a human person as involved in any kind o

Issue 19.6 of the Review for Religious, 1960. ; SACRED CONGREGATION OF RITES Litany of the Precious Blood [On February 24, 1960, the Sacred Congregation of Rites issued .the Latin text of a new litany to be included in future editions of the Roman Ritual immediately after the Litany of the Sacred Heart. The,:original text may be found in /lcta Apostolicae Sedis, 52 (1960), 412-13. On March 3, 1960 (Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 52 [1960], 420), the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary granted an indulgence of seven years each time the litany is recited with contrite heart; moreover once a month a plenary indulgence can bi~ gained under the usual conditions provided the litany has been said daily for an entire month.] Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, have mercy on us. Lord, have mercy on us. Christ hear us. Christ graciously hear us. God the Father of heaven, have mercy on us. God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have mercy on us. God the Holy Spirit, have mercy on us. Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy on us. Blood of Christ, only Son of the eternal Father, save us. Blood of Christ, incarnate Word of God, save us. Blood of Christ of the new and eternal testament, save us. Blood of Christ, flowing to the earth during the agony, save us. Blood of Christ, poured out during the scourging, save us. Blood o[ Christ, streaming forth during the crowning of thorns, save us. Blood of Christ, shed on the cross, save us. Blood of Christ, price of our salvation, save us. Blood of Christ, without which there is no forgiveness, save us. Blood of Christ, purifying drink of souls in the Eucharist, save us. Blood of Christ, river of mercy, save us. Blood of Christ, conqueror of the devils, save us. Blood of Christ, courage of the martyrs, save us. Blood of Christ, strength of confessors, save us. Blood of Christ, seed of virgins, save us. Litany ot the Precious Blood VOLUME 19, 1960 ~2! Blood of Christ, strength of those in danger, save us. Blood of Christ, solace of the suffering, save us. Blood of Christ, consolation in time of grief, save us. Blood of Christ, hope of penitents, save us. Blood of Christ, comfort of the dying, save us. Blood of Christ, peace and sweetness of hearts, save us. Blood of Christ, pledge of eternal life, save us. Blood of Christ, liberating souls from Purgatory, save us. Blood of Christ, worthy of all glory and honor, save us. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, spare us, O Lord. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, graciously hear us, O Lord. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us. V. You have redeemed us, O Lord, in Your Blood. R. And You have made us a kingdom for our God. Let us pray Almighty, everlasting God, who made Your only begotten Son the Redeemer of the world and who willed to be pro-pitiated by His Blood: grant, we beseech You, that we may venerate this price of our salvation and be defended on earth by Its power from the evils of the present life, so that we may thereby enjoy the perpetual reward of heaven. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen. ÷ ÷ ÷ Sacred Congregation o~ Rites REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 322 JOSEPH F. GALLEN, S. J. The Constitutions Questions, difficulties, and cases on the constitutions ot religious institutes are of frequent occurrence. It seems more practical to retain the question and answer form for this matter than to synthesize it in the abstract form of an article. I. The Obligation to Strive for Perfection 1. What is the obligation o] a religious to strive ]or perfection? All authors admit the existence of such an obligation, but they differ in explaining its source. The first and at least solidly probable opinion is that the obligation of striving for perfection is not distinct from the obligation of observing the two distinctive means of perfection of the religious state, that is, the vows and the laws of the par-ticular institute, which are contained principally in the Rule and constitutions. This obligation is consequently completely identified with the obligation of observing the vows and the laws of the particular institute. Therefore, sin cannot be committed against a special and distinct ob-ligation of striving for perfection. The first argument for this opinion is that the Code of Canon Law nowhere as-serts a distinct obligation of striving for perfection. The code at least appears to confirm this opinion and may even be explicitly affirming it, since canon 593 states that all religious are obliged to observe their vows constantly and completely, to order their lives according to their rules and constitutions, and thus tend to the per[ection oI their state. The canon evidently at least appears to identify the obligation of observing the vows, rules, and constitutions with the striving for perfection. The same principle is con-tained in canon 488, 1°: "A religious institute signifies a society., in which the members, according to the laws proper to the society, take public vows., and so strive after evangelical perfection." This opinion maintains also that one who is obliged to the means of perfection is suffi-ciently obliged to strive for perfection, and an additional obligation is not to be asserted without necessity. It is likewise a general principle that one fulfills the duties of Joseph F. Gallen, $.J. is Professor of (:anon Law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. VOLUME 19, 1960 323 ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 324 his state of life by satisfying the obligations proper to that state. The final argument is drawn from a comparison with~ the obligation of attaining eternal salvation. All mankind' is obliged to attain eternal salvation, but this is not an oh' ligation distinct from that of obeying the laws to which/ one is subject. The man who habitually commits or in-~ tends to commit serious sins of theft does not also sini against a special obligation of attaining eternal salvation.~ Geerts, Revue D'~lsc~tique et De Mystique, 2 (1921),i 213--47; Auxentius a Rotterdam, Commentarium Pro Re-¢ ligiosis, 31 (1952), 250-75; 33 (1954), 77-85; 192-211;I 302-11; Creusen, Religious Men and Women in Church l Law, n. 253; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 521; bart, Trait~ de Droit.Canonique, n. 876, 3°; and others. The second probable opinion affirms a special obliga-~ tion from the virtue of religion to strive for perfection, that is, an obligation distinct from that of observing the l vows and the laws of the particular institute. The first l argument for this opinion is that the religious by profes-sion becomes a member of a public state whose purpose~ is to strive for perfection. The religious is therefore t obliged to strive for the purpose of his state of life. It can~ be immediately replied that the religious does this by the obligation of observing the vows and the laws of the par-ticular institute, whose observance necessarily leads to per-fection. No other obligation is necessary nor proved. The second argument is founded on a tacit promise of the re-ligious in his profession to strive for the purpose of his state. But again the religious fulfills such a promise by the obligation of observing the vows and the laws of the par-ticular institute. The last argument is that one who ex-plicitly promises to observe a definite means [the vows] to an end, implicitly also promises to strive for the end. This may be granted, but it does not prove a special obligation to strive for the end. It even appears to affirm the con-trary doctrine, that is, the end or purpose is sufficiently attained by the obligation of observing the means to that end. We may therefore conclude that the obligation of ob-serving the vows and the laws of the particular institute is clear in itself and in the code; that such observance necessarily leads to perfection; and that a special obliga-tion of striving for perfection is not necessary, is not proved, and consequently does not have to be admitted. The opinion of a digtinct obligation is held by Vermeersch, De Religiosis, II, (68)-(69); I, nn. 224-27; Epitome luris Canonici, I, n. 748; Theologia Moralis, III, n. 114; Wernz- Vidal, De Religiosis, n. 338; Pujol, De Religiosis Orientali-bus, nn. 342-45; Muzzarelli, De Congregationibus Iuris Dioecesani, n. 327; and others, H. Meaning and Content of Rule an_d Constitutions 2. We call the constitutions our holy Rule. Are consti-tutions and the Rule the same thing? The Rule gives only general, primary, fundamental, and concise spiritual and ascetical norms; the constitutions are more detailed, more legal and disciplinary. The Rule is relatively small and incomplete; the constitutions are larger and contain all the particular norms necessary for the religious life. The various Rules originated before the fifteenth century; new constitutions continually arise. The Rule is usually the work of the founder himself; the con-stitutions have very frequently originated in chapters. The Rule is considered as perpetual, untouchable, immutable, and may be changed only by the Roman Pontiff; this sta-bility is greater than that of the constitutions, even when the latter were approved by the Holy See. The Rule is in fact common to many distinct religious institutes; the con-stitutions are proper to each institute. To exemplify this fact, even though incompletely, in lay institutes the Rule of St. Augustine is found in nuns of the Sacred Order of Preachers, of Our Lady of Charity of Refuge, of the Blessed Sacrament of Our Lady, of the Visitation, and of the Order of St. Ursula, as also in Dominican congregations of sisters and in the Good Shepherd of Angers Sisters. The Rule of St. Benedict is used by Benedictine nuns and sisters; and the Rule of St. Francis, which is rather a triple Rule, is found in institutes of Franciscan nuns, sisters, and broth-ers. The Rule of St. Basil is confined almost exclusively to oriental religious. The Rules of St. Basil, St. Augustine, St. Benedict, and St. Francis are called the four great Rules. Other Rules also exist, for example, that of the Carmelite Order, which is observed also by Carmelite nuns and sisters. Because the Rule was general, incomplete, and so ex-clusively spiritual, in institutes that arose before the six-teenth century it had to be completed by other norms that clarified and determined the general principles of the Rule, adapted the Rule to the specific purpose of an insti-tute, and completed it by defining the purpose, means, government, offices, and the rights and obligations of the members. These complementary norms were usually called constitutions. Therefore, in institutes that have a Rule, the Rule is the fundamental law, the constitutions are the complementary law. Institutes that arose from the beginning of the sixteenth century ordinarily did not adopt one of the ancient Rules but assembled all their basic laws in one collection, which was generally called constitutions. Therefore, in these institutes and in the more modern sense, constitutions include both the funda-mental and complementary law of the institute. However, ÷ ÷ ÷ TI~ Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 325 4" ]oseph F. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 326 at present in institutes of brothers, nuns, and sisters that have a Rule, the constitutions ordinarily are of exactly the same nature in subject matter as in institutes that fol-low no Rule. The sense explained above is that of Rule in the singu-lar. In the plural, rules are not part of the basic law of an institute, as are the Rule and constitutions, but secondary, particular, and detailed norms of conduct, for example, common rules, rules of modesty, of the provincial, of the local superior, of priests, of confessors, of scholastics, of lay brothers, and so forth. Such rules are in use in many of the institutes founded from the beginning of the sixteenth century. They are not found too frequently in lay insti-tutes, whose particular law generally consists of a Rule, if the institute follows one, constitutions, directory, custom book, ordinances of the general chapter, and regulations of higher superiors. In the Code of Canon Law, the terms rules, rules and constitutions, and constitutions in relation to religious sig-nify the entire particular law of an institute, whether this has its origin in a Rule or constitutions, and no matter what may be the parts or the names by which various parts of this particular law are designated in a given institute. The Normae of 1921 forbade religious congregations to call their constitutions a Rule in the text of the constitu-tions. They are to be termed constitutions (n. 22 h.). This norm of canonical usage does not forbid such expressions as "our holy Rule" in other usage nor in conversation Even moral and canonical authors are still accustomed to explain the obligation and Other matters appertaining to constitutions under the general heading of the obligation of the Rule. Maroto, Regulae et Particulares Constitu-tiones Singularum Religionum, nn. 1-97; Larraona, Com-mentarium Pro Religiosis, 4 (1923), 134-39; Ravasi, De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 8-14. 3. I have noticed that religious universally speak of their constitutions, or of their holy Rule, as iJ all the arti-cles of the constitutions had the same force. Is this true? Constitutions are in fact composed of several different species of laws. 1. Laws of God. These, for example, the prohibition of stealing or of lying, whether natural or revealed, oblige immediately under sin, mortal or venial, according to the particular law. There are very few such laws in constitu-tions. 2. Laws that determine the matter of the vows. These are also few in number, since they are ordinarily confined to the articles that give the definition of each vow. Such laws evidently oblige in the same way as the vow, because they define the matter of the particular vow. A particular article may also contain a precept in virtue of the vow of obedience, but such articles are not found in the constitu-tions of lay institutes. 3. Laws of the Church, especially those appertaining to religious. A very great number of these are found in all constitutions. They oblige immediately under sin, mortal or venial, according to the law. However, practically none of these laws immediately affect the daily lives of religious. 4. Particular laws of the institute. These are divided into exhortations or counsels, legal, merely disciplinary, and spiritual articles. (a) Exhortations or counsels. It is not repugnant that some articles of the constitutions be mere ex-hortations or counsels, such as those on the practice of virtue to an exalted degree, for example, charity, hu-mility, obedience, mortification, and so forth. Of this nature are articles that demand a perfect love of God and complete detachment from selblove in all actions, the acceptance and desire only of what our Lord ac-cepted and desired, complete conformity of judgment in all obedience, and the more perfect abnegation and mortification of oneself in every act. If understood in the particular institute as counsels, they produce no obligation; if understood as preceptive, they are vio-lated only by a habitual neglect to cultivate such vir-tues. (b) Legal articles. Some of these are on government and the organization of the institute, for example, the following matters established by the law of the con-stitutions: the members Of the general and provincial chapters; the substitutes for such members; the system of electing delegates; the possession of active and pas-sive voice; the number required for a valid s~ssion of a chapter and council; the number of votes re-quired for a valid election; the right of making pro-posals to the general chapter; the qualities required for offices, for example, for superiors, councilors, sec-retaries, and treasurers; the term of office and imme-diate reelection or reappointment of supe?iors and officials; the incompatibility of offices; matters that require the consent or advice of councils; matters that demand a secret vote of a council; the number of councilors; appointments to be made in a full coun-cil; substitutes for councilors; the prescribed resi-dence Of officials, for example, of general and provin-cial councilors; the manner of replacing a general official; the frequency of canonical visitations by higher superiors; determination of higher superior competent for admission to the postulancy, novice-ship, and professions, reception of professions, for the erection and transfer of a novitiate, and for the erec- 4- The Constitutions VOLUME 19. 