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

Issue 69.1 of the Review for Religious, 2010. ; The ApostolicI Visitation Adapting the Ignatia~i Exercises From Ygung and Old " Prac~tic'al Wisdom QUARTERLY 69.1 2010 Review for Religious fosters dialogue: with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue ~with one another about the holiness we try to live according to chariSms of Catholic religious life. AS Pope Paul V! said, our way of being church is _ . today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2010 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library" clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Ehgene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 69.1 2010 contents prisms 4 Prisms 6 16 the apostolic visitation The Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious: A Visitator's Perspective M. Clare Millea ASCJ explains the purpose and process of the apostolic visitation of the U.S. institutes of women religious and its intended impetus to apostolic witness and vitality. The Apostolic Visitation: An Invitation to Intercultural Dialogue Kathleen Hughes RSCJidescribes the intercultural dialogue that provides the best framework for the apostolic visitation of United States women religious, a useful habit of heart, and some possible hope-filled outcomes. 31 47 adapting the ignatian exercises Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say J. Thomas Hamel SJ examines the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius to point out the subtle but consistent ways in which retreatants become authors of the Exercises, putting their own experience into words. Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation Louis M. Savary expands the reading of St. Ignatius's Call of the King meditation through the incorporation of ideas from the Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Review for Religious 63 71 from young and old ~1 Gleanings from My First Ten Years Ann Marie Paul SCC celebrates her profession of perpetual vows after living religious life for ten years by sharing eight pieces of wisdom she has learned. Monasteries of Meteora Mary Frances Coady gives her visual and spiritual impressions of ancient traditions kept by Eastern Christian monastics on a rocky peninsula of Greece. 77 practical wisdom ~ Kindness, the Everyday Virtue " James H. Kroeger MM delves into kindness's depth of meaning and inexhaustible potential for increasing goodness anywhere. 90 Ten Ideas on Priesthood George Olivera OFMCap offers ways to consider our Christian priesthood that may be helpful to priests and for those who pray for them and who enjoy their ministry. 97 102 departments ~ Scripture Scope: Praying the Psalms as Songs of Praise Book Reviews 69.1 2010 prisms T Apostolic Visitation of Women Religious in the United States has elic-ited a lot of speculation about its purpose and intended outcome and roused various emotional responses from religious and laity alike. Some speculation allows for an honest effort on the part of the Vatican offices to eval-uate the Vatican II-inspired renewal efforts of U.S. women religious, their discerned change in choices of ministry or ways of ministering, and the reality of their meager vocation recruit-ment. Most people, even among the critics, acknowledge that U.S. women religious took seriously the renewal call issued by Vatican II and responded more wholeheartedly than the men religious and the rest of the U.S. church. Realizing that certain ministries no longer required the massive effort of sheer numbers, women religious followed the church's lead and their own original charisms by seeking to serve those marginalized in our current society makeup--the poor, the handicapped, women in dire straits--and by advocating for justice in many spheres. While many more needy people were being served, women religious often lost the visibility that accompanied their corpo-rate mission in schools and hospitals. Among a Review for Religious number of factors in American family life and culture, vocational recruitment suffered from the positive secu-lar possibilities of the feminist equality movement and from the continued limits imposed on women's roles and leadership in the church. There is no doubt that the U.S. church is as strong as it is because of the work and witness of women religious through the 19th and 20th centuries. Many are the veri-fied accounts of bishops and local pastors using and mis-using the work of religious women in their own chosen endeavors. The generous sacrifices of women religious in the U.S. church are documented and unforgettable. What now needs to be honored in the current, often still hidden and unacknowledged, ministry of women religious is their being the church's arms reaching out to a world-in-need. The witness of their apostolic lives cannot now be measured by institutions, corporate devotional emphases, or monastic garb. Apostolic reli-gious life cannot be well evaluated by monastic criteria, which seemingly inspire the current study. The theology of religious life has never adequately explained the breadth of religious-life development because it has retained monasticism as its norm. Church leadership has consistently found apostolic religious life to be second-class and deficient as measured against the monastic ideal. Perhaps the Vatican s~dy will be the occasion for a breakthrough in the understanding and acceptance of the breadth of apostolic religious life in the church of the 21st century. U.S. women religious will have offered the worldwide church a most precious gift of wisdom and insight into the true living of the Spirit-given charism of active religious life. David L. Fleming SJ 69.1 2010 the . a, postol c Visitation M. CLARE MILLEA The Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious: A Visitator's Perspective How many times in our lives, while living through a particularly challenging situation, we reflect on earlier situations in which we felt stretched beyond our own limited resources and abilities. Unable to do anything but rely upon God in surrender and trust, we later realize that not only did the Lord sustain us beyond our imagining, but those very expe-riences taught us the relational and practical skills we would need in far more challenging circumstances to come. I have reflected often during the past year about how many of my personal experiences have shaped and honed the gifts I hope to bring to the Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious in the United States. M. Clare Millea ASCJ is the superior general of the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Her U.S. address is Mt. Sacred Heart; 295 Benham Street; Hamden, Connecticut 06514. Review for Religious During my early years in religious life, I learned to see beyond external limitations--such as those of the mentally challenged children and adults I lived with and served--and was able to truly respect and cherish, as they do, the inner beauty of each unique person. Much later, as the newly elected superior general of the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and before beginning dialogue or canonical visitation with each of my more than 1200 sisters, I made a whirlwind tour of the communities in the fourteen nations in which my sisters are missioned. I was welcomed into every faith community by lively music, colorful dance, lovely handmade gifts, and much jovial hugging. At one point, exhausted by travel, extreme changes of climate and cul-ture, and the strain of communicating in various lan-guages, I tearfully confided to a priest my difficulty in responding with enthusiasm to these endless outpour-ings of love. Father gently explained to me that his peo-ple needed to use exuberant gestures to express their joy and gratitude for visible signs of God's presence so that they would not succumb to the weight of their daily struggles for survival. That simple explanation was a truly graced moment for me, a key to entering into the world of those faith-filled people and many others whom I would later come to know. Moments such as these throughout my many years of congregational service have intensified in me the desire to synchronize the beating of my .heart with the heart of the other person, to understand, accept, and lovingly embrace her in her uniqueness. International living and travel have strengthened in me the liberating conviction that "my way" is not the only valid way or necessarily the best way to be or to do. While I still struggle at times to succinctly articulate my congregation's unique 69.1 2010 Millea ¯ Tbe Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious charism of witnessing that God loves each person with the human and divine love of Jesus, I am continually awed to sense the charism coursing through the veins of every Apostle of the Heart of Jesus throughout the world. I feel constantly renewed and challenged by my sisters to authentic religious living while at the same time I try to discover with them how we can grow in personal holiness, effective gospel witness, and fruitful ministry in communion with the church. My recent appointment as apostolic visitator to the institutes of women religious in the United States, the first instance of a woman religious being delegated with apostolic authority to carry out such a service to the church, seems ovei'whelming at times. While my affir-mative response to this mandate from the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL) requires considerable per-sonal sacrifice, I have embraced it as a joyful expression of that unconditional assent to the divine will that I freely offered to God, to the church, and to my supe-riors on the day of my religious profession. Personally and through the religious who assist me in carrying it out, I sincerely endeavor to encounter with holy respect the members of each of the religious institutes involved in the apostolic visitation. The Church's Pastoral Concern for Religious Life In the apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata, Pope John Paul II clearly affirmed that consecrated life, with its variety of charisms and institutions, is a treasure which has its origin in the example and teachings of Jesus Christ. It is a gift of God the Father to the church through the Holy Spirit, a precious and necessary gift for the present and future of the People of God, and an Review for Religious intimate part of the church's life, holiness, and mission.1 Women and men freely choose to live in institutes which are canonically erected by the competent authority of the church. Through the profession of ~ ,~ vows or other sacred bonds, according to the institute's proper law, they profess the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience and, through the charity ~ to which the coun-sels lead, are joined in a special way to ~ the church.2 On her - ~ part, the church has the duty of clarifying the identity, the vocation, and the particular mission of religious institutes and promoting their ecclesial communion? The apostolic visitation of institutes of women religious in the United States was promulgated with the express approval of Pope Benedict XVI.4 In a recent address to the members of the council for rela-tions between CICLSAL and the men's and women's International Unions of Superiors General, the Holy Father noted that religious communities are not exempt from the increasing difficulty encountered in proclaim-ing and witnessing to the gospel in our modern global-ized society. While acknowledging the difficult crisis that has affected many congregations by reason of the aging of members, a more or less pronounced decrease in the number of vocations, and a certain "spiritual and charismatic weariness," he indicated that the Holy Spirit The Church has the duty of clari~ing the identity, the vocation, and the particular mission of religious institutes an~d promoting their e~clesial communioh. 69.1 2010 Millea ¯ The Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious continues to inspire a new commitment to fidelity in long-established institutes and in new forms of religious consecration as well. He pointed out that authentic actualization of the founders' charism has resulted in a promising new ascetic, apostolic, and missionary impe-tus for many congregations.5 The current apostolic visitation can rightfully be seen as a pastoral desire of the Apostolic See to journey with religious congregations as they respond to Pope Benedict's renewed invitation to "start afresh from Christ.''6 In open and honest dialogue with the univer-sal church, the visitation is a means for congregations to evaluate their present reality with courage and truth, to rediscover their founding charism, and to live it in a more authentic manner appropriate for the present time. In particular, it offer~ major superiors and their sisters a privileged opportunity to present to the Apostolic See their congregation's unique charismatic identity, as well as their communal and ministerial expression of religious life. It likewise affords the Apostolic See a way to listen to the joys, accomplishments, hopes, and concerns of the sisters and, together with the religious themselves, to seek strategies for enhancing the vitality of the individual institutes. In order to attain beneficial results, the dialogue with the Apostolic See must begin with an honest self-evaluation of the congregation's lived fidelity to its internal norms and to universal church law. The grace of the apostolic visitation can only occur in a climate of prayer, docility, open dialogue, and collaboration, with a sincere desire on the members' part to examine the congregation's strengths and weaknesses and to effect changes which would enhance the expression of its charism and ecclesial identity. Review for Religious Phases of the Apostolic Visitation The apostolic visitation is being carried out in four phases. In Phase 1, which lasted from April through July 2009, more than 75 percent of the superiors general whose institutes are included in the visitation responded to the invitation of Cardinal Franc Rodd, prefect of CICLSAL, to enter into personal dialogue with the visitator. Attentive and respectful listening to the hopes and dreams of those wonderful congregational leaders deepened my esteem for the women religious who courageously and faith-fully witness to their foundresses' and founders' spiritual patrimony and spend themselves in generous service to the church. The major superiors' love for and pride in their sisters were clearly evident as they shared their collective stoW and vision. These interviews and letters helped me formulate more precisely the objectives and procedures of the visitation. In July 2009 the Instrumenturn laboris7 or working document for the apostolic visitation was released, out-lining its nature, purpose, and procedures. Major supe-riors were encouraged to use the reflection questions contained in the working document to engage their sisters in a. process of self-evaluation regarding their congregation's unique identity, their present experience of community life, their mission and ministry, and their hopes and concerns for the future. During Phase 2 of the apostolic visitation, major superiors were asked to complete a questionnaire regard-ing fundamental aspects of their congregation's identity, present lifestyle, and future projections. The questions were similar in content to those already suggested for community reflection in the Instrumenturn laboris and were based on the model of religious life proposed in post-Vatican Council II documents on religious life8 69.1 2010 Millea ¯ The Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious and the Code of Canon Law. The questionnaire was composed of three sections. Part A requested statistical data about the congregation itself, the demographics of its members, living arrangements, care for elderly and infirm members, and ministerial presence. Its results have been collected by the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA), which will prepare an aggregate report of the findings for all reporting institutes, respect-ing the ahonymity of the individual congregations. The questions in Part B of the questionnaire offered the major superiors the opportunity to share with the Apostolic See the unique reality of their congrega-tion, They were designed to permit the major superi-ors to express each congregation's unique way of living the evangelical counsels, in accord with their founding charism and their own fundamental documents, approved by the church. The questions also sought basic informa-tion regarding governance, vocation promotion and for-marion policies, the spiritual and common life, mission and ministry, and financial administration. In addition, major superiors were invited to offer further explanations or comments to express their reality more completely. In Part C of the questionnaire, major superiors were asked to submit basic and supplementary congregational documents, such as constitutions, ancillary norms, for-marion plans, and chapter decisions. A complete copy of the questionnaire is available on the Apostolic Visitation website.9 The canonical model of religious life which under-lies the questions does not fully correspond to the lived reality of certain institutes. The questionnaire extended an invitation to those communities which appear to be evolving into a new form of consecrated life to describe their emerging expression of vowed living.1° Honest and Review for Religious respectful conversation between the institute and the Apostolic See could predictably lead to greater clarity of purpose and identity. During Phase 2 the apostolic visitator also extended an invitation to bishops and individual members of reli-gious communi-ties to share their observations. Input from any persons whose lives have been affected by women religious is also welcomed. All such contributions are assured confi-dentiality. A core team of religious who are aiding the visitator is currently evaluating the data received in preparation for the subsequent phases of the apostolic visitation. The third phase will begin in the spring of 2010 with on-site visits to a representative sample of institutes con-ducted by teams of religious visitors who will act indi-vidually and collectively in the name of the Apostolic See. The visitors were chosen from among the many fine religious nominated by superiors general and others and represent a variety of congregations and areas of exper-tise. Before conducting the on-site visits, all potential visitors will have participated in an orientation workshop during which they will pronounce the public profession of faith and the oath of fidelity to the Apostolic See that are made by those assuming offices to be exercised in the church's name2~ This profession carries with it a special grace which will strengthen the visitors in their delicate i~c: ,Adore~,team of religious who are ~aiding the visitator is currently ,,evaluating the data received in ~:preparation for the subsequent phases of the apostolic visitation. 69.1 2010 Millea ¯ The Apostolic Visitation of Institutes of Women Religious task. It will assist them to faithfully carry out their role in communion with the sound teachings and practice of the Catholic Church and not according to their own private judgment or subjective ideology.'2 The on-site visitors will engage in dialogue primarily with the members of leadership teams and a representa-tive group of the sisters, eliciting their vision of the joys, challenges, and obstacles the religious face in seeking to live authentically their charismatic identity. The details of the on-site visit will be arranged with the congrega-tions to be visited in such a way as to afford the visitors a broad and objective picture of the life and mission of the congregation and its impact on the local church. The visitation team will formulate a report for the apostolic visitator in which they will seek to articulate the accom-plishments, the key strengths, and the challenges of the institute as revealed in their dialogue and will include any recommendations which they consider appropriate. In Phase 4 of the visitation, drawing from the data gathered in the previous phases, the apostolic visitator will prepare for CICLSAL a summary report of each of the participating congregations, whether or not they will have received an on-site visit. Each of the congrega-tions will receive feedback for the purpose of promoting their charismatic identity and apostolic vitality in ongo-ing dialogue with the local and universal church. There is much good news to tell about the history and present reality of religious life in the United States. There are also great challenges to be faced so that reli-gious may continue to offer selfless service to the church and to the people who long for our unique witness to Christ through our lives, works, and words. May the fervent prayer of the church sustain women religious on the path of ongoing conversion and renewal that they Review for Religious may be a more vibrant presence and effective instrument of evangelization into the future. As did Pope John Paul in the conclusion to VTta consecrata, we entrust all reli-gious to the Virgin of the Visitation, that the church may always be gifted with generous women who, as lov-ing consecrated persons, will continue to bring Jesus to the poor, the hungry, those without hope, the little ones, and all who seek Jesus with a sincere heart.13 Notes ~ See John Paul II, Vita consecrata, §§1 & 3. 2 See Code of Canon Law, c. 573, §2. 3 See Vita consecrata, §4. 4 Decree, Prot. N. 16905/2008, at . 5 Benedict XVI, Address to Members of the Council for Relations between the CICLSAL and the USG and IUSG, 2/18/2008, at . 6 Ibid. See also CICLSAL, instruction Starting Afresh front Christ (2002). 7 To obtain a complete text of the Instrumentum laboris, see . 8 See especially John Paul II, Vita consecrata (1996); CICLSAL, Starting Afresh from Christ (2002); CICLSAL, The Service of Authority and Obedience (2008). 9 See and . ~0 See Questionnaire, Part B, Section 1, E: "Is your institute mov-ing toward a new form of religious life? If so, how is this new form specifically related to the church's and your institute's understanding of religious life?" ~' See ; Origins 28 (1998): 163-164. 12 See Lumen gentium, §25. ~3 See I/ita consecrata, §I 12. 69.1 2010 KATHLEEN HUGHES The Apostolic Visitation: An Invitation to Intercultural Dialogue EOtxrar owrodmineanry r etliimgieosu.s in the United States, these are In February 2009 Cardinal Franc Rod~, prefect of the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL), stunned American women religious by announcing "an Apostolic Visitation of the Generalates, Provincialates, and Centers of Initial Formation of the Principal Religious Institutes of Women in the United States of America." The pur-pose of the visitation is, according to Cardinal Rod4, "to look into the quality of the life of apostolic congre-gations of women religious in the United States.''1 Kathleen Hughes, a Religious of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, former professor of Word and Worship at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago and former provincial of her order's United States prov-ince, is currently a mission consultant in the Network of Sacred Heart Schools. Her address is 541 S. Mason Road; St. Louis, Missouri 63141. . Review for Religious Scarcely had this news been absorbed when a second announcement compounded the surprise and confusion of United States women religious. In March 2009 the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) was informed by letter that Cardinal William Levada, prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, had initiated a doctrinal investigation of LCWR's activities and initiatives, particularly citing the tenor and content of various addresses given at the LCWR annual assemblies in recent years. While the visitation of women religious and the investigation of LCWR are distinct, their simultaneity was not lost on many observers, and it has been reported that Cardinal Levada's decision to investigate LCWR was made while in communication with Cardinal Rod~. These two initiatives stirred up questions, a variety of feelings, and--given that those principally affected did not participate in the planning of these investigations--a broad range of speculation about motivations and pos-sible (or probable) outcomes. This article will focus on only one of these initiatives, the Apostolic Visitation. The first section will consider the process of the visitation and the storm that arose as knowledge of it spread across the country. The second section will offer a perspective with which to understand and prepare for the visitati6n, namely, as an invitation to intercultural dialogue. The third section will suggest a habit of heart which may prove useful for visitors and visited alike. The concluding section will propose some potentially beneficial outcomes of the visitation. The Visitation and Initial Responses to It On the face of it, the visitation is a fairly straight-forward two-year process. Cardinal Rodd appointed 69.1 2010 Hughes ¯ Tbe Aposto.lic Visitation The visitation "is intended to comprehensively assess and encourage the growth of Catholic institutes of women religious in the United States who engage in apostolic works." Sister M. Clare Millea, superior general of the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, to oversee the visitation. Sister Clare announced three phases for the visitation. The first phase, completed in July 2009, offered major superiors of orders of women religious in the United States the opportunity to meet with Sister Clare in per-son or by phone or letter to express their hopes, ioys, concerns, and other observations about their orders; approximately fifty-two percent of them did so.2 The second phase was a question-naire, completed in November 2009. This questionnaire solicited a wide range of empirical data from every apos-tolic order of women in the United States, and asked for whatever observations and aspirations they wanted to express. Compliance with this second phase varied widely across the country. Because of concern expressed by many major superiors, the request for personnel and financial information was dropped from this phase.The third phase of the visitation, on-site visits of "a rep-resentative sample of religious institutes,''3 will begin in the spring of 2010. For this phase Sister Clare will be joined by other religious, women and some men, who will form teams of visitors. After on-site visits are complete, Sister Clare will send Cardinal Rod4 a confi-dential report summarizing all the information gleaned Review for Religious from the visitation's three phases. In addition, individual confidential reports of all congregations will be pre-pared for the cardinal. The reports of those congrega-tions receiving on-site visits will be more extensive. The visitation's website (www.apostolicvisitaton. org) offers both the reason for the visitation and its objective. The visitation "is intended to comprehen-sively assess and encourage the growth of Catholic institutes of women religious in the United States who engage in apostolic works." Why a visit? Because "reli-gious life has passed through challenging times. The Congregation for Consecrated Life is aware that many new congregations have emerged in the United States while many others have decreased in membership or have an increased median age. Apostolic works have also changed significantly because of societal changes. These and other areas need to be better understood and assessed in order to safeguard and promote consecrated life in the United States.''4 It sounds so benign. Why the furor from so many quarters? The anguish of many people, religious women and a throng of their supporters and friends as well, springs from the very nature of an apostolic visitation, some-thing generally intended for the correction of abuses. The lack of participation of major superiors in the visit's design, the secrecy about those chiefly responsible for it, and wonderment about its conclusions--all of this causes concern. What abuse exactly is this visitation meant to correct? Most women religious believe they have been living faithfully that form of religious life which emerged from their obedience to the church's mandate for renewal at Vatican Council II, and which is distilled in the congregations' constitutions--rules 69.1 2010 Hughes ¯ Tbe Apostolic Visitation of life previously approved by CICLSAL, the very con-gregation now mandating the visitation. Furthermore, congregations have built into their governance certain internal structures (general chapters, for example, or the periodic visits of those in leadership) for the protection of their spiritual heritage, for evaluation of their fidel-ity to their constitutions, and for assessment of people's needs in the light of the gospel so as to establish min-isterial priorities. Women religious in the United States have also embraced a pattern of discernment and decision-making which welcomes the participation of every member. For many religious congregations, transparency and collegi-ality have become a way of life. Why, then, a visitation initiated without the collaboration of those being vis-ited, lacking collegiality, shrouded in secrecy? The apos-tolic visitation of women religious and the concurrent investigation of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious make many feel beleaguered, others fearful, others suspicious or angry. There are other voices being heard, of course. Some think it is high time someone examined what is hap-pening among women religious--whether the vows are being lived, whether prayer is still the core of religious life, whether women religious should be working out-side institutional church structures, and whether women religious should be advocating for those on the margins or promoting issues of justice within and beyond the church. Still others believe that the visitation provides an opportunity for women religious to go more deeply into issues of substance. The forty questions posed by the visitation's Instrumentum laboris, that is, its working paper, touch on everything from charism, vows, lead- Reviem for Religious ership, formation, spiritual life, and community living to mission, ministry, and financial administration,s For many women religious today, conversations on these topics happen less frequently than they would wish because of the multiple demands placed on their time and energy. There is always the danger that values taken for granted or left unarticulated become inoperative. Conversations on the essential elements of religious life may help participants discern anew where the Spirit is leading. These conflicting voices and divergent responses mirror the church at large not only in response to the visitation but on __ myriad issues large and small. Clearly, we need to find a way to talk together, to speak with integ-rity and honesty about matters of substance with those who may not share our worldview. Above . all, we need to find a way to reframe the conversation which this visitation invites us to have among ourselves and with our visitors. Even though the visitation is limited to the United States, and visiting teams will be formed from members of U.S. orders, the visitation is sure to find a range of "cultures" among us because of differing generations, theologies, spiritualities, forma-tion experiences, educational opportunities, and so on. The growing discipline of intercultural dialogue may We :need to find a way to talk together, to speak with integrity and honesty about matters of substance with those Who may not share our worldview. 21 69.1 2010 Hughes ¯ Tbe Apostolic Visitation provide the best framework and some guidance for our exchange. Intercultural Dialogue: A Definition and Some Guidelines Choose any Internet search engine and you will find thousands of entries on intercultural dialogue, offering various definitions of it and rules for engaging in it. The following definition is representative: Intercultural dialogue is an open and respectful exchange of views between individuals and groups belonging to different cultures that leads to a deeper understanding of the other's global perception. In this definition, "open and respectful" means "based on the equal value of the partners"; "exchange of views" stands for every type of interaction that reveals cul-tural characteristics; "groups" stands for every type of collective that can act through its representatives (family, community, associations, peoples); "culture" includes everything relating to ways of life, customs, beliefs, and other things that have passed on to us for generations, as well as the various forms of artistic creation; "world perception" stands for values and ways of thinking.6 Intercultural dialogue invites all interested parties to an open and respectful exchange with a view to deeper mutual understandings. Intercultural dialogue promotes esteem for diversity and insists that "different" does not mean "deficient." It fosters mutuality in the face of unequal power relations and forges partnerships in a common cause. And surely the most profound outcome looked for is the transformation of all who take part-- interior conversions that make room for changed forms, images, and behaviors and the freedom to see new pos-sibilities and to make choices that promote growth. Revie~v for Religious Among some simple rules for intercultural exchange, the most important is that of active listening, listening to one another with respect and openness, indeed with reverence. Each religious community being visited has a unique history shaped by the founder and her or his culture and circumstances. Each order has a unique charism and spirit, a set of traditions, beliefs, customs, even a particular "vernacular language" shaped over the years from the teachings and writings of members who have gone before, prophets and mystics among them, who have had a formative influence on the institute. Each order has a rule of life which is precious to the members, having been carefully composed and then gradually finding its way into their hearts. There may be a common set of questions in the Instrumentum laboris and a range of issues to be explored during on-site visits, but the answers will be as varied as the wonderful variety of religious communities which for almost two millennia have grown up in response to the Spirit's prompfings regarding particular needs of the day and the place. There are no "right" answers, but there will be many ways that sisters will express their following of Christ within a particular rule of life. The visitors, too, will have specific and precious religious heritages that shape their understanding and expecta-tions of religious life. Active listening--listening that is open to the hearts of others in the dialogue~is required of visitors and the visited alike. A second rule for the dialogue is to speak from one's own experience, not in the language of "they" or even "we," but "I." I believe, I think, I choose, I struggle with, I have come to appreciate, even I don't know or I am not sure. The living of religious life is an imprecise science, dependent as it is in the last analysis on each 69.1 2010 Hughes * The Apostolic Visitation 24 one's intimate and unique relationship with God. We grow into our understanding of prayer, the vows, com-munal life and mission during the course of years of choices made before God, in the power of the Spirit, and in communion with one another. Each member's experience and expression of religious life has been shaped by so many different influences, chief among them prayer, community life, ministerial experiences, and wise guides along the way. Rarely, if ever, can we read one another's mind or heart. Best, then, to speak only our own truth. A third rule for the dialogue is not to fear differ-ences but to welcome a respectful challenge, a thought-ful follow-up question. Particular external choices of lifestyle--for example, regarding housing options or ministerial options or the use of money--are less impor-tant than the reasons such choices have been made, the communal discernments which prompted this or that decision. In some instances clearly life-altering decisions have been made by local communities or whole con-gregations after long and serious prayer and reflection. These choices do not admit of true or false, yes or no, but require a reflective exchange whose eventual reward will be deeper insight. A fourth rule of intercultural dialogue is to come to common agreement about the scope of the conversa-tion. Both the Instrumentum laboris and the question-naire of phase two of the visitation present a wide range of topics for personal reflection. Not all of these topics, however, were appropriate for comment in the ques-tionnaire of phase two, especially if major superiors were in possession of information gleaned in personal manifestations of conscience, nor should some topics be included in the on-site dialogues of phase three. Review for Religious There are canonical norms which govern the extent of the dialogue. Subjects such as the frequency of one's sacramental participation are more appropriate to the internal forum and, in any case, are beyond the scope of the visitation. Furthermore, any