1960 ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 328 tion and suppression of houses; and reports and ac-counts of administration of various superiors and officials. Some articles of this class prescribed by the law of the constitutions are concerned with formation and religious profession, for example: entrance impedi-ments; entrance testimonials; a postulancy longer than six months; a noviceship longer than a year; temporary profession longer than three years; man-ner of beginning the .noviceship; formula and rite of profession; place of religious profession, except the first; limitations on 'acquisition and ownership of personal property; limitations on disposition of use and usufruct of p~rsonal property; and the giving of a copy of the constitutions to each novice. (c) Merely disciplinary articles. In general, such articles refer to the order and regularity of common life, the religious exercises, the work, and domestic and community duties of the religious, for example: reporting of presumed permissions; reception of visi-tors; going out of the house; going out alone; permis-sion for and inspection of correspondence; reception of visitors; visiting of externs; silence; reading at ta-ble; suffrages for the dead; interviews prescribed with superiors and masters; the spiritual duties, for exam-ple, daily Mass; recitation and choral recitation of the Little Office or the Short Breviary; prescribed visits to the Blegsed Sacrament; meditation and its prepara-tion; rosary; examen; spiritual reading; weekly con-fession; public devotional renewal of vows; retreats; monthly recollection; and the chapter of faults. (d) Spiritual articles. The constitutions, contain many spiritual articles, which enjoin the practice of various virtues, especially of those more distinctive of the religious life. IlL Obligation of the Constitutions 4, What is the obligation o~ constitutions which state merely that they do not o] themselves bind directly, or immediately, under pain o] sin and o] ~hose that add the phrase, "but under the penalty imposed ]or their viola-tion?" Authors usually treat this matter under the heading of the obligation of the rule; but they understand rule here to include not only the Rule properly so called, for ex-ample, the Rule of St. Augustine, St. Benedict, and St. Francis, but also the constitutions; and they quite Com-monly include also the legitimate customs, ordinances of the general and provincial chapters, if the latter possesses such authority, and the regulations of higher superiors. We are following the same complete sense in answering this question. The question of the obligation of the particular law of an institute is confined to. the articles described in n. 4(b), (c), and (d) of the preceding question, since the obligation of the other articles contained in the constitutions was stated in this s~ame question. Constitutions have the moral obligation that the legislator imposed. This can be imme-diately under sin. In some of the older orders, there are prescriptions of the Rule or constitutions that oblige im-mediately under mortal or venial sin. A prescription o~ the constitutions of any clerical exempt institute to which a canonical penalty is attached necessarily obliges immedi-ately under mortal sin, because such a punishment pre-supposes an objective and. subjective mortal sin (cc. 2218, §2; 2242, §1). In several older orders, congregations, and lay institutes in general, the obligation of the constitu-tions is phrased as in the present question and more com-monly in the first manner.~ All authors admit that the constitutions effect a real obligation. No Rule or constitutions consist entirely of counsels and exhortations. The essential effect of law is to produce an obligation.The common opinion has been and is that such constitutions are merely penal laws. The enactment of a law requires the power of jurisdiction. This authority is possessed by the general chapters of clerical exempt religious (c. 501 §1); and the constitutions o~ other institutes become laws by theapprobation or confirmation of the Holy See or local ordinaries, in the case o~ diocesan congregations. Some authors, ancient a_nd modern, have denied that the Rule and constitutions are laws; but this does not imply that they deny also an obligation to ob-serve the Rule and constitutions. That which is commanded or forbidden by the articles of such constitutions is not enjoined immediately under sin, for example, the violation of silence is not in itself a sin. There is no dispute on this point, because these con-stitutions expressly exclude such an obligation. The legis-lator of these laws or statutes is not indifferent to the ob-servance of his laws. He wills the observance of the law. An obligation immediately under sin is not necessary to secure the observance o~ the constitutions ~rom religious, and a legislator should not impose, an obligation greater than is necessary for observance and for the common good. Religious are cer~tainly subjects more prone to observance than to violation of law. Another way o~ stating the same argument is that sins are not to be multiplied without necessity. An 9bligation immediately under sin would also cause unnecessary anxieties of conscience. Since religious profession is a free and,spontaneous c?nsecration of one-self to Christ, it is becoming also that the living of this ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 + 4. 4. Joseph F. Gollen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 330 consecration should not be lacking in these same notes of freedom, spontaneity, and generosity. A religious who vio-lates his constitutions under the rationalization that they do not oblige under sin overturns the very reasons for which his constitutions exclude such an obligation, as is evident from the reasons listed above. He has a disposi-tion exactly contrary to that presumed by his constitutions. I[ religious were commonly of this disposition, the only reasonable norm of a legislator would be to make the con-stitutions oblige immediately under sin. All authors admit that the violation of such constitu-tions is in itself a positive imperfection. This is defined as the omission of a good that is not commanded under sin but in the concrete circumstances is known certainly to be a greater good for the person concerned, either from the clear interior inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the certain judgment of reason, or the declaration of legitimate au-thority given through oral directives or such a medium as the constitutions of religious. A dispute exists among theologians as to whether a positive imperfection is a sin in itself, but the more common opinion denies that it is a sin. The effect of such an imperfection is the lessening of worthiness for more intense and more efficacious graces from God. The dispute as to whether a positive imperfection is a sin in itself is of little practical import, since all authors declare, particularly of a violation of constitutions, that such an act is rarely lacking in at least some venial malice, either from the effects or the motive of such a rejection of a greater good. Sinfulness from the effects is verified when the violation causes scandal, a relaxation of religious dis-cipline, or other harm. The sinful motive can be anger, impatience, pride, vanity, sloth, sensuality, and so forth. A religious penitent may therefore accuse himself of vio-lations of the constitutions in confession both for better guidance and because these violations rarely lack at least some venial sinfulness. All theologians and canonists also agree that a subject is obliged under sin to accept and perform a punishment, or penance, imposed by a superior for a violation of the constitutions. Some hold that this obligation arises wholly or at least partially from the constitutions themselves; others maintain that the obligation has its source purely in the precept of the superior imposing the punishment. There is little practical difference, if any, in these two - theories. In the latter doctrine, the punishment will not oblige immediately under sin. unless it is expressly so im-posed by a precept of a superior. However, in practice this is true also in the first opinion. It would be contrary to the spirit of such constitutions if all punishments, even when very slight, were considered as imposed immediately under sin. Therefore, also in the first opinion, the punishment will not oblige immediately under sin unless it is so im-posed, explicitly or implicitly, by the precept of a superior. "Therefore, let all members Of the states of striving for evangelical perfection remember, and frequently recall before God, that it is not enough for the fulfillment of the obligations of their profession to avoid grave sins or, with the help of God, even venial sins; nor is it enough to carry out only materially the commands of their superiors, or to observe the vows or bonds binding in conscience, or even to observe their own constitutions according to which, as the Church herself commands in the s, acred canons, 'each and every religious, superiors as well as subjects, ought . to order his life and thus strive after the perfection of his state.' They should accomplish all these things with a whole-hearted intention and a burning love, not only out of necessity, 'but also for conscience's sake.' In order to be capable of ascending the summits of sanctity, and of being living founts of Christian charity for all, they must be im-pelled by the most ardent love for God and their neighbor and adorned with every virtue." Plus XII, Apostolic Con-stitution, Sedes Sapientiae, n. 24. 5. Don't the constitutions o] lay congregations ap-proved b~ the Hol~ See state that subjects are obliged Irora the virtue o] obedience to observe the constitutions and prescriptions o~ superiors, that is, over and above those contained in a precept in virtue o] the vow? Doesn't "to oblige" mean an obligation immediately under sin? It is the practice of the Holy See to include such an arti-cle in the constitutions. The article quoted in the question is taken verbatim from the Normae of 1901, n. 134; Statuta a Sororibus Externis Monasteriorum Monialium Cuiusque Ordinis Servanda, n. 60; and the Normae pro Constitu-tionibus Congregationum luris Dioecesani a S. Congrega-tione de Propaganda Fide Dependentium, n. 69. However, it is not the intention of the Holy See in this article to affirm any obligation over and above what these other prescriptions of superiors and the constitutions have in themselves. All of these documents, successively in nn. 320, 126, and 193, also state explicitly that the constitutions do not oblige immediately under sin. 6. Do the constitutions oblige in virtue of the vow of obedience~ ÷ It is possible to find older orders of religious in which ÷ prescriptions of the Rule or constitutions binding immedi-ately under sin oblige in virtue of the vow. This is evi-dently possible, because obedience is vowed according to the constitutions and such is the sense of the vow of obedi-ence in these orders. It is equally evident that institutes The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 331 in which the constitutions do not in general bind immedi-ately under sin may place some precepts in virtue of the vow in their constitutions. This is actually done, and such specific precepts obviously oblige in virtue of the vow of obedience. Outside of such precepts, constitutions that do not bind immediately under sin do not and cannot oblige in virtue of the vow of obedience. They do not, because the sense of the vow in such institutes is that the constitutions can be made the matter of a precept of the vow by a competent superior but are not in themselves a precept in virtue of the vow. They cannot of themselves oblige in virtue of the vow, because the vow obliges immediately under sin and the prescriptions of these constitutions do not so oblige. 7. Precisely what sin is committed by a sinful violation of constitutions that do not oblige immediately under sin? The sinfulness in such a violation is from the subjective motive or the circumstances or both. Therefore, the precise sin is that of the motive or the circumstances. For example; if such constitutions are violated from pride, the sin is pride; if the circumstances of the violation are such as to cause scandal, the sin is against charity. It is evident that both malices can be found in the one act. If the constitu-tions obliged immediately under sin, the primary malice would be from the object. For example, the violation of such a law of fast would be against the virtue of temper-ance. This sinfulness is not verified in the constitutidns in question, because they do not oblige immediately under sin. 4" $oseph F. Gallen, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8. What do our constitutions mean when they state that a sin is committed by violating the constitutions from contempt? It is evident thata sin is committed whenever the con-stitutions are violated from a sinful motive. Formal con-tempt is the despising of a superior, a law, or a counsel as such. It is therefore the contemning or despising of au-thority. This is a mortal sin, because to despise authority is to despise God, from Whom all authority proceeds. Formal contempt is rarely found in the faithful and less fre-quently in religious. The contempt stated in the constitu-ttons is formal contempt. Despite its rare occurrence, con-stitutions almost universally specify contempt as a sinful motive. It seems to me that it would be more realistic and practical to state that a religious sins whenever he violates the constitutions through a sinful motive. This is particu-larly true of constitutions which word the pertinent article as if contempt were the only sinful motive. Cf. Normae of 1901, n. 320; Statuta a Sororibus Externis Monasteriorum Monialium Cuiusque Ordinis Servanda, n. 126; Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum Iuris Dioecesani a S. C. de Propaganda Fide Dependentium, n. 193. Material contempt is the despisal of the person or a su-perior or of the matter of a law or counsel, "for example, if a religious despises a legislator or superior as ignorant, imprudent, rigid, malicious, uncultured,, obstinate, or a law as unsuitable, antiquated, ridiculous and because of such a motive violates the constitutions. This is ordinarily a venial sin. The sin will be mortal if such a motive leads to a serious violation of the vows, the serious harm of the institute, grave scandal, or to the proximate occasion of grave sin. 9. According to your explanation ot the obligation of constitutions, a superior may by his precept impose im-mediately under sin a punishment or penance for a vio-lation. The only precepts immediately under sin of which our constitutions speak are those in virtue of the vow of obedience. Is is true that the constitutions of lay institutes ordi-narily mention explicitly only precepts in virtue of the vow of obedience, which are usually also called formal precepts, A superior may impose a penance for such a vio-lation by a precept in virtue of the vow, since a penance for a violation, as something necessary or very useful for the observance of the constitutions, is indirectly Or implicitly contained in the constitutions. However, the constant practice of the Holy See in approving the constitutions of lay institutes forbids a superior to give a command in vir-tue of the vow except in grave matter. Other institutes should take this practice as a directive norm. Therefore, in practice a precept imposing a penance for a violation in virtue of the vow may be given only when the matter is grave. Even when such matter is verified, it is not the practice of religious institutes to impose the penance al-ways in virtue of the vow. All religious superiors, clerical or lay, possess authority in virtue of their office (cc. 501, §1; 502). This authority includes the power to impose an obligation immediately under sin, mortal or venial; and superiors are not obliged to impose such an obligation in virtue of the vow of obedi-ence, The understanding of the constitutions is that a su-perior may impose a penance immediately under sin for a violation. The constitutions do not demand that such a penance be imposed in virtue of the vow. It is therefore evident that precepts immediately under sin can and do exist in the religious life that are not imposed in virtue of the vow of obedience. A superior is obliged to make it clear, explicitly or implicitly, that he is imposing a strict precept, that is, one imposing an obligation immediately ÷ ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19o 1960 333 ÷ ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, $.1. REVIEW FOR' RELIGIOUS 334 under sin. In light mgtter, he may impose an obligation only under venial sin; in grave matter, he may impose the obligation under mortal or venial sin. Religious superiors are not to be unmindful of the ad-monitions of the'Council of Trent expressed in canon 2214, §2: "Let bishops and other ordinaries bear in mind that they are shepherds and not oppressors and that they ought so to preside over those subject to them as not to lord it over them, but to love them as children and breth-ren and to strive by exhortation and admonition to deter them from what is unlawful, that they may not be obliged, should they transgress, to coerce them by due punishments. In regard to those, however, who should happen to sin through frailty, that command of the Apostle is to be ob-served, that they reprove, entreat, rebuke them in all kind-ness and patience, since benevolence toward those to be corrected often effects more than severity, exhortation more than threat, and charity more than force. But if on account of the gravity of the offense there is need of the rod, then is rigor to be tempered with gentleness, judg-ment with mercy, and severity with clemency, that disci-pline, so salutary and necessary for the people, may be preserved without harshness and they who are chastised may be corrected, or, if they are unwilling to repent, that others may by the wholesome example of their punish-ment be deterred from vices." Schroeder, Council ol Trent, 81. 10. To what observance does the obligation of the con-stitutions extend? The obligation of the constitutions, as is true also of the vow of obedience, does not certainly extend beyond the external performance of what is commanded by the con-stitutions. However, we are to beware here also of the danger of saving the law and losing our souls. A religious who restricts himself to the field of strict obligation has, in a certain sense, put himself outside the religious state, which is essentially a life of supererogation, counsel, and generosity. A merely external and legalistic observance is contrary to the purpose of the religious life. The religious therefore should strive constantly to purify and elevate the interior motives of his observance. In the same way, he is to endeavor to attain an ever more perfect external ful-fillment of the law, He cannot be content with the legal-istic external observance of the mere demands of the law. The religious life should be the state of the spiritually magnanimous, not of spiritual misers. The vows are the primary, the constitutions the secondary, of the distinctive means of striving for sanctity in the religious life. As in the vows, so in the constitutions, the essential source of sanctification is in the interior acts of the mind and the will. Mere externalism is foreign to the. religious life, so also is a supposed interior life without external observ-ance. Anyone who has the proper interior spirit cannot be deficient in external observance. "Submission to the observances of the rule must not degenerate into a stifling formalism. The religious cannot be content in an external observance devoid of care for the interior spirit. If the in-terior dispositions are lacking, the rigid practice o[ ob-servances and usages does not conduce to union with God." Reverend I. Van Houtryve, O~S.B., Acta et Docu-menta Congressus Generalis de Statibus PerIectionis, II, 458; "There is also a danger, especially in superiors and superioresses, of legalism, which is a source of no small harm to the formation of subjects. By legalism we mean the acquired propensity merely or principally to the ma-terial and literal observance of positive laws and the pro-portionate omission of true morality, which consists in sincere love of God and the neighbor." Reverend R. Car-pentier, S.J., ibid., II, 548. "There is danger Of a certain formalism in proposing the religious life to subjects when external regularity is so intensively and vehemently urged that explicit formation to supernatural virtues is almost omitted." Reverend R. Carpentier, S.J., ibid.; "It seems particularly that in the study of moral theology and canon law a sufficient distinction is not made between the view-point of simple morality, sin and no sin, and that of Christian perfection. The norm of life of the religious is not merely the sinless, but the more perfect." Reverend Benjamin of the Most Holy Trinity, O.C.D., ibid,, II, 195; "The interior life is essentially the union or habitual oc-cupation of the soul with God, so that it thinks, speaks, and acts constantly in 'the spirit of God, that is, it is guided and impelled in its every movement by the spirit and love of God." Reverend A. Gennaro, S.D.B., ibid., II, 62; "All realize that automatism and formalism are fatal to any re-ligious life and that legalism, or the mere satisfying of the wording of the law, can quiet the conscience but is the source of sterility and pharisaism, the negation of evangeli-cal sanctity." Reverend L. Veuthey, O.F.M. Cony., ibid., II, 229. His Holiness, Plus XII, reaffirmed the warning of these authors: "It is clear, in the first place, that a sincere devo-tion to the religious life excludes all legalism, that is, the temptation to be bound by the letter of the law, without fully accepting its spirit. Such an attitude would be un-worthy of those who bear the tide of spouse of Christ and who wish to serve Him with a disinterested love." .4llocu-tion to Cloistered Contemplatives, REviEw l~oR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 71. 4- The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 Joseph F. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 11. Aren't there any cases in which a violation of the constitutions is not a sin? A religious does not sin when he has a reasonable mo-tive and no culpable effects~arise from not observing the constitutions. Authors .commonly give as an example of reasonable motive the break!ng of silence in order to con-sole a fellow religious in sadness. One author adds that such acts, though good and not sinful, will frequently less perfect than the observance of the constitutions. religious also does not sin when he is excused or dispensed from the observance of an article of the constitutions. The individual transgressions of articles of frequent applica-tion will often not be sinful because of the lack of ad-vertence, but the habitual will of persisting in or of correcting such violations will be sinful. Cf. Genicot-Sals-mans, Institutiones Theologiae Moralis, II, n. 796; Rega-tillo- Zalba, Tractatus de Statibus Particularibus, n. 212. 12. Does a religious obtain the merit of the virtue of obedience and of the vow of obedience by observing ,the constitutions? A religious who observes his constitutions because they are commanded obtains the merit of the special virtue obedience. If he observes them because of another good motive, he obtains the merit of the virtue under which this motive falls. Therefore, a religious obtains the merit of the vow of obedience, that is, of the virtue of religion, when the motive of his observance of the constitutions the vow. The presumption is that the motive of the sub-jection of a religious to any type of will of his superiors is his vow of obedience. Therefore, in all subjection, un-less he positively excludes this motive, he acquires the-merit of the vow of obedience. The Holy See has approved constitutions that contain an article of the following type: "The sister can always have the new bond or virtue of re-ligion as the motive or end of any act of obedience. In fact such a will must be presumed to be implicitly contained the act of religious profession. Accordingly, the special e~cacy of the vow of obedience, or merit of the virtue o~ religion, extends not only to actions obligatory on the sis-ter by a formal precept in virtue of the vow but also to the ordinary commands and to every action in conformity with the constitutions that the religious perform with motive o[ obedience." Constitutions of the Pious Society of the Daughters of St. Paul, n. 131, 4; Cf. Choupin, Nature et Obligations de l'~tat Religieux, 481. 13. What is my obligation as a superior to correct vio. lations of the constitutions? All superiors have a grave obligation in conscience to maintain observance of the constitutions. A superior may consequently sin mortally by the neglect of correction, for example, of frequent violations, even though not serious in themselves, that will cause a serious relaxation of re-ligious discipline, or of violations that gravely compromise the good name of the institute. The obligation admits lightness of matter, for example, the failure to take appro-priate action against isolated violations that create no danger of a serious relaxation of the religious life. The obligation of correction is often stated in the constitutions, for example, that superiors are bound to admonish and correct subjects who violate the constitutions, especially when the violations are frequent or serious. It is evident that the superior should be prudent. He will often appear not to see violations. Counsel, advice, direction, persuasion, correction, and reprimand are to be employed more frequently than the imposition of a pen-ance; and patience will sometimes accomplish more than an immediate correction, These counsels of prudence have always been given. Superiors have rarely failed to observe them, and one may be permitted the suspicion .that they have been observed too well. Harshness is not desirable in a superior; neither is softness, sloth, nor cowardice. The prime requisite of a superior is not that he is a man who will never bother anyone. Such a man is a bother only to the observant and t9 the sanctity of the religious life. Nice people are not always competent people. Niceness is in some cases a product of weakness. All realize that a su-perior must be prudent; but the norms of prudence vary according to the circumstances, for example, patience is considered an attribute of prudence, but what religious does not know of abuses whose existence is due to failure to correct the original violations? "Although your rules, by the wise decision of your founder, do not bind their subjects under sin, nevertheless superiors are bound to foster their observance; and they are not free from guilt if they permit a general neglect of regular discipline." Plus XII, Allocution to the Thirtieth General Congregation of the Society o[ Jesus, September 10, 1957. IV. Excuse, Permission, Dispensation 14. My superioress told me that ! was excused from hearing Mass because of sickness. I told this to a priest, and he replied that it was impossible for a superior who is not a cleric to have the power of dispensing from a law of the Church. Which of the two is right? Both. An excuse is not a dispensation (cf. Question 17). An excuse from the observance of a law means that the obligation simply ceases to exist for a subject of the law. No one may place an action that is intrinsically evil, for example, blasphemy, idolatry, denial of the faith, hatred ÷ ÷ ÷ Th~ Com~imtions VOLUME 1% 1960 337 ÷ ÷ ÷ 1o~'ph F. G~, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of God, and so for~hiThe obligation of other laws.gen-, erally ceases when an accidental but special difficulty, dis-i proportionate to the observance of the law, is connectedl with its observance, for example, it is impossible for a l person in a weak and dying condition to attend SundayI Mass; a teacher is excused from the law of fast if its ob-] servance causes quite a lessening of his efficiency.In an l excuse, the obligation of the law simply ceases to exist of[ itself; there is no need of a relaxing of the obligation, (dispensation) or of a declaration by an ecclesiastical au-~ thority or a superior. Since a judgment has to be made[ between the difficulty and the matter and importance of] the law, it would often b~ prudent to ~onsult a book or a competent person. This is the sense of c~nstitutions which state that a superioress may declare a subject excused from the observance of the constitutions and even of an ec-clesiastical law, for example, from Sunday Mass and ec-clesiastical fast. Cf. R~vmw fOR R~LIG~OUS, I (1942), 42-46. 15. What is the difference between a permission with regard to our constitutions and a dispensation from them? Some laws do not forbid an act absolutely but only when it is done without the permission of a competent superior. For example, canon 806 forbids bination without the per-mission of the local ordinary; canon 1108, §3, prohibits the solemn nuptial blessing during Advent and Lent without the same permission; the reading of forbidden books is forbidden by canon 1398, §1, without proper permission; and clerics and professed religious are forbidden, by canon 139, §3, to undertake the administration of property be-longing to lay persons without the permission of their own ordinary. The constitutions usually forbid the reception of visitors, visiting of externs, consultation of a doctor, going out of the house, sending out letters, and absence from common exercises without the permission of the superior. The permission makes the act licit, and the law is ob-served. Permission does not remove the obligation and free from the observance of the law, as is done in a dis-pensation. A permission.is granted for lesser reasons than a dispensation. It may also be presumed, unless formal and express permission is demanded by a particular law. A dispensation may not be presumed, because the obligation of a law ceases by a dispensation only through the actual exercise of the dispensing power. A dispensation from an ecclesiastical law can be granted only by one possessing the power of jurisdiction; a permission may be given by one who possesses only dominative power. A presumed dispensationis admitted in matters of lesser legal moment than those ordinarily contained in laws, as is true of many spiritual duties that the constitutions command absolutely, for example, visits to the Blessed Sacrament, meditation and its preparation, rosary, exa-men, and spiritual reading. The proportionate reason for a presumed dispensation in such cases will usually con-stitute an excuse from the'oblig~ik'ion (cf. Question '14). A dispensation may also be presumed from an obliga-tion imposed by dominative power, for example, by the ordinances of the general chapters of lay institutes and the ordinances and regulations of religious superiors. The re-lation in such cases is not that of a subject to a law but of his will to that of the superior. In a presumed dispensa-tion, subjection to the habitual will of the superior is pre-served, since a dispensation may not be presumed unless it is at least solidly probable that the superior would grant it, if asked. It is presupposed that there exists an impossi-bility or difficulty, according to the importance of the matter, of approaching the superior for his express dis-pensation. Cr. Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 448; Ledwolorz, Antonianum, 13 (1938), 35; R~VlEW FOR R~- r~c,ous, 1 (1942), 196--205. 16. 11 a dispensation can be given only in virtue o~ the power of jurisdiction, how can a lay religious superior of brothers, nuns, or sisters ever dispense? Jurisdiction is the authority to rule a perfect society; dominative power that of ruling an imperfect society. In virtue of canon 118, only clerics are capable of possessing the power of orders and of ecclestiastical jurisdiction. Therefore, no brother, nun, or sister superior possesses ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 'The obligation of an ecclesiastical law arises from the power of jurisdiction. Consequently, the power of juris-diction is necessary in one granting a dispensation, because this is the liberation from an obligation of ecclesiastical law. The power of jurisdiction is not necessary to dispense from the obligation imposed by dominative power, for example, from the ordinances of chapters in lay institutes and from the ordinances and regulations of religious su-periors. Since the obligation in such cases arises £rom dominative power, it can be made to cease by the same power. Both the common doctrine in the Church and the con-stitutions themselves give lay superiors the power of dis-pensing the Rule and constitutions. There is no doubt therefore that they can dispense and that this act has the same effect as if it were granted by one possessing jurisdic-tion. It may be gr~nted for reasons of no greater import and it equally frees from the obligation of the Rule or con-stitutions. The problem is the explanation of the nature of this act o£ lay superiors. There is no difficulty in clerical ÷ 4. ÷ Tlw Constitutiom VOLUME 1% 1960 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 340 institutes. In clerical exempt institutes, the superiors pos-sess jurisdiction according to the code and the particular constitutions (c. 501, §1); in clerical non-exempt institutes, the superiors can be given jurisdiction. For those who hold that the Rule and constitutions are not ecclesiastical laws but laws of the particular institute (Creusen, Revue des Communaut~s Religieuses, 2[1926], 173) or not laws at all (Ravisi, De Regulis et Constitu-tionibus Religiosorum, 109), the solution is easy. Domina-tive power suffices for a dispensation in either opinion, because jurisdiction is necessary only for a dispensation from an ecclesiastical law. The far more common opinion is that the Rule and con-stitutions are ecclesiastical laws. In clerical exempt insti-tutes, the chapters possess jurisdiction according to the norms of the code and of the constitutions (c. 501, §1). These chapters may therefore enact laws. In other insti-tutes, the Rule and constitutions become laws by the ap-probation or confirmation of the Holy See in the case of pontifical institutes, by that of the local ordinary in the case of diocesan institutes. In the former case, the Rule and constitutions are in fact treated as pontifical laws; in the latter, as diocesan laws (cf. Ravisi, ibid., 44-51). The nature of a dispensation of a lay superior is a real diffi-culty for this more common opinion. Various unsatisfactory theories have been proposed to solve this difficulty, for example, that the dispensation of a lay superior is a mere declaration that the subject is ex-cused; that his act is a relaxation or exemption, not a dispensation; that the laws from which he dispenses are implicitly conditional and therefore his act is a permis-sion, not a dispensation; or he is giving a private interpre-tation that the law does not extend to a particular case; or such a superior merely declares that a just reason exists but the dispensation is given by the Holy See in a pontifical institute, by the local ordinary in a diocesan institute (Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensationibus, n. 426; Mi-chiels, Normae Generales Iuris Canonici, II, 725-26; Fe-rreres- Mondria, Compendium Theologiae Moralis, II, n. 168). All of these theories are contrary to the clear wording of constitutions approved by the Holy See. These constantly grant lay superiors the power of dispensing and use the term "dispense," not to relax or exempt. Furthermore, what would be the distinction between a relaxation or exemption from an obligation in a particular case and a dispensation? These same constitutions also distinguish clearly, at least implicitly, between an excuse, an interpre-tation, and a dispensation; between absolute and condi-tional laws; and between a dispensation granted by a superior and one given by external authority. Therefore, it is certain that lay superiors have the power of dispensing from the Rule and constitutions, but we have no satisfactory explanation of the nature of this act in the supposition that the Rule and constitutions are ec-clesiastical laws. The source of the difficulty is that a dis-pensation from an ecclesiastical law demands the power of jurisdiction and these superiors possess only dominative power. 17. What is a dispensation? A dispensation is the liberation from the obligation of a law in a special case. It can be granted only by a compe-tent authority and only for a proportionate reason. The act of the competent authority flees from the obligation. The case is special because the law remains; a dispensa-tion is not the abrogation of a law. Since a dispensation is the authoritative liberation from the obligation of a law, it may be given only by the legislator, his successor or su-perior, or one to whom any of the preceding has granted such authority (c. 80). The reason or reasons should be pro-portionate to the gravity of the law in question. They evi-dently need not be as serious as those required for an ex-cuse, but they should at least be such as to make the observance of the law more than ordinarily difficult or onerous or such that they render the observance of the law obstructive of a greater good. A dispensation may he licitly asked or given in a doubt about the sufficiency of a reason (c. 84, §2) and, with at least safe probability, also in a doubt about the existence of a sufficient reason (cf. Mi-chiels, Norrnae Generales Iuris Canonici, II, 754). 18. When we request a dispensation from the Holy See, the Apostolic Delegate, or a local ordinary, are. we merely to request the dispensation or must we also give reasons? It is evident from the definition and explanation of a dispensation, given in the preceding answer, that a dis-pensation is granted not because it is requested but be-cause of the reasons for which it is requested. Any petition for any dispensation should also contain truthfully, ac-curately, clearly, and as briefly as possible all the reasons that actually exist for asking and granting the dispensa-tion. Canon 583 forbids a religious of simple vows of a con-gregation to give away his property during his lifetime. Only the Holy See can dispense from this law of the code. A petition for a dispensation is not to state merely that the religious wishes to give away his property. Explicitly this is merely another way of stating that the religious does not wish to observe the law. He may petition the dis-pensation and it may be granted only for sufficient tea- 4- 4- 4- The Constitutions Joseph ~. Gell¢~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS sons. Therefore, all relevant facts and his precise petition, should be stated, that is, the number of years he has beenl professed, the value of all the property he possesses, i whether he wishes' to give away all or part of it, and thel value of such a par.t. The reasons must then be given, for~ example, he wishes to give this determined sum or all his i property to his father and mother because they are in need, or to his institute" to help pay its large debts, or to assist in the erection of a new chapel, and so forth. If th~ , institute requests a dispensation from the canonical age of thirty-five years prescribed for the novice master (c. 559, §1), the relevant fact of the age of the religious for whom the dispensation is intended should be given. The reasons are then to be stated, for example, that he is the only competent or the most competent religious for this office. The failure to give the relevant facts, to state the petition accurately, and to include the reasons causes un-necessary work and delay in the chancery or on the part of one who is forwarding the petition. 19. Is a dispensation given without a sulT~cient reason merely illicit or is it also invalid? At least one sufficient reason, that is, at least probably sufficient or a probably existing sufficient reason (cf. Ques-tion 17), must for licelty be verified at the time the dis-pensation is granted, e~en when it is given by the legis-lator, his successor, or superior (c. 84). Otherwise, the one dispensing would unreasonably free a subject from an obligation whose observance would tend to the common good. A law or statute is enacted for the common good. A dispensation from an ecclesiastical law given by an inferior (not by the legislator, his successor, or superior) without such a sufficient reason is both illicit and invalid, because an inferior is not granted the power of dispensing except when this sufficient reason exists (c. 84, §I). Re-ligious superiors are inferiors in this matter, not legis-lators. ¯ The principles given above apply to ecclesiastical laws. According to the far more common opinion, the Rule and constitutions are ecclesiastical laws (cf. Question 16); and the same principle of invalidity would therefore apply to their dispensation. However, it is a solidly probable opin-ion that the Rule and constitutions are not ecclesiastical laws. A dispensation from them without a sufficient reason will always be illicit, from the argument given above; but it does not seem certain that we must apply the principle of invalidity, established for ecclesiastical laws, to enact-ments that are not certainly ecclesiastical laws. Therefore, it is safely probable that a dispensation from the Rule or constitutions without a sufficient reason is valid. Ravisi, II De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 116; Creu-sen, Revue des Communautds Religieuses, 2 (1926), 177. 20. What power of dispensing from the Rule and con-stitutions is possessed by lay religious superiors of broth-ers, nuns, and sisters? It is evident that no religious superior may dispense his subjects from the substance of the vows, for example, free him of the obligation of the vow of poverty or obedience. This would at least temporarily and morally put the sub-ject outside the religious state, for which the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are essential (cc. 487-488, 1 °). Nor may a superior dispense from a vow proper to the institute, unless such a faculty is expressly granted in the constitutions. Some of these vows are of such import as to exclude a dispensation; others are not. The general principle is that superiors possess only the power of dispensing that is expressly granted them by the constitutions. The common doctrine of authors and the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions ex-clude the power of dispensing in articles that concern the government and organization of the institute and the sub-stance of the vows. These are in fact the matters listed in Question 3 under legal articles, that is, on government, organization, formation, and religious profession. How-ever, the constitutions may grant authorit~y to dispense from some of these, as is generally done for merely pro-hibiting impediments to the noviceship prescribed by the particular law of the institute. Some of these are also not of such moment as to be excluded from the power of dis-pensing possessed by superiors, for example, the reports of various superiors and officials, entrance testimonials of particular law, the manner of beginning the noviceship prescribed by particular law, and the giving of a copy of the constitutions to each novice. Proper and efficient government demands some power of dispensing in superiors. Therefore, the common doc-trine of authors and the practice of the Holy See in ap-proving constitutions grant to all superiors the right of dis-pensing in merely disciplinary articles, temporarily, and at least in favor of individuals. This power is accordingly possessed by all religious superiors, even when it is not expressly stated in the constitutions. The constitutions may limit such a power. The merely disciplinary articles were stated in Question 3. The dispensation is to be granted for a limited time, but it may be renewed on its expiration. This power extends at least to all individuals of the institute who are subjects of the superior, that is, all attached to or present in his province or house. The con-stitutions or, more likely, the usage of a lay institute may ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 344 limit a superior's power of dispensing with regard to one, of his subjects who is temporarily outside his own province / or house and concerning one, otherwise not a subject, who l is temporarily residing in the p~ovince or house of the su-~ perior. Cf. Normae of 1901, nn. 266, 316; Statuta a Soro- I ribus Externis Monasteriorum Monialium Cuiusque Or-dinis Servanda, n. 127; Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum luris Dioecesani a S. Congregatione de Propaganda Fide Dependentiurn, nn. 162, 182. 21. When the common doctrine in the Church and the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions state that religious superiors may dispense from the merely disciplinary articles of the Rule and constitutions, does this faculty extend also to the merely disciplinary ordi-nances oy the general chapter? Yes. The ordinances of a chapter are understood as in-cluded in the Rule and constitutions in this matter Question 4). 22. Our constitutions state that the superior may dis-pense "'in particular cases." Is this power restricted to dispensing individual subjects or may entire houses, provinces, and the institute itself be dispensed in virtue of a taculty so worded? It is conceivable that these constitutions explicitly ex-clude any dispensation except that of individuals by stat-ing that the superior may dispense individual religious subject to him in particular cases. If so, only individuals may be dispensed, except in the case given in Question 23. The meaning of "in particular (or special) cases" is then merely that the dispensation may be given to individuals for as long as the sufficient reason of. the dispensation ex-ists. The constitutions do not explicitly restrict the dispens-ing power to individuals when they state that the su-perior may dispense the religious subject to them in par-ticular or special cases or simply that the superiors may dispense in particular or special cases. In virtue of such formulas, a superior may dispense both individuals and, with safe probability, also houses, provinces, or the in-stitute for a sufficiently general reason and for as long as this reason exists. The particular or special character of a dispensation is verified not only when it is given to an in-dividual but also when granted for a special, accidental, and transitory or temporary necessity to a house, province, or the institute. Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, nn. 467; 503; Cicognani-Staffa, Commentarium ad Librum Primum Codicis Iuris Canonici, II, 570; 599; Coronata, lnstitu-tiones Iuris Canonici, I, 432; Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 332-33. The reason is sufficiently general, even though not veri-fied in everyone, when it would he difficult or inopportune to restrict the dispensation to those in whom the reason is actually verified. Rodrigo, ibid., n. 487. 23. May a superior never dispense an entire commu-nity when the constitutions state expressly that his power of dispensing is restricted to individuals? A superior whose power of dispensing is limited to indi-viduals may by the one act dispense all individuals of a community if he knows that the reason for the dispensa-tion is verified in all o[ these individuals. He is then dis-pensing the individuals as such, not the community as such. Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n. 204; II, n. 554. Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensa-tionibus, n. 328. 24. Don't lay religious superiors of brothers, nuns, and sisters ever have the power of dispensing entire houses, provinces, and the entire institute? The more common practice of constitutions approved by the Holy See grants the superior general the faculty of dispensing individual religious, provinces, regions, and houses; that o[ the provincials and other intermediate su-periors, for example, o~ regions, extends to individuals and houses; but the faculty of local superiors is restricted to individuals. This more common practice may be followed when it is not certainly contrary to the constitutions, since it manifests what is commonly understood to be a su-perior's power o[ dispensing. Some constitutions of lay institutes demand that the su-perior general have the advice or consent o~ his council for a dispensation to a province or house. Some institutes permit the superior general to dispense the entire institute with the advice or consent of his council or for a definite occasion. A Jew institutes impose the same restrictions on a ,provincial for the dispensation of a house or of the prov-ince. Some constitutions grant a local superior the ~aculty of dispensing his entire community in an urgent case, or for a single occasion and a grave reason, or with the advice or consent of his council. 25. May a religious superior, whether general, provin- + cial, regional, or local, delegate to another, for example, + to his assistant, the yaculty of dispensing ~rom the Rule + and constitutions. A superior general, provincial, or local,, as also a master of novices, possesses the power of dispensing from the Rule and constitutions in virtue of the law of the consti-tutions. It is therefore ordinary power; and ordinary The Constitutions VOLUME 1% 1960 ~45 ÷ ÷ ÷ ~oseph F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 346 power may be delegated in whole or in part to another~ except in those matters in which law expressly exclude.~ delegation (c. 199, §I). It is not the practice of constitu:' tions, especially of lay institutes, to make any such exclu sion with regard to the faculty of dispensing. Therefore,i a superior general or provincial, the local superior of al canonically erected house, and the master of novices may certainly delegate the faculty of dispensing in whole or in~ part to another. The same principle is true of a regional superior or any similar intermediate superior when his authority ofl governing is ordinary, that is, granted by the constitutionsl themselves. However, the authority of a regional superior~ may be merely delegated by either the superior generall or provincial. In this case, the regional superior will pos-i sess a general delegated faculty of dispensing his subjects. General delegation may be subdelegated only for indi-vidual cases, that is, for one or many determined cases (c. 199, §3). Therefore, such a regional superior will be able to subdelegate his faculty of dispensing only for one or several determined cases. This is true also of the one at the head of a canonically filial house, because his author-ity is delegated either by a higher superior or by the local superior of the canonically erected house to which the filial house is attached. An acting superior or vicar succeeds to the full dispens-ing power of the superior; and the legitimate substitute, such as the assistant, of a superior who is absent or im-peded from fulfilling his duties has the dispensing power that is necessary for ordinary government. He is to use this faculty according to the expressed or presumed will of the superior; and its use may also be regulated by the law, or in lay institutes, more frequently by custom or usage. 26. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation ol brothers grant no faculty of dispensing to the novice master, but the novice masters have always exercised such a power with regard to the novices. How can this be ex-plained? The constitutions of lay institutes apparently never mention the power of the master of novices to dispense. Since the master may be said to be, in a wide sense, the superior of the novices and of the novitiate part of the house (c. 56i, §1), he has the same power of dispensing his subjects as a local superior possesses for his commu-nity, exclusive of the matters that appertain to the general discipline of the house. In virtue of the same canon, these matters are under the authority of the local superior. However, the local superior maydelegate the faculty to dispense also in these matters to the master of novices. Cf. Lar~aona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 24 (1943), 32. 27. May a religious superior dispense himself? Even if such a power is not expressly stated in the con-stitutions, any religious superior may dispense himself in matters in which he is competent to dispense others. The principle of canon 201, §~, is that voluntary jurisdiction, and from analogy of law the same is to be said of domina-tive power, may be exercised in one's own favor. The canon also states that this power may be excluded by law. The constitutions may therefore deprive a superior of the faculty of dispensing himself in some matters. Such an exclusion is not found in the constitutions of lay insti-tutes. It would not be prudent to deprive the superior en-tirely of the power of dispensing himself, 28. Our constitutions state that a local superior "'must consult her council before granting a dispensation to any-one subject to her." What do you think of this law? It is evidently too rigid and consequently an imprudent law. Dispensations should not be .granted for insufficient reasons. This of its nature tends to weaken religious disci-pline. On the other hand, there are many occasions when a dispensation is not only justified but a greater good will :be attained or a greater evil avoided by its concession. According to the literal.sense of the law quoted in the question, a local superior must consult her council before granting the slightest dispensation from a religious disci-pline, for example, to allow a subject to go to bed earlier or to rise later than the community. The same consulta-tion would be necessary for a dispensation from any pre-scription of the constitutions, for example, from choral recitation of the Little Office, rosary, examen, or spiritual reading. The law is an evidently imprudent restriction of the authority of a local superior and should be changed. Such an imprudent rigidity with regard to religious ob-servances has been noted and castigated by authors on renovation and adaptation. "Religious discipline is also frequen_t.ly enforced with an unreasonable rigidity. Re-ligious know that it is possible to be excused or dispensed from the laws of the Church, for example, from Sunday Mass or from fasting; but observances are often proposed as if they never admitted an excuse or dispensation." RE-VIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 14 (1955), 301. 29. May a local ordinary dispense from all articles of the constitutions that are proper to a diocesan congrega-tion? ~ Yes. The local ordinary is the legislator or ~he successor of the legislator of the laws proper to a diocesan congre-÷ ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 ~ose~h F. Gallen, $.L REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 348 gation. He therefore possesses the intrinsic right of dis-pensing from all such l~iws, whether they are merely pre-ceptive or invalidating (cc. 80; 492, §2). The Holy See may exclude some articles of the constitutions, because of their greater importance, from this dispensing power of the ordinary but thus far has not certainly done so. In a reply of February 12, 1935, the Code Commission stated that the local ordinary could dispense from the second year of noviceship in diocesan congregations when this was not required for the validity of profession. This reply does not certainly deny that the local ordinary may give the same dispensation when the second year is required for validity. The reply can be interpreted as merely an answer to the question proposed, that is, .when the second year is required only forliceity, without saying anything about a question that was not proposed, that is, when the second year is demanded for validity. The affirmative an-swer to this latter question is had in the clear wording of canon 80, stated above. Cf. Regatillo, Interpretatio et Iurisprudentia Codicis Iuris Canonici, 210; Larraona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 23 (1942), 15, and note 969. The laws proper to a pontifical congregation are treated in fact as pontifical laws (cf. Question 16). Therefore, for a dispensation from these same laws, except for those that fall under the dispensing power of religious superiors (cf. Question 20), a pontifical congregation must recur to the Holy See, unless the faculty of dispensing from the par-ticular article has been granted to the Apostolic Delegate or the local ordinary by the Code of Canon Law, his ha-bitual delegated faculties, or a particular indult (cf. Question 31). 30. May a local ordinary dispense from all the laws of the constitutions of diocesan lay congregations? No. It is evident that no authority within a lay insti-tute, whether pontifical or diocesan, may dispense from the laws or decrees of the Holy See. This faculty would de-mand a power of jurisdiction, and canon 118 states that only clerics are capable of acquiring ecclesiastical juris-diction. As was stated in Question 3, many of the articles of constitutions are laws of the universal Church, that is, laws or decrees enacted by the Holy See. The intrinsic right to dispense from a law appertains to the legislator, his successor, or superior; and these three alone may give the faculty of dispensing to another (c. 80). Therefore, all lay institutes, even if diocesan, must recur to the Holy See for dispensations and permissions with regard to such laws and decrees, unless the faculty to grant the particular dispensation or permission has been ~iven to the Anos- tolic Delegate or the local ordinary by the Code of Canon Law, his habitual delegated faculties, or a particular in-dult. The following are the cases of more frequent occur-rence for which a diocesan congregation also will have to recur to the Holy See: 1. Spending of the dowry (c. 549). 2. Impediments to the noviceship (c. 542). 3. For canonical novices to have a vacation outside the novitiate house (c. 555, §1, 3°). 4. To make the first temporary profession outside the novitiate house (c, 574, §1). 5. Whole or partial renunciation of personal patri-mony (c. 583, 1°). 6. Change of will (c. 583, 2°). 7. For a religious to reside outside any house of his institute for more than six months, except for study (c. 606, §2). 8. Alienation of property and contracting of debts (c. 534), except for the amount for which the Apos-tolic Delegate is competent. 9. Reappointment of a local superior for an immedi-ate third term in the same house (c. 505). 10. Age required for the master of novices (c. 559, §1). 31. What delegated faculties of the Apostolic Delegate and o~ the local ordinary concerning religious are of practical moment? The following habitual delegated faculties of the Apos-tolic Delegate and of the local ordinary concerning re-ligious are of practical utility: 1. Of the Apostolic Delegate a) To dispense from the dowry in orders and all con-gregations (c. 547, §4). b) To abbreviate or prolong the postulancy pre-scribed by canon law (c. 539, §1). c) To allow nuns in case of sickness or for other just and grave reasons to live outside the religious house for a time to be fixed at his prudent discre-tion (c. 601, §1). d) To permit the contracting of debts and the alien-ation of property provided the sum involved does not exceed $300,000 ( . 534). 2. Of the local ordinary a) To dispense for entrance into religion from il-legitimate birth and advanced age that is not over forty. b) To dispense from the dowry in orders and all con-gregations (c. 547, §4). c) To approve an ordinary confessor of religious women for a fourth and fifth three-year term, The Constitutions vol.IJ~i~ 3.% tg~,~, 849 + ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 350 d) e) with the c6nsent of the majority of the religious (cc: 524, §2; 526). To permit nuns to leave papal cloister for surgi-cal treatment.(c. 601, §1). In mission territories, to permit religious women to do the first washing of palls, corporals; and purificators and to allow religious men and women to practice medicine and surgery (cc. 1306, §2; 139, §2; 592). 32. May a local ordinary dispense exempt religious from the common laws of the Church? In virtue of canon 615, all religious orders are exempt from the jurisdiction of the local ordinaries, provided in the case of religious women that they are subject in fact to an order of men. Congregations, or religious institutes o~ simple vows, are not exempt unless they have obtained this privilege by a special indult from the Holy See (c. 618, §1). Exempt orders are subject to the jurisdiction of the local ordinary only in the matters in which the code declares them to be subject; congregations exempt by privilege have an exemption according'to the terms of the indult. Because exemption removes religious from ~he jurisdiction of the local ordinary, the question naturally arises whether or not the latter may use his jurisdictional power of dispensing in favor of exempt religious. Canon 620 states: "By an indult legitimately granted by the local ordinary dispensing {rom the obligation of the common law, that obligation ceases likewise for all religious living in the diocese, without prejudice to the vows and particular constitutions of their own institute." This canon is clearly explained by Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 640: "The privilege conceded here is that by which even exempt religious may avail themselves of dispensations granted by the.local ordinary, e. g., from the laws of fast and abstinence, though they are not per-mitted to do this, i. e, invoke the dispensation from the law of fast and abstinence, in a case in which they are bound to the observance involved by an additional obli-gation arising from a special vow or from their constitu-tions. But in the latter case, a violation of the obligation would offend, not against the law of the Church, the obli-gation of which has been removed by the local ordinary's dispensation, but only against the vow or constitutions." This canon confirms the common opinion that exempt religious may recur to the local ordinary, pastor, and other priests, whether the faculties possessed by any of these is from law or delegation, for dispensations from the com-mon laws of the Church. The reasons for this doctrine are that exemption is a privilege and therefore is not to be interpreted to the disadvantage of exempt religious; be- cause otherwise exempt religious would be in a less favor-able position 'in such matters than other religious and the faithful; and, finally, exemption does not demand that exempt religious be excluded.from the favorable jurisdic-tion of the local ordinary. Cf. Regatillo-Zalba, Theologiae Moralis Summa, I, n. 576; Michiels, Normae Generales furls Canonici, II, 735-36; Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensationibus, n. 434; Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 481; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 1288. 