questions with poten-tially incriminating consequences may also be politely deflected. Participants in an intercultural dialogue must know and accept the boundaries of the conversation; in an apostolic visitation, the boundaries are demarcated in canon law.7 Finally, intercultural dialogue is best and most fruitfully employed when all the participants have had an opportunity to shape the dialogue and accept the rules which bind the par-ticipants. In the case of the apostolic visi-tation, certain rules have been imposed from the outset which are troubling to some of those expected to partici-pate. Especially neu-ralgic among women religious who are used to openness ¯ Participants in an intercultural dialogue must know and accept the .boundaries of the conversation; ~in .an apostolic visitation, ithe boundaries are ~,~demarcated in canon law. and transparency is the secrecy surrounding the visita-tion's motivation and its final reports. Some opportunity for participants to negotiate the rules of the visitationt[ would be a good-faith gesture to women religious who ~ welcome courageous, gende, and respectful dialogue as partners with a church they love. 69.1 2010 Hughes * Tbe Apostolic Visitation A Useful Habit of Heart The habit of heart I want to recommend in prepara-tion for the visitation comes from my own experience of an earlier visitation. More than twenty years ago, I was part of the first apostolic visitation of seminar-ies and houses of formation in the United States. In 1981 the Holy See appointed Bishop John A. Marshall of Burlington, Vermont, to serve as apostolic visitator for this process, which took nearly seven years from announcement to formal conclusion. At the time of the visit, I was a member of the faculty of the Catholic Theological Union (CTU) in Chicago, teaching in the department of Word and Worship. Bishop Marshall himself led the party of visitors to CTU, and I was invited by the administration to meet with him. My visit with Bishop Marshall was not a happy expe-rience for me, perhaps because intercultural dialogue had not yet been discovered. Upon my being asked "What are you doing here?" my half hour was spent, about equally, in parrying questions about the alleged behavior of oth-ers on the faculty and staff and in defending my inter-pretation of the General Instruction of the Roman Missal and other liturgical norms. Too quickly our conversation ended, and I realized almost at once that I had not had a chance to communicate my appreciation of CTU, its extraordinary faculty and student body, and its commit-ment to educating faithful ministers for the post-Vatican II world church. Furthermore I had been given no oppor-tunity to speak of my own contribution to the mission of CTU. I asked for and was granted a second visit. Why put myself through that experience twice? The words of 1 Peter 3:15 express it best. "Always be pre-pared to make a defense to anyone who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gen- Review for Religious tleness and reverence." I wanted to give an account of my hope, based on a faculty where intellectual rigor and faith, were wed, on a student body of women and men from all over the world preparing to commit themselves to a life of service of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and on the local church in Chicago, where the leadership of Cardinal Joseph Bernardin gave extraordinary witness to the very qualities of holiness and gospel service we were trying to nurture in ourselves and instill in our students. For many women religious, hope is what has kept us faithful to this privileged journey in the midst of the numerous challenges of these last several decades. Changing demographics, underfunded ministries, elder care decision-making, conversations towards merger, cus-toms no longer viable, and ministerial needs forever out-stripping our human and material resources--all of these realities have tested congregations and their leaders. At the same time, that basic love and longing for God which brought us to the threshold of religious life still drives us, together, to seek and find God in contemplative prayer, in a life of common purpose, in zeal which keeps even the oldest among us focused on mission. Hope is the glue in religious life today. That hope must be the undercurrent of every exchange during on-site visits. If our visitors discover little else, they should leave with the conviction that hope is why we came to religious life and why we stay and why we get out of bed each morning and why, despite all the challenges and limitations we experience, we try every day to be God's heart on earth. "Always be prepared to make a defense to anyone who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and reverence." How wise of 69.1 2010 Hughes ¯ The Apostolic V'~itation the author of First Peter to link hope to gentleness and reverence, two other habits of heart which we do well to foster. If we do so, the intercultural dialogues in our future will accomplish in all of us, visitors and visited, great transformations of head and heart and mission. Hopeful Expectation What might be expected at the conclusion of this apostolic visitation? Approximately three hundred forty communities of apostolic women religious will have con-tributed to a composite picture of religious life in the United States. Sister M. Clare Millea has the unenviable task of summarizing all the information and impressions gleaned from her visits with major superiors, from the empirical data tabulated from many questionnaires, and from the reports of numerous on-site visits to moth-erhouses and houses of formation. This composite report together with individual reports of the religious orders will be presented to Cardinal Franc Rod~ and the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life. It is to be hoped that major superiors and their councils will have had an opportu-nity to see these reports, to correct factual errors, and to participate inthe assembling of recommendations before their formal presentation to Cardinal Rode. Then what? Here are some possible hope-filled outcomes, first on the institutional level. The Instrumentum laboris poses some thoughtful questions about institutional sponsor-ship, care of the elderly, ongoing formation resources, and so on. In the course of the visitation, it is possible that some "best practices" might emerge--the kind of information that the Leadership Conference of Women Religious has worked to surface and circulate among its Review for Religious members for many years. While respecting the auton-omy of each institute, congregations with similar proj-ects or needs might be invited to consult with other congregations that have addressed similar issues with success. Another institutional prospect might be that those communities no longer viable because of a lack of either personnel or financing might be given the sup-port they need to make decisions for their future. On the personal level, the visitation could have a profound outcome. The Instrumenturn laboris for this visitation has a long series of thoughtful questions for personal study and prayer. These questions touch on the essence of religious life with two serious omissions: contemplation and other forms of solitary prayer are not mentioned, nor is there any reference to the quality and tone of community life, only to religious exercises performed in common. Apart from those lacunae, the document together with its numerous citations of other documents from the Apostolic See is, on balance, a rich resource for reflection and prayer and for conversa-tions within and across communities and congregations. Whether a congregation receives an on-site visit or not, this process has the potential for renewal among us. It also has the possibility of instilling in us a deeper real-ization of our place in the church and a deeper appre-ciation of our work as collaborators with our ordained and professed brothers in the public life of the church. And is it foolish to hope for one last outcome? Is it possible that this Apostolic Visitation might conclude with a resounding "thank you" to nearly sixty thou-sand women who have lived religious life as faithfully as nature and grace could achieve, making God's love known through their ministries and by their very lives? For this, let us pray to the Lord. 29 69.1 2010 Hughes ¯ Tbe Apostolic Visitation Notes ~ Letter of Cardinal Franc Rod~ to the Superiors General of Congregations of Women Religious in the United States, 2 February 2009. 2 Of approximately 340 eligible communities, 177 responded through visits or letters to Phase One. See the Apostolic Visitation web-site "Update on the Progress of Phase 3 See Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life, Instrumentum Laboris for Apostolic Visitation of the General Houses, Provincial Houses, and Centers of Initial Formation of the Principal Religious Institutes of Women in the United States of America. Protocol No. 16805/2008. 4 The Apostolic Visitation website, Frequently Asked Questions. s A copy of the Instrumentum laboris is available on the Apostolic Visitation website. 6 European Roma Information Office, White Paper on Intercultural Dialogue. 7 See the Resource Center for Religious Institutes, The Apostolic Visitation of Women Religious in the United States: A Canonical Reflection. 9 March 2009. Review for Religious j. THOMAS HAMEL Discovering What St. Ignatius Does Not Say Having accompanied a number of people on retreat for quite a few years--the ordained, the married and single, religious of various congre-gations-- I continue to delight in seeing that people unacquainted with Ignatius's little book actually mirror it in their own retreat experi-ence. Along with those who are quite famil-iar with Ignatius's words ("Divine Majesty," "God our Lord," "Creator and Lord," "Two Standards," and so forth), they have a retreat experience that is personal, profound, and Ignatian. In this way the Spiritual Exercises show themselves to be primarily oral. The "annotations" that introduce them appear to be the result of conversations throughout the four Weeks of retreat. What happens to the retreatants is usually the very thing Ignatius j. Thomas Hamel SJ last wrote for us in 2008, in our 67.2 issue. His address remains College of the Holy Cross; 1 College Street; Worcester, Massachusetts 01610. adapting the ignati.an exercises 69.1 2010 Hamel ¯ Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say How Jesus Christ is present in creation is how he: is present in the Eucharist. hoped would happen. Retreatants become authors of the Exercises, putting their own experience into words. Enlightened by graces asked for and received, and lis-tened to by their director, they gradually own the experi-ence they has been graced with. "For it is not so much knowledge that fills and satisfies the soul, but rather the intimate feeling and relishing of things.''1 Being led to search out and find in ourselves the desires and ways of God is the touchstone of the Exercises. Ignatius's sober language actually encour-ages us to go beyond his words, and yet at times his notes and suggestions seem like an overload. He takes note of our waking up and going to sleep. He comments on the way we take meals. He pays attention to the warmth of the sun in winter and the effect of closing the shut-ters of our room. His interest in physical posture seems as modern as yoga lessons, not to mention his sensitive and insightful responses to inner changes and emo-tions, high and low and in between. In the end, how-ever, Ignatius does not tell us what to do. He will not interfere with God's coming and communicating (§ 15). Like John the Baptist at Jesus' baptism, Ignatius simply disappears so that retreatants may (like Jesus) hear the Father's voice and feel the Holy Spirit descending like a dove (Mk 1:10-11). A striking instance of Ignatius disappearing in the Exercises is the Principle and Foundation: "The human person is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Review for Religiotls Lord and by so doing to save his or her soul . One must use created things insofar as they help towards one's end, and free oneself from them insofar as they are obstacles to one's end. To do this we need to make ourselves indifferent to all created things" (§23). A subtle glory radiates from the name "God our Lord." It refers to the Trinity, and we know from Ignatius's "autobiography" or Reminiscences~ what great devotion he felt when praying to the Blessed Trinity, often,.with prayers and sobs (Rent §28). If this happened when he saw three keys on a keyboard, what might he have experienced before the triad of praise, reverence, and service of God? What Ignatius does not say here is revealed in the poetry of a mystical experience at Manresa. There is only one way he looks upon the gift of creation: "Once the way in which God had created the world was repre-sented in his understanding, with great spiritual joy: it seemed to him he was seeing a white thing, from which some rays were coming out, and that God was making light out of it" (Rent §29). He also saw "with his interior eyes some things like white rays which were coming from above as the body of the Lord was being raised at Mass" (Rent §29). How Jesus Christ is present in creation is how he is present in the Eucharist. The One who alone can praise, rever-ence, and serve the eternal Father is Creator and Lord (§5). Annotation 5 was traditionally given along with the Principle and Foundation at the beginning of the retreat, and so the glory of Jesus, Creator and Lord, pervades the Principle and Foundation. How appropri-ate that Ignatius would tap our generosity and openness at the beginning of retreat by having us offer our desires and liberty to our Creator and Lord! 69.1 2010 Hamel ¯ Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say When Ignatius first arrived at the Benedictine Abbey of Montserrat, he made a general confession that lasted three days. Just how long was his list of sins? If one thing stands out in the First Week, it is the repeated reference to many sins: "How many times I deserved to be damned forever on account of my many sins" (§48). "Numberless other people have gone to hell for fewer sins than I have committed" (§52). "I look at myself. the source of many sins and evils" (§58). Rather than making a theological statement about sin, Ignatius seems to be pointing to his own spiritual journey, without actually saying so. So aware of the mal-ice of sin, he cannot but put into stark language the hor-ror of even one grave sin against one's Creator and Lord. M1 the while, Ignatius never loses sight of God's power, justice, wisdom, and goodness (§59). Suddenly we have a picture of Ignatius hugging himself in sheer wonder and joy before the whole range of created beings. Who are we, prayed over by angels and saints? Who are we, kept alive by earth and sky, stars and sun and moon and " the animal kingdom? (§60). What to do but talk to our Creator and Lord about mercy, and thank God for giv-ing us life to this very moment. When Ignatius left Montserrat after making a gen-eral confession, little did he realize that his own First Week was just beginning. Manresa was not in his plans, but it surely was in God's. There in Manresa the chiv-alrous ex-knight had to be knocked down by scruples. Slowly and painfully he had to learn he was no lon-ger in charge of anything, not even his own sinfulness. Instead of feeling duty-bound to keep on confessing his sins, he had to leave them to God. We can only wonder how many times Ignatius felt that the Lord "willed that he wake up as if from sleep," ever so slowly learning Review for Religious "the difference in kind of spirits through the lessons God had given him," so that at last "he decided, with great clarity, not to confess anything from the past any more. Thus from that day onward he remained free of those scruples, holding it for certain that our Lord in his mercy had willed to liberate him" (Rein §25). "As if from sleep" aptly describes Ignatius recu-perating from the wounds of Pamplona in his home at Loyola. He was given over to daydreaming. Tales of chivalry would foster his fantasies, but the only books available to him were Ludolph the Carthusian's Life of Christ and Jacobus de Voragine's account of lives of the saints. For the first time, in the Flos Sanctorum (or Golden Legend), Ignatius read about the knights of God who did great deeds in the service of the eter-nal Prince, Christ Jesus. Ignatius, it seems, woke up to hear the call of the eternal Lord and King of all people everywhere. Seeing "with the eyes of the imagination the synagogues, towns, and villages where Christ our Lord went preaching" (§91) leads us to see our world here and now immediately present to the risen Lord Jesus calling each of us in particular. The geography of the Kingdom goes from the Holy Land to the world at large and ends up "before your infinite Goodness, and before your glorious Mother and all the saintly men and women of the court of heaven" (§98). The grace not to be deaf to his call is an enormous grace. Summoned to know, love, and follow Jesus of Nazareth means a life-time journey that includes being with Jesus suffering and dying, rising and ascending. The desire to distinguish oneself in loyal dedica-tion is itself a grace. But where does such a desire come from? Before the Kingdom meditation, the last use of the phrase "infinite Goodness" was in the context of sin: the 69.1 2010 Hamel ¯ Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say Ignatius does not e~cpect that this offering of oneself will happen right away. horror of sinning "against the infinite Goodness" (§52). Here we find "before your infinite Goodness." The Lord's favor and help are clearly at work in the prayer of oblation (§98). Surely Ignatius himself is among those who desire to distinguish themselves, though he does not say this. David Fleming captures the energy and emotion of the prayer: "Those who are of great heart and are on fire with zeal to follow Jesus" (~97).3 Of course, Ignatius does not expect that this offer-ing of oneself will happen right away, or even in the same words. What is of great moment is the coming together of desire, feel-ing, and imagination, radiating in some myste-rious way the glory of the risen Jesus. Imagine the change of feeling from having sinned against infi-nite Goodness to having a ~ heart on fire with zealous . desires and seeing in faith the Mother of Jesus in glory along with all the saints waiting to hear what I want to say. Among the saints that Ignatius read about at Loyola was St. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch. The account of his life opens: "The name Ignatius comes from the Latin ignem patiens, which means being on fire with love of God.''4 For Ignatius of Loyola ignem patiens describes the Second, Third, and Fourth Weeks of the Exercises. In contemplating the mysteries of Jesus' life, I am reminded of the Song of Songs: "How right it is to love you" (Sg 1:4). Such assurance is the fruit of inte-rior knowing nourished and fed by desire, feeling, and imagination. In the Second Week the fifth of each day's Review for Religious prayer periods highlights the imagination. In the prayer of the senses, we are to imagine what the three Divine Persons are saying, what our Lady is saying to her new-born at his birth (§123). In this way we are further drawn into their pres-ences, where we may pause to imagine what we could say to the Holy Trinity, or to the Mother of Jesus, or to the Newborn. During the retreat we speak from different positions, whether as friend, servant, or sin-ner (§54), not to mention as child, as beloved, and so forth. In our prayer of the senses and in the colloquies we make, an oral history is taking shape. The same is true of repetitions. In contrast to all that Ignatius says about preparation for prayer, along with detailed aids to prayer, he has very little to say about the repetitions. He clearly expects, however, that something will happen. These are his words: After the preparatory prayer and two preambles, repeat the First and Second Exercises, noting and dwelling upon the points where I have felt greater consolation or desolation or greater spiritual relish. (§62) After the preparatory prayer and the three pre-ambles, the repetitions of Exercises 1 and 2 will be made, attention always being given to any more important places where one has experienced new insight, consolation, or desolation. (§ 118) Two repetitions will be made on the First and Second Contemplations at the times of Mass and Vespers. (§204) Listening to the "sounds" of movements is at the heart of repetition. The peace and quiet that flow from a sense of being so loved by God is like hearing water falling upon a sponge; agitation, disturbance, any resistance to God is like hearing water fall upon a stone (§335). In the meditation on the Two Standards, Ignatius has 69.1 2010 Hamel * Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say a great deal to say and little is left to the imagination. Lucifer is described as "sitting on a throne of fire and smoke in Babylon, while in a great plain of the region of Jerusalem stands Christ our Lord, his appearance comely and gracious" (§§138, 140, 144), who "selects apostles, disciples, etc. and sends them out over the world spreading his sacred doctrine" (§145). Christ our Lord, leader of all good, draws us to spiritual poverty and to the surprising joy of being chosen to imitate his humility and so to come to know the true life. In the first contemplation of the Second Week, a battle was already alluded to with people living in great blindness, wounding, killing, and going to hell, etc. (§106). The enemy of human nature is clearly at work sending demons to every region of the world to get peo-ple to crave riches and honors, thereby ending up with swollen pride. In contrast are the goodness of spiritual and actual poverty and the consolation of being allowed to share in the insults and rejection that Christ suffered. Could it be that here is the seed of the Suscipe prayer? When growing up in Nazareth, did Jesus himself begin to pray the Suscipe and Ignatius heard it? May we imag-ine the Suscipe becoming the song of the beloved dis-ciples when they are fishing on the Sea of Galilee, or all the more when they are sent out to preach? (§281.3). They were to travel without gold or silver, and Ignatius adds the abbreviation "etc." (Versio Prima text). It is noteworthy that "etc." occurs over forty times in the Exercises, chiefly in the Vulgate text, and thirteen times in the Reminiscences. The et cetera's in the Exercises may be nothing more than space savers. They might, however, also be an invitation to complete a thought, a sentence, or a scriptural quotation. In the opening days of the Second Week, the autograph text mentions "etc." Review for Religious twice, while in the Vulgate text it occurs fourteen times. "The Blessed Virgin burst with joy in this canticle: 'My soul magnifies the Lord, etc.'" (§263). It would seem that we are being invited to complete her canticle. At the birth of Jesus "all of a sudden a multitude of the celestial militia joined the angel, praising God and saying: 'Glory to God in the highest, etc.'" (§264). The words "and on earth peace among those whom he favors" are left to us to sing, all the while imagining ourselves as poor servants waiting on Mary and Joseph. Another unnamed angel comes to the shepherds nearby: "I announce to you a great joy, etc. Today a Savior is born for you, etc. After their visit they returned, 'giv-ing glory and praise to God, etc.'" (§265). Later, in the temple, Simeon took the child in his arms, blessed God, and said, "Now, Lord, let your servant go, etc." (§268). As we complete his Nunc Dimittis, are we holding the Child? Later still, after the unexpected night journey, etc., into Egypt, the Holy Family is back in Nazareth, where the Child grows in wisdom, age, and grace etc. (§271). These texts, replete with et cetera's, nourish our desires, feelings, and imagination in reflecting upon the mysteries of Jesus' early life. During all those years at Nazareth, I wonder if Jesus ever climbed Mount Tabor, which is fairly close by. There came a day on that mountain when Jesus was transfigured in the presence of his three dearest dis-ciples, Peter, James, and John. Upon hearing a resound-ing voice from heaven announcing "This is my beloved Son, etc., listen to him," they were frightened and fell to the ground, but Jesus came and touched them. He said, "Get up and be not afraid, etc." (§284). Why would the beloved disciples fear the Father's voice of intimacy? How many books have been written about the fear of 69.1 2010 Hamel ¯ Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say Is it by mere chance that comes immediately after "be not afraid"? Ignatius leaVes that to us. God? Is it by mere chance that "etc." comes immedi-ately after "be not afraid"? Ignatius leaves that to us. In the Third Week, Ignatius focuses more on Christ our Lord's interior sufferings than on his external suf-ferings. In this way he simply allows the Gospel nar-ratives to speak for themselves as we strive to remain at Jesus' side every step of the way, imagining what he might be saying to his Father. On the first day of the Third Week, Ignatius wants us to nttice whether the road from Bethany to Jerusalem is "broad or narrow, level, etc.," and similarly to notice the place of the sup-per (§192). On the morning of the same first day, Ignatius again considers the road from the place of the supper, Mount Zion, to the valley of Josaphat, "and also the garden, whether - - -- wide, whether long, whether of one form or another" (§202). "With the eyes of the imagination" he sees the road from Nazareth to Bethlehem, its length, whether flat or through valleys or over hills; and also the place of the grotto of the nativ-ity, how big or small, how high, and what is in it (~112). Roads, of course, lead to a place, like the grotto or the garden or the upper room. One would expect, then, another consideration regarding the length and breadth of the Via Dolorosa, but that is left to our imagination. We are even encouraged to imagine ourselves seeing Jesus eating with his disciples (while we eat, §214), and this is the event that opens the Third Week. Jesus says, Review for Religious "Take and eat, etc." (~289). His supreme sign of love in the Eucharist creates the church community. "Take and eat" will be heard until the end of time. Nothing is spared in asking for the grace proper to the Passion. From grief, brokenness, and tears to this interior suffering, how he suffers for my sins, etc. (§197). This particular "etc." lifts us into Jesus' heart, where we are reminded that his "labors, weariness, and grief began at the moment of his birth" (§206, re Addition 6, §78). Once the Lord is put in bonds, his name is only Jesus, as in his early life. From then on, Jesus is silent until he speaks from the cross. Through all his silences we may imagine what he was saying to his Father and in turn what we want to say to his Mother, to him, and to the Father in the triple colloquies. From house to house Jesus is led back and forth. It seems worthy of note that the Third Week does not end at the tomb of our Lord's burial but at the house where our Lady went. The seventh day of the Third Week is spent with our Lady in her loneliness and grief, and, on the other hand, on recalling the bitter loneliness of the dis-ciples (§208, 7th day). There is no scriptural reference to our Lady's loneliness and grief, and when the risen Christ appears to his Mother there is no mention of the doors of her house being closed. Oral tradition, not Scripture, supports the Lord's appearance to her. She is the perfect instance of our Creator and Lord communicating himself to a faithful soul, "inflaming her in his love" (§ 15, reading abrasdndola for abrazdndola). Curiously enough, for those who may doubt, Ignatius quotes a line of Scripture: "Are you also without understanding?" (Mt 15:16). After we have spent a whole day with our Lady in her loneliness, what can compare with experiencing her exultation upon meeting her Son risen from the 69.1 2010 Hamel * Discovering What Ignatius Does Not Say tomb? His appearing to her is the first of many appear-ances. Ignatius seems to delight in recounting every single appearance of the risen Christ, just as he seems to relish seeing us present to our Lady's great gladness and rejoicing over our Lord's glory and joy (§221). Her house is transformed, her oratory is the new sanctuary of an infant church, of which she is the sign. The Holy Spirit is newly present in these Fourth Week mysteries. The disciples are given the Holy Spirit. Jesus has said to them: "Receive the Holy Spirit; whose sins you will remit, they are remitted, etc." (§304.3, Vulgate text). The infant church itself is in need of reconciliation in the person of the apostle Thomas. It happens on the eighth day of the resurrection. Cyril of Alexandria writes: "With good reason we are accustomed to having sacred meetings in churches on the eighth day" (Commentary on the Gospel of John). The church proclaims, "When we eat this bread and drink this cup we proclaim your death, Lord Jesus, until you come in glory." The apostle Thomas, who all too keenly experienced the death of his Master, has to wait until he comes in the glory of his wounds. So Jesus says to him, "Put your .finger here and see etc., and be not unbelieving but believing" (§305.2, Versio Prima text). Christ the Lord .is living within his new church when he appears to Thomas and to ourselves in our unbelief before the mystery of the resurrection. Christ lives on in his church, appearing again to Thomas and six other disciples on the shore of Lake Tiberius. He is Lord of the sea as well as Lord of the Sabbath when he brings about a huge catch of fish. Who counted all 153 of them? Of the fish they had just caught, Jesus "gave them some bread and fish, etc. (§306.3, Vulgate text). Did Jesus first bless the bread, Review for Religious then break it? And were there leftovers? After the hot breakfast, there is one more catch: three times Jesus asks Peter "Do you love me?" and each time tells him to feed his sheep. Jesus commissions his new church to feed his flock, chiefly with the Eucharist. To hear Thomas's confession "My Lord and my God," to hear Peter's confession "Lord, you know all things, you know that I love you," to hear the Lord of Mount Tabor say "Go and teach all peoples" (§307): this is already to hear the Suscipe being sung. Do we hear Mary, Mother of the risen Lord, Mary Magdalene, the other Marys, the couple on their way to Emmaus, the fishermen of Tiberius, other disciples behind closed doors, the five hundred brethren together, St. James, Joseph of Arimathea, and St. Paul all singing the Suscipe? Is that not one of the ways friends experience consolation, including Jesus himself, who is the glory and generosity of the Father? With what affection and with what great love may we hear him say: "All that I have and possess you gave it all to me; to you, Father, I give it all back" (§234). The great joys of gratitude are all found in the Suscipe. With what great desires would God our Lord, the angels, and the saints want to hear us repeat the Suscipe? Participating in this prayer may fittingly be one of the "holy effects of the most holy resurrection" (§223). The Suscipe may not even be the last word. Ignatius leaves it to our creativity to consider some other way of thanksgiving that we feel to be better (§235). And what we may feel to be a better gift can only be due to God at work giving being, conserving life, granting growth and feeling, etc. (§236). "For it is not much knowledge but the inner feeling and relish of things that fills and satisfies the soul" (§2). Ignatius 69.1 2010 Hamel ¯ Discovering Wbat Ignatius Does Not Say was fond of concluding his letters by saying: "May His perfect grace be granted to all of us always to feel and fully accomplish His most holy will.''5 Although love is shown more in deeds than in words, Ignatius for his part is more wordy than usual in the Contemplation to Arrive at Love (§230). His words seem to carry the weight of deeds. This is evident in the first point of the Contemplatio where Ignatius refers to "particular gifts" (§234). Naturally these particular gifts are individual and personal; and yet, without say-ing so, it appears likely that Ignatius had in mind "the true bride of Christ our Lord, our holy mother, the hierarchical church" (§353), which--like our Lady as the new temple of the Lord's dwelling--humbly gives thanks to the Divine Majesty (§108). A vision of church rather than of the individual arises in the fourth point of the Contemplatio. The church's power, her goodness, her sense of justice, piety, mercy, etc. reflect the supreme and infinite power, goodness, justice, loving kindness, and mercy of her Lord and eternal King (§237). I am reminded that, when Ignatius traveled to the Holy Land, he did not have time to see Nazareth, watch sun-beams sparkle across the Sea of Galilee, or climb Mount Tabor. But he did see these holy places in his imagination, where his desires and dreams appeared. Later in Rome, seeing Christ "like a sun" as he had in Manresa (Rein §99), he saw the pilgrim church of the disciples go forth and teach all people, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (§307). Likewise it is the story of Jesus that invites, challenges, and informs our ser-vice in the world. It is not by accident that the majority of Ignatius's et cetera's follow upon a biblical text. Just as the Scriptures never come to an end, there is no last medita-tion or contemplation in the Spiritual Exercises. Review for Religious Ignatius says goodbye to retreatants (as directors do), but seeking and finding seem to become a never ending duet. There is no final step, nor does the music have any final note. Providence goes on giving birth to God's deeper presence within us and even to our pres-ence to ourselves. As Karl Rahner wrote, "God speaks us to ourselves.''6 In some analogous fashion, is this not what Ignatius also does? As we make the Exercises, per-haps Ignatius is speaking each of us as their author. Notes ~ Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Personal Writings: Reminiscences, Spiritual Diary, Select Letters, including the text of The Spiritual Exercises, ed. and trans. Joseph Munitiz and Philip Endean (London: Penguin Books, 1996), §2. Hereafter I will refer to the Exercises by giving the paragraph number in parentheses. ~ Reminiscences, §28. Hereafter I will refer to this text with Rein and the paragraph number in parentheses. 3 David L. Fleming SJ, Draw Me into Your Friendship: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading of the Spiritual Exercises (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 87, §97. 4 Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, 2 vols., trans. William Granger Ryan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), I:140. 5 Personal Writings, Select Letters #38, p. 275. 6 Harvey Egan SJ, Karl Rabner: Mystic of Everyday Life (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 1998), p. 84. Questions for Personal and Group Reflection Hamel points out that the Ignatian Exercises in their language structure call for the retreatant's involve-ment. As you have experience retreats, have you felt the freedom to follow the promptings of God's grace? 4Y 69.1 2010 Hamel * Discovering Wlzat Ignatius Does Not Say 2. Can you give some examples of certain scripture passages that continue to open up new meanings .and insights for you? Transformation Behold the glory of a rose. All it has to do is be. From tightly closed bud to emerging blossom to exquisite flower - it happens so slowly that very few notice. The gentle rain, the warming sun, the nurturing soil - all contribute to the life within. Holy Spirit, the power of your love is my source of transformation. All I have to do is be in You. Mary Frances Herkender SND 46 Review for Religious LOUIS M. SAVARY Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation at Ignatius is primarily trying to do in the ¯ ¯ Kingdom meditation, and many miss the point, is to create a major shift in the retreatant's mind. The shift is necessary in order to have a proper mindset for the Second Week of the Exercises. It is a mindset quite different from that of the First Week. Theologically, it is a shift in how one sees one's purpose in life. The shift goes from simply seeking one's own salva-tion, which is probably the purpose of most believers, to committing oneself to a divine project on Earth. Ignatius has Christ refer to the divine project as "the work" (SpEx §96). In committing to this work, one's attention and energy shift from personal salvation to involvement in the divine project. For the retreatant, this shift is from avoiding sin and getting to heaven to a new goal: accepting responsibility for helping change the human face of the earth.1 Louis M. Savary has given many lectures, workshops, and classes on the spirituality of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. His address is 3404 Ellenwood Lane; Tampa, Florida 33618. 69.1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation After the retreatants' First Week preoccupation with Christ's forgiving their sins and enabling their salvation, the Kingdom meditation may come as a surprise--when its meaning dawns on them. It presents retreatants with a new and grand "horizon," as the Jesuit philosopher Bernard Lonergan might describe it. Their attention expands from a narrow spotlight on their personal life to a horizon as big as the world. In this meditation Ignatius wants retreatants to begin thinking globally, looking toward "a much larger horizon than they had been living within" during the First Week.2 The Divine Project Christ's project, as we read in Ignatius's Kingdom text, involves nothing less than transforming the "whole world." It will certainly call for hard work ("share the labor with me"), and will require great generosity of ser-vice ("make offerings of greater worth and moment").3 Ignatius wants retreatants to recognize that in this medi-tation Jesus is inviting them to join him in a special proj-ect, initiated by God, which is so important that it needed God's own Son to reveal it clearly and accurately.4 Many ordinary Christians, those who try merely to save their own souls, fail to hear this call. Ignatius hopes to find "worthy knights" who hear Jesus' call to establish the reign of God on earth and who want to work with others to make it happen. He recommends that the one giving the Exercises be sure that the retreatant is ready to hear this call and has the generosity to respond to it.5 Jesus, in the Ignatian text, is clearly.proposing and working toward a historical result. His project has to do with what we humans, with his help, are meant to accomplish here and now for a better planetary future. It has to do with changing history and how people live Review for Religious and interact on earth. The project is far bigger than simply baptizing as many people as possible. As the hymn to the Holy Spirit puts it, humanity's true pur-pose with the Spirit's help is to "renew the face of the earth." It is a project that goes far beyond keeping the commandments and avoiding sin. In this meditation we enter into Jesus' vision and dream for humanity. Joseph Tetlow says Ignatius wants you to "feel the excitement of a call to transcend everyday concerns.''6 A New Purpose in Life Most people live their entire lives concerned about food, shelter, and clothing. They may think about the future, but mostly about everyday concerns. Their life purpose is to take care of daily wants and needs--food, grooming, safety, security, accep-tance, approval, belong-ing, esteem, and personal development. They see no '4' larger horizon than that. Speaking of everyday concerns, Jesus said, "All these things the pagans seek." He adds, "Your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides" (Mt 6:32-33). Jesus calls his hearers to a new life purpose: finding out what the worldwide kingdom project wants from you ("seek first the kingdom of God"), carrying it out, and letting God take care of the rest. This worldwide transformation, the divine project, begins in individuals with a special kind of repentance, Repentance in this context " much closer to a change :" lifepurpose, 69.1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation a change of heart, which is quite different from sorrow for sin. Repentance in this context is much closer to a change in life purpose. "Repent for the reign of God is among you.''7 Most Christians do not really spend much time meditating on this simple, foundational statement. When understood, it calls for a new way of looking at ourselves, the human family, and all of creation; it means establishing the reign of God. Individually, the "work" calls for a change in mind-set because it requires people to begin thinking about transforming all of humanity and the planet rather than simply saving their own soul. It also calls for a conver-sion of heart because Jesus asks us to love all people and to accept responsibility for everyone, rather than limiting our responsibility to our own life and immediate family. Instead of merely waiting for the gift of salvation from God on high, Ignatius hears in the call of Christ an invita-tion to shoulder the creative responsibility of "living for others."8 Instead of the abstract virtues or commandments required for salvation, Jesus emphasizes the practical contributions each person's talents and abilities can bring to this divine project on earth. Once we under-stand Christ's divine project, says Tetlow, "each of us, with God, must create our own response.''9 Jesus in his teachings and miracles is announcing what Juan Luis Segundo calls a "project-Christology" that is "centered around the reign of God on earth.''I° In the light of this project, we each have a destiny, a part, that we alone can fulfill. Love Is Central in God's Plan Jesus reveals that God is unconditional love and that this love is active and plan-centered. In other words, Revie~v for Religious God's love is not just responsive to individual and col-lective human needs as they happen to occur; it is also forward looking, proactive, and evolutionary. God has had a loving plan for his creation since the beginning. It was enunciated by Christ. It is spelled out in Jesus' teachings, and it is all about love. Psychologically, we know that love blossoms and matures where the lovers have a shared project and a shared dedication to it. We are invited--no, com-manded- by Jesus to love one another. We may be invited to join the ranks of the "knights" who follow Jesus, but once we join we are commanded to love one another. Nothing less than unconditional love for all humans and all of creation will suffice. The love Jesus (and Ignatius) is talking about is no infatuation or emo-tional attachment. It is a mature love that thrives on sharing the responsibility for a project--"that they may be one as you, Father, and I are one" (Jn 17:20-23).13 Each individual is called to become God's coworker (synergos in Greek; see 1 Co 3:8-9, 21-23) in establish-ing God's reign on earth. Kingdom as Reign Many scripture scholars emphasize this Christological project by suggesting that Jesus' use of the word "king-dom" is less about physical boundaries and more about God's reigning. To reign is to do something. When you talk about a king "reigning," you are referring to his plans for the future of his people and the ways he wants his wishes to be carried out. Such reigning includes the effective fulfillment of the king's will in the structures of society under his charge. It means carrying out the king's program or "standard.''~ As the divine "stan-dards" (such as the beatitudes) become more and more 69.1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius'~ Kingdom Meditation established on earth, there will be ever-increasing love. From this will follow conditions of freedom, justice, equality, peace, and so forth for all human beings and respect for all creation. So, in this meditation, when people think the call of the temporal king (to conquer infidel lands) applies directly to the call of the divine King, they need to note that Ignatius's words refer to a conquest, not by the sword, but by covering the planet with people full of unconditional love. It is only love that will conquer all. It is probably appropriate to say that the Kingdom med-itation is really a parable about the power and attraction of real love on the human heart, more than about kings and knights.12 An Evolutionary Viewpoint of the Kingdom Pierre Teilhard de Chardin reminds us that the divine project did not begin with Jesus' public ministry two thousand years ago. It started about fourteen bil-lion years ago at the Big Bang. Creation itself has been a book of divine revelation that we are just beginning to learn to read with the help of science. According to Teilhard, God implanted his love in every particle that burst forth at the first moment of creation. Everything that exists lives in what Teilhard calls a Divine Milieu of love, and this Divine Milieu is the Universal Body of Christ On 1:3). As St. Paul says, "In him we live and move and have our being" (Ac 17:28). In studying the evolution of the universe, Teilhard dis-covered a law that has been operative since the Big Bang. He called it the Law of Complexity-Consciousness.13 Expressed more completely, it is the Law of Attraction- Connection-Complexity-Consciousness.14 It asserts that the universe is not static or cyclical, but has always been Review for Reli~ous on the move. Furthermore, its evolutionary movement has a direction. From the beginning, it has been mov-ing toward higher levels of complexity and conscious-ness-- or to higher levels of interiority, if you wish. ~s In simple language, the law of attraction is at work everywhere. All units, from atomic particles up to human beings, are attracted to other units to form con-nections. In first-year chemistry class, you learned about the Table of Chemical Elements. These connections of subatomic particles that evolved over time are listed on the Table from the simplest to the most complex. Connections are, by definition, more complex than the elements that make them up. Vvnnen evolution is looked at over eons, it is clear that this law of attraction-connection-complexity has been at work, especially on our planet, in generating forms of life. After about a billion years of trying, Earth finally evolved single-celled creatures. And over another billion years the continually evolving Earth gave birth to life forms with increasing complexity--insects, plants, trees, flowers, fish, reptiles, birds, mammals. Consciousness and awareness appeared and increased. Starting about a hundred thousand years ago, the Law of Attraction-Connection-Complexity-Consciousness generated not only human beings on Earth, but also societies, cultures, arts, and sciences. For Teilhard, this Law is universal. It applies not only to biology, but to all levels of existence. Over many millennia, psychologi-cal, social, and cultural evolution has been happening and keeps happening, following that same divine law. As Henry Kenney puts it, for Teilhard "there is only one cosmically integrated evolution. Physical and social evolution are an essential part of this one evolution.''~6 Can this understanding of evolution help us to 69.1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation understand the divine project? If that general law of divine love that Teilhard discovered studying the book of creation is accurate, then it is clear how we can foster the divine project. We simply follow the universal evo-lutionary law. We do it, first, by making ourselves attrac-tive for more connections and relationships. Second, we welcome connections and the complexity they bring to our lives. Third, the struggle to live lovingly in that complexity will bring us, fourth, to greater consciousness of who we are, who we are meant to become, and how we can respond to the call of Christ. Teilhard's law does not contradict any of the laws Christ gave; it merely applies them more broadly in our scientific world. For example, it allows people to see in their professions and careers how their work contributes to the divine project and promotes the reign of God. Kingdom and Cosmos God's divine Word has been breathing into the universe the divine creative Spirit for almost fourteen billion years. During all these eons, God's wisdom has been watching creation grow and evolve in complexity and consciousness. This ever-expanding cosmos, which God loved so much that he sent his only Son to become one with it and to show us that love, must be a special part of the Kingdom of God. This evolving cosmos is the original and continual blessing God has been giv-ing to us since the Big Bang. God has been waiting for us to emerge from within it and become conscious of its almost infinite temporal stretch of divine revelation and blessing--and become conscious of the divine law of love that Teilhard identified. God not only has immersed us and all of creation in this Divine Milieu, but also has written upon our hearts Review for Religious the desire to know, love, and care for the cosmos (and everything in it)--as God knows, loves, and cares for it. To do this with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength is to love as God loves. To learn to love God passion-ately, we must learn to love the cosmos passionately.~7 With the incarnation, God has doubly sanctified this cosmos. Not only is the cosmos one single immense entity beloved of God and living in the Divine Milieu; it is also, in Christian lan-guage, living within God's own Son, as part of his Body, the Total Christ. All of creation lives and moves and has its being in this Universal Christ. With these ideas Teilhard introduces us to an evolutionary way of under-standing the Kingdom meditation. ' :With the incarnation, Godhas doubly sanctified 'i this cosmos. A Prelude to the Kingdom Meditation A quotation from the jacket of a recent book may best provide an Ignatian "history" prelude a for new century's Kingdom meditation: The dawn of the twenty-first century has witnessed two remarkable developments in our history: the appearance of systemic problems that are genu-inely global in scope, and the growth of a worldwide movement that is determined to heal the wounds of the earth with the force of passion, dedication, and collective intelligence and wisdom. Across the planet groups ranging from ad-hoc neighborhood associa-tions to well-funded international organizations are confronting issues like the destruction of the envi-ronment, the abuses of free-market fundamentalism, social justice, and the loss of indigenous cultures. They share no orthodoxy or unifying ideology; they 69.1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation follow no single charismatic leader; they remain sup-ple enough to coalesce easily into larger networks to achieve their goals. While they are mosdy unrecog-nized by politicians and the media, they are bringing about what may one day be judged the single most profound transformation of human society.18 According to the author of that book, Paul Hawken, there are at least two million organizations worldwide working toward ecological sustainability and social jus-tice. This vast collection of committed individuals does not constitute a traditional "movement," nor does it have one charismatic person inspiring or directing it. It is a global, leaderless conglomerate that reaches every corner of the world. Hawken says it is "dispersed, incho-ate, and fiercely independent. It has no shared manifesto or common doctrine, no overriding authority to check with.''~9 It is taking shape, however, in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, companies, deserts, fisheries, slums, and hotel rooms. From an evolutionary perspective, the movement is the most complex collection of human beings ever assem-bled. Most people know only the organization or two they chose to link with, but the movement's overall global database is mammoth. This collection of organizations is tackling issue~ that governments are failing to face: energy, jobs, conservation, poverty, and global warming. Its function as a coherent system is mysterious. Compelling, coherent, innovative, organic, self-organized congregations involving tens of millions of people are dedicated to change. "What I see," says Hawken, "are ordinary and some not-so-ordinary indi-viduals willing to confront despair, power, and incalcu-lable odds in an attempt to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world.''z° According Review for Religious to Hawken, while in the past most people filed griev-ances only with respect to themselves, this new move-ment involves millions of people working altruistically on behalf of strangers. Individually and together they think and speak for the planet. For them, healing the wounds of the earth in this way is a sacred act. This unnamed movement is a healing life force striv-ing for social justice and planetary welfare under and through and around national boundaries. All these small and large groups are intertwining, creating worldwide a web of relationships that are increasingly conducive to life. Perhaps this perspective can serve the Kingdom meditation. An Evolutionary Kingdom Meditation Part One: Ten Thousand Earthly Leaders First Point. Perhaps, instead of an earthly king, Teilhard might ask us to imagine ten thousand leaders spread all over the cities and villages of the earth, people of all races and classes, of all religions and no religion, young and old, rich and poor, in storefronts and board-rooms, in homes and churches, in classrooms and picket lines, in jungles and around campfires, in laboratories and offices. These leaders represent ten thousand dif-ferent groups, all rising above their daily difficulties, finding ten thousand different ways to improve the earth and the beings on it. These "activist" groups are committed to bringing human rights to all. They con-front local injustice or seek multinational solutions to world hunger and poverty. Scientists seek new drugs to alleviate suffering. Authors and journalists suggest solu-tions to local and world problems. Educators concern themselves with literacy and other areas of knowledge. Some people try to solve employment problems. Some 69.1 2010 Savary * Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation address ecological concerns. Some are philosophers and theologians, some are concerned parents. Some people have dedicated their lives to meditation and to prayer for world peace, for an end to war and terrorism. Every field or life path you can imagine is represented by these ten thousand leaders. Second Point. Imagine yourself standing in this crowd, not knowing where to turn or whom to speak with, and one or two of these leaders approach you. You discover they are persons just like you working in the same area of interest. They describe their work and their aim to improve the lives of others in their circle of influence. You feel their excitement and enthusiasm. It is contagious. They may even suggest ways that you could uniquely help them pursue their purpose. Other leaders are approaching other persons like you who have found their way here. In stages-of-consciousness language, these leaders would be encouraging people to grow beyond their egocentric and ethnocentric stages of development and commit themselves to anthropocentric and geocentric mindsets.21 Anyone failing to support and find a way to actively participate in one or more of these programs might be considered an unworthy or unconscious citi-zen of the earth. Part Two: The Universal Christ While you imagine yourself still standing amid these ten thousand leaders, you can imagine Christ speaking to you as a voice heard in your heart: You see all these people representing thousands of small-to-large organizations worldwide, each doing its own small part to transform the world. They and all their groups live and move and have their being in me. They were meant to come into being and work Review for Religious in peaceful and loving concern for the betterment of all. Each small and large group has been part of the Creator's plan and vision from the beginning of time. That vision is to bring all creation together in one supreme loving union. These people love Earth and all of creation. I invite you to find the individuals and groups that you are most attracted to and most qualified to help, and commit yourself to supporting them. For we all have a long evolutionary way to go to fulfill the Creator's plan. When you hear these leaders speaking to you, realize that it is I speaking to you. When you work with them, realize that it is I working with you, alongside you. Those who want to be more devoted and signalize themselves in service of the Body of Christ will not only offer their persons to the labor required for the Creator's project, but will also make offerings of greater value 'and greater importance, saying:22 Eternal Creator of all things, I make my oblation with your favor and help, in the presence of your divine Son and in the presence of our compassionate Mother and all the saints of heaven: I want and desire, and it is nay deliberate choice and determination, with all my heart and mind and soul and strength, to be an instrument of your love and healing in the world. I beg for energy and clarity,23 so that I will contribute in all the ways I can, whatever the cost, to building up the Universal Body of your divine Son on earth as long as I live. Summing Up and Going Forward The job of achieving world peace and justice in today's world is too big for any one person or orga-nization. It is the work of thousands of organizations and individuals worldwide, rich and poor, cooperating in achieving a world at peace and an environment, a milieu, where life can be safe.24 69,1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation Teilhard offers us a fuller picture of the "work" of God's reign. It integrates fourteen billion years of divine revelation that science is teaching us how to read. In the Law of Attraction-Connection-Complexity- Consciousness, he offers people in every walk of life specific ways of cooperating in the evolving divine plan. He shows how the global humanitarian movements coming up everywhere are organically inspired by the Divine Milieu. They represent an instinctive collective response of the human spirit, inspired by God, to many different needs and challenges around the planet. What these people and groups are in effect telling us, perhaps still unconscious of what they are saying, is that the Body of Christ is alive and well in our day.25 Notes t George Aschenbrenner SJ points out that Ignatius uses words like "all" and "whole" to emphasize that this meditation takes retreatants beyond their individual selves. It is a call to universal salvation. See his Stretched for the Greater Glory (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2004), pp. 68 and 98. 2 Joseph A. Tetlow SJ, Ignatius Loyola: Spiritual Exercises (New York: Crossroad, 1992), p. 90. 3 See Tetlow, Ignatius, pp. 95, 97. 4 See John 3:16-21. Jesus' project--actually it is the Father's project--encompasses the cosmos, the universe. It includes "living the truth" about creation--what it is and where it is going. s Tetlow, Ignatius, p. 90. "Ignatius would not continue an exerci-tant into the next three Weeks unless the exercitant had a great desire to go into them. That desire--to continue in the Spiritual Exercises a search for something more--itself comes as a gift from the Spirit of God." Aschenbrenner, Stretched, p. 66, makes the same point. 6 Tetlow, Ignatius, p. 91. Aschenbrenner, Stretched, pp. 66-68, sug-gests three prerequisites for truly grasping the call of the Kingdom. The first two are "a desire to know Jesus in your unique vocation" and "a capacity for intimacy." The third is "some personal lived expe-rience of the need for salvation and liberation in the social dimension of our world." Review for Religious 7 The theme of John the Baptist's preaching was "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand"; Jesus does not modify that message at all (Mr 3:2 & 4:17). John and Jesus are talking about the same divine project. Jesus merely enlarges upon it in his other sermons. s See Rm 14:7, 20-23; Mt 25:34-40. 9 Tetlow, Ignatius, p. 92. ,0 Juan Luis Segundo SJ, The Christ of the Ignatian Exercises (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 1987), p. 96. ~ This seems to be Ignatius's intent in using the word "standard" in the Two Standards. His king's "standard" stands for his plan and its fulfillment. ,2 See Aschenbrenner, Stretched, pp. 66-67, 72-73. ,3 Pierre Teilhard de Chardin SJ, The Phenomenon of Man, 2nd ed. (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), p. 300. ,4 See Louis M. Savary, The Divine Milieu Explained (New York: Paulist Press, 2007), pp. 29-30. '~ See W. Henry Kenney SJ, A Path through Teilhard's Phenomenon (Dayton: Pflaum Press, 1970), pp. 60-64. 16 Kenney, Path, p. 70. ,7 While Aschenbrenner, Stretched, says the grace for this medita-tion is to "fall in love with Jesus" (p. 66), Teilhard would have you also ask for the grace to fall in love and become "intimate" with the cosmos. While Ignatius focuses on Christ of the Gospels, Teilhard focuses on the Cosmic Christ. ,8 Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming (New York: Viking, 2007). You may enjoy a short video: http://www.blessedun rest.com/video.html ,9 Hawken, Blessed, p. 3. 20 Hawken, Blessed, p. 4. 2, Here egocentric would imply caring only about my own salva-tion. An ethnocentric stage would imply putting a high value on pro-tecting and caring for my family, my tribe, my country, my race, my gender, my religion. The anthropocentric stage would mean desiring to protect and care for all human beings, seeing them as my brothers and sisters under God our Father. A fourth stage, geocentric, is emerg-ing around the planet; it means extending my care and concern to all living things. We all share one planet. 22 SpEx §98, adapted. Ignatius sometimes suggests specific col-loquies, but a colloquy must always come from each one's heart. 69.1 2010 Savary ¯ Revisiting St. Ignatius's Kingdom Meditation Aschenbrenner, Stretched, p. 74, says, "You must make the offering that is in your heart." He notes, though, that a major function of this colloquy is to lead the retreatant into the exercises of the Second Week. 23 VChile Ignatius suggests that the retreatant ask for "injury, affronts, and poverty," Teilhard feels that there will be plenty of unwanted "diminishments" to endure if one commits oneself with energy and clarity to the divine project of building the Body of Christ on Earth. See Teilhard's Divine Milieu (New York: Harper & Row, 1962, 1968), Section Two, "The Divinization of Our Passivities." 24 Ignatius does not identify the Kingdom with the Roman Catholic Church, but sees Christ's reign as including all people and all the world. Teilhard might say that Christ inspires everyone with the desire to promote the loving unity of all beings, but that many of us are not yet conscious of that desire, and that many of those who are conscious of it have not yet followed that desire. Evoking that commitment is the purpose of Ignatius's Kingdom meditation. 25 Hawken, Blessed, pp. 4-5, says: "We must also remember that humans are frail and imperfect. People are not always literate or educated. Most families in the world are impoverished and may suffer from chronic illnesses. The poor cannot always get the right foods for proper nutrition, and must struggle to feed and educate their young. If citizens with such burdens can rise above their quotidian difficulties and act with the clear intent to confront exploitation and bring about restoration, then something powerful is afoot. And it is not just the poor, but people of all races and classes everywhere in the world." Review for Religious ANN MARIE PAUL Gleanings from My First Ten Years It is still difficult for me to believe that the time passed so quickly. July 2009 marked ten years since I entered the Sisters of Christian Charity, and August 2009 saw the profession of my perpetual vows. Shortly before that, I was asked what advice I would give to those just starting out. Although fully cognizant that I s611 have much to learn, I came up with pieces of advice that were too numerous to count. After omitting many important items (includ-ing emptying trash cans and filling the car's gas tank), I have committed myself to the fol-lowing tidbits. Be grateful, no matter what. A few years ago I lived in a convent with a sister who was commemorating the 60th anniversary of her entrance into the community. I asked her, Ann Marie Paul SCC wrote as a novice an article we pub-lished in 2001. Her address is Divine Providence Hospital Convent; 1100 Grampian Boulevard; Williamsport, Pennsylvania 17701. from young and old 69.1 2010 Paul ¯ Gleanings from My First Ten Years "What do you have to say on this auspicious occasion?" Without skipping a beat, she answered, "Three words: Thank you, Jesus!" What a lesson for me and for all younger religious-- Be grateful, no matter what! Living community life calls for gratitude in abundance. The five convents where I lived during these ten years have provided numerous reasons for expressing gratitude. I am grateful for the welcome I received from the sisters and the guidance they gave me--everything from where to find extra toilet paper to how to persevere in living my vows. I am grate-ful for the extra effort these women expended not only in making me feel at home but also in making me who I am today. I am grateful for the way they live and love in community and the example they have been for me. But that is the easy part of thankfulness--being grateful to those who have loved you. The "no mat-ter what" enters in when we are grateful to those who have found it hard to love us or those we have found it hard to love. Remember that not everyone will find it easy to love you and you will not always find it easy to love everyone else. These are the people who will teach you the most about loving as Jesus loves. Be grateful to them, although it might take time and distance for this gratitude to manifest itself. Forgive early and often. Forgiveness, it has been said, is the scent that the rose leaves on the foot that crushes it. The scent we leave when we are "crushed" by or when we "crush" someone else is most important. No matter how Christlike you strive to be, you are human, and so are the people with whom you live. Your com-munity will never be perfect, and neither will you. You will make mistakes (~ometimes big mistakes), and so will they. Sometimes your mistakes will hurt people deeply. Re~iew for Religious Learn early to forgive yourself and others, and to ask for forgiveness frequendy and quickly, so that everyone comes up smelling like roses! It is not a mathematical coincidence that, when asked about how often we should forgive, Jesus says, "Not seven times, but seventy-seven times" (Mr 18:22), or "seven times in one day" (Lk 17:4). The number seven is symbolic of perfection or totality. So, when Jesus uses the number seven (or seventy-seven, for real emphasis), he is saying that our forgiveness should be limidess. That is a tall order, but one that is absolutely essential to living community life. Be the community you want to see. Mahatma Gandhi is widely quoted as having said, "Be the change you want to see." These words apply to many situations in diverse regions of the world, but they can apply just as easily to your situa-tion in your local com-munity. To be sure, at some point you will rea'ch the conclusion that your community does not live up to your not meet your needs, !:: f! st.a k yourself if you have :g!ven enough, of yourself yoUr:Community. expectations. Do not let your disillusionment get the best of you. If your community does not meet your needs, first ask yourself if you have given enough of yourself to your community. That is, have you been the community you wish to see? When I hear younger sisters complain about what their community does not do often enough (or does too often), I usually ask, "What have you attempted to initi- 69.1 2010 Paul ¯ Gleanings from My First Ten Years ate in your community recendy?" (In the interest of full disclosure, I have been asked that very question a few times, too.) If the answer revolves around waiting for an elusive "someone else" to initiate an elusive "something else," warning flags should go up. Such a complaint is rarely about "them"; it is usually about "me." Own these complaints and use them as springboards to action. Be as foolish as God. Whenever you make deci-sions, always choose the most loving thing. On the surface, this looks blatantly obvious for someone in religious life. However, if you had been responsible for making practical, efficient decisions before entering your community, you will have to reprogram yourself toward making loving decisions. This is not to say that religious life lacks practicality and efficiency; it simply means that what is practical is not always what is loving. Many times the loving choice will go against your culturally pro-grammed response toward practicality and efficiency. If you have trouble figuring out what the loving thing is, turn more deeply toward the Gospels. There we find a God who is foolish in the eyes of the world-- encouraging the payment of a full day's wages both to those who worked a full day and to those who worked only one hour; leaving ninety-nine sheep in the des-ert to search for one lost sheep; and welcoming back a repentant child who had left saying "I wish you were dead" with "Let's throw a party!" So, when you are given a choice, be as foolish as God. Try not to miss too many community meals. As you struggle to find and honor your own rhythm in religious life, be aware of the rhythm of.your commu-nity, especially as it pertains to meals. Because of various schedules and commitments, the community meal (and the accompanying preparation and cleanup) may be the Review for Religious only meaningful contact we have with each other as a community on some days. That is where the debrief-ing of the day occurs, where the stories are told, and where bonds of community are formed. When you miss too many community meals, you run the risk of losing touch with the rhythm of the community. So, if you have ministry commitments that prevent you from shar-ing the community meal on Monday and Wednesday, it is probably not a good idea to accept an invitation to dinner from a friend on Tuesday or Thursday of that same week. That would make it quite difficult for you to regain your place in the rhythm of the community. Be a servant. You entered religious life to serve, but you probably lacked an understanding of the precise types of service that would be required of you. Perhaps you had an idea of service as going out to the poor and doing wonderful things for God. While that is an admi-rable goal and one that you still hope to accomplish, the actual service we are asked to do rarely matches the enchanting stuff of our imaginations. John 13 tells us that, after Jesus has washed his dis-ciples' feet, he says "As I have done for you, you should also do." Note that Jesus does not say that his disciples should follow his example only when it is convenient or when they are not tired. He does not tell the disciples to think about it; he simply says "Do it." The example of Jesus' service should be foremost in our minds as we listen to a sister tell about her day when we would rather watch the evening news; car pool when we would rather drive alone; and' go to a community meeting when we would rather have a relaxing weekend. These are the times when our service, although less glamorous than we originally envisioned, answers the call that Jesus issued to his disciples shordy before he died. 69.1 2010 Paul * Gleanings from My First Ten Years If we do not take the time ~o let God in through attentive praye, r, we may block God from~ .~ ~ working through us, ~ 681 Pray, pray, pray. This is another piece of advice that seems fairly obvious for someone in religious life. However, as we leave the novitiate, we run the risk of our prayer life taking a back seat to all the other good things that we can choose to do. As we become busier with many things, we sometimes try to convince our-selves, "My work is my prayer." While our work--that is, what we do-- ~, certainly is prayer, prayer is also who we are. If we do not take the 6me to let God in through attentive prayer, we may block God from work-ing through us. We cannot give what we do not possess. My awkward translation of the advice of St. Francis de Sales on prayer goes something like this: "You should pray thirty minutes each day, except when you are very busy. Then you should pray for an hour." In our initial formation, we spend time praying, reading about prayer, and being taught many things about prayer. We have heard what some saints have said about prayer, and most likely we have studied what our founders said about it. In 1851 the founder of my com-munity, Pauline yon Mallinckrodt, said, "What water is to the fish, prayer is to the religious." On the surface, this is a nice saying about prayer. But looking more deeply gives us a much truer picture. Try to remember the last time you saw a live fish out of water. Maybe it was a goldfish as you cleaned the bowl or a larger fish you caught in a lake on vacation. Review for Religious Do you remember the desperate flailing and gasping of that fish? Now try to think of yourself without prayer as that fish. When you flail and gasp while living your religious life without prayer, it will become apparent to those around you and will quickly become an obstacle to living a meaningful life in community. Do whatever it takes to dive back into the "water" of prayer. Talk to your spiritual director, your soul friend, or any of the various support people available to you. But do not stay out of the water for so long that you cannot be revived. Remember that we are all in this together. Religious life is a wondrous journey filled with joy and sorrow, surprises and banality, times of deep joy and times of darkness. As in other walks of life and voca-tions, people will "wow" you and disappoint you; you will have times of complete connectedness and utter loneliness. Through it all, remember that you are part of a community of people called by God to follow Christ more closely in this particular way of life. Every mem-ber- from the one who most annoys you to the one you most admire--was called to your community by God at a particular time for a particular mission. Avoid wasting time questioning how God could have ever intended this seemingly motley group to do anything together, let alone live in community and witness to God's love. Instead, praise and thank God for the wondrous diver-sity in which you are privileged to participate, and think of all of these persons as doing their best. When you think you have had enough and cannot go on, remember what "the call" was like for you. Think about what it was like to say "Yes," no matter how long ago it was, and begin again to follow Jesus more closely. Ask others, if you are comfortable doing so, to share 69.1 2010 Paul ¯ Gleanings from My First Ten Years their stories with you. Shared vocation stories not only create unity, but they also give us the possibility of hav-ing something to whisper in each other's ears when our memories fade. What--and how often--we whisper is a testimony to our commitment to God and to each other. We are all in this together, and our communi-ties' futures depend on how well we witness this to each other and to those who seek to join us. Ten years have passed. That is a minuscule amount of time, given the years of service of most of the mem-bers of our communities. Every year of service, how-ever, consists of distinctive days, hours, and minutes in which we strive to live in grace-filled fidelity to our vows and trusting commitment to our religious community. Whether we have done this for one, ten, fifty, or eighty years, each day we have the responsibility of living in ways that bring ourselves, our community, all those we meet, and the entire church closer to God. Keeping the present moment--the dailyness--at the forefront of our prayer and consciousness aids us in doing God's will in our lives. The ideas I have shared above are, I think, some of the many things that, gathered together, can help us be who God calls us to be. Review for Religious MARY FRANCES COADY Monasteries of Meteora a n the chapel of St. Stephen's Monastery, set high mong the giant outcroppings of rock that stand before the Pindos Mountains in central Greece, the nuns' chanting of Vespers goes on and on as evening turns into night. Their voices, singing in a minor key of mournful solemnity, become a drone, the unfamiliar sounds an incantation. The nuns themselves, draped in black cloaks, their faces flamed with severe black bands, sit motionless or move about freely from one icon to another--strange, fearsome paintings of,Christ, Mary, and various saints--across the top of the chapel. Lighted candles hang from brass chains. There is no other light--only shadow, and black figures moving, and incense hanging sweet and thick in the air, and a heavy feeling of enclosure. Sleep begins to overtake me, despite the discomfort of the hard benches we are sitting on. To shake myself awake, I shift my body and cross my legs. Immediately a nun glides over Mary Frances Coady writes from 35 Cowan Avenue; Toronto, Ontario; M6K 2N1 Canada. 69.1 2010 Coady * Monasteries of Meteora to me, gives a light tap on my knee, motions with her hand, and looks at me with deep blue eyes. Her face is a mixture of kindness and unquestioned authority. Like a child caught in mid-mischief, I uncross my legs. And the chanting goes on and on . Later, in the nearby town of Kalambaka, we sit in the taverna drinking wine. Red and white checkered cloths cover the tables, and pictures of blonde American movie stars line the walls. In the darkness outside loom enormous rocks, called Meteora, a name derived from a word meaning high in the air. Bare and gray and phal-lic- shaped, they stand like a monstrous fortress. Hidden among them, as if suspended between earth and heaven, is a series of medieval Greek Orthodox monasteries. A handful of these, including the one where we have just attended Vespers, are still inhabited. This is desert land, the abode of ascetics. I wonder aloud why these monasteries were built in the first place and why anyone these days would want to return to such a medieval way of life. "You've got it wrong if you're thinking medieval," says my compan-ion, taking a sip of wine. "You've got to think Eastern." Eastern: the fierce mysticism, that is, of Byzantine Christianity. In the 1 lth century, hermits first came to Meteora seeking refuge from "the world." Here the caves and clefts of the forbidding rocks seemed the perfect home for those who sought to retreat from society and who strove to punish their bodies with rigorous practices so that they might purify their souls. The landscape was an exact mirror of their desire to disregard the things of earth and attend to heavenly matters. Once they had found their way up the rock face and had established their niche, the hermits remained Review for Religio~s undisturbed and free to pursue God in the silence of their own hearts. They fasted for days and even weeks on end, depending on the kindness of local peasants for their meager sustenance. They went years without washing, for this was one of the signs of a holy man (and indeed these early hermits seemed to be only men): one who disdained his body so much that even as his clothes rotted on top of him he remained lost in the contempla-tion of the eternal, oblivious to his own stench. In succeeding centuries, wars forced the hermits to group together for protection. In the 14th century the monk Athanasius arrived from Mount Athos, the group of monasteries that stretch over a fifty-kilome-ter peninsula jutting into the Aegean Sea southeast of Thessaloniki. With nine other monks he established the first Meteora monastery. As at Mount Athos, women were strictly forbidden to visit the monasteries, and the monks were instructed not to give food to a woman even if she were dying of hunger. (At Mount Athos, not even female animals were allowed. Athanasius himself, his early biographer tells us, never allowed the word "woman" to sully his lips.) At the height of the Middle Ages, the monasteries grew in number to twenty-four. Only three are now still inhabited: Transfiguration (Great Meteoron), All Saints (Varlaam), and St. Stephen's. It is not known exactly how the ascetics reached their lonely habitations, or how they got the materials hoisted up to build the monasteries. The likelihood is that they hired local hunters and goatherds who were intimately familiar with the passes and crags in the rock. The biographer of Athanasius says only: "And taking a certain climber, he put him on a stone, and building a hut he remained there a long time." Up until the early 69.1 2010 Coady * Monasteries of Meteora In 1961 the oldest monastery became a monastery for women. decades of this century, men who visited the monaster-ies either climbed by rope ladders, which were often frayed and barely secured, or were pulled up in net bas-kets, swinging precariously over the abyss. Visitors were instructed to avoid dizziness by closing their eyes as the creaking pulley lifted them up, and to chant a hymn in order to keep calm through the ordeal. In 1920 the monks began cutting steps into the rock leading up to the buildings, and in 1948 a paved road was completed, making the still-inhabited monaster-ies accessible by car. In the same year, permission was granted for women to visit the monaster-ies. (In these matters Meteora has sur-passed Mount Athos in modernization. At the entrance to the Holy Mountain, as Mount Athos is called, a sign still stands forbidding women to enter. Up until the late 1950s, wheeled vehicles were also forbidden, the only access to the Mount Athos monasteries being by foot or mule. The decision to build roadways still remains a controversy among some of the monks. Apparently no such controversy has yet arisen regarding the ban against women visitors.) In 1961 St. Stephen's, the oldest monastery and the only one visible from the road below, became a "nun-nery," or monastery for women. It is the most accessible of the monasteries; an eight-meter footbridge over the chasm brings the visitor face to face with the monas-tery's imposing iron door, which opens onto a sunny courtyard, the stark austerity softened by the presence of azalea and bougainvillea bushes and flowering plants Review for Religious in earthenware pots. This is the peaceful setting where the spiritual quest takes place in the stillness and soli-tude of the heart. Here nuns of all ages--a surprising number of them young, with smooth complexions and sparkling eyes--labor with rolled-up sleeves and easy smiles. A nearby plaque, however, refers to "the church of Christ" as the "new ark" that is saving the world from the "cataclysm of sin." The pleasant courtyard and happy faces can be deceptive: there is nothing sunny about the work that is carried out here. That work, here on a spot suspended between earth and sky, is nothing less than a lifetime spent in con-templation of the eternal--or, in other words, an inner search for what is essential and lasting. To carry out this quest, one leaves one's place of comfort and moves to a barren land where outward distractions have been left behind and the interior struggle begins. Anyone who has been on such a desert quest will tell you that the experience demands a healthy respect, and it is not to be undertaken lightly. In the ~adition of Byzantine Christianity, the search is carried out within the con-text of liturgical prayer, where one prays with the whole body, chanting, bowing, signing oneself with the cross, gathering in spirit the whole of humanity. We leave Meteora on a Sunday morning, driving past a church where men in well-pressed suits con-gregate outside, smoking cigarettes. No women are in sight; they are perhaps already inside, lighting tapers and placing them in a vat of sand at the back of the church. They too will pray with their bodies, moving about the church, bowing in front of icons, lighting more candles, moving their lips in prayer as bearded clerics in gold brocade vestments chant the prayers of the sacred liturgy. 69.1 2010 Coady ¯ Monasteries of Meteora Their sisters on top of the monastic rocks continue their lives of unceasing prayer. For them, Sunday is a solemn feast, and this means that there is more than the usual amount of liturgical prayer. There will be more chanting, more bowing, more lighting of candles. All that can be said, perhaps, of this stark way of life is that here there is a spiritual continuity, a sense of ageless prayer, a de

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 52.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1993. ; re lig oIJS C~stian Heritages and: Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1993 . VOLUME 52' ¯ NUMBER 2 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone:314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ~.Vashington, 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 mailing offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $ l 5 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. 01993 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 Joann Wolski Corm PhD 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 MARCH-APRIL 1993 " VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 2 contents 166 feature Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Mary Linscott SNDdeN clarifies the interrelati6nship of leader-ship, authority, and religious government in the development of religious life up to the present. 194 202 213 220 226 evangelizing The Meaning of Evangelization Today Janice McLaughlin MM suggests that in the light of her experi-ence in Africa evangelization involves us in a process of change and choices which turn us upside down. Broken African Pots and a Mission Spirituality Mario I. Aguilar SVD proposes that African pottery making pro-vides a model that fits our need for spiritual fulfillment and the j3resence of God in our lives. aging in christ A Spirituality of Aging Michael D. Moga SJ invites the elderly to explore a spirituality well suited for their final years. Soul Making and Life's Second Half Anne Brennan CSJ and Janice Brewi CSJ encourage people in mid-life and beyond to open themselves to the fullness of their inner lives. Life Review, Families, and Older Religious James J. Magee DSW offers a model of life review for older reli-gious to modify their own anxiety in the face of family issues and to help other family members also to work with the issues. 162 Review for Religious 236 238 241 living religiously Hope in Loneliness James Martin SJ searches the emptiness of loneliness and finds space for God and others. Thoughts from Death and Life Vera Gallagher RGS offers a personal reflection on dealing with a serious diagnosis of illness. May I Love You, Lord John Patrick Donnelly SJ provides the first English translation of a psalm-prayer composed by the fifteenth-century Dominican Girolamo Savonarola. 247 259 275 283 visioning religious life Galile£n Perspectives on Religious Life Anne Hennessy CSJ suggests that the sometimes blurred focus on the person and message of Jesus Christ can be helped by a Galilean perspective. Religious Life in Nigeria Today Mary Gerard Nwagwu gives a summary picture of the various forms and influences of consecrated life now common in Nigeria and their influence on society. I Have Kept Faith: Clare of Assisi Karen Karper PCPA highlights some incidents in Clare's spiritual growth and the approval of her religious rule of life. report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1992 Kenneth Davis OFM Cony reviews the various events and writings in the Catholic Hispanic experience. departments 164 Prisms 304 Canonical Counsel: Common Life 311 Book Reviews March-April 1993 163 prisms a~tican Council II is frequently described as a watershed event in the history of the Catholic Church. Certainly through our eyes now and even in its actual hap-pening the council was one of those precious creative moments which take place randomly, but consistently, in our human affairs. Just as consistently, creative moments are followed by a period of consolidation. A common example (perhaps too easily caricatured) from the history of religious life is the creative action of St. Francis of Assisi in calling forth his gospel-based mendicant group and the later consolidation efforts of Brother Elias to establish solidly this ideal in a lasting community form. Some would term the present period in the Roman Catholic milieu a period of consolidation. As evidence they would point to the promulgation of the Codes of Canon Law for both the Latin Church (replacing the first Code of 1917) and the Eastern Churches (the first for-mulation of a Code). The publication of the new Universal Catechism is another piece of evidence for a consolida-tion movement. With the 1994 Synod of Bishops sched-uled to consider consecrated life, there appears to be a completing of the review of all the groupings which make up the People of God. Consolidation periods lack the euphoria and excite-ment of the creative moments, but they are just as impor-tant if life is to keep its direction and to flourish. We may have a fear of consolidation movements because they seem to represent a rigidity and to forebode an age-long immutability. Others of us may too readily desire consol-idation as a way of returning to the way things were, of rejecting a certain period of time as an aberration. 164 Review for Religio~s Consolidation, after a period of creativity, is meant neither to set in stone the present reality nor to throw aside recent history and return to a fixated tradition. Consolidation is meant much more to be a plateau where gains and losses are assessed, directional lines reviewed and discerned anew, and energies replenished for the continued journey forward of this pilgrim people. Although we have frequently used the word transition to cap-ture these times for our church and for religious life, perhaps more pointedly we might now use the word consolidation. For example, the FORUS study published in our last issue provides religious life with a consolidation document. Religious groups would be using it without serious thought or reflection if they were to reject the legitimate and church-expected experiments of these past decades. Consolidation works only when there have been some creative moments preceding. Without creative moments, life--any life, religious or other--weakens and faces death. That continues to happen to lifeforms throughout our planet and, more pointedly, may be happening to some religious congregations at this time. On the other hand, without consoli-dation creative moments are only ephemeral and their energies dissipate to exhaustion. Consolidation is necessary for true growth and sure direction in continuing the movement so that we can focus our energies for the New Evangelization of our time. Consolidation remains just as necessary on the micro as on the macro stage, that is, in our everyday life as well as in the large-scale reflections which we have been making about religious con-gregations. Too often we can pass by the efforts necessary for a consolidation review in our own individual-lives and our living together. Why do we live the way we do, why do we do the works we do? How is this related to my and our love of Jesus Christ and what does it have to say about the evangelizing quality of my and our works? These simple questions are necessary as we look towards the solid future of religious life. David L. Fl.eming SJ Marcb-Atrril 1993 165 MARY LINSCOTT Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government feature More than twenty years ago, in 1969 and 1970, I attended two meetings in St. Louis which were a turning point in the history of the Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the United States. Various developments ensued, one of them being a change of name from Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW) to Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR). In this case the rose by another name did not immediately smell as sweet. The then Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (SCRIS), which had to approve the change, was reluctant to do so on the ground that it involved more than a matter of simple terminol-ogy. The Language and the Reality For the congregation, "major superiors" and "leader-ship" were not synonymous terms; the use of the one for Sister Mary Linscott SNDdeN is a former superior general of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur and a former president of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG). She has worked in the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL). This article is the somewhat shortened text of a talk which she gave in April 1992 to English-speaking superiors and councilors general in Rome and which appeared originally in UISG Bulletin 89. 166 Review for Religious the other could create confusion and even lead to changes of a more ~ubstantial kind, notwithstanding the likelihood that the sisters intended the words to denote the same reality. (We have to bear in mind that the change of name for the conference in the Uiaited States coincided with the reaction against authority which followed the special chapters of renewal and with the beginning of considerable modifications in the structures of religious gov-ernmerit. Moreover, the national conferences [or councils or unions] mandated by Perfectae Caritatis §23 and Ecclesiae Sanctae §42 and §43 were to be of major superiors, both for men and for women.) At all events, SCRIS felt that the substitution of "lead-ership" for "major superiors" could raise problems in an area where clarity was needed. Pc mission for the change came only after long reflection and on condition that the interpretation of the name was in accord with the provisions and intention of the Second Vatican Council. After twenty years the use of the word leadership in documents other than constitutions and directories has become quite widespread. We are used to headlines in our congregational pub-lications: "Province X Elects New Leadership" or "A Report from General Leadership." In some institutes "leadership group" has replaced "team" to denote sisters serving according to the con-stitutions at different levels of government. The usage seems to be mainly in the English-speaking world. Unless the word leaders is ~dopted without translation, as it is occasionally by French- or Spanish-speaking sisters, the concept which it expresses is usu-ally paraphrased or simply implied. For historical reasons the Italians avoid duce and the Germans fiibrer. The French always have responsable to fall back on. In English writing, however, there is a rather frequent use of leader and leadership. Over the years, what has happened to SCRIS's initial diffi-culty about religious institutes' use of the word leadership? A first remark ~hould be, I think, that the distinction of meaning made after 1970 still obtains. Leadership is a charism, a spiritual real-ity given freely by God to individuals for some special purpose in a community; authority in religious institutes is a canonico-juridi-cal as well as a spiritual reality. The two, therefore, are not syn-onymous and not interchangeable. Second, there has been a period in which popular writing and parlance about religious life have tended to avoid the word authority. Instead the term leadership was used but given much of the content that belongs to author- March-April 1993 167 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government ity. This produced some confusion that weakened religious gov-ernment at all levels, but especially the local. In a third phase, more recently, we have had a certain clarification along this line: that, while leadership and religious authority are indeed different and distinct, they do not have to be in conflict, and in fact both are needed for good government. In this clarification some understandings have emerged which I will use for the purposes of this paper. With regard to leadership, wider and more immediate communications, the influence of the international institutes, and the cumulative effects of structural renewal have all helped to bring out the .concept of leadership as a personal gift in its own right. It is a charism expressed in per-sonal qualities which inspire respect, trust, following, sometimes enthusiasm. Since it depends on the qualities of a person, lead-ership is an enduring gift, not something assumed for a certain time and laid down at the end of a mandate. It is not conferred or limited by constitutions, and it cannot be legislated. It does not go with any given responsibility, and in itself it is no more account-able than any other charism. It derives, not from external cir-cumstances, but from inner sources, and it is linked much more with what a person is than with what she does. Leadership is found in many spheres other than government. It exists quite apart from authority. At the same time, the lengthening experience of renewal and the revision of the constitutions have pointed up the need for other elements besides leadership for the effective running of a religious congregation: functional government structures and clearly invested religious authority are essential. Religious author-ity, like that of the Lord from which it ultimately derives, involves a certain power, but it is power as service and for the sake of the mission. Such authority goes with the vow of obedience and is conferred for the achievement of the goals of the congregation: the spread of the gospel in and through the unity, growth, and service of the sisters. Necessary for the religious institute as a human organization, religious authority is also ecclesial in that it derives from constitutions approved by the church. Since it is attached to an office, it is an authority of status. It is given for a specified period to persons duly appointed or elected within the limits of the constitutions and church law. Religious authority has to be accountable. It is personal but not exercised in isola-tion. It can be legislated and must be provided for constitution- 168 Re~iew for Religious ally. It is assumed on a specified date and is laid down at the end of a mandate. It relates to what a person does and to what her responsibilities are, rather than to what she is in herself. Of itself it neither confers nor presupposes leadership, though leadership qualities are obviously desirable in a sister exercising authority. Government is a matter of duly chosen individuals inspiring, directing, and admin-istering with a.uthority the affairs of a con-gregation according to its spirit and sound traditions and according to church law and its own. Of itself government gives a lead, and in a religious congregation it is a con-crete expression of the charism acting to attain the congregation's purpose. I would say that these recent clarifications are helpful. Leadership, authority, and government are now seen as distinct from each other but closely .related in complementarity and all of them necessary for the healthy functioning of religious life. There are difficulties only when they are confused with each other, when one or other of them is not working properly, or when any of them tends to dominate the remaining two. I propose to look at the three elements in interrelation from two different angles. The first is historical. As phenomena in reli-gious life, leadership, authority, and government have come into being at different times in response to different needs, and in the course of history they have had different emphases. A look at their roots and evolution may help us to see better where we are at present with regard to them and may give us some ideas for future direction. The second angle is contemporary. Later in this article I will share with you what a surv4y of sixty approved con-stitutions seems to tell about leadership, authority, and govern-ment in congregations across the world today. The two angles will bring together the past and the present in view of the future. Where does religious government come from? The Phenomenon Where does religious government come from? Perfectae Caritatis §2a says: "Since the final norm of the religious life is the following of Christ as it is put before us fn the gospel, this must be taken by all institutes as the supreme rule" (see canon 662). It was the desire to follow Christ with greater liberty and to Marcb-/lpril 1993 169 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government imitate him more closely that prompted men and women from very early times to practice, in various ways, the evangelical coun-sels (see PC §1) and thus live the gospel radically. As the great persecutions of the early church came to an end, many persons gave gospel witness by withdrawing into the desert and under-taking heroic acts of self-denial and penance as a substitute for martyrdom. Their life was a combat with the forces of evil, whose last stronghold was the wilderness. The call was often solitary, but among those who sought God in the desert there were inevitably some who were experienced and some who were begin-ners, renowned persons and those who were unknown, persons sought out for advice and guidance and those who still had a lot to learn. Without any structure, when there was as yet no orga-nization that required formal authority and government, a kind of leadership based on competence, personal qualities, and experience in the ways of the Lord brought into being some very personal relations between teachers and disciples. The earliest elements of religious leadership may be here: persons together seeking God's will and ways, with the gifts of the one at the service of the other and both persons helped towards the fullness of a Christian vocation. The living of the gospel was still the supreme goal and rule when, in the face of the decline of the desert type of life and because of the changes brought about by the barbarian invasions of western Europe and northern Africa, people grouped together in a more stable manner. Once there was grouping, some kind of agreement, however simple and loose, was necessary for order and peace. In this is the first seed of religious government. Humanly speaking, there would be leaders for the sake of unity if for no other reason. Once grouping was a stable way of life, the leader would usually be the one who founded the group, who accepted followers to form the group, and who contributed most to shaping its way of gospel living by example, prayer, teaching, and organization. It would be up to that person to ensure fidelity to the accepted way of life, to lead in the deepening of spiritual values, to give direction, to ensure viability. Everything would be geared to the gospel as the purpose of the group's existence, )nd the founder would lead in virtue of an authority of competence recognized by the members and by the church. This stable way of life affected the church both locally and universally. The stability of vows, the public witness of life, 170 Review for Religious required contacts with church authorities, especially the local bishop. There had to be the possibility of representation. Moreover, basic though the gospel was, no founder ever felt it sufficient simply to put the gospel text into the hands of his or her religious. The way of living out the gospel in any given congre-gation was expressed in a rule or constitutions usually drawn up by the founder and always approved by the church. The fact of liv-ing vowed life together, therefore, created human, ecclesial, and theological conditions that required the service of some member or members to the others in a way that fostered spiritual values, unity, fidelity to the founding bond and spirit, discernment of direction, links with the church, correction, spiritual and material provision, viability. Such responsibilities could not be undertaken without some kind of authority within the group itself. We there-fore find the elements of religious government coming into being as founders, who by the fact of founding showed qualities of lead-ership, accepted the responsibility of directing their religious fam-ily and each of its members towards the agreed-upon goal of the gospel by a service of authority recognized by the church. This service of authority was still needed in succeeding gen-erations, and for the same reasons as those which first prompted it. Once the founding generation was gone, however, the choice of members who would exercise authority was less obvious. It was not that there were no religious who had the competence, but rather that none had the unique claim of the founder. Loyalty, support, and obedience were given to the member who was duly elected or appointed to exercise authority, and with that there came into being an authority that could be apart from that of competence: an ex officio authority derived from role or status. The Evolution before the 19th Century All this needed considerable time to evolve, and it took on different patterns and structures according to the different charisms which it expressed. Moreover, it developed as new forms of religious life came into being to meet the needs of successive times. The first appearance of religious in the form of monks and monasteries was a spontaneous phenomenon in the church, a free action of the Holy Spirit, but by the 5th century their random multiplication had become such a problem that the Council of March-April 1993 171 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Chalcedon (451) established the requirement of episcopal per-mission for the founding of a monastery and made monks subject to bishops. It was recognized, however, that the community of monasticism required a certain independence in internal matters. Religious government, therefore, came to have two aspects, inter-nal and external, both involving authority. Over a long period the image of episcopal authority, which of its nature is hierarchical in the church, to some extent colored that of religious authority. Certainly the balance between the degree of freedom necessary for internal affairs and the submission to the bishop, which was equally necessary for the good of the local church, was a feature of canonical legislation for religious for centuries. The great founders and reformers somehow found ways to handle both the internal and external relations of religious government. Internally, St. Benedict, father of western monasticism, respected the whole community and united it around the abbot under the discipline of the Rule. Authority, leadership, and government came together harmoniously in his provisions. Externally, in centuries after his own, there were problems over necessary relations with bishops and civil rulers. When Benedict's work was refounded in the Cluniac and Cistercian reforms, Cluny managed to be subject neither to king nor to bishop. It was one of the first of a system of exemptions by which the evolution of religious life was handled. After the desert and the monasteries, both of which types of religious life continue today, a third period with new needs was that of the mendicants. Here the pattern of life was no longer the stability and close unity of the monastery, but instead the diverging travels of friars who went about preaching the good news, begging their way, and giving to the poor. They belonged to a more fluid community often located in a town that had been revitalized either by a growing medieval university or by the com-merce that followed the Crusades. In pursuit of the same gospel ideal as the monks and the desert dwellers, the mendicants orga-nized their lives differently. They did not have stability in Benedict's sense. Their forms of leadership and government had to suit their kind of public witness and the flexibility of their out-reach. The religious whose authority and responsibility for the whole group would parallel those of Benedict's abbot were sig-nificantly given different and suggestive names: guardian for the Franciscans and prior for the Dominicans. With the age of discovery and reform, new forms of religious 172 Review for Religious life, those of the apostolic orders, were the response of the Holy Spirit to the mission opportunities in newly discovered conti-nents and to the theological and educational needs nearer home. Religious life in the Latin church, still very much a European phenomenon, needed people like Francis Xavier, Jean de Br~beuf, and Junipero Serra to carry it to India, Japan, and the Americas. This out-reach in itself was a challenge to structures of government. The pio-neer missionaries were often at great distances from their original commu-nities. They were inevitably few, at least at the beginning, yet they were an important growing point of the institutes to which they belonged. They needed good leadership quali-ties themselves and a considerable del-egation of authority. The kind of religious government that was strong primarily at the local level did not really match their gift. There had to The Jesuits in their government heightened both leadership and authority and gave a new importance to what would henceforth become general-level administration. be support from a higher level where the overview of everything could unify the various local endeavors and thereby achieve a par-ticular witness to Christ. Not by coincidence is the general supe-rior of the Jesuits called the praepositus. Exempt from immediate episcopal control so as to be free for papal mandates, the succes-sors of St. Ignatius had to combine leadership by competence, which was vital, with the authority to inspire and administer a far-flung apostolic enterprise while strengthening the service given in pastoral, social, and academic fields in Europe. The Jesuits in their government heightened both leadership and authority and gave a new importance to what would henceforth become general-level administration. The Evolution after 1800 With the cataclysm of the French Revolution came various needs which were met by the most recent type of organized reli-gious life: institutes dedicated to works of the apostolate. Although by no means all of these are for sisters, the period since the Marcb-April 1993 173 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Napoleonic Concordat of 1802 has been marked by an extraor-dinarily high proportion of women's foundations. It is on these that I now focus. Very many institutes of sisters came into being as the response of the Spirit to the needs created by the industrial revolution, the successive waves of emigration from Europe to the new world, the opening up of Africa and Asia, and the series of revolutions which swept Europe from 1789 to 1848. They were founded not only to live the gospel themselves and to witness to it in a society that was mainly one of believers, as many previous religious had done, but also to be Christ the teacher or healer or shepherd or apostle of the Father, in ways specified by their founding gifts, in a society which was increasingly post-Christian and material-ist. Their vocation was apostolic, and the government they needed had to provide for apostolic mobility, with its requirement of cen-tralization as well for effectiveness at scattered locations as for unity and corporate direction throughout. They needed their own internal authority. As for leadership, it became clear as time went on that leadership gifts of many different kinds were required for the effective service of these institutes, particularly in areas of the apostolate which involved specialization. A new responsibility for sisters exercising authority was the fostering and harmonizing of these leadership gifts among the members for the unity of the whole and for better service in mission, even though in this case leadership was not related to government but to the apostolate. The governmental needs of the new institutes with regard to centralization and internal authority were not at first easily met. We have to remember that, during the century before 1901, sis-ters in institutes dedicated to apostolic works were technically not recognized by the church at all. It had been the ecumenical councils which determined and enunciated the church's provi-sions regarding religious life, and in the early 19th century the lat-est of these was still the Council of Trent. Trent had made a serious effort to tidy up a very complicated situation according to the signs of its own times. Three years after the close of the coun-cil, the decree Circa Pastoralis (1566) had stated the basic law of the church for religious, summarizing the canons of Lateran IV (1215), Lyons (1274), and Trent that referred to them. According to Circa Pa.storalis, religious were members of the church living a common life with solemn vows and cloister. All orders which were not exempt were subject to the local bishop. By 174 Review for Religious implication, therefore, members of groups which did not have solemn vows or which were not cloistered were not religious, and .they were subject to the local bishop without full internal reli-gious authority of their own because .they were not among the exempt orders. Institutes of sisters dedicated to apostolic work lived and served as religious, looked like religious, had the goals of religious, and gave the witness of religious while having sim-ple vows, little or no cloister, and a different way of living life in common from religious who were in accord with Circa Pastoralis. They needed an internal authority similar to that of the exempt congregations and for reasons like those of the apostolic orders. Actua.lly, the praxis of the church was ahead of its legislation in the 19th century, and both pontifical approval and the approval of several far-seeing bishops cleared the way for institutes of sisters. In 1900 Leo XIII, in Conditae a Christo, anticipated what was an evidently necessary change in church legislation~ He opened to religious groups with decrees of praise the formal right of cen-tralization under a superior general with real, personal authority throughout the institute. This recognized sisters in institutes ded-icated to works of the apostolate as re!igious in their own right: a third kind of entity with those conforming to Circa Pastorali's and with th~ exempt clerical orders. The recognition was' welcome, but it could not of itself erase the long experience of ambiguity, which was the only one that most institutes of sisters knew at first hand. Authority and gov-ernment were the issues on which the matter of recognition was solved, and both were associated with the image of the local bishop. Leo XIII followed up Conditae a Cbristo in 1901 with a set of norms which were a blueprint for the future Code of Canon Law (1917). The sisters updated their constitutions in the light of .,both documents; and, perhaps because in terms of religious life the autonomous government of institutes of sisters as a reality canon-ic~ lly recognized and supported was something relatively new, both a.uthority and government structures loomed large in the revisions. Great attention was given to new structures, especially those of provinces and general chapters; roles were spelled out in considerable detail. Time would bring out what this implied and how it would work out in practice. Of the three elements leader-ship, authority, and government, attention concentrated on the last two, which were concrete and could be legislated, even though the previous image many institutes had of them did not necessarily March-April 1993 175 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government reflect their founding charism, but was colored by the rightly hierarchical character of the authority of the local bishop. Leadership was either taken for granted or channeled into apos-tolic enterprises. These sociological traits be~zame even more marked as the pressures of works and of professionalism came to bear on institutes in the mid 1950s. The Situation after Vatican II Less than fifty years after the Code of 1917 came the mandate of the Second Vatican Council to renew religious life according to the criteria of the gospel, the founding charism, and the signs of the times and to revise constitutions and directories in accord with this renewal. To make sure that the renewal actuaily took place, every institute was to celebrate a special general chapter within a period of two or three years. The chapter had excep-tional authority for this one occasion and was to be prepared with the widest possible involvement of all members of the institute. In the case of sisters dedicated to works of the apostolate, the timing of the conciliar mandate was critical. It came at a histor-ically ripe moment. The educational movement of the 1950s, the communications explosion of the 1960s, the influence of the human sciences, the authority crisis, and the development of fem-inism were only some of the elements which affected the way in which sisters tried to reexamine totally a life which they had taken very much for granted. They worked under pressure of time, with no precedent, technically unprepared, but with very much good-will. Inevitably, the sisters went first for adaptations: concrete changes which could be seen to be done and where change was clearly necessary. These involved structures and processes, plan-ning, participation, the Vatican Council's principles of subsidiar-ity and coresponsibility, the insdtute's style of life, and a review of apostolic works and resources. As sisters came to grips with these things, new leaders of a charismatic or natural kind--"born lead-ers"-- began to emerge. Their competence might be a particular professional field or an ability to communicate or the capacity to articulate well a personal vision for the future of the institute or a good grasp of dynamics. Whatever their gift, these leaders often came to the fore at the expense of leadership based on authority and experience of government. The membership of general chap- 176 Review for Religious ters from 1967 onwards was of a different composition from those which went before, and the influences on government and author-ity were consequently different. There was less experience of gov-ernment and more creativity; less hard information and more "dreaming" in the positive sense; less his-tory and more sociology; less theology and more impact from the human sci-ences. It all needed to be balanced out if it was to produce good religious govern-ment. A time of struggle, confusion, and emotion, however, is not the best time for balancing, and the difficult 1970s and early 1980s did not allow time to evaluate objectively what was happening. Nor was it possible to have the distance necessary for objectivity. The individualism of the period produced leaders in plenty, but not a similar number of sisters willing to accept responsibility. At the same time, various forms and degrees of resistance to authority made religious government very difficult. Expectations were not clear, and it was far easier to raise questions than to find constructive responses. All the while, people were aware that the overall num-bers of sisters were declining, that departures were frequent, that needs were multiplying and not being met, and that religious life was a microcosm of a church and world which were also in flux and seeking their way. In all this how did leadership, authority, and government fare? They were much-discussed topics in renewal, and it is in the con-text of renewal that we have to see them. Renewal involves inter-nal change. It causes us to interiorize and make our own--here and now, as individuals and as communities--the teaching of Jesus as it is lived in accordance with the charism of our religious insti-tute. Renewal affects beliefs, relationships, values, commitment, attitudes, and zeal. It determines how we live and serve, and it involves a conversion that is corporate as well as personal. Being basically interior and spiritual, renewal cannot be brought about simply by legislation. It needs the example and personal influ-ence of leadership, which i~ of its nature an agent of internal change. But leadership in religious renewal has to be enabling, Being basically interior and spiritual, renewal needs the example and personal influence of leadership, which is of its nature an agent of internal change. Marcb-April 1993 177 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government helping sisters renew themselves and their institute by consis-tently proposing the gospel goal and ideal and by encouraging involvement, conviction, and commitment. Such enabling lead-ership is increasingly seen as necessary today. It is not in excess supply, for it requires an unusual blend of Christlike poverty of heart and inner freedom and at the same time strength, empa-thy, and clarity. It is ~ charism and, as such, cannot be conferred ex officio or be legislated as a predictable and controllable part of government. Yet without it even the most clear-cut exercise of legitimate authority does not succeed in changing fundamental attitudes and values, whatever it may do to outward forms. The very fact that leadership is neither predictable nor con-trollable from the point of view of legislation means that it needs a balance which can be predicted, controlled, and legislated. The balance is authority. In the years after the Second Vatican Council, the balance afforded by religious authority was significantly down-played, largely as reaction to the authoritarianism in the precon-ciliar years and also because of the trend towards greater participation. Pa~'ticipation, however, does not remove the need for authority, and authoritarianism is an abuse which can be reme-died without touching the principle o.f authority itself. If no chan-rlels of legitimate authority are provided, one of two things seems to happen: either (1) the group crumbles from within because there is no commonly acknowle.dged center, no one has respon-sibility at the corporate level, and each sister has to go her own way, interpreting her religious life to the best of her ability; or (2) some sister emerges as a leader without religious authority, either by fo.rce of con.viction or natural gifts or charism or plain per-sonal aggressiveness. In either case the important value of re!igious obedience gets lost. Yet it is through religious obedience that we understand religious authority, and it is the two of them together that create the unique relationship in which a properly autho-rized leader can enable sisters to grow, not in passivity and not in external adaptation only, but in an active collaboration which make~ for joy and greater fullness of life. Religious government, therefore, needs both leaders.hip and authority and needs them together. Authority wi'thout leadership can become an insecure and heavy-handed exercise of power. Leadership without authority can lack sound direction, responsi-bi! ity, and accountability," making for disturbance rather than for peaceful growth in the Lord. Structures of government somehow 178 Review for Religious have to harmonize the two. Authority is usually provided in struc-tures at general, provincial, and local levels that maintain personal authority balanced by councils, chapters, and assemblies according to particular traditions, and that indicate an unambiguous line of accountability. Leadership, which cannot be legislated so directly, is implied in statements about the charism, spirit, and vision of the institute, in the qualities required in sisters exercising author-ity, and in the details of responsibilities and job descriptions. Moreover, it has been characteristic of the structures of religious government that authority is not exercised in isolation, nor should it be exercised in a way that creates a gap between those exercis-ing authority and those accepting it. This last point is a matter of style rather than of structure and is as much a challenge for teams and groups, even when the respective responsibilities and rela-tions are well spelled out, as it is for individuals. The revision of constitutions has led to some solid rethinking in the whole area of leadership, authority, and government. As we have seen, the theme goes far back in the history of religious life, and the strands intertwine inextricably, like differently colored ply in a length of wool making a single thread. Sisters today are certainly clearer on the issues than they were at the turn of the 1970s. All the same, we are never free from the responsibility of asking ourselves: (I) Has the basic function of leadership, author-ity, and government in religious life changed? If it has, why? And to what? (2) Do our structures correspond to their purpose and function? Now I would like to share with you what some samples of recently revised and approved constitutions from different parts of the world have to say to us about leadership, authority, and government in religious life today. In the light of these concrete statements, I will afterwards pick up again the two questions I have just raised. Sampling Some Revised Constitutions During my period of service at the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL), about 1500 revised constitutions received their decrees of approval, and there have been a few more since then. Among this overwhelming amount of material, my only option was to take a sampling. I decided on five criteria of choice. March-April 1993 179 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government 1. My first criterion was to restrict myself to constitutions presented in English. There are more than enough of these to give a range of thought and experience, and I have the advantage of knowing them well and of having worked with many of the sisters who produced them. 2. My second criterion was to cover the different spiritual traditions in religious families, since these affect concepts and structures of government. I took sisters' constitutions deriving from the inspiration of the classic founders Alphonsus, Augustine, Benedict, Dominic, Francis, Ignatius, and Paul of the Cross. I also took some from the women's congregations that have a com-mon source of spirituality: Ursulines, Sisters of St. Joseph, Sisters of the Presentation, Sisters of Mercy, Sisters of Charity, Sisters of the Incarnate Word. I sampled as a further category congrega-tions with a strong and clear individual charism that are not notably indebted either to one of the major religious families of men or to other groups of sisters. 3. My third criterion was to cover a wide range of cultures, since these are important in the expression of values and princi-ples. The English-speaking world is notoriously extensive, and also some institutes present their texts in English either because this is an acceptable second language or because their principal growing points are in English-speaking areas outside their coun-try of origin. I ended up with constitutions from Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, England, France, Holland, India, Ireland, Malta, New Zealand, the Philippines, Rome, South Africa, and the United States of America. 4. A fourth criterion was to include a few constitutions of men religious by way of comparison. 5. Lastly, I included a random sampling of the remaining texts to a total of sixty constitutions. Fifty-five are by sisters and five by men religious: two clerical institutes and three of brothers. My observations are based on these sixty texts. Initial Impressions As one would expect of approved constitutions, on the subject of leadership, authority, and government, all the texts are canon-ically accurate inasmuch as they all harmonize with the present law of the church and with the values, principles, and basic structures deriving from their own previously approved founding charisms. 180 Review for Religious Yet no two are alike, and when I speak of a certain degree of com-monality I am not referring to common material or even to depen-dence on a common Code, but to a certain convergence of values and thinking across texts worked out independently and expressed with a great deal of diversity. Convergence. The highest degree of convergence is in the impor.tance attached to authority in regard to both government and leadership. In almost every case, whether the actual words are used or not, there is the idea that authority is to be exercised in government by sisters with qualities of leadership. The three elements go together, and it is authority that links the other two. There is a high degree of convergence also on the source of reli-gious authority being ultimately God himself and on the spirit of service which marks its exercise. Jesus Christ, whether as shep-herd, servant, son, or savior, is the model for the kind of exer-cise of authority in leadership that should characterize religious government. This spiritual level is usually clear and well expressed with a direct application to unity and mission. Areas of Diversity. The convergences are not bland, because there is no uniformity in the concrete provisions that express the converging values and principles. Each institute has not only its own founding gift, but also its own living tradition and experience, its own "now," and its own vision of the future. So, for example, even institutes which have the Rule of St. Augustine or that of the Franciscan Third Order Regular or the Constitutions of St. Ignatius as part of their proper law will have their own ways of incorporating these in concrete enactments. A good deal can be inferred, therefore, from the way in which the principles of government are actually spelled out. There are nuances about authority, leadership, and government to be found in the job descriptions given for moderators at the different lev-els, in the qualities and priorities looked for in those who will be responsible for government, in provisions for a particular style of operation, or in the way that responsibility and accountability are handled. Relationships and structures are the other areas with rich implications. The way in which a text expresses the com-bined responsibility of the membership and the various sisters in authority for the well-being of the institute is also instructive. So are the relations and interaction of moderators and councils and of both with chapters. Something can be learned from the way that the material on March-April 1993 181 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government authority and government is organized and presented. Some con-stitutions begin with people, some with types of norm; some begin with the whole entity of the institute as the body expressing the corporate charism and recognized as such by the church, some with the rights and responsibilities of the individual sister. Most start at the general level, since this avoids having to repeat and anticipate, but some begin with the local level. Perhaps the most revealing thing is terminology. If we raised our eyebrows in 1983 over the Code's use of"moderator," it was only because we had not yet realized our own creativity in find-ing names for those who were once uniformly referred to as supe-riors and for the sisters who work immediately with them. All the constitutions I studied were approved between September 1982 and May 1991. In them I met superiors, abbesses, prioresses, directors, facilitators, coordinators, sisters-in-charge, guardians, custodians, mothers, moderators, ministers, and presidents. These are helped and advised by councils, cabinets, government groups, boards, teams, and assistants and are accountable to assemblies, senates, and chapters. When the substance of all these is actually spelled out in terms of purpose, function, authority, and account-ability, there may not be any great difference at present between one reality and another. I have a strong sense, however, of dif-ference in climate and general approach between sisters who are superiors with a council responsible to a general chapter and sis-ters who are presidents with a cabinet responsible to a senate. What is denoted is similar, but the connotations are different, and it remains to be seen where that will take us. Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government in the Texts First of all, let me say that the three concepts, though they are present in each of the sixty texts, are not always specifically named. Neither do they receive equal emphasis. Authority gets by far the most attention, even in the two constitutions where the writers did not use the word itself. Government also gets pretty full treat-ment, especially in the abstract, and texts which reflect some reluctance to say that a moderator governs will spell out for her a number of responsibilities which are clearly those of govern-ment. Leadership is stressed much less. The word rarely occurs except in phrases such as "the general moderator is the leader of the congregation" or "the sister chosen as the general moderator 182 Review for Religious should have qualities of leadership." Leadership in its ordinary sense, however, is very often implied, and the spiritual role of leadership is clear. Religious Government and Authority. Statements about gov-ernment alone are usually clear and often pithy. They tend to ~pecify purpose: "Government in the eongregation provides structures and offices that facilitate our common life and ministry by ordering relat!onsh'ips and designating the functions of the members" (U.S.A.). "Governance is the means through which the resources of the congregation are unified, directed, and integrated" (U.S.A.). More subjec-tively descriptive but still purposeful is a' statement such as this: "Government is an experience in relationships, in deci-sion making, and in communication. Through itwe strive together to seek and do God's will" (Rome). From England comes the observation, that government is par.t of any organized society and that, in the case of rel!gious, it maintains the inspiration, nature, and purpose of an institute as living reali-ties. Most of the provision for government follows statements on authority which place its source in God o1: in Jesus Christ and which distinguish it from other kinds of personal power: :'Christ's authority given him by the Father was clearly .distinct in its exer-cise from the authority of the rulers of this world who lord it over their subjects," says an Irish text. "Christ expressed his authority in loving service: to heal, to forgive, to give life, to send in mis-sion." Some texts underline the ecclesial dimension: "Authority is given by God to the church, and it is from the church that the congregation receives its recognition as a religious institute and therefore a share in the authority of Christ" (England). "Authority in our institute is of an ecclesial nature and should reflect the self-g!ving of our divine master" (Philippines). "God is the source of all authority, but in working out his plan he asks for our coop-eration" (England). Some constitutions refer authority directly I have a strong sense, however, of difference in climate and general approach between sisters who are superiors with a council responsible to a general chapter and sisters who are presidents with a cabinet responsible to a senate. March-April 1993 183 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government The model of religious authority is, without exception, Jesus Christ. to superiors and chapters, but at least one broadens it to this: "From Jesus, proclaimed in the gospel, the authority of the . . . congregation, mediated and affirmed through the church, resides in the communion of its members according to their respective roles" (U.S.A.). The model of religious authority is, without exception, Jesus Christ, "the master who made himself servant in order that those he served might share his life and mission and that they in their turn might minister to others" (England). "Evangelical author-ity," says a congregation based in Rome, "is service which reflects the humility and self-giving of Jesus." Another one says: "Authority is founded on Christ, who received it from the Father and who came as one who serves. The example and teaching of Christ inspire sisters in positions of authority and all of us to serve as he did" (Rome). From Austria comes this statement: "In a religious con-gregation, the only model of authority is Jesus." The same arti-cle goes on to say, "Being a Marian congregation, all authority should reflect the gentleness and motherliness of our blessed Mother." This unanimously affirmed source and model determines to a great extent what the constitutions have to say about the nature of religious authority, what it requires, what it extends to, and how it is exercised. The question "What is it?" is variously answered: "It is a service meant to help the sisters discern and accomplish God's will" (U.S.A.). "It is a ministry of service which has as its object the fostering of unity in our diversity and the promotion of our mission in the life and work of the church" (England). "It helps us incarnate the vision of our founder in our time and to go forward together in the same spirit towards the same end" (Canada). Unity, mission, identity, and the discerning of God's will recur constantly as themes of response to the ques-tion "What is religious authority?" or "What is it all about?" It is interesting that the attempts to define authority as principle, which tied some of the renewal chapters in knots in the late 1960s, have been abandoned in the approved constitutions. There is no dictionary definition but rather a description, or an inference from needs and consequences, which is concrete rather' than the- 184 Reviev~ for Religions oretical. It expresses a basic principle, however, and links it with government, charisms, obedience, and leadership. This principle is nearly always taken from the standpoint of faith. What is required for the exercise of religious authority is expressed in terms of values, attitudes, qualities, and relation-ships. Sisters exercising authority do so for the sake of unity, wit-ness, effective corporate service, the growth of their sisters towards the fullness of Christ, and the building of the kingdom of God (Belgium, France, South Africa, U.S.A.). They are asked to be unifiers, animators, discerners, listeners (England, Holland, Ireland). The qualities looked for in a good superior at whatever level are instructive. In these texts there is much less of the utopi-anism that characterized the early 1970s and scared away many a good potential superior by requiring a combination of qualities which an archangel would have had a hard time meeting. The requirements now are geared to a more realistic perception. "A sis-ter who exemplifies the spirit and life of our congregation" (India) is a requirement which recurs fairly often and which applies to religious Pope Paul VI's observation that the people of our time respond better to example than to theory. "A woman of prayer and faith, close to God in her personal life" is also often mentioned. Then come the personality traits: compassion, courage, vision, love for the institute and for the sis-ters, practical intelligence; then the qualities that relate specifically to the exercise of authority: perceptiveness, good judgment, patience, balance, firmness, experience of life, and the capacity to listen, to collaborate, and to decide. It is noticeable that recently approved constitutions take it for granted that the qualities of those exercising authority need to be complemented and com-pleted by those of their immediate collaborators and by the sisters at large. Hence the importance of relationships, not only in the sense of personal relations--as, for example, between a superior and her councilors or with her sisters--but also in the deeper sense of the necessary interrelation of authority and obedience for the common project, or in "the sense that all the sisters in their various ways are responsible for the good of the institute. "There can be no community among us," says one text, "unless our com-mon life and mission are governed by deliberations and decisions that draw us all towards a u.nity of thought, sentiment, and action. To those deliberations and decisions we are all obligated as reli-gious pledged to obedience--both to contribute and to respond" March-April 1993 185 Linscott ¯ Leader'sbip; Authority, and Religious Government (U.S.A.). A text from England sees sisters serving in authority as "challenging each sister to fidelity in our shared spirit and charism so that our way of prayiiag, living, and working together may be fruitful for burselves and for others." This kind of statement car-ries religious authority beyond the juridical limits of the consti-tfitions and church law according to which it is exercised and into the realm of th~ basic values of religious life for which it is given. Principies foi" the exercise of religious ~iuthority receive more attention in recently approved ,constitutions than in preceding texts, where they tended to be taken for granted. As early as 1966, Ecdesiae Sanctae provided for "an ample and free consultatiofi of all [the religious in an institute]" in the preparation of the special general chapter of renewal (ES §4), and this basic concept of par- ~igipation echoes in practically every text. One document puts it like this: "Since the Holy Spirit works in all, we encourage the active pai:dcipation of each in the decision-making process within the community and the congregation. Our acceptance of respon-sibility for implementing the decisions made is a source of unity among us" (U.S.A.). Participation is seeh as a source of mutual support (India) and is meant to further the aims and goals of the congregation (U.S.A.). More specific than participation as a gen-eral principle is participative government which, according to one text, "includes these elements fundamental to government struc-tures: sl~ared responsibility, subsidiarity, accountability" (U.S.A.). These last three principles, together with the need for commu-nication, are mentioned in practically all tiae constitutions stud-ied and directly reflect the influence of Vatican II. The American text just quoted says that shared responsibility, subsidiarity, and ac6ountability are fundamental to government structures. In one' way, such structures exist to make religiofis authority effective: They channel authority and locate it, limit it, and focus it. They are, therefore, very specific to each institute, reflecting as they do its charism and traditibns, it~ circumstances and its cultures. The connection.wii:h charism is usually evident. Congregations whose founding gift requires a stable way of life in the sense of a fair amount of residential stability and a good deal of authority at the local level will have structures that allow for decentralization and immediate participation. Congregations whose founding gift requires apostolic mobility will have more centralized general structures if things are to work well, and par-ticipation in matters beyond the local level will often be limited i 86 Review for Religious to elected representatives. For example, three congregations in the Benedictine tradition from three different continents all have structures which move solidly from the individual sister to cor-porate unity. Two institutes strongly in the Ignatian tradition begin with the need for someone "who holds the charge of the entire body of the society and whose duty is the good government, preser-vation, and development of the whole body" (Ireland). Here the starting point is the superior general. Most institutes lie on an arc somewhere between these two. The fact is that structures, all of which are approved as adequate in their provisions for government, can be as varied as the charisms they reflect. Circumstances diversify them still further, for there are bound to be dif-ferences in structures of government between an institute many of whose sis-ters are centered in one house Structures, all of which are approved as adequate in their provisions for government, can be as varied as the charisms they reflect. (England), an institute whose sisters are in small houses near to each other (Belgium), and an institute whose members are widely scattered across vast areas in the prairies of the United States or the outback of Australia. Cultures, too, certainly affect structures and in particular the way in which structures are regarded. Institutes of the same reli-gious family and with a good deal of common tradition keep adapting their structures differently according as they are in Australia, Canada, Rome, or the United States. The European texts lay stress on the persons who exercise authority, their qual-ities, responsibilities, soundness of judgment, relation to others, accountability. There is an underlying element of trust and need to support, and an implication that, given the right persons, things cannot go too far wrong even if the structures themselves are less than perfect. This, however, is not an excuse for poor structures. The structural provisions are generally good. The Indian texts have greater structural detail, but still a considerable stress on the person. Some of the American texts, however, are very strong on structure, almost as if good structure of government could protect an institute from any kind of abuse of power. This is by no means a universal feature of texts from. the United States, but March-April 1993 187 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government where it occurs the structures are given in great detail, there is generally a system of checks and balances, a high proportion of the whole text is devoted to government, and there is not very much about the kind of sister looked for to exercise authority. In an extreme case, there is no more than the bare juridical require-ments. Again, between the two extremes, there is a wide range across the sixty texts. Each of them has been approved in its own right. The only point I make here is that, beyond the influence of charism and of apostolic circumstances, governmental structures for the exercise of religious authority are affected to some extent by culture. This has its own repercussion, of course, in interna-tional congregations. Religious Authority and Leadership. That the duty of leading is an aspect of government and that religious authority is given for this purpose is clear in most of the constitutions. "Those who hold authority in the institute have the right and responsibility to lead it in fidelity to its spirit and mission," says a text from Australia. There are also many references to general and local superiors being leaders of the whole institute or of the local com-munity respectively. What this leadership consists in emerges from the qualities looked for in a superior: "A woman of faith, discretion, and courage, she cultivates a spirit of availability and openness. A woman of compassion and understanding, she inspires, unifies, directs. A woman of fidelity, she fosters a response to the church and the world in accord with our charism. She is responsible for creating an atmosphere conducive to the spiri-tual, intellectual, and affective growth of each member, and she should show more concern for the Holy Spirit and for persons than for structures as such and for the letter of the law" (U.S.A.). This pastoral approach reappears in very many texts. Superiors lead by what they are and what they do: "She is steward of our way of life., of the heritage and mission of the congregation and of the gifts of each sister . She leads by her example, teaching, and decisions . . . and she exercises her authority with pastoral con-cern" (Australia). If the superior is expected to have leadership qualities, they are of a Christlike kind and facilitate her free and simple exercise of authority. One constitutional text notes that, when this is the case, the leadership qualities in the sisters are also fostered. "The right exercise of authority encourages each sister to become that per-son whom the Father called in Christ. The superior is confident 188 Review for Religious that the Spirit who creates diversity is able by his loving influ-ence to preserve union of mind and heart among the sisters. In this encouraging atmosphere, the graces of our baptism and religious vocation give rise to a number of leadership qualities among the sisters, all contributing to the vitality of community and the ful-fillment of our mission in the church" (U.S.A.). The role of authority in its pas-toral leading then becomes the encourage-ment and harmonizing of the leadership gifts in the community. This very fact points out the distinc-tion between the authority to lead that is vested in one person with assistance from others and the leadership gifts that can be in any community member. The two are not the same and are usually distinguished when they appear in constitutions. For example, we have from Australia: "The superior exercises her authority according to the spirit and laws of our congregation. In giving leadership, she encourages the participation of all the members," and from the United States: "The community min-ister is the canonical leader and unifier of the congregation. She has authority and responsibility for spiritual and apostolic lead-ership." If the kind of leadership expected of sisters in authority is implied in the qualities desired for eligibility, the direction of that leadership is usually implicit in their functions. At the general level, a superior "unifies in charity, urges fidelity to the gospel and to the constitutions; calls individuals and groups to core-sponsibility and account; keeps abreast of movements in the church and in society; enunciates goals and priorities as a com-munity in mission; focuses the corporate nature of our life and mission; and serves in various representative and governmental capacities" (U.S.A.). At the local level she serves the action of the Holy Spirit who is forming the community from within into a single body for the building of the kingdom (Canada). In texts from Malta, India, the Philippines, and New Zealand, too, this is spelled out in terms of animation, administration, and forma-tion. The role of authority in its pastoral leading then becomes the encouragement and harmonizing of the leadership gifts in the community. March-April 1993 189 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Relig4ous Government The ideal would seem to be that a sister who exercises reli-gious authority is a leader and that her leadership qualities are evident in her governing as she encourages and draws on the gifts of her sisters, especially those who more immediately share responsibility with her, for the well-being of the community. Leadership and Government. For the sake of completeness, there should be a word about what the constitutions give us on leadership and government. It is a short word, because they say very little on the point directly. For the constitutions, leadership is a quality desirable in sisters exercising authority, and govern-ment is the concrete process by which authority is exercised to unify and animate the institute so as to attain its goal. The texts take both leadership and government in relation to authority, not in relation to each other. We are obliged, so to speak, to go via authority if we want to link the other two. This is probably an inevitable state of affairs, for constitutions are spiritual juridical documents which give principles and norms for what can be leg-islated. Both authority and government are patient of legislation; leadership is not. So it is normal that, while several texts hope for leadership as a quality in those vested with authority to gov-ern, nobody assumes that it is a quality conferred by the fact of having that authority. This in itself is a realistic step forward. Conclusion How can we summarize all this? The new elements that mark the current phase of religious government in contrast to those which preceded it seem to be: ¯ a renewed sense of the spiritual dimension and of the kind of responsibility which it involves; ¯ a sharp awareness of the rediscovered founding charism; the concept of authority as service reflecting the Christ who came not to be served but to serve; ¯ the idea of complementing necessary gifts; openness to a wide participation of the sisters in general according to their roles and experience, continuing the thrust of the Second Vatican Council on the dignity of each person and expressing the belief that the Holy Spirit can work through each one for the good of the whole; ¯ the adoption of responsibility, subsidiarity, and account-ability as basic principles; ¯ the recognition by many that religious government is inseparably linked with the founding charism and with 190 Review for Religious the vow of obedience and so has a dimension of faith and of relation to the church that distinguishes it ultimately from administration, organization, management, or indeed any other form of government. At the same time, pro-cesses of consensus and discernment, variously under-stood, have been widely adopted. The evolution of the understanding and praxis of leadership, authority, and government in religious life is continuous. It is not in itself an experiment which can be tried out for a certain num-ber of years and then be confirmed, modified, or dropped, although individual structures expressing it can be handled in this way. In itself the evolutitn is essential and consistent. It is, there-fore, from the viewpoint of the present moment in an evolving continuum that we can pick up the two questions we raised some pages back. Has the basic function of leadership, authority, and government in religious life changed? If it has, why? Ana to what? We have seen that the goals and values for which leadership, authority, and gov-ernment exist in religious iife go far back in history, emerging from the following of Christ in radic~il gospel living as it was first understood bythe desert fathers and mothers and the early mqnks. From at least the time of St. Benedict, these goals and values have included the promotion of individual and community growth towards the full maturity of Christ; th~ fostering of unity, peace, and mission at the service of the church; the encouragement of fidelity; the ensuring of forrhation; the provision of the necessi-ties for consecrated life, all in accord with the particular found-ing charism of the institute. It is evident from the survey of the sixty recently approved constitutions that these basic goals and values remain constant. The stated purpose and function of gov-ernment is always that the institute a~hieve the goal for which it exists in the church: a specific pu.blic witness to Christ and his gospel in unity, prayer, and growth in love and in the service of mission. As regards these purposes, there is little change. What has changed, from the evidence of quite a few texts, is something which is not directly within the competence of con-stitutions: the kind and extent of responsibility actually involved in undertaking the service of government today. Whereas, even into the 19th century, religious government was (and in principle still is) primarily a spiritual and ecclesial matter, for many insti-tutes of sisters today there are accretions which create a further and different kind of responsibility. A superior general who has March-April 1993 191 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government been elected to see to the growth and mission of her sisters in service to the sick with Christ the healer may find herself by that very fact fostering that growth as president of a multimillion-dol-lar hospital corporation. The superior of an institute with an apos-tolate of education may well be ex officio a member of the boards of various colleges and universities. She will almost inevitably find herself ultimately responsible for the administration of homes for the aged sisters and for dealing with financial reports. The spread of an institute and the desire for hands-on government may call for wide travel, a knowledge of languages, and the capac-ity for inculturation. Both public relations and communication, with all their current technicalities, will claim attention. Clearly, responsibilities have to be delegated. However, under this kind of pressure, things may get treated from the point of view of the accretions instead of the essential. This substitutes administra-tion for religious government. It tends to depersonalize, to use authority for efficiency only, without the spiritual quality which should animate the government of religious. The accretions, which are many and demanding and which show no sign of dimin-ishing of their own accord, are the proper field for delegation and group work. To elect superiors and councilors or tdam mem-bers in view of the accretions instead of the capacity to serve the basic goals and values of the institute would be to build in a dis-tortion. Somehow, the different responsibilities have to be dis-tinguished and provided for in their own right. Do our structures com'espond to their purpose and function? This is a question that each institute has to answer for itself, because each one has its unique charism that determines the purpose, function, and structures of its government. Certain circumstances, however, have influenced structures and government in many institutes of sisters dedicated to works of the apostolate; there are reflections of them in the constitutions studied. It may be worth noting them, for they could still clog the wheels in some institutes. Among such circumstances would be: ¯ an institute's existence before canonical recognition when there was not a corpus of canons a.dapted to the needs of sisters and when, in consequence, individual traditions of government could range from the very firm to the very loose according to personalities and to the local circum-stahces-- such precanonical traditions may well have an influence still; ¯ the high degree of uniformity in provisions after 1917; 192 Review for Religion, s ¯ the tendency to authoritarianism and the stress on author-ity of status between the Code of 1917 and the renewal initiated hy Vatican II; ¯ the rapid change in structures and praxis that followed the special general chapters at the end of the 1960s; ¯ the impact of social, political, and psychological change brought about by major movements over the past thirty years: peace and justice, solidarity with the poor, femi-nism, rapid communication, even the recent collapse of communism; ¯ internal tensions regarding identity vis-a-vis the laity, lifestyle, mission, place in the church, raison d'etre; ¯ some confusion of the functions of consultation, consen-sus, and discernment with the functions proper to gov-ernment. SCRIS had a point in the early 1970s when it held that lead-ership and religious authority are not the same thing and that their respective relations to government are different. Time has brought out, however, that religious government does not impose a choice between the two. On the contrary, both are needed, although in different ways. Good religious government reflects not only the word of the gospel, but the Word himself, who leads as pastor and as servant precisely because he so evidently has authority. Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is not extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, or institutional promotion of for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will be considered only on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. March-April 1993 193 JANICE McLAUGHLIN The Meaning of Evangelization Today evangelizing The Shona people of Africa have many names for God. My favorite is "Chipindikure"--The One Who Turns Things Upside Down. Chipindikure comes from the root word kupinduka, which means transformation or revolu-tion. This is what God is doing in the life of each of us and in our world. And this, I think, is what evangelization is all about; letting God's message--which is the most revolu-tionary message the world has ever known--letting that message transform us, turn us upside down, so that we in turn may transform society. Evangelization, then, is about change and about choice. I can say no to change. I can choose to stay in my little rut and refuse to be shaken up and turned upside down. But God does not give up that easily. Like St. Paul, God knocks us off our horse over and over again until we get the message. We have all had these moments of insight in our lives, these turning points, which open us to n~w possibilities. Let us look at some examples of what I mean from my experience--after which I hope you will look at examples from your own experience. After I entered Maryknoll in 1961, I became involved in the civil-rights movement and the antiwar movement. Janice McLaughlin MM spent 22 years in Africa. She recently completed her doctoral dissertation on "The Catholic Church and Zimbabwe's War of Liberation 1972-1980" at the University of Zimbabwe. She may be addressed at Community Office; Maryknoll Sisters; Maryknoll, New York 10545. 194 Review 3~br Religious I also worked with the "war on poverty" program in the small town of Ossining, New York, near Maryknoll. But I think that my eyes were really opened for the first time when I went to East Africa in 1969. Learning another language and living in another culture is perhaps a shortcut to transformation. It forced me to give up my old way of looking at things--my Pittsburgh, St. Lawrence O'Toole Parish, McLaughlin, United States way of looking at life, at God, at the world. It is a shock to learn that you do not have all the answers and that you are not even asking the right questions. The wonderful people of Kenya, and later the people of Zimbabwe and Mozambique, taught me that people are more important than things; that being is more important than doing; that God and relationships are at the heart of everything. In 1977 I went from Kenya to Zimbabwe, which was Southern Rhodesia at that time, and worked as the press secre-tary for the Justice and Peace Commission. I was detained and then deported for telling the truth about the war that was taking place there. Racial segregation and discrimination were govern-ment policy, as they had once been here in the United States. I saw that the war of liberation was an Exodus experience for the African people as they journeyed from slavery to freedom. I came to realize that this iourney goes on in each of our lives as we seek to free ourselves from whatever enslaves us. For some peo-ple it is drugs or alcohol or a history of physical or sexual abuse. For us religious it is often our fears, our inflexibility, and our selfishness. Later I worked with refugees from the war and saw that we are all refugees on a journey through life to our true home. The refugees showed me that, the less we carry on the journey, the easier it will be to reach our destination. In fact, life is a process of stripping us of all we cherish until God is all and everything for us. This is the mystery of death and resurrection which is at the heart of our faith--dying to self so that we may live in Christ. Thus refugees and displaced persons, political prisoners and freedom fighters, and the courageous men, women, and children of Africa who never give up hoping in the midst of so much destruction and death have evangelized me and have shown me that evangelization is incarnational and prophetic and is rooted in prayer. March-April 1993 195 McLaugblin. Evangelization Evangelization Is Incarnational Valentine, one of my students at a school for freedom fight-ers in Maputo, Mozambique, helped me see how incarnation works today. He told me how he had joined the liberation strug-gle after his graduation. "I thought I was better than the others because I had finished high school," he confessed. "I thought that I would be made ~ commander. But I was treated like everyone else." He said that his clothes became torn, that he had no soap for bathing, and little food. He began to think that he had made a mistake and that life was better under colonialism. "Then in my downtrodden position," he said, "I learned the beauty of the revolution. I learned that my suffering was to help others. My life now is to serve the people." Valentine was turned upside down, from being a conceited, selfish youth to becoming a person for others. "From my down-trodden position, I learned. ," he said. This is how God teaches all of us. When we are down and out; when we have lost what is precious to us; when we do not have all the answers; when we feel useless, lost, and alone: God reaches out and touches our pain, our suffering, our loss, turning our little daily deaths into new life. "She who loses her life will find it," God has promised. The happiest moments of my life were the times when I had the least, when, like Valentine, I was downtrodden and suffering with and for others. The three weeks I spent in solitary confine-ment in a Rhodesian prison, for instance, I had few material pos-sessions: a prison uniform, a lumpy bed, and lousy food. But this hardly mattered because the other prisoners reached out to me and welcomed me in their midst. They sang freedom songs at night and smuggled notes to me during the day. They even sent me food when they learned that I liked their African diet. I felt part of something bigger than myself. I was suffering for a cause, and the pain and fear no longer mattered because I was not alone. I was with the oppressed people, and God was there with us in our prison cells. I had this same experience of solidarity and closeness to God in the refugee camps deep in the forests of Mozambique. There I was the one who was weak and powerless. I did not know how to survive in the forest, so the children became my caretakers and guides. They would keep me company to cheer me up; they would teach me their language and share with me any special treats like sugarcane or maputi (a kind of popcorn). They were ministering 196 Review for Religious to me. I did not have to produce or perform, but merely to be there with them in their exile from home. This incarnational approach from within is very different from the balcony approach, where we stand outside and above, pointing fingers at what is wrong and telling others to change. Too often church people, including us religious, stand on our bal-conies criticizing and throwing stones at the world instead of immersing ourselves in the pain and suffering of the poor and oppressed, as Christ did. This immersion enables us to see the world from a new perspective. It is what turns us upside down. Evangelization Is Prophetic When we have been changed, then we are ready to change the world together with the victims. I remember an African sis-ter in Zimbabwe, Sister Marie Theresa Paulino, who explained to me how she became involved in assisting the freedom fighters during the war of liberation. "I thought of Jesus carrying his cross," she told me. "Everyone stood on the sidelines and watched. Only one woman had courage and came forward to wipe his face with her veil. I decided that I could not stand on the sidelines and watch my people suffering, but like Veronica I must have courage and do something to help." She was a nurse. She would disguise herself as a peasant woman, tie her medical instruments around her waist, and walk long distances to mountain caves where she would treat freedom fighters who had been wounded. This was a very risky thing to do. She could have been arrested and even killed if caught by the government authorities. Who knows what the church authorities would have done if they had known of this single sister's act of courage to wipe the face of her suffering people? Each of us is called to have this kind of courage, to wipe the faces of suffering people: the homeless in our streets, the drug addicts, the AIDS patients, the gangs in our inner cities, the sin-gle mothers, the abused and abandoned children, the new immi-grants. I have discovered in the months that I have been back in the United States that there are endless problems here needing to be solved. In fact, it seems tp me that the people of the United States are much more needy than the people I have known in Africa; people in this country of excess and abundance are in dan-ger of losing their souls. Marcb-Atrril 1993 197 McLaugblin ¯ Evangelization Prophetic action is needed to turn the values of this country upside down. We need more than a new president or a new congress or a balanced budget, though these might help. We need more than family values, though these too might help. If we want to save this country, save this planet, and save ourselves, we must return to the radical message of Christ in the gospels. What would the world look like if we truly walked in the footsteps of Christ? Do you think we would turn back Haitians fleeing the poverty and violence in their country? Would we exonerate the police-men who beat up Rodney King? Would we doubt Anita Hill? Would we bomb Iraq or any other so-called enemy? Would defense be our largest industry? Would we fail to sign environ-mental treaties at the Earth Summit? Would we allow thousands of Africans to die of starvation? Would we walk by the homeless in our streets? Would we allow violence and sex to dominate our television and movie screens? Would we let money rule our lives and rob our souls? Someone must stand up and say that t.he emperor has no clothes. Emperors, whether in the church or in society, do not like being reminded of their nakedness, and so we can expect to be condemned and criticized. Do we expect that we his servants should not suffer as Christ, our master, has suffered all these things for our sakes? Let me tell you of a friend of mine in Zimbabwe, Father Michael Lapsley. He is an Anglican priest from New Zealand who has spend all of his adult life condemning the sin of apartheid in South Africa. He was deported from South Africa and from Lesotho. Then two years ago in Harare he opened a package that had come to him from South Africa. It was a letter bomb. It blew off both his hands and destroyed one of his eyes. When I went to see him in the hospital a few days after the bombing, he had two bandaged stumps where his hands had been and a gaping hole that had held his eye. If it had been me, I would rather have been dead. But Michael was cheerful, and he said, "The Boers took my hands and my eye, but they left me my most powerful weapon, my tongue. And with my tongue I will continue to denounce apartheid until the day I die." This is what it means to evangelize the world, to live as Christ did and in so doing to change the world. 198 Reviev; for Religious Evangelization Is Rooted in Prayer We cannot hope to lead such radical lives without the sup-port of prayer. Prayer will give us the courage to take risks, the wisdom to expose the lies of our society, and the strength to join the victims. My understanding of prayer, too, been changed by my expe-rience in Africa. The African leader and philosopher Leopold Senghor has said, "Faith here [in Africa] is as essential to the soul as is bi'ead, rice, or honey to the body. Africans' gift to humankind is their ability to.perceive the supernatural as something really natural--so to speak." Creation spirituality, then, is nothing new to the people of Africa. It is their cul-ture and their way of life. They do not dis-tinguish between the sacred and the secukir. God is perceived as being tru.ly present everywhere and in all things. So they respect other human beings as the temples of God, and they respect the earth and all its creatures as God's dwelling place. African spirituality is all-embracing; there is nothing outside its scope. During Zimbabwe's war of lib-eration, for instance, the traditional religious leaders set down rules of conduct for the freedom fighters. VChile these spiritual men and women who are prophets, healers, bringers of rain, and mediums between the living and the dead were not able to prevent the war, they were able to humanize it by forbidding the needless shedding of blood and the destruction of wildlife and vegetation. African religion thus played an important role in introducing spir-itual norms and values into the freedom struggle. A recent article about prayer from South Africa's Institute for Contextual Theology points out the surprising fact that Jesus had not been teaching his disciples how to pray. They had to ask him. The article explains that Jesus wanted his followers to experience prayer as a need rather than a duty, and notes that there is no commandment in the Bible which says, "Thou shalt pray." It goes on to explain that prayer is like eating and sleeping. Unless there is something wrong with us, we will all eventually feel the need for food and for sleep. The same is true of prayer. How we pray will vary with each person and with our situation. Prayer will give us the courage to take risks, the wisdom to expose the lies of our society, and the strength to join the victims. March-April 1993 199 McLaughlin ¯ Evangelization Africa has taught me to be still and listen to God speaking through all creation and through the people and events I encounter each day. It has taught me to take time for silent pr.ayer, as well as to join in religious celebrations of the people. I have learned to trust the action of God in my life and in other people, rather than trying to do everything myself. Conclusion Life, then, is a journey towards God and with God. Evangelization involves becoming aware of this presence of God in our lives and then sharing this knowledge with others. I believe that this awareness grows when we immerse ourselves in the real-ity of the poor, whether in Zimbabwe, New York, or New South Wales. Their suffering and their faith shatter our complacency, forcing us to question all our preconceptions and prejudices, turn-ing us upside down. We can either become cynical, hopeless, and bitter, or we can face our own powerlessness and grow in faith, hope, and trust in God. Steve Biko, the South African leader who was tortured and died in prison, once said that comfort and security are incom-patible with leadership. I would add that they are incompatible with religious life. We will rarely be turned upside down in the comfort and security of our middle-class convents, spending all our time looking inward at our own spiritual growth. When we come down from our balconies and go out to oth-ers, especially the outcasts and the most needy, we will come alive. It is prophetic just to take the poor seriously in this society where wealth, possessions, and power mean so much. I should add that as women we are also among the poor and the oppressed because we have so little power in our society and in our church. Making the voices of the poor heard in our churches, homes, and offices and in the corridors of power throughout this land can make a difference. I firmly believe that we religious women can turn this society upside down. Let us do it! 200 Review for Religious Questions for reflection and sharing: i. Reflect on some of the turning points in your own life. How were you turned upside down? 2. What do you think needs to be turned upside down in your present situation? 3. What do you think needs to be turned upside down in this society? 4. What action will you take to make at least one of these changes? A Daughter's Monologue with Her Mother You are my child now. Now, you are my child. You may raise your brows at my leaving, or close your eyes on approach, wanting more nearly to turn toward the wall, to shut out the world long since set aside; one you no longer speak to. I will make room for your mood; your darkness, delight. You are my child now; who shall I name you ? You are my child now. There's no wanting in you but ¯ merits my care. You can wear soft hair in brhiding or turned in a bun. Neither will burnish my love nor undo it. Rest quietly, then, macushla. You can't disappoint me. Just who you are is my best expectation. You are my child now; I am the mother. Ann Maureen Gallagher IHM March-April 1993 201 MARIO I. AGUILAR Broken African Pots and a Mission Spirituality MwisSionary work in Africa has for years been associated ith lonely and courageous missionaries, single indi-viduals or very small communities of religious and lay people who have preached the gospel on the African continent in very diffi-cult circumstances. While the former facts are true in some way, in this article I want to look at the particular experience of a group of religious women and men working in Garba Tulla, Kenya, and their own sense of achievement and failure. Although this case is a very localized one, it opens the way to another understanding of missionary spirituality and, I would say, missionary work. I kvill focus, not on missionary strategies--that would constitute mate-rial for missiological studies--but on African pottery. I believe it can help to illustrate a spirituality for mission. In this article I assert that spiritual fulfillment, failure, and possible despair in missionary work are directly related to our own expectations coming from our own sense of achievement and self-understanding. The particular goals and expectations that missionaries arrive with permeate their sense of fulfillment and failurein their missionary work. What one person considers to be success and fulfillment can seem to be failure and reason for despair to somebody else. For this reason I suggest that the African way of making pottery could help us discover God's pres- Mario I. Aguilar SVD has taught Scripture and religious studies in Kenya and anthropology at the University of Vienna. His present address is: School of Oriental and African Studies; Department of Anthropology; Thornhaugh St. Russell Square; London WC1H 0XG; England. 202 Revie~ for Religious ence in different cultures--something I would consider the final goal in missionary work and in our own search for a spirituality of mission. On the other hand, there is this about African pottery: it involves making, breaking, and remaking pots. It is a constant process, one which never ends. Garba Tulla Parish: A Case Study The parish of the Good Shepherd (Parokia Tissitu Dansa) of Garba Tulla is located in the Isiolo deanery of the diocese of Meru, Eastern Kenya. The parish as such was created in 1987, after years of being an outstation of the Isiolo parish and then a so-called Catholic mission. By most people it is still considered the Garba Tulla Catholic Mission. Located in a semidesert area and in the middle of Garba Tulla town, it has a very short history as a so-called missionary presence among th~ Boorana people of the area. From the late 1970s, priests from the Isiolo parish (120 kilo-meters away) had gone to Garba Tulla, mainly on weekends, in order to celebrate the Eucharist with the Catholics who worked in the area. It cannot be denied that their missionary presence was oriented towards the conversion of the Muslim Boorana towards Christianity and specifically towards the Catholic Church.' In 1985 one priest and two brothers established their resi-dence for the first time at the Catholic Mission in Garba Tulla, but my case study begins in 1986, when a group of religious sisters joined the men religious who had been working in the area. At that time the missionary personnel working in Garba Tulla started considering themselves a team, a mission team of religious rather than a number of individuals working in the area. In a deanery where most of the priests come from diocesan backgrounds, this missionary team of religious constituted a novelty. Regarding a missionary strategy, the team went through stages of understanding their presence and work in the area. During the first stage, 1986-1987, the team moved towards being a Christian presence among the people, i3ut with the spiritual goal of fulfill-ment through the conversion of Muslims to the gospel. Their sense of spiritual fulfillment in mission came from the fact of their presence there and from the hopeful possibility that some Muslims would eventually believe in the gospel. New enterprises and new expectations, especially for a team Marcb-~lt~il 1993 203 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Each one of the religious on the team felt that his or her spiritual fulfillment depended on the implementation of a particular model of mission. which had just arrived in the area, provided a time of search for strategies and for a religious spirituality that stressed God's dia-logue with his people, but also stressed the need people have for Christ as the ultimate revelation of God. That was expressed in the creation of many projects of development and in efforts to form a praying community among the team, because of the lack of Christians from the Boorana people of Garba Tulla themselves. The team comprised seven people, who came from seven different countries--a nat-ural richness, one would say. Nevertheless, it created a deep crisis of purpose, because of the different understandings of mission work present among members of the team. By 1987 the leader of the team was changed under difficult circumstances, and a search for a new purpose began once again. There was a new sense of searching for fulfillment after the damage caused by the team's fail-ures of communication and understanding had somehow been repaired. (I believe that those scars will never be healed completely.) The spiritual failure felt by the team was ¯ explained as part of the problem of having a team with individuals of different nationalities and therefore with different models of mission. There were ethnocentric tones to the problem as well; people failed to understand one another's attitudes. Nevertheless, I would say that, by itself, the variety of spiritualities present in the team caused enough internal tensions for a complete breakdown in communication and cooperation. Each one of the religious on the team felt at one point or another that his or her spiritual fulfillment depended on the implementa-tion of a particular model of mission. New attempts to unite the team around a particular model of mission work have in reality also failed, even as new leaders in the team have moved to a second stage, dialogue with the Muslim community, and a third stage, the strengthening of the parish. Those two attempts provided a complete change from the above-mentioned first stage, which was concerned with the actual con-version of the Muslim community towards Christianity. This case could sound like a very familiar story among reli- 204 Review for Religious gious, but to me it posed many questions regarding spiritual ful-fillment, acceptance, failure, and even despair in missionary work. The result of that time of tension was a new beginning, a new search. Years later the team is still searching for answers. Years later different nationalities are still trying to understand what went wrong with those religious at that time, and the scars are still present. As a member of the team which followed the 1987 crisis, I asked myself many times if what actually went wrong was con-nected, not to mission strategies, but rather to a very limited understanding of a spirituality for mission. That mission team ran out of their spiritual resources as religious because they failed to accept that personal fulfillment also requires failures and even despair at certain times of our lives. It is in this sense that I pro-pose that African pottery provides a model that fits our need for spiritual fulfillment and the presence of God in our lives. Success and Failure in an African Pot In 1992 I had the wonderful opportunity to sit surrounded by potters at a village of the Nkhoma mountains in Malawi. The potters were women who belong to the Chewa people. I was acquainted with the art of pottery in my home country, Chile, and also as a religious I had explored the possibility of prayer involving the use of clay and pottery, with very limited results. But now I felt the need to relate a spirituality for mission, based on my experience in Kenya, to the feelings and events of those days spent under the sun in the mountains of Malawi. Among the Chewa people, women produce pottery while men weave mats. A group of women sit in front of a house, surrounded by their children. Usually one woman has learned the techniques of pottery from another village and teaches the others. The clay is prepared by being pounded in a mortar so as to eliminate impu-rities. Pottery making begins when the woman takes a lump of clay and proceeds to pick out of it the hard little pieces that are still present and would cause problems as the clay is molded. The complete process is simple and at the same time elaborate; skill comes only with practice. The more pots you make, the more skilled you become. The clay is pounded with the palms of both hands till it becomes like a flat plate. Then it is slapped at the sides, till the March-April 1993 205 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots A broken pot is never thrown away; it becomes an important part of the process of making new pots. actual form of a vessel begins to appear. This is done with round movements of the hands, with the clay in the air. The shoulders give a certain rhythm to this hard process. A lot of strength is required to shape the clay, and what looks like easy work---and fun, too, in a way--is really hard physical work. The potter's hands become hard and dirty. (A skillful potter can make six or seven new pots in a morning's work.) Finally the pot begins to take shape, and what was a piece of clay looks like a new creation. The whole activity of pottery making is witnessed by a group of the village com-munity. Small girls try their luck at pot-tery making. They mold smaller pieces of clay into small pots, their own contribu-tion to village life and a particular com-munity activity. Less-skilled women who are still learning the potter's art are helped regularly by those who have more experi-ence and skill. The whole activity becomes a community activity, in which individu-als are not ashamed of being helped in their process of pottery making. Individual women are encouraged by others with the phrases "Press harder, . Push the clay up," "Make sure both of your hands are molding the clay," and so forth. There is a constant concern for each other. At the proper moment the new, shaped piece of clay is placed on pieces of broken pots that have been spread out on the ground. Those pieces come from pots which broke while being fired or broke while being used for cooking on the family fire. Broken pots, therefore, are still useful for the community in their cre-ative activity. A broken pot is never thrown away; it becomes an important part of the process of making new pots. Broken pots symbolize the continuity of a particular village, where new pots could not be made and would not exist without the contribution made by those broken pots. The past of a people is symbolized by the broken pots, which become part of a present and provide con-tinuity for the future of a people who need to be fed in order to have a future. In the pottery process the potters constandy apply water to the 206 Review for Religious clay while they shape it. The broken pots and the water both con-tribute to the making of new pots. The clay placed on the broken pieces of pottery lies at arms' length in front of the potter as she sits spread-legged on the grtund. When one asks the women why they work this way, they simply say it l~as always been like this. For my part, I am reminded of the act of giving birth. Just in front of the womb, a new creation is b.eing shaped and brought to "life." The process is like giving birth, I could not help thinking how distant, by contrast, from the work of their hands first-world potters appear to be, while in the African villages there is a close union between the potter and her creation, the new pot, nourishment and new life for her own village and community. A piece of wood is used to shape the sides of the pot. The bottom of the pot is shaped with a knife. The inside is cleared of any extra superfluous clay, and the pot is left to dry in the sun-- except during October, when the pots are shaded from the very strong sun of that time of year. After the clay has dried some-what, the pot is smoothed with a stone and decorated and is then ready for firing. Mthough the potter may modify the traditional line-and-dot patterns of decoration, there is a tendency.towards a good deal of continuity. When a woman ig learning pottery, she is taught how the lines and dots are "supposed to be." The process of firing the pots, which takes place some days later, provides a very interesting sight. The pots are lined up and covered.with leaves and branches, Thes~ are then set on fire. The whole community sit~ around the fire and watches as a few women take care of it. There is~ a great sense of expectation as the proc.ess goes on. Some pots will break. Others will come through in good shape and will be ready ftr the final decorations made with some roots~ while the pots are still hot. The "paint" for the decorations (red and black) is provided by local roots which the commufiity also associates with initiation and maturation.' When I was present for the first time, only one pot out of ten broke during the firing process--considered a real success by the community. Usually more pots break. Following the firing of the pots, the whole community cele-brates the event with a meal. After all, the community itself will store and cook their food in those pots and will also generate some income when they sell some of the pots at the local market. March-April 199~ 207 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Not every region produces pots, for the right kind of soil is pres-ent only in the dry areas of the Nldaoma mountains. Wonderfully, the dry soil of arid mountains is the means of feeding these com-munities and thus sustaining life. Creating and Breaking Pots in Mission Work It seems to me that when one talks about potters and pottery, one assumes (as in Jeremiah 18:1-6) that God is the potter and we are those pots of clay that he is molding. What would happen if we consider ourselves the potters and that the clay symbolizes the cultures and peoples we are trying to evangelize, such as the Boorana of Garba Tulla, Kenya? When a mission community moves in and establishes itself, a particular group of people encounters another particular group of people. Each group has its own culture. The so-called "mission-aries" have the idea of forming a Christian community with the other group. Their effort can be compared to the making of pots, for that process, too, is culturally shaped, and people's expectations derive from tradition. Without excluding the possibility of lay people being mis-sionaries and therefore "makers of pots," I will explore these con-cepts with reference to Garba Tulla and its particular makers of pots and the particular missionary community in the parish of the Good Shepherd. The potters involved here came from different cultures. They all had experience of pottery making, and all of them recognized that it could be done only in a particular, culturally constructed way. Pottery making as the creation, subsistence, and growth of a Christian community required a certain experience and a certain risk. All those missionary religious had already experienced mis-. sionary work in other cultures and had brought with them whole bundles of assumed knowledge and expectations. Because of those past experiences, the process of learning pottery making in the Garba Tulla context was already shaped by their backgrounds. There were no teachers involved in this pottery making. Each one just did as he or she knew best. The clay had been prepared by the Italian missionaries who had lived among the Boorana before. When the new potters took over, there was no period of preparation, and the process of mak-ing the pot began immediately. The pot had to be shaped accord- 208 Review for Religious ing to the potters' expectations, and everyone's expectations were different. Although fulfillment, success, and failure can be assumed in the community of African women making pottery, there was no sense of one community of pot-ters among those missionaries. The making of pots was being done individually; different pot-tery techniques were being used. While it is true that a pot is a pot and not something else, the same word when used by different peo-ple evokes different images, shapes, and colors. And so, with-out some discussion and planning and some exchange and dialogue concerning the matter, there is no way to know somebody else's ideas about the making of pots-- or the making of a Christian community. While a pot is being made, much cooperation is needed. People offer each other valuable suggestions about the shape and consistency of a pot. The water needed for making the pots needs to be shared cooperatively. But for both potters and missioners, the process of firing a pot is the crucial moment of. fulfillment or failure. Without some discussion and planning and some exchange and dialogue concerning the matter, there is no way to know somebody else's ideas about the making of pots-- or the making of a Christian community. Towards a Spirituality of Broken Pots The pots need to be fired in order to be ready for use. In fir-ing, the makers of pots learn how successful their work has been. After the ashes are cleared, some of the pots will be found broken and later find themselves part of a new effort to make pottery. The time when the community witnesses the firing of pots is a very exciting time. A whole community effo]'t is being judged and evaluated. Our Western attitude looks almost exclusively at the result: if the pots that have broken amount to none or only a few, then the whole exercise has been a great success. If the bro-ken pots are numerous, then the whole community exercise is a disaster. March-April 1993 209 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Even if all the pots break and there is none left, they still rejoice because they have exercised a community moment, they have strengthened their common effort to keep their community fed. The African attitude toward such evaluations is completely different, and it hassomething to contribute to a missionary spir-ituality. Very few times in their lives hive the potters seen no broken pots after the firing. Even when a great number of pots breaks, they rejoice in the sturdy few that will increase the num-ber of cooking pots or the income of their community. Even if all the pots break and there is none left, they still rejoice because theyhave exercised a community moment, they have s.trengthened .their common effort to keep their community fed. If the number of new pots is none, they still have the broken pots, which are needed for the making of new ones. With these thoughts in mind, I consider no missionary effort ever to be in vain; any attempt at community life and at preaching the gospel through that community life cannot be in vain. Even the¯ so-called "fhil-ure" of the religious missionary team in Garba Tulla at a particular time, has aided new attempts to proclaim the gospel among the Boorana peo-ple. Through the life of those reli-gious, broken pots have become new pots once again. New expectations have arisen, and new people have arrived. Once again some individuals have disagreed with one another, but new expec-tations l~ave been created. Some will become'broken pots, others goo.d pots, but they will all eventually be part of each other. If'one looks at success and fulfillment and at failure and frus-tration in mission work, one realizes that the fulfillment or frus-tration among religious does not come from the visible or measurable results, but from the attitude towards those events. The sense of expectation and purpose in a religious community is the guide to the true meaning of fulfillment or frustration in mis-sionary work. Of those religious who served in Garba Tulla dur-ing that time of "crisis," some would consider that period a failure because the objectives of the planned mission work were not real-ized. Others, instead, would see tl~at period as a fulfilling and 210 Review for "Religiom. gratifying one because they provided it the much-needed experi-ence of learning how to cooperate on an international religious team. Success and failure among religious men and women can-not be evaluated in a simple empirical way, as in the business world, but they coincide with our own attitude towards the whole process of preparation for that particular time in our lives and towards the spiritual fruits which can appear during that time and afterwards. Further Points for Reflection. The lessons for a spirituality for mission based on the process of molding and firing pottery can be summarized in the follow-ing points: ¯ The whole process calls for an openness to the Spirit so as to recognize the whole process as already a "success." ¯ We need to accept that we are always learning and that oth-ers are also learning. The whole process of going through a learn-ing period in our lives is also a success. Hopefully that process of learning will never end. ¯ Pottery cannot be properly made by one person; it has to be a community effort, because we all need others to help us. Religious doing missionary work also need others in order to bear fruit and make new beautiful pots. ¯ Different people have learned pottery from different teach-ers and designs from different regions and villages. The beauty of it lies in its diversity. The success in our process of learning pot-tery comes from the realization that a proper diversity brings beauty and opportunities for exchange and dialogue. When reli-gious come from different countries and different cultures, they also experience success if they are able to recognize and appreci-ate the beauty of their diversity. ¯ The pot of water that is shared by the potters is needed for the flow of moisture in the making of pots. That water is passed around when somebody realizes that somebody else is in need: the other person's pot is also my concern. Success in missionary work begins when one realizes that all persons, including even oneself, need water at one point or another. The fact of caring for one another's project is already a success in life. ¯ The broken pots become important because they symbolize the continuity of a group of people, of a community. They are March-April 1993 211 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots used in a new effort to make pots for the community, for the stor-ing and preparing of food for the life of the community. The bro-ken pots become more important than the good pots because the pots that turn out fine after firing will eventually be sold to mem-bers of another community. The broken pots provide continuity of life that the village community needs. Maybe a spirituality for mission could be called a spirituality of broken pots: the more pots we break, the more successful we are, for we have experienced the past and present community pulling together, and we have recognized the need for others if we are to be successful. A spirituality of broken pots would recognize the need to accept that we cannot fully control the firing pro-cess. Whatever we do, some pots may end up broken, and so there is the possibility of trying again. Other pots may turn out well and then, in one way or another, will help the community to serve other people, even other potters, and people in other villages. The broken pots retain their unique importance because they provide the foundation for a new making of pots and thus for the food and life of the community. I feel that a spirituality for mis-sion should be a spirituality of broken pots--and that a spiritual-ity of broken pots always creates success, as Jeremiah shows: "So I went down to the potter's house; and there he was, working at the wheel. And whenever the vessel he was making came out wrong, as happens with the clay handled by potters, he would start afresh and work it into another vessel, as potters do." Note 1 See M.I. Aguilar, "Nagaa: Centro de Encuentro con el Islam," Chile Misionero, 9 (1992), and "Dialogue with Boorana Religion: A Path of the Gospel in Garba Tulla, Eastern Kenya," The Seed (Nairobi), October 1992. Review for Religious MICHAEL D. MOGA A Spirituality of Aging In life we are confronted with many spiritualities and are frequently forced to make a choice among them. There is the spirituality dis6nctive of a diocesan priest and there are many spiritualities of religious life. The spirituality of a contemplative religious is quite different from that of a religious engaged in the active apostolate. The spiritual-ities offered by oriental religions differ from those of Western religions. The theme of this paper is simple: the spirituality for an older person is quite different from the spirituality for a younger person. As we grow older the Spirit of God leads us through certain approaches and principles that are distinctive to the particular period of life in which we find ourselves. Human life is constantly changing and we are chal-lenged to move with those changes. We move through the stages of childhood and maturity into old age which demand that we leave behind one way of living to face life in a new and different way. The adjustments are difficult and may take many years to accomplish. The change from maturity to old age challenges us once again to leave something behind and to adjust to a new situation of life. Like the passage from childhood to maturity this new change presents us with a difficult Michael D. Moga SJ has taught philosophy in various seminar-ies and colleges in Mindanao. His address is Xavier University; Cagayan de Oro City; Philippines. aging christ March-April 1993 213 Moga ¯ A Spirituality of Aging adjustment which will demand a great deal of effort and pain before it is fully accomplished. I find it strange that a rather long portion of time and edu-cation (as much as 40-45 years) can be set aside to prepare a per-son for adult life whereas little or no attention or time is devoted to planning for one's final phase of life (which can sometimes last as long as 25 or 30 years)! In our early training as religious we were presented with a certain spirituality that for the most part fitted the life of a young person. It emphasized generosity ("to give and not to count the cost"), high ideals (working for "the greater glory of God"), and commitment. This spirituality was exemplified in a saint like Francis Xavier who lived a life of generous commitment until his early death at 46. He did not live long enough to face the need to change his spirituality. A spirituality for an aging religious must, of necessity, be quite different. I suggest that John the Baptist, who said: "He must increase and I must decrease," would be a fine model. John saw that his disciples were leaving him and following Jesus. He sensed that his basic work was completed and his role in God's plan had been fulfilled. He accepted all of this. He did not try to hold on to his disciples nor did he need to continue his previous work of preparing for the Messiah. He stepped back and let Jesus pro-claim his message, trusting that God was working through Jesus and through others. In a spirit of trust he lived his statement: "He must increase and I must decrease." Aging religious find themselves in the situation of John the Baptist. As they grow older many things are taken from them. As they diminish in body, mind, and spirit their influence in the world around them is lessened, and they are called upon to find God in these losses. Instead of emphasizing generosity as they did as a young religious, they are called to accept these dimin-ishments and even to rejoice in them. The total commitment to apostolic work of the young religious is set aside. Instead of giv-ing themselves more fully to apostolic involvement, aging reli-gious are called to withdraw from such involvements. Above all they are called to trust, to believe that as they decrease, Jesus increases. They are called to trust that their diminishment is part of God's way of furthering the kingdom. A spirituality of aging can take many different forms. Let me present a few of them. 214 Review for Religious 1. The spirituality of an old person should include a serious preparation for death. Death is not simply something that happens to us. It is one of the most important actions of our lives, for in death we go back to God. Such an important movement of our lives should be given due attention and concern. Just as in our younger lives we took the choice of our careers very seriously, so is death a similar crucial moment which deserves to be treated with similar seriousness and to be prepared for. The period of aging has been given to us by God as a time of intense preparation for death. It would be a mistake to be so busy with our work and other affairs that we give no time, thought, or effort to this approaching event in our lives. We may want to die with our boots on but such an attitude may possibly manifest a lack of faith. We are, of course, called by God to do our share of the work of building the kingdom. But our faith affirms that we are called by God to pass beyond ~his world to live with him in an eternal kingdom. It would be wrong in our present lives to be so occupied with the "God of this world" that we ignore that "God of the future" and the life that he calls us to. One way that we prepare for death is to begin to put things aside. Since in death we will be forced to leave our involvements in this world, a preparation would be to step back from these involvements, to become less absorbed in our concern for the achievement of goals and the attainment of success. Nature aids such stepping back from involvements. For an aging person the world often becomes rather "tasteless." The process of aging may not only reduce the sensitivity of our taste buds but also diminish our hunger for the activities and concerns of the world around us. We can find ourselves not caring which basketball team is the champion this year, which songs are the most popular, or who is the most popular movie star. When we were young such things made a difference, but as we grow older we find ourselves losing touch with these "popular" concerns. The tendency to lose touch need not be conceived as a sad thing, a loss. It is clearly the way nature guides us to turn away from unimportant things and to focus our lives on what is more Aging religious find themselves in the situation of John the Baptist. March-April 1993 215 Moga ¯ ~1 Spirituality of Aging essential--on the death that is coming, on the God we are soon to meet. Thus as we prepare for death we are challenged to free ourselves from all that is unimportant in life. In our journey through life we easily let ourselves get caught up in concerns, possessions, and habitual ways of thinking and being. How won-derful it would be if the contemplation of death could make us truly "free" of all these petty things so that we might live for what is truly important. Preparing for ~something means that we focus on it. The preparation for death demands a positive focus on that meeting with God which is found in death. Preparing for death thus invites us to turn toward God and give ourselves directly to God. Older religious shbuld be freed from apostolic involvements precisely so that they might have more time for prayer, more time for God. Every year we prepare to meet God in our celebration of Advent. During Advent we join with the people of the Old Covenant in their "waiting for God." We also join with Mary as she waits for her child to be born. During Advent we Christians give our energies to "waiting," to living out our waiting in a full and complete way. The lives of aging religious can embody this spirit of Advent and be filled with a "waiting for God." 2. A challenge to accept. One major characteristic of a spiritu-ality of aging is its emphasis on a person's acceptance of dimin-ishment. As we grow older various things are taken from us. There is a basic lessening of energies as we grow older. Vision and hear-ing begin to deteriorate. Health fails as we encounter various ill-nesses and pains. Control over one

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 34.3 of the Review for Religious, 1975. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building: 539 North Grand Boulevard: St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right (~ 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $I1.00 for two years; olher countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to repre~nt Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor May 1975 Volume 34 Number 3 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 Noah Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Models of Spiritual Direction David L. Fleming, S.J. David L. Fleming, S.J., is Co-director of the Institute of Religious Formation at the School of Divinity of St. Louis University; 3634 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Religious men and women today often find themselves in deep disagreement about the role of spiritual direction in their lives. The basic problem lies often enough in the inability to distinguish the various ways of understanding spiritual direction which have been developed in the Christian tradition. A. Models of Spiritual Direction lnspi~:ed by Father Avery Dulles' book, Models of the Church, 1 would like to propose a similar approach.to be used to better our understanding of spiritual direction. Dulles carefully makes the case that church has no single comprehensive definition, but as contemporary theology views it, church is in need of many models held simultaneously to gain a more adequate under-standing. In a similar way, I believe that we will come to a far richer apprecia-tion of spiritual direction if we consider various models which haye tried to capture what it is and how it works. The advantage of models in understanding spiritual direction, just as in working with the notion of church, arises out of the necessary obscurities of religious language and the area of religious experience. Spiritual direction deals with an ultimate level of religious mystery of a God and man love-relationship. As a result, our religious language should be looked upon as forming models because it can only approximate the object which it is trying to grasp. Whenever we use a model conception, we break the illusion that we are actually holding the infinite within the finite structures of our language. Moreover, a variety of models opens up the possibility of our not getting fixed upon any particular one and taking it as an idol. At the same time, through a 35'1 352 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 variety of models we will more easily allow for the greater expression of the subjective element which is at the core of,all religious experience. 1 will propose, then, five models of spiritual direction that are found in our Christian heritage. Spiritual direction can come in a group setting such as faith-sharing groups, small group discussions, or review-of-life groups. But here I will propose five models that deal only with personal spiritual direction, that is, one director with one being directed. For personal direction holds a privileged place in our tradition, and group activity does not eliminate its value or its need. 1 do not pretend that five models form an exhaustive list, but I think that it covers a help.ful spectrum of ideas about spiritual direction as it has come to be understood and practiced in the Church. The five models 1 have chosen are: I) direction as institutionalized; 2) direction as interpersonal relationship; 3) direction as charismatic; 4) direction as sacramental; and 5) direction as incarnational. ! will describe briefly spiritual direction as un-derstood in each of these models, touching somewhat on both the strengths of the model and the weaknesses. In trying to identify each clearly, I face the risk of caricaturing, but that is not my intention. All models should be valued and respected. I) Direction as Institutionalized Spiritual direction is institutionalized in the functions of the novice direc-tor, the designated spiritual director of a seminary, the tertian director, and sometimes the superior, especially as understood in the original role of the ab-bot or in the lgnatian idea of a superior. Direction in this model is carried out particularly by instructing in the spiritual and religious life. Spiritual direction is considered in terms of formation; it has a molding role, and so it connotes a certain control over a person's life development. Oftentimes direction in this model exercises a judgmental role because candidates for religious life or for the priesthood must be declared fit or not fit and so accepted or rejected. Spiritual direction in this designated job-form plays an important part in the Church today, just as it has in past centuries. Among the advantages of this model, the clarity of formation is assured, because the necessary instruction about spiritual development is not left to chance. Definite goals and some set means are a part of the direction ex-change, in this model, we find a certain control over the competency of the director since the "job" of direction was assigned usually by superiors who have judged a person's fittingness for such a role. From the letters of St. Paul giving direction to communities and to individuals, through the early models of direction by the desert fathers, we find deep in Christian tradition the bases of this institutional model. But a number of weaknesses are also apparent in this model. Obviously freedom is minimal in setting up the relationship of direction since the one be-ing directed must subject himself to the person whose function it is to fulfill the assigned job as director. Direction seems to be more a matter of imposition of Models of Spiritual Direction life style and spiritual practices than an evoking of personal growth. Direction also appears to be quite limited in time-value, for it covers primarily the for-mational period or, beyond that, the possible crisis period which needs infor-mation or judgment. 2) Direction as Interpersonal Relationship In this model, spiritual direction is defined primarily in terms of a per-sonal relationship--the closer the friendship the better. Direction, then, usually has the aspect of friendly sharing and loving support. While still main-taining the interpersonal basis, this model of direction sometimes makes studied use of psychological techniques, e.g. the transactional analysis methods. Even with the possibility of a certain psychological approach being consciously employed, direction attempts to focus equally upon the interper-sonal relationship of the two friends (the one directing and the one directed) and the growth in a life-response to God. Frequently in this model, the two people involved exchange roles of director with each other so that spiritual direction becomes a mutual involvement. The strengths of this model are evident in the presence of the love, care, and concern which permeate the relationship in all its aspects. As in any friendship, the free gift of self to each other is assured. Self-disclosure with all its dreams, ideals, fears, and disappointments flows very naturally as the friendship continues to deepen. While contemporary attitudes, especially in reaction to the institutional model of direction, favor this kind of approach, historically it also rests on strong evidence from the example of various saints' friendships with each other and from the written correspondence of direction. When we consider the weaknesses, we note that such a model may overstress the humanistic and so not allow for the distance between reason and grace, which never perfectly coincide. Even though in one sense friends can speak up honestly and forthrightly to each other, in another sense their lack of distance may blind each other to the very areas which need attention. Sometimes even the best of friends find that they are frozen in speaking about one or other area because of the delicacy of the love relationship between them. Another difficulty arises when psychological techniques enter into the picture too consciously; we may find a good helping relationship, but one which takes very little notice of the presence of God or the dynamism of grace. 3) Direction as Charismatic Spiritual direction in this model finds a basis in the diakrisis or discretio of St. Paul's grace-gifts within the Body of Chrigt. Because of the stress upon the special character of this person who is truly a "spiritual discerner," spiritual direction itself is seen as a rarity. St. Teresa of Avila is often quoted in support of this viewpoint because she said that only one person in a thousand is capable of direction work. Just to make the point more clearly, St. Francis de Sales is cited for his observation that a director may number only one in ten thousand. 354 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 Following the biblical image of forgiveness as seventy times seven, both saints are not using modern statistics, but rather they are indicating the special gift which is demanded of the director in spiritual direction work. For spiritual direction as understood here is defined more in terms of insight or infused in-tuition from God. Direction has an aura of the marvelous about it. The emphasis seems to focus more on the arcane directions which will be given to the person directed--special divine messages which come from the "reading of a soul" by the inspired director. The strengths of such a view certainly include the great stress made upon the gift-notion of spiritual direction. Direction in this model catches up two people in the atmosphere of the divine, and the process receives its proper emphasis of being more than human technique and human response, it does point up that a "seeing deeper" with the eyes of faith highlights the relationship of direction. There is a certain basis in both the Old and New Testament, and some examples in Christian hagiography to support such a viewpoint. The weaknesses become apparent in the over-significance attributed to the power of God's grace--looking for its presence only in the spectacular or the marvelous. It seems to restrict God's gifts far too much to the extraordinary in the light of human judgment. As a result, spiritual direction itself becomes an extraordinary means in the life of the Church spiritual tradition. But the history of spirituality does not support this conclusion. 4) Direction as Sacramental Spiritual direction has long been seen in terms of a sacramental model because of the confessor-penitent relationship in the sacrament of penance. Because of the sacramental grace of priestly ordination, the priest himself was seen to be a very special instrument of God and to embody the gifts of ministry which we find in the writings of St. Paul. The words which a priest speaks, then, have greater importance than mere human opinion or advice because they are spoken by God's human representative. More particularly, within the sacrament of penance the priest-confessor often has words of advice or counsel. This context becomes the only true setting of spiritual direction because of the certain ex opere operato effect of words spoken within the sacramental encounter. Such counsel within the context of the sacrament takes in, not just the area of sinful tendencies, but all the attitudes and ways of acting which relate to the God-orientation of a person's life. The advantages of this model include the emphasis given to a more balanced sense of the sacrament of penance. Confession itself is not a mechanistic forgiveness; it has a human relationship involved between the priest-representative of the Church and the penitent. There is no doubt that God-inspired words of counsel or advice do take place in the sacramental con-text. Yet as every priest knows experientially, such words cannot be presumed automatically--one flagrant handicapping of God's action being the prepared Models of Spiritual Direction / 355 little "sermon" which each penitent, no matter what he may confess, may receive on a particular Saturday confession period. But two-human beings, so consciously aware of the special presence of God in the sacramental relationship, are both more readily open to the word of God being spoken and being received. The merit of this viewpoint rests upon a long tradition stem-ming from the penitential manuals of the Irish monks of the eighth century to the more contemporary confession manuals dating from the seventeenth cen-tury in which direction brings a fullness to and finds its proper setting in the sacrament of penance. The weaknesses of such a model are found in the restrictions which it puts upon spiritual direction itself. Because of the sacramental setting, a priest is the only qualified spiritual director. Direction, then, flows properly from the ministry of priesthood. If other men and women carry on this work, it is only as "secondary" helpers to the priest who gives over to them this function. This viewpoint seems to take for granted that priesthood ministry inclu.des all the ministries to be found within the Church, but this conception has no sound basis in scripture or tradition. Direction in this model also takes on too magical a sense in that whatever is said within the context of the sacrament becomes true spiritual counsel. 5) Direction as Incarnational This model of direction is one that is probably receiving most attention to-day in the revival of the practice of spiritual direction. The name incarnational given to describe it calls a little too ostentatiously to the Christian connotation of God-becoming-man. Spiritual direction takes it place among the many "fleshly" means which make up God's ordinary way of salvation as un-derstood in Christianity. From Jesus Christ through the Apostles down to our own contemporary Church, we know that God has a design of salvation mediated by our fellowmen. Direction, then, is seen in its ordinariness of one man helping another to clarify and objectify God's will in his life. At the same time, direction is known to be a relationship of two persons caught up in the presence and power of God in this very ordinary encounter, and so both are aware by faith of the privileged grace-time which direction makes available. Elements which are present in the incarnation of the God-man have their analogous components in the direction relationship. Human preparation, faith, and an openness to the movement of God are necessary, and then a recognition that any true fruition of the direction relationship comes from the Spirit. This model of direction is also properly identified as incarnational in that no aspect of a person's life is left apart from the direction context, since man as a whole--physically, psychologically, and spiritually--must grow in his response to God's unique call to him. The advantages of this model are especially seen in terms of the developments of our own day. It presents a conceptual notion of direction that is deeply in tune with the whole process of renewal in the Church. It builds 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 upon the richness of contemporary scriptural and theological studies, par-ticularly in the areas of Christology and Ecclesiology. It maintains a sure emphasis on the humanness of this relationship in direction, while still placing the solidity of growth as a God-empowered gift. Direction in this model is an ordinary means of spiritual growth in the embodied spirituality which is Christianity. This way of understanding direction has good foundation in both scripture and tradition since we find God acting through men in giving advice and warning (e.g. Jeremiah), in making a person aware of how to listen to God (e.g. Samuel and Saul), in clarifying and objectifying a response (e.g. David and Nathan), and in instruction (e.g. Ananias and Paul). The example con-tinues in the many volumes of spiritual writings and letters which we have as a legacy from holy men and women in our Catholic history. The weaknesses of this model arise somewhat from the novelty of its recent re-emphasis. It may too easily be seen as a good human relationship sprinkled over with pious words about God's will. Direction may look so ordinary that the only conclusion to be drawn is that everyone needs it and is capable of profiting from it and just about everyone has the ability to give direction. Then, too, taking in the whole of one's life as the subject-matter seems to leave this model of direction open to a lack of preciseness--no clear understanding of the concerns of direction or the ways of going about it. In a similar way, direction seems to lack clarity about the quality of this spiritual relationship--mixing friendship and distance or professionalism, and or-dinariness and the sense of the holy. B. A Model of Models? In review, all the models have played and do play an important part in our full understanding of spiritual direction--what it is, who does it, to whom it has value, how to go about it, and so on. What 1 hope to have shown is that we can understand spiritual direction in various ways (not just one right way), and that as a result there are various expectations on the part of the director and the one being directed, various methods of directing, and even different ways of valuing its importance for mature spiritual life. To try to reduce the various models of spiritual direction to a single one is to lose sight of the incomprehensible richness of religious experience which forms the content of direction. Neither the strengths nor the weaknesses of the various approaches or models are neatly reducible to a single model. Even after describing each model in its purity, we should be aware that a blending often happens in ~ictual praciice. What we tend to do is to make one model our pivotal model for adapting and understanding other ways of functioning in spiritual direction. But to hold one model as pivotal is quite different from maintaining that there is only one way of understanding and practicing spiritual direction. If I were to opt for a pivotal model for our own day, 1 would choose direc-tion described as incarnational. I believe that it allows for a greater understand-ing of the continuing importance of spiritual direction, especially for the men Models ojSpiritual Direction / 3!i7 and women who have recognized or who are in the process of recognizing the call to specialized ministry roles within the Church. It also more easily allows for the importance of other understandings of direction and other methodologies according to circumstances, though it maintains an adequacy for its own method as a common pattern. Far more work must still be done to gain .an appreciation of the richness which we possess in the Christian practice of spiritual direction. Presently, to be able to hold the different models of direction in tension allows us to draw a little closer to a more adequate truth and a more varied beauty which encompass the mystery of spiritual direction ministry. Creative Response To A Call Within "The Call" Sister Marie Gatza, I.H.M. Sister Marie Gatza, I.H.M., participated in the Workshop of National Vocation Directors which met at Mercy Center in Farmington, Michigan, during the summer of 1974. She is Assistant General of the Sisters Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary; Saint Mary Convent; Monroe, Michigan 48161. The area of "Transfer," is, I am told, fast becoming a matter of concern among Vocation Directors. In the past, there have been rare instances of transfers centered mostly on permissions given to leave an active for a con-templative congregation, a less strict order for a stricter one. However, the topic of "Transfer" is a relatively recent new-comer among religious life con-cepts within Congregations of women in the United States, and so not too much has yet made its way into current literature. Opportunities to learn more about the idea of "Transfer,'" "therefore, come best through situations like the workshop of Vocation Directors at Mercy Center in Farmington where during the Summer of 1974, I had the privilege of contributing the ideas developed in this essay. In trying to think how I could most effectively focus the concentration of workshop members on the topic of"Transfer," 1 found that four key questions readily surfaced: I. Why would a Sister desire to leave her parent Congregation? 2. What factors greatly influence the thinking of Sisters in their search for a Congregation into which they can transfer? 3. What motivation would impel a Congregation to welcome into its membership a Sister who has already finalized her commitment in another Congregati6n? 358 Creative Response to a Call Within "The Call" / 359 4. Given mutuality on the part of the Sister to enter and of the Congrega-tion to receive, what procedural steps are basic to achieving the transfer of a Sister from one Congregation to another? I would like to treat each of these questions, now, in some detail. Then in addition to these four questions, it seems well to attend, even briefly, to the beginnings of evaluation of the concept of "Transfer" as we perceive it operating today within religious Congregations. I Why do Sisters feel convinced that they must leave the Congregation in which they pronounced Perpetual Vows? Because the reasons given by each of the Sisters cited here are so in-dividual, it would not be wise--or even possible--for me to generalize in response to this question. What we can do, however, is to take some mini-glimpses into the lives of a few Sisters who saw "Transfer" as vital to the continuance of their religious commitment. From them we may learn that the motives which led Sisters to request transfer are many and varied. My first example is SISTER P who had been for almost twenty years a member.of a cloistered Congregation, which recently, as a matter of entering into renewal of Religious life, permitted coursework for its Sisters on the cam-puses of nearby Catholic colleges. Sister P was greatly enthusiastic about her opportunity for college education, and discovered that she had a gift for and a great desire to impart knowledge to others in a classroom situation. She found the world of apostolic teaching increasingly fascinating, and at the same time was aware of a persistent questioning within herself as to whether she was really fitted for, or any longer drawn to the contemplative life, despite the years she had already spent within it. She asked for a leave of absence in order to test out her vocation in a Congregation whose main apostolic thrust is education. SISTER N became a candidate in the Congregation of her choice after completing secondary school, and entered, with apparent enthusiasm, into full-scale studies toward becoming a teacher in the Congregation's apostolate of education. Toward the end of nearly twenty years of service in various schools, and maintaining only love and reverence for her own active congregation, she felt the persistent call of the Lord to continue'her religious life in a more con-templative setting. Her transfer to a contemplative community was, therefore, effected. SISTER T's story is a second testimonial to the fact that transfer is a two-way proposition: some come, others go. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 Sister T, brilliantly endowed intellectually, chose to transfer from the original foundation Motherhouse of her congregation to one of its branches. Her choice for this action seemed to be motivated by the fact that the style and tempo of that community much more surely encompassed her thoughts on renewal in religious life than did that of her own Congregation. When SISTER S first came into contact with the congregation into which she ultimately transferred, she was in her early thirties, and had already been questioning her current situation in religious life. Sister S's diocesan Com-munity consisted of only thirty-four, mostly older members, who in Sister's es-timation had not sufficient theological background to enable them to cope with renewal. At the offset, Sister's motivation for approaching another religious con-gregation was primarily one of a desire to earn her degree. In the course of completing her studies, she came into close contact with the life-style of the faculty, Sisters who were her peers in the Juniorate, and a number of other Sisters belonging to the Congregation which staffed her college. At gradua-tion, Sister realized that the determination to transfer was still much alive within her, and took a most natural next-step: seek transfer permanently to that congregation. SISTER G, educated in elementary an'd secondary schools staffed by Sisters dedicated primarily to education, chose to enter another congregation whose apostolate included social work, for which she felt-a strong inclination. Ironically, at the time she requested entry into religious life, the congregation of her choice was in great need of teachers rather than of social workers, and so, Sister G was educated for the teaching field, a profession in which, however, she learned to find joy and satisfaction. After 19 years in community, Sister G's mother became ill and was in desperate need of her help. Sister appealed to her Provincial, requesting to live and teach with the group of Sisters in the town where her mother's home was located, a move that enabled her to be closer to her mother. Because Sister G's congregation at the time did not approve of inter- Congregational living situations, she was required to take a leave of absence in order to'care for her mother. Sister's two years of leave were painful ones for her in that she felt an absence of support from her Congregation, and grew in-creasingly concerned that her request to care for her mother in this way had displeased her former superiors. A sense of disappointment,-discouragement and alienation resulted. Meanwhile, her conviction of being at home and loved in her temporary living situation became more compelling, and Sister's thoughts focused on the advisability of asking for a transfer. Her present status 'is one of preparing to finalize her commitment to the Lord in her new Congregation. SISTER M is a promising young Ph.D., gifted as well with an unusually Creative Response to a Call Within "The ('all" / 361 strong sense of commitment to religious life, and a very real love and loyalty to her own Congregation. Sister M's reason for seeking transfer is expressed clearly in this sentence taken from one of her letters: "I am reluctant to make this transfer, but have found peace of mind with the decision, since affiliation with the community, ¯ promises greater freedom to respond to the heart of my religious vocation and to the needs of the Church as ! understand them." Interestingly, Sister M is at the present moment making one last effort to work things out with her own Congregation. I do not know whether or not her transfer will materialize. These examples, though few, indicate that reasons for thinking of transfer are much conditioned by a variety of circumstances in which Sisters find themselves. I1 What considerations greatly influence the thinking of Sisters in their search for a specific Congregation into which they would hope to transfer? I suppose that it would be next to impossible to make a comprehensive listing of the factors influencing Sisters in their search for another Congrega-tion in which they can live out the religious cohamitment already begun in the first, their parent Congregation. It is my experience that most Sisters who are interested in a possible transfer express in some way a feeling of affinity with the "new" Congrega-tion, and a supportiveness toward its thrust in Renewal. Where a House of Prayer has developed, for example, many Sisters relate very positively to the significance accorded this growing movement in the Christian life of our day, and are attracted by the centrality of importance accorded to both personal and communal prayer. Again, a basic belief in, and an inner assurance of, competency in relation to the apostolate of the new Congregation seems to enter significantly into a Sister's choice of a Community to which she might like to transfer. Sometimes, style Of living is an important consideration. A person's contact in childhood with the elected Congregation, that is, in elementary or secondary school years, or contact with members of a given Congregation in adult years may influence the Sister'.s decision to opt for one Congregation rather than another, if a transfer is sought. Occasionally, a more insightful approach is brought to the resolution of this question, i.e. "which Congregation?" ! recall, for example, a Sister who had entered religious life as an Aspirant after completing the eighth grade. Twelve years later, having pronounced perpetual vows, Sister asked to be ex-claustrated from her Congregation for the purpose of searching out whether religious life should c~ntinue to be her life-style. Her searching she did under direction, concluding that, yes, religious life was, indeed, what the Lord was :362 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 calling her to live; bt~t not, however, within the Congregation she had entered. After asking herself what it was within the spirit and heritage of her own Congregation that had been most helpful and inspirational to her, really at the heart of her vocation, Sister contacted better than a.dozen Congregations ask-ing for brochures. These she studied for indications of the traits that best em-bodied the spirit of the Congregation in which she had made her vows. In the end, it was the Congregation which she thought did this best that she ap-proached asking for a transfer. But whatever the method used, or whatever the degree of logic or clearness of purpose perceived by the Sister considering transfer, I believe it is fairly safe to say that the seeker is hopeful of finding in the new Congregation cir-cumstances that will be favorable for her living, in some rewarding way, a commitment which means very much to her; circumstances which for some reason or other may have been painfully absent in her life in Community up to this point. III What would be the motivation of a Congregation which welcomes as a new member o fits own a Sister who has already lived under permanent profession within another Congregation? First off, let's clarify one point beyond any confusion. There is probably small encouragement in the Church for supporting transfer at all. The nature of religious commitment, as it has been historically understood and accepted, i.e., "Community", "family", "leader-followers" concepts, argues for permanency within the parent Congregation. We have learned to speak of the "charism" of a Congregation: that unique spirit that characterizes a group of Sisters as a religious Congregation. Although it is hard to put one's fingers on exactly what it is that distinguishes one Congrega-tion from another, no one will deny that there is a certain something, a family bond or spirit which is recognizable to the members, and, to an appreciable ex-tent, able to be detected by outsiders, as well. In some effective way, it seems that the act of transferring from one Congregation to another has to take this matter of Community-charism into consideration. Granting this fact, even slight reflection leads to the conviction that transfer is not an action one opts to pursue lightly when life's more adven-turous movements taper, off into routine. No. To transfer from one's Congregation to another can result in virtually total uprooting, loss of friends, and severance from all that has been familiar for the individual. Should transfer become a more.common pr~actice, we could anticipate con-sequences for the parent Congregation, also. Loss of morale within the ranks, and diminished confidence in the Community outlook and thrust on the part of many of the members can develop exceedingly fast, as we have all learned through our own decrease in numbers sustained in recent years. Creative Response to a Call Within "'The Call" / 363 These considerations being so, a large number of transfers could hardly be thought desirable. One might ask, then, why do leaders of Congregations entertain the idea of transfer at all? Their motivation has to arise from a basic reverence for each individual call to religious life, and a desire to support a fellow Sister in her efforts to re-main faithful to her vocation, even if it means a painful re-planting. Those sup-porting transfer would have to act from a willingness and desire: a. to provide for a Sister some "time" and "space" away from her Congregation in which she can be free to sort out priorities while still being basically observant of the life style of a religious, -or-b. to provide a Sister with an opportunity to embrace the life and mission of a new Congregation for the sake of remaining faithful to her commit-ment to Christ, when it becomes apparent that she can no longer achieve this end within her own Congregation, -or much more rarely, willingness to engraft upon one's own Congregation (as was recently the case within a diocesan group in one of our Eastern States) a whole Com-munity of Sisters when a basic similarity of spirit, or charism prevails in the two Congregations in question. These thoughts indicate in some way, why a Congregation is sometimes willing to accept Sisters asking for a transfer. IV Given a Sister who believes she needs to have a new setting in which to continue living her religious vocation, and given a Congregation willing to think of her as a potential new member of its own, what must be done? The essentials are not too numerous, in my .experience. a. Willingness of the General Superiors of both Congregations to allow and welcome the fact of a transfer, is undoubtedly, of the essence. b. Some good help provided the Sister in discerning whether transfer is, in-deed, the Lord's will for her seems essential too. c. And, of course, proper transactions with Rome are required for the ob-taining of the needed "paper"--the Rescript of Transfer. Of these three, the step which admits of many specifics is the second one; the discernment process. Taking more time than not enough at this point, and being free to meet the individual needs of the Sister is a matter that must 364 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 receive priority at all costs. The space of a year, or more, can very profitably be employed in initially resolving the question of whether it would be mutually advantageous to bring about a transfer, and then of building a readiness for a transfer which is directed to future personal and apostolic fruitfulness for the Sister and for her new Congregation. In my Congregation, which has been open to requests of Sisters to transfer, dealing with Sisters who are thinking about this possibility is a work delegated to the Assistant of the General Superior. It is her responsibility as contact per-son to keep the General Superior and Provincials aware of the Sister's progress at stated times throughout the year. It is also understood that the contact person in some suitable way perform the following duties in re to the Sister seeking to transfer: I. The Contact person enables the Sister to find a situation in which she will live and work among her new Sisters as an actual member of her own Congregation for at least one year before any formal request is made to Rome. During this year a two-way evaluation is on-going: on the part of the Sister who is acquainting herself with the new Com-munity; and on the part of the chosen Community which tries to ask honestly: "Can our Congregation assist this Sister in her living of a healthy religious life and further our Community interests as well by welcoming her into our midst?" 2. The Contact person makes efforts to assist the Sister to become familiar with the members of the elected Community and their life-st'yle, Constitutions, prayer, Community history, and so on. 3. She arranges a realistic and practical system of contacts by means of which she herself, will keep in close contact with the possible transfer- Sister throughout the year. 4. It is her responsibility to establish, as well, during the year, some means of contacting the Sisters residing with Sister-transfer to see how they in-teract with her and she with them. 5. The Contact person may significantly assist her Superior in preparing the portfolio of materials needed to formalize the transfer at Rome, and within both Congregations of Sisters. 6. She enters into facilitating plans for the liturgical celebration marking completion of transfer. 7. She, finally, keeps files current: documents, letters, various com-munications. These suggestions form'at least a working outline of practical steps that will take on significance during the discernment period, especially. Here, then, are some thoughts on each of the four questions presented in the beginning of this essay. I have shown that transfer from one Congregation to another is possible; and while certainly not giving the last word on how it can come about, I have indicated the outline of a procedure for a starter. With Creative l~,esponse to a Call Within "The Call" / 365 all of this, ~owever, there is a yet unasked, but key question that must be sur-faced: I When all the externals and!formalities of the transfer have been com-pleted; when the document~ have been validated; when the ceremonial commemorating the event l~as become a matter of history, it still seems imperative to ask: Did a transfer really occur? Is it possible for a person to sink permanent roots in new soil twice in the space of a single, human lifetime? What sort of on-going~considerations would have to be borne in mind by the "new" community and satisfactorily dealt with by the transferred Sister so that she will not: -- be constantly lone!y? -- be often lacking in ~nderstanding because her past is so foreign in many ways fro~ the past of those with whom she now lives? -- be many times Iook~ing backward to a chapter of her life which is largely unsharable with others and now closed even to herself?, These questions--very real and, sometimes, harsh, lead one, unerringly to the ultimate question: "For h~w many can transfer really be an alternative'?" This presentation really c~uld end with the question 1 have just posed. Ho ever, as a kind of epilog~te, let me ask one further: w'what would happen were it possible for a Sister to live within another Congregation on an extended leave until such time arrived at which she could return in dignity an~ peace and joy to her own Congregation?" Might not this be an unusu~ai service of love that a Congregation could ex-tend not only to an individual ~eligious, but to its Sister-Congregation, as well? it's worth a thought! I Integrity in the Religious Life Sister Mary John Mananzan, O.S.B. Sister Mary John Mananzan is attached to St. Scholastica's College; 2560 Leon Guinto, Sr. St.; P.O. Box 3153; Manila, Philippines. There are virtues which are so all-encompassing that one can explain the other facets of religious life through them. It is not infrequent to explain religious life primarily through one of the vows--(of poverty, of chastity, and obedience) or primarily as a life of love and from there explain all its other features. One such encompassing virtue which, however, is rarely used to view religious life, is integrity. And it is not infrequent that religious people who ex-hibit m~iny external manifestations of virtue can be lacking in integrity. This lack of integrity .can be so subtle that such religious people become a real problem to honest but simple people who deal with the.m. These cannot put their .finger to a particular fault but somehow .they feel something is wrong somewhere. This article will try to analyze situations that exhibit the presence of integrity or the lack of it particularly in the religious life. Integrity is a many-faceted word. Its nuances encompass different but related levels of meaning--from honesty to wholeness of being. But all along this spectrum of meaning runs a single beam that relates them to each other, namely TRUTH. Integrity describes the many aspects of being true. That is why it is a basic virtue. Without it all other seeming virtues are a show and the lack of it makes any manifested virtue suspect. The most basic meaning of the word is "wholeness" or oneness. A religious who is a "whole" is one who has achievi~d a certain harmony in his being, which presupposes a basic self-understanding and self-acceptance. Further-more he has a certain sense of reality and a coherent system of values which form the framework for this authentic self-awareness. Most religious tend to mature intellectually before they do emotionally and morally. There is thus a Integrity in the Religious LiJ~" / certain incongruence and inconsistency in their life. They can give very good lectures, sermons, or write beautiful articles about behaviour, attitudes or vir-tues which can be sadly lacking in their lives. The catching up of one's emotion and one's will with one's insight is a progressive growth in integrity and wholeness. This tendency of the earlier maturation of the intellect may explain the expert way religious.can rationalize actions which deep in their heart they feel guilty about. Laymen can be more honest about their faults than many religious because they don't need to live up to an image. Religious on the other hand have to live up to the imperatives that rule their lives--the imperative to perfection, the imperative to excellence, the imperative to fidelity, the im-perative to unselfishness, the imperative to sacrifice, etc. There is thus a ground for varying degrees of hypocrisy in the religious life ranging from unconscious inconsistency, through semi-conscious in-congruence to alarming schizophrenic tendencies. In this connection, one can look at the crisis of celibacy today as the crisis of integrity. Celibacy can be viewed as the virtue of integrity par excellence. The fact that physical integrity is a sign of virginity is a significant symbol of the main characteristic of celibacy which is personal wholeness. Lived celibacy is not just renunciation but it is at the same time a fulfillment--namely the coming together of heart, mind, body in a singleness of purpose of serving God and being wholly there for others. Any religious who has had a crisis of celibacy must have undergone the literally heart-rending experience of being drawn to two poles--to the demand of the religious life and to the preoccupa-tion with the person with whom one is emotionally involved. Even without indulging in sexual relationships this inner splitting of one's heart threatens one's integrity as a religious. Sooner or later one will reach a critical point which can result in two ways: It can result in a greater wholeness, in a greater integrity due to a conscious re-direction of one's being to one's religious commitment or to a totally new way of life. But it can also lead to disintegration in one who refuses to heal the dichotomy of his heart. At this point all the other forms of lack of integrity will come in--justification, dis-simulation, outright deceit. The more clever the religious the more ingenious the rationalization. The whole of theology can be overhauled to justify the in-fidelity of the human heart, In those who have come to the point of indulging in sexual relationships, the element of passion comes in which blinds them to an almost unbelievable degree. It is not just a matter of moral disintegration that ensues; it can mean a disintegration of pe~sonality. Whole articles can be written about the so-called "third way." Here, only its effect on one's integrity has been discussed. Less dramatic but nevertheless harmful forms of lack of integrity can be found among religious. Where positions of power are held, there certain danger to one's integrity is present. As has already been said, the imperatives of the religious life conditions the failings of religious to be less glaring, less gross, more subtle, more refihed, and consequently more insidious. One can, 361~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 for example develop a way of manipulating facts to serve one's purposes, it is not a matter of downright deception or lie but a way of leaving out facts or choosing them or presenting just an angle of them in order to get what one wants. One cannot put a finger on any downright falsified item but the whole thing is a lie nevertheless. The manipulation of reality can be so subtle that only the most clever can see through the whole scheme and yet ordinary people have an uneasy feeling about it. A more serious form of this lack of integrity is the manipulation of people. It is bad enough to manipulate facts, it is worse to manipulate people. There are clever persons who can play on the weaknesses and strength of other people to their advantage. When one has a project all wiles will be exerted to manipulate people into it. This can lead to sickening forms of "false sweetness," to borrow from the little girl who transformed the 8th commandment into--"Thou shal( not bear false sweetness against thy neighbor." For a positive treatment of integrity, one has to go back to the basic mean-ing given earlier in the article, namely--wholeness. There is in the religious who has achieved a certain amount of integrity, a certain consistency and con-gruence which gives his personality an identifiable core. This gives him a cer-tain reliability and trustworthiness lacking in "shifty" personalities. One. knows where one stands with him. One is aware of encountering someone who remains what he essentially is in differing circumstances. He is real! This solid ¯ reality of his personality is, moreover, transparent, not made opaque by masks, pretensions, dissimulations, or defenses. He is by this very fact vulnerable, because he does not change color like a chameleon or become elusive like an eel. Therefore his weak points are apparent and open to attack. But even this vulnerability is an asset because it is what makes him at home with all men. The link that binds human beings is most often their capacity to be hurt rather than their invulnerability, their common misery rather than the superiority or achievement which set some apart from others, It is a vulnerability that survives being pierced without falling apart. The process of personality integration is an on-going one. A person who has reached a certain degree of integrity continues to make experiences which are to be integrated into his personality if they are to become meaningful to him. One's integrity when one's world is still relatively simple is qualitatively (not only in degree) different from that which one has achieved after going' through major life experiences. There are experiences that are more easily in-tegrated than others because of their familiarity and relative lack of impor-tance. Utterly new experiences, shattering or overwhelming ones are more dif-ficult to integrate. These can cause crisis situations. A person of integrity however, can undergo the most serious crisis, even one caused by his own failings and therefore incurring real guilt without suffering a personality dis-integration. He somehow arises from the ruins battered but whole. He is able to integrate even these negative experiences into his life making him richer and. even more whole because of the confirmation of the links that unite his per-sonality. Integrity in the Religious Life / 369 This is probably the reason why religious who sense an inner integrity in their being tend to take more risks and are less bound by conventions or legalistic observance of rules. They have a sure instinct for what is right, what is true, what is demanded by a situation, what is false or genuine in people they live with. Because of all these, they enjoy an inner freedom which makes them more creative and innovative in the living of their religious commitment. Reprints from the Review "The Confessions of Religious Women" by Sister M. Denis, S.O.S. (25 cents) "Institutional Business Administration and Religious" by John J. Flanagan, S.J., and James I. O'Connor, S.J. (20 cents) "Authority and Religious Life" by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. (20 cents) "The Death of Atheism" by Rene H. Chabot, M.S. (20 cents) "The Four Moments of Prayer" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (25 cents) "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" by the Congreg~ition for Religious (35 cents) "Meditative Descriptiori of the Gospel Counsels" (20 cents) "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer" by Herbert Francis Smith, S.J. (25 cents) "Religious Life in the Mystery of the Church" by J. M. R. Tiilard, O.P. (30 cents) "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (30 cents) "Consciousness Examen" by George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. (20 cents) "Retirement or Vigil?" by Benedict Ashley, O.P. (25 cents) "Celibacy and Contemplation" by Denis Dennehy, S.J. (20 cents) "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat" by Herbert F. Smith, S.J. (20 cents) "The Healing of Memories" by Francis Martin (20 cents) Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Religious Government: A Reflection On Relationships Sister Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M. Sister Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M., whose reflections here have grown out of her experience with the nine provinces of the Sisters of Mercy as well as conversations with members of many other congregations, resides at the Generalate of the Sisters of Mercy; 10000 Kentsdale Drive: P.O.,Box 34446; West Bethesda, Maryland 20034. The renewal of religious life inaugurated by Vatican II required the adaptation of every aspect of that life, both external practices and internal attitudes. One of the most readily observable of these external areas is that of religious government, the network of structures which regulate the interrelationships of members and groups within a community. If the revitalization of communities in the light of Gospel vision and community charism was to occur, the Council saw that it had to be done in the light of the "physical and psychological con-ditions of today's religious," "the needs of the apostolate, the requirements of a given culture, (and) the social and economic conditions everywhere."' More particularly, the Council specified that the way in which communities are governed had to be re-examined in the light of these same standards.~ In order for renewal to truly involve and touch each member of a com-munity, structures had to be altered in order to create channels for each in-dividual voice. Moreover, the spirit of collegiality and subsidiarity which enlivened the Council itself implied the necessity for structures of participative decision-making within other Church groups, such as dioceses, parishes, and religious communities. Before renewal began, role definitions of officials in religious communities (e.g., major superiors, councilors, local superiors) had 'Vatican Council II, Perfectae Caritatis. no. ~. ~lbid. 370 Religious Government." A Reflection on Relationships / 37"1 ¯ provided predictable patterns of decision-making. Furthermore, little revision of rule or policy was required from year to year in an era when lack of change was valued as a sign of strength; constitutions and custom books provided guidelines for every situation, whether of great or trivial importance. With the recognition of the need for on-going adaptation, however, structures had to be altered to provide for on-going participation in the vision-building and direction-setting of a community by every member of that community. Not only was widespread grassroots participation needed for the successful carry-ing out of the special general chapters which inaugurated adaptation, but government plans had to be tailored to allow for continuing involvement in the affairs of the community. At least five years have elapsed since this work began, and some obser-vations can be offered as the fruit of a backwards glance over those years. The remarks which follow can be characterized as insights gleaned from observing the efforts of many communities to re-structure their governments into more responsive and responsible models. They are reflections on the phenomena--not evaluations from a religious or a theological point of view. This work of evaluation is certainly called for, but first we must form a good idea of what is happ.ening before we probe further. The following observations apply to representative bodies, to administrative groups, and to the methods whereby leadership is selected. Representative Bodies The ultimate authority in a religious community has always been vested in its general chapter. Accordingly the efforts to update communities had to begin here in a twofold sense: the chapter itself had to be updated as an instru-ment of leadership and then