33. May a confessor or pastor dispense religiouS' frdm the observance of merely disciplinary articles of the Rule or constitutions? No. Neither the confessoi: nor the pastor possesses any faculty in virtue of his office to dispense from any article of the Rule or constitutions, nor are local ordinaries or religious superiors accustomed to delegate any such fac-ulty to confessors or pastors. For example, a pastor pos-sesses the ordinary faculty and confessors frequently the delegated faculty of dispensing from the fast and absti-nence prescribed by the Church (c. 1245, §1); but neither has the faculty of dispensing from fast or abstinence im-posed by the Rule or constitutions of a religious institute. Both, when a sufficient reason exists, may declare a re-ligious excused from the observance of an article of the Rule or constitutions (cf. Question I4). 34. Before last Lent, 1 talked over the matter of fasting with my local brother superior. He told me he thought I should ask the confessor for a dispensation. Before going to confession, this matter came up accidentally in a con. versation with another priest. We talked over the whole matter of fasting and my own case thoroughly, and he said that he could dispense me. He gave me the dispensa-tion during this conversation. I did not know that a dis° pensation could be given to an individual outside of con-fession, The only faculty of a confessor that is confined by its nature to the sacrament of penance, or what the Church also calls the internal sacramental forum, is that of ab-solving from sin. This faculty therefore may be exercised only in the internal sacramental forum. Confessors possess or may possess other jurisdictional faculties, for example, of dispensing from fast and absti-nence and from the observance of Sundays and holy days of obligation (c. 1245, §1); of commuting the pious works established for gaining indulgences (c. 935); of dispensing and commuting private non-reserved vows and promis-sory oaths (cc. 1313, 1°; 1314; 1320); of dispensing from irregularities (c. 990); of dispensing from matrimonial im-rpediments (cc. 1043--44-45); and of absolving, dispensing, + ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 351 and suspending canonical punishments. Such faculties may be exercised by a confessor outside of confession, in what the Church calls the internal non-sacramental forum, unless the law or authority that granted the faculty restricted it to the sacrament of penance, that is, to the internal sacramental forum. A confessor may dispense anyone in the internal non-sacramental forum if he could here and now hear the confession of this person. The con-cession to confessors of the faculty to dispense from fast and abstinence is frequently not restricted to the sacra-mental forum. This was true in the'case proposed, and the confessor thus granted the dispensation in the internal non-sacramental forum. Cf. Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensationibus, n. 419; Michiels, Normae Generales Juris Canonici, II, 728; Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 57; Regatillo-Zalba, Theologiae Moralis Summa, I, n. 574, 7°. 4- 4- 4- Joseph F. Gallen, S.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 35. May I, a confessor, use the jurisdictional faculties I possess in favor of myself, for example, by dispensing myself ~rom fast or abstinence? Judicial jurisdiction may not be used in one's own favor. The only judicial jurisdiction possessed by a con-lessor is that of absolving from sin (c. 870), which there-fore he may not use in his own favor (c. 201, §2). The other jurisdictional faculties that a confessor possesses or may possess fall under the heading of voluntary or non-judi-cial jurisdiction. These faculties may be used by a confes-sor in his own favor unless such a use is excluded by the nature of the matter, which is true of the remission of a canonical punishment or a dispensation from an irregu-larity; or the concession of the faculty restricts its exercise to the sacramental forum, which demands the distinction of persons of confessor and penitent (cf. cc. 1044; 2253, 1°; 2254; 2290); or, finally, the concession of the faculty expressly excluded its use in one's own favor (c. 201, §3). Local ordinaries, in delegating the faculty to dispense from fast and abstinence, quite frequently restrict it to the sacramental forum. They are not wont to exclude the exercise in one's own favor when they have not restricted the faculty to the sacramental forum. Therefore, in the former case, the faculty may not be exercised in one's own favor; in the latter, it may. Cf. Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 482; Michiels, Normae Geneiales ]uris Ca-nonici, II, 736-37; Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, 330-31. V. Change and Authentic Interpretation 36. A general revision of the constitutions of our con-gregation is being planned and discussed. A priest told me that a change in the constitutions had to be approved by the unanimous vote of all the members of the congre-gation. Is this correct? No. The reason for the statement is evidently canon 101, §1, 2°, which reads: "That which affects all singly must be approved by all." No one may' maintain that any change in the constitutions falls under this canon and demands the unanimous approval of all the members of the institute. It has been the evident law, practice, and teaching for centuries that changes in the constitutions appertain to the general Chapters of religious institutes, which are evidently not tl~e entire institute. The general chapters have either full auth6rity to make these changes, or partial, that is, with the confirmation of the Holy See, or at least the authority to request such changes from the Holy See or the local ordinaries. The practice of the Holy See does not consider a general revision of the constitu-tions as something that in itself requires the approval of all the members of an institute. This is clear from the fact that the Holy See has repeatedly approved such revisions with only the ordinary majority vote of the general chap-ter. Nor does a change in the constitutions demand a unani-mous vote of the general chapter. In by far the greater number of lay institutes, the approval of such a change requires only an absolute majority vote of the chapter. In about one-fourth of these institutes, such a change de-mands a two-thirds vote. The latter norm is found with greater frequency, but by no means always, in constitu-tions of more recent approval. If the constitutions contain no special norm for the approval of a change of the con-stitutions, an absolute majority vote of the general chap-ter is sufficient, because this is the general norm in con-stitutions for deciding matters in the chapter of affairs and a change of the constitutions as such does not fall under the norm of canon 101, §1, 2°. The Sacred Congregation of Religious at times ap-proves at least temporarily and experimentally a change in the constitutions recommended only by the superior general with the consent of his council, for example, the extension of the time of temporary profession from three to five years (cf. REvIEw VOR P~LXG~OUS, 18 [1959], 156-57). If approved only temporarily and experimentally, the matter must be discussed at the next general chapter. If the necessary majority vote is attained, it is again sub-mitted to the Sacred Congregation for definitive approval. The matters that demand the unanimous approval of all the mer~b.ers of the institute are commonly defined as those that d.irectly, primarily, and principally affect in-dividuals ~s such, that is, the privation of a personal right + The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 at. 4, ~oseph F. Gallen, S.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 354 or the imposition of a new personal obligation, of such a nature in either case that its exaction without the con-sent of the individuals would be an injustice. It is not easy to give the abstract definition of such matters, and all admit that it is even more difficult to determine in the concrete just what these matters are. Authors commonly list the following as failing under the necessity of the unanimous vote: a reformation of an institute, the impo-sition of a new observance, a change in the form or nature of an institute, union with another institute, a substantial change in an institute, and the change of the special pur-pose of an institute. The difficulty of determining what these matters are can be ~een from the opinion of Michiels (Principia Generalia de Personis in Ecclesia, 489), who argues that all the matters just listed except the last two (and his opinion applies equally to these) appertain in themselves directly and primarily to the institute and only indirectly and secondarily to the individuals as such, so that a decision for any of them requires only the pre-scribed majority vote, not a unanimous vote. It is evi-dent that the imposition, of any new observance whatever does not in itself demand a unanimous vote. The necessity of a unanimous vote is the exceptional norm in law. Therefore,.in any case in which its necessity is not proved with certainty, the prescribed majority vote of the general chapter suffices (cf. c. 19; Cappello, Summa luris Canonici, I, n. 197, 4°; Michiels, ibid.; Jone, Com-mentarium in Coclicem Iuris Canonici, I, 114). However, all authors recommend that any really probable case of this kind be referred to the Holy See, which in the pleni-tude of its power can for the common good impose indi-vidual obligations and deprive subjects of individual rights. The Holy See is accustomed in such cases to pro-vide suitable measures for the liberty of individuals, ~for example, in the resumption of solemn vows by a monas-tery of nuns, any nun in simple perpetual vows who does not wish to make the solemn profession may remain in simple vows but she is obliged by all the prescriptions of papal cloister; and in such matters as the union of insti-tutes or the change of. an order of nuns into a congrega-tion of sisters, the Holy See has added the clause that any religious who refuses to consent to the change may re-quest an indult of secularization or a ti:ansfer to another institute according to the norms of canon law. The practical course of action in any matter that even probably requires a unanimous vote of all the members is to present the question to the Holy See, with the vote for and against the measure End a statement also of the reasons for and against it. It should also be stated whether the opposition constitute a clamorous and hardened mi-nority. The Holy See will settle the question; but, even thbugh the measure is highly desirable, it may in pru-dence and for peace recommend a delay. The unanimous vote can clearly create a difficulty. Some measures that at least pr?bably require this 'vote are not only desirable but ~t times even necessary for the very existence of the institute. All who have experience with religious know that a unanimous vote is possible and that it sometimes occurs; they also know that it is very rare, especially in important matters. 37. Our pontifical congregation of sisters has Warded a general revision of our constitutions to the Hoiy See. Is this revision now in effect, that is, before the approval of the Holy See? In virtue of their approval by the Holy See, the consti-tutions of pontifical lay institutes are treated as if they were pontifical laws; those of diocesan congregations, ap-proved by the local ordinary, are treated in the same way as diocesan laws. Therefore, not the institute but the Holy See is the legislator for pontifical institutes and the local,ordinaries for the particular laws of the constitutions of diocesan congregations. Such institutes merely request that their constitutions or a change in them be approved by the Holy See or the ,local ordinaries. No authority within a lay institute, may change its constitutions, and local ordinaries may not change the constitutions, of pon-tifical institutes (c. 618, §2, 1°). The Holy See alone has the authority to change the constitutions of a pontifical institute, The same change in a diocesan congregation may not be made without the ,unanimous consent of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses 'the congregation has houses (c. 495, §2). The dissent of even one of these or-dinaries prevent.s the change from becoming effectiv$~ The congregation may recur to the Holy See in such a case. The ordinaries may' not change any of the things ap-proved by the Holy See in the erection of the diocesan c6ngregation, that is, the special purpose, title, particular works, and form and color of the habit. A change of any of these requires the approval of the Holy See. These mat. oters did not have tO be proposed to the Holy See for the erection of a diocesan congregation before July 16, 1906. Therefore, in congregations erected before this date, the local ordinaries may change such matters also (cf. Ravisi, De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 126, note 3). The answer to the question proposed should now be evident. Any change in the constitutions of lay institutes is effective only from the date on which its approval is granted by the Holy See or the local ordinaries. Before this date, the institute may not put the proposed change into effect. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Consiitution's VOLUME 19, 1960 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 356 38. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation of sisters state: "The Holy See alone may change and au-thentically interpret the constitutions . In case of real doubt about some particular point of the constitutions, the general chapter, as also the mother general with the advice of her council, may give a practical interpretation of the doubt; and the sisters are obliged to follow this in-terpretation." What is.the meaning of these two articles? An interpretation is an explanation of the true sense contained in a law. A law needs no interpretation when it is so clear that it excludes even subjective obscurities and doubts. An interpretation is frequently necessary, be-cause it is difficult for a human legislator to express his will with perfect clarity in a brief general statement. Ex-perience also proves that the obscurity of a law often in-creases proportionately with its length. The application of a brief general norm to various particular cases is also a frequent source of obscurities and doubts. An authentic interpretation is an authoritative or obligatory explana-tion of the sense of a law. It may therefore be given only by the legislator, his successor or superior, or in virtue of power delegated by any of these (c. ,17, §1). Since the constitutions of pontifical lay institutes are treated in fact as pontifical and those of diocesan congre-gations as diocesan laws, it follows that the authentic in-terpretation Of the former is reserved to the Holy See and of the latter to the local ordinary, if the diocesan congre-gation is confined to one diocese, and otherwise to the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses the congregation has houses (cc. 492, §2; 495, §2). It is clear that the Holy See also, as the superior of the local ordinaries, may authentically interpret the constitutions of diocesan congregations. The constitutions of lay insti-tutes usually affirm explicitly that an authentic interpre-tation is reserved to the legislator (cf. Normae of 1901, nn. 251; 265; Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum Iuris Dioecesani a S. Congregatione de Propaganda Fide Dependentium, n. 162). A private, non-authentic, or doctrinal interpretation is one given according to the principles of correct interpre-tation by those who lack the authority to enact an authen-tic interpretation. It is based on the legitimate principles of interpretation of canon law, of constitutions in general, and of the particular constitutions. A doctrinal interpreta-tion is a purely private opinion and possesses only the weight and value of the arguments on which it is founded. This is the nature of the opinion given by authors on canon law and constitutions. These can and often do differ in their interpretations. This diversity of opinion often disturbs lay religious superiors. They should follow the norm given by Creusen: "Superiors, however, may follow in their government the doctrinal interpretation given by those authors whose opinions carry weight. In this case the inferior who may have a different opinion must sub-mit himself to the superior, for it is the superior who has the right to choose among several opinions the one which seems to him to offer the best guarantees of truth" (Re-ligious Men and Women in Church Law, n. 273). The exclusion of an authentic interpretation does not prohibit superiors from giving a doctrinal interpretation of the constitutions. In a doubt about the sense of any matter of particular law of a lay :institute, the general chapter or the superior general, as in the second article quoted in the quegtion, may also determine what observance is to be followed. This is in fact an ordinance of the chapter or a regulation of the superior (cf. Van Hove, De Legibus, n. 243; Mi-chiels, Normae Generales Juris Canonici, I, 504, note 1; Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 380). In constitutions it is sometimes called a practical solution of the doubt. It is evident that each superior may authentically in-terpret his own regulations. A higher superior may do the same with regard to the regulations of a lower superior. A general chapter is the authentic interpreter of its own or-dinances and of those of previous chapters. A doctrinal interpretation by others is not excluded, and the superior general may give a practical solution of a doubt concern-ing the sense of these ordinances, as described above for the constitutions. The constitutions could give the su-perior general the faculty of authentically interpreting the ordinances of the general chapter. Such a concession is not contained in the constitutions of lay institutes, but this does not disprove its desirability. It is evident that only the Holy See may authentically interpret the laws of the code and its own decrees and instructions, whether these are contained in the constitutions or not. Cf. Ma-roto, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 1 (1920), 41-45; Ravisi, De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 96- I00. 39. Our constitutions say nothing whatever about a change in the constitutions. Some have stated explicitly and I think many others hold that our constitutions are immutable. Certainly no change has been made in them for many years. Do our constitutions consequently ex-clude any change? It is contrary to the nature of human law to exclude any change or abrogation. The common good, according to the varying circumstances of persons, places, and times can counsel or demand an abrogation, change, or the substi-tution of another law. Even the universal laws of the ÷ ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 .Joseph F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 358 Roman Pontiffs may be and have been changed, and we can certainly predicate no greater stability or perpetuity of religious constitutions. It is furthermore evident that the constant practice of the Holy See considers constitu-tions changeable and grants the authority to request a change to the general chapters of lay imtitutes. Finally, as stated in Question $6: "If the constitutions contain no special norm for the approval of a change of the constitu-tions, an absolute majority vote of the general chapter is sufficient, because this is the general norm in constitutions for deciding matters in the chapter of affairs and a change of the constitutions as such does not fall under the norm of canon 101, §1, 2°. . Superiors are not to think that they can preserve the identity of their institute intact if they never dare to change particular regulations. If they te-naciously adhere to these as if they were immutable laws, they will most certainly destroy the essential unity of their institute. A tree would certainly die if it did not change its blossoms or leaves . The fact that more ancient inSti-tutes are already senile is at least one of the reasons why we see new institutes constantly arising." Reverend R. Lombardi, S.J., Acta et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statibus Per[ectionis, I, 117. "A religious order or con-gregation that always rejects any change in its regulations for the sole reason that things were always done this way and accordingly refuses to face the new exigencies is con-demned to self-fossilization and sooner or later to disap-pear. The precise reason is that its particular manner of life will no longer be compatible with actual conditions. Other institutes more adapted to the actual circumstances of society will take its place. The most optimistic outlook for institutes that do not strive to adapt their methods of teaching and their life is that they will necessarily appear deficient in comparison to the age in which they live. This will inevitably produce in their members a state and a sense of disturbing and harmful inferiority, which will also curtail the efficacy of their apostolic efforts." Leoni, Aggiornamento o Processo di Adeguamento, 47-48. The balanced judgment that should guide an institute in this matter has been given by Pius XII: "It is only right that convents and orders bf cloistered nuns esteem, protect, and remain faithful to the distinctive spirit of their order. It would be unjust not to take account of this. But they should defend it without narrow-mindedness or rigidity, to say nothing of a certain obstinacy which opposes every legitimate development and resists every kind of change even though the common good requires it." Allocution to Cloistered Contemplatives, REWEW ~'OR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 136. 40. According to our constitutions, "a change in the constitutions may not be proposed to the Holy See until three successive general chapters have sanctioned the change." Is this restriction prudent? Evidently no. The necessity of the approval of three suc-cessive chapters would ordinarily demand an interval of eighteen years before a useful or even necessary change in the constitutions could be proposed to the Holy See; Such an interval is clearly an obstacle tO the common good of the institute and to efficient government. The changes in the constitutions that are frequently being made now, for example, to a postulancy of nine or ten months or a year and to temporary profession for five years, evidently can-not wait eighteen years for their inception. A useful or nec-essary change in the constitutions that is proposed now could even be antiquated in eighteen years. This restric-tive law is directly contrary to the principles of the Holy See on renovation and adaptation. The next general chap-ter should vote forits abrogation and send the petition im-mediately to the Holy See. "If superiors according to their rank refuse to see the changed circumstances of the time, there is danger that they may turn that which was living [their institute] into a carefully protected corpse, even though they believe that they have completely preserved their institute. They have killed it by a form of spiritual parricide. The greatest effort of superiors should be to act, as far as possible, in "the same way as the founder himself, if he were alive, would act. It is true that he taught his sons a rule composed by him under the direction of the spirit of God for their government; but in defining many things, even those of greater importance, in the interpreta-tion of the rule according to the circumstances, and in the selection of mihistries, he would undoubtedly avail him-self of a holy liberty. He would be guided by the .burning zeal that consumed him on earth, that made him a man of his own age, and led him to devote himself to the more pressing needs and to select the more suitable ministries within the limits of his vocation." Reverend R. Lombardi, S.J., Acta et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statibus Perfectionis, I, 119. "In the same spirit of profound intelli-gence of the rule, some communities no longer judge every proposal to change the constitutions as necessarily a sacri-lege." Reverend A. PM, O.P., ibid., II, 146. 41. According to an article of our :diocesan constitu. tiom, the constitutions may be neither authentically in-terpreted nor changed without the unanimous consent of the ordinaries ol the dioceses in which the congrega-tion has houses. Are these two the only matters in a dioc-esan congregation that demand the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries? 4" 4" + The Constitutions VOLUME "t91 '1960 359 ÷ ÷ ÷ $oseph F. Gal~en, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 360 Canon 495, §2, explicitly requires the unanimous con-sent of all the ordinaries for any change in the constitu-tions. Since the local ordinaries are the legislators for di-ocesan congregations and the ordinary of the motherhouse enjoys no pri~aaacy of jurisdiction, the authentic interpre-tation of the constitutions also certainly demands this same unanimous consent (c. 17, §1). The Code of Canon Law says nothing concerning the erection, union, modification of boundaries, or suppres-sion of provinces in diocesan congregations (c. 494, §1). In the introduction to the quinquennial report, the Holy See stated that the division of a diocesan congregation into provinces could scarcely be permitted and that such an institute, if special reasons existed for a division into prov-inces, should petition pontifical approval. Before the time of this report, a very small number of diocesan congrega-tions had been divided into provinces; and the report does not absolutely exclude the same division o~ other diocesan congregations. Canonical authors begin their treatment of this question by stating that the constitutions, if ex-traordinarily they contain anything on the matter, are to be observed. This is evidently true, but the mere observ-ance of the constitutions will most rarely be sufficient. Even when they mention the matter, the constitutions will practically never affirm anything but the religious superior (general chapter, superior general with the consent of his council, or both) competent for the preliminary judgment on the erection and related acts concerning provinces. The observance of the constitutions will be sufficient only when they state that such acts appertain to all the local ordi-naries affected or to the local ordinary of the motherhouse. In the latter case, the other ordinaries have delegated or consented to the delegation of their jurisdiction to the ordinary of the motherhouse. No authority within the in-stitute will ever be sufficient for the acts in question. A division into provinces is the erection of new moral per-sons; and the code does not give religious institutes the authority to erect religious moral persons. This is clear from the canons on the erection o~ religious houses (cc. 495, §1,497). It is the common and at least probable opin-ion of authors that the acts concerning provinces listed at the beginning of this paragraph demand for validity the consent of the one local ordinary, if such acts affect houses within only one diocese, or the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries concerned when the houses affected by these acts are in many dioceses. The best proof of this opinion is that the silence of the code on provinces in diocesan con-gregations should be supplied (c. 20), because of the argu-ment on moral persons given above, and the similar law to be applied is canon 495, §9. This may also be the argu- mentation of several authors who give no explicit reason for their doctrine. At least two authors apparently argue that any matter which affects houses.in several dioceses re-quires, in virtue of canon 495, §2, the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries o[ such dioceses. One or two authors demand the unanimous consent because the erection of provinces implies a change in the constitutions. This is true, but the two matters are distinct. Some authors demand also the consent of the ordinary of the motherhouse for all the acts listed above concerning provinces. They argue that his consent is afortiori neces-sary because canon 495, §1, requires it for the erection of the first house in another diocese. This doctrine also is probable. The erection of provinces does not necessarily imply the extension of the congregation into other dio-ceses, but something of the same reason is verified, that is, the judgment as to whether the congregation is capable of such a division and whether or not the division is expe-dient (cf. Larraona, Comrnentarium Pro Religiosis, 5 [1924], 262--63; Muzzarelli, De Congregationibus Iuris Di-oecesani, p. 92, note 15; nn. 101; 130). The. changes in the constitutions consequent upon the division into provinces will evidently demand the consent of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses the congregation has houses, in virtue of canon 495, §2. The other similar matters in a diocesan congregation that has houses in many dioceses are: the acceptance of the resignation and the deposition of the superior general; transfer of the permanent residence of the superior gen-eral; dispensation of a law that affects the entire congrega-tion, province, or houses in several dioceses, for example, of a law of the congregation that forbids postulation in the general or provincial chapter or of an impediment of the constitutions for the appointment of a provincial superior or provincial official; canonical visitation of the general and provincial houses, superiors, and officials as such and o[ the general and provincial government and administra-tion; consent for any investment or change of investment of general or provincial funds in congregations of women; the right of inquiring into the entire financial state of a generalate or provincialate of congregations of men or women; permission for the convocation of a general chap-ter for reasons other than general elections; and the con-firmation of the deposition o[ a general councilor. Some authors maintain that these and similar matters which affect an entire diocesan congregation, province, or houses in many dioceses appertain cumulatively to the jurisdiction of the ordinaries of all the dioceses concerned and demand their unanimous consent. Any one ordinary is competent in these matters only when he is exceptionally ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 191 1960 36! 4, ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 362 granted such authority by the code. The following are the arguments for this opinion. Canon 492, §2, according to these authors, states that a multidiocesan congregation remains subject, not to any one ordinary, but to all the ordinaries and thus to their cumulative jurisdiction. Canon 495, §2, requires the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries for a change in the constitutions. The reason for this prescription is that such a change affects general government. Therefore, the same norm is to be applied to all similar matters. The lack of a general principle in the code on these matters should be supplied (c. 20), and the similar law to be applied is canon 495, §2. The juris-diction of any one ordinary is necessarily confined to his own diocese and does not extend to the congregation, provinces, or houses in other dioceses. Any one ordinary acting on matters that affect houses or religious in another diocese would be infringing on the jurisdiction of the or-dinary of this diocese. The unilateral action of an ordi-nary in such a matter would endanger the unity of govern-ment of the congregation. The code and the practice of the Holy See are opposed to a primacy of jurisdiction in any one ordinary, especially in the ordinary of the mother-house. These arguments are evidently sufficient to con-stitute at least a probable' doctrine. The opinion of these authors should be followed in practice, since it is at least preferable in itself and has been accepted by the Sacred Congregation of Religious, as is clear from the introduc-tion to the quinquennial report for diocesan congrega-tions (cf. Muzzarelli, ibid., nn. 96-102). It can be maintained that this doctrine is not as evident from the sense of our present law as it appears to some of its followers. The code nowhere asserts the general prin-ciple of cumulative jurisdiction. Cumulative jurisdiction is stated only once and then on the specific matter of a change of the constitutions (c. 495, §2). The local ordinary of the place of the chapter presides in his own name, not by delegation from the other ordinaries, at the election of the mother general (c. 506, §4). This ordinary has the same right of confirming or rescinding her election (c. 506, §4) and of accepting or refusing a postulation for this office when the impediment is. of the particular law of the con-gregation (c, 181, §1). The local ordinary of the higher superior has the vigilance over the dowries, which are part of the general or provincial administration (cc. 549-550). In alienations and the contracting of debts and obligations below the sum that demands the permission of the Holy See, the literal and more obvious sense of canon 534, §1, is that such acts by a congregation or province, as opposed to a house, of diocesan sisters require the permission of the ordinary of the generalate or provincialate. The text of canon 512, §1, 2°, does not certainly exclude the right of the local ordinary to make a canonical visitation of a mul-tidiocesan generalate or provincialate as such, nor canon 533, §1, 1 °, the necessity of his consent for an investment or change of investment of general or provincial funds in a congregation of women, nor canon 535, §3, 1°, the right of inquiring into the administration of general and pro-vincial property. Only the local ordinary of the mother-house approves constitutions to be presented to the Holy See for pontifical approbation (Normae of 1921, n. 8, d.), although testimonial letters are required from the other ordinaries. The typical constitutions published for dioc-esan missionary congregations by the Sacred Congrega-tion of the Propagation of the Faith in 1940 contain no prescriptions based on cumulative jurisdiction. Finally, it can also be maintained that matters such as the convoca-tion of a general chapter and the deposition of a general councilor appertain of their nature to internal govern-ment. They therefore demand the permission or confirma-tion of a local ordinary and fall under cumulative juris-diction only when the intervention of the local ordinary is prescribed.by the particular constitutions. The same is true of the establishment and transfer of a novitiate, which is not too frequently explicitly mentioned by authors as appertaining to cumulative jurisdiction (cf. Larraona, ibid., 10 [1929], 376, note 25). The difficulties in the exercise of cumulative jurisdic-tion are evident immediately, for example, it is most la-borious, cumbersome, and inefficient to be compelled to secure the unanimous consent of nine, ten, or fifteen or more ordinaries for any change in the Constitutions. The obvious remedy is to petition pontifical approval, which is practically always long overdue in these multidiocesan congregations (cf. Larraona, ibid,, 5 [1924], 145, note 95; Muzzarelli, ibid., 94, and notes 27-28). Until this approba-tion is secured, the efficient remedy is the delegation jurisdiction, preferably in the constitutions, to the local ordinary of the motherhouse for matters that fall under cumulative jurisdiction. Extraordinarily serious m~itters may be excepted from this delegation. An ordinary who receives into his diocese a congregation whose constitu-tions give the competence in such matters to the ordinary of the motherhouse implicitly consents to this delegation. In a case of urgent necessity, delegation may be presumed as far as is really imperative to take care of the necessity. Tacit or implicit delegation is also not excluded to the ex-tent that the actions of the other ordinaries certainly mani-fest a delegation (cf. Larraona, ibid., 14 [1933], 418-19, note 784; Muzzarelli, ibid., n. 102). 4. 4. 4. The onstitutiom VOLUME 1% 1960 36~ VI. Knowledge, Practice, and Public Reading of De-crees of the Holy See. Public Reading and ihe Giving ol a Copy of the Constitutions to Each Novice ÷ ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 364 42. Am I, a local superior, obliged to put into execu-tion immediately any new document of the Holy See that affects religious? All superiors in the proper sense of this term, whether general, provincial, or local, are commanded by canon 509, §l, to promote among their subjects the knowledge and practice of the decrees of the Holy See that concern religious. A question of the quinquennial report to the Holy See reads: "How do superiors see to it that the de-crees of the Holy See which concern religious be known and observed by their own subjects?" Decrees of the Holy See include the canons of the code and the interpretations, instructions, and decrees promulgated by the Holy See after the code. The decrees that concern religious are not merely the documents specifically or exclusively on the religious life but all documents of the Holy See that apply either solely or also to religious. The matter of these docu-ments may therefore be on things common to all the faith-ful, for example, the sacraments, liturgy, and indulgences, or on the apostolate of the religious as priests, educators, catechists, nurses, social workers, and missionaries. Canonical Legislation Concerning Religious, published by the Vatican Press, is an authorized but unofficial trans-lation of the canons on religious, with the exception of those that affect only clerical religious. It is an evident fact of experience that lay religious especially are not con-versant with the mere prescriptions of canon law. One consequence is that they fail to distinguish between the articles of their constitutions that are canons and those that are laws proper to the particular institute. The read-ing in the refectory once a year of Canonical Legisla-tion Concerning Religious would help considerably to eliminate this common and harmful ignorance. The Canon Law Digest, Bouscaren-O'Connor, four volumes and annual supplements, published by Bruce, Milwaukee, is a collection of the documents promulgated by the Holy See after the Code of Canon Law. It therefore contains the subsequent interpretations, instructions, and decrees of the Holy See that affect religious. Current documents are to be learned from a periodical such as the REvIEw fOR RELIGIOUS, in which they are also explained. A regular section of the REwEw is devoted to a survey of Roman documents. A local lay superior should inform his com-munity of such a document as soon as he is in possession of the accurate official text in the vernacular. The ordi- nary way is by posting the text or having it read to the community, usually in the refectory, Practically all authors state the evident principle that a local superior is obliged to put a document of the Holy See into effect, without waitifig to be informed of it by either higher superiors or a diocesan chancery. However, in practice a local lay superior will rarely be in possession o[ an accurate translation and much less of the certain sense of a document before he is informed of it by higher superiors. A document should not be put into execution before its text and sense are known with accuracy and cer-tainty. Higher superiors must strive to secure an accurate translation and a certain explanation as soon as possible. The higher superior should then inform all the religious subject to him of the document by a circular letter. From custom or previous consultation, it will be known whether the superior general or provincial is to issue this letter. It should be an understood duty of a general or provincial secretary that he is to inform the respective superior and council of any new document of the Holy See and of any new diocesan or civil enactments that affect the institute or its members. Authors also point out that a document which requires the coordinated activity of several supe-riors cannot be put into execution until such activity is possible. All superiors must enforce any legislation of the Holy See. Higher superiors should investigate its ob-servance at the time of the canonical visitation, and an account of the same observance should be included in the reports of local to higher superiors, 43. Our constitutions contain no prescription on the public reading of the constitutions. Are we obliged by canon law to have them read publicly? Local superiors are obliged by canon 509, §2, 1 °, to have the constitutions of their institute read publicly in the community at least once a year on the days a~nd in the place determined by the constitutions, custom, usage, or the directives of higher superiors. The usual place is the refectory. There are many constitutions that say nothing about this matter. These institutes must observe at least the frequency of reading imposed by the code. The more usual frequency in constitutions is twice or at least twice a year, but in many the norm is once or at least once a year. The first part of the constitutions of lay institutes, exclusive of such chapters as the care of the sick and de-parture and dismissal, contain the duties common to all. In a few institutes, this part is read more frequently, two or four times a year or every month. A few institutes pos-sess an ascetical or spiritual summary of their constitutions and read this instead of the full constitutions. This prac-tice may be followed, because such a summary pertains + The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960~ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 366 more immediately to the religious perfection of all and thus fulfills the purpose of the law. It would be preferable to have the full constitutions read at least once a year. All religious should be familiar also with the canonical or legal articles of their constitutions. An article is often found that commands or exhorts the religious to read the constitutions frequently in private, to meditate on them, and to make their observance a subject of the particular examen. Greater attention is obviously to he given to the spiritual articles and to the chapters containing the com-mon obligations. These are evidently laudable and profit-able practices for all religious, even when not commanded nor counselled by the particular constitutions. 44. The constitutions of our pontifural congregation oy sisters have been conlormed to the Code of Canon Law. Three documents antedating the code are in the back of the constitutions. Some older sisters have com-plained that these documents are no longer read publicly once a year. This practice was discontinued some years ago. Are we still obliged to have these documents read publicly once a year? No, and these documents should not be in your consti-tutions. Canon 509, §2, 1°, commands local superiors to have read publicly in their communities, with the fre-quency and on the days determined by the Holy See, any of its documents, that the Holy See will order to be read publicly. The canon is in the future tense, that is, decrees that the Holy See has ordered to be read after the promul-gation of the Code of Canon Law. Thus far there has been no order to read any document publicly in lay institutes. Only one such document, the instruction of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, December 1, !931, on the cleri-cal and religious training of members who are called to the priesthood and on the test to be made before the re-ception of orders, has been ordered to be read publicly at the beginning of each year but only to religious clerics. Documents antedating the code are no longer to be in-cluded in the constitutions nor read publicly. Several lay institutes are apparently unaware of this fact and continue to do both. The decrees antecedent to the code that the questioner has in mind are on manifestation of conscience, confessors, and frequent and daily Communion, that .is, Quemadmodum, of the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars, December 17, 1890; Cum de sacramentali. bus, of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, February 3, 1913; and Sacra Tridentina Synodus, of the Sacred Con-gregation of the Council, December 20, 1905, which was in-cluded in some constitutions. The same principle is to be followed with regard to all other documents antedating the code. 45. We are a diocesan lay congregation. There is noth-ing in our constitutions about giving a colby of the con-stitutions to each novice. I heard that we were obliged to do so. Is this correct? The universal practice of the Sacred Congregations of Religious and of the Propagation of the Faith in approv-ing constitutions commands that a complete copy of the constitutions be given to each novice from the beginning of the noviceship. This prescription is not a canon and is strictly obligatory only when included in the particular constitutions. Even when not found in the constitutions, it is at least the preferable practice, since it clearly mani-fests the mind of the Holy See and in itself is most useful, if not necessary, for the study of the constitutions. The ex-pressed purpose of the practice is that the novice may be able to read and meditate on the constitutions and more readily follow the instructions of the master. Each novice and professed may be given only an ascetical summary, but a copy of the complete constitutions should be in the library or in some other readily accessible place for con-sultation. It is the better practice to give a complete copy of the constitutions to all professed and novices. 4. 4. The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 LEO P. ROCK, S.J. Is Christian Spirituality Self-Centered?' Leo P. Rock, S.J. is cur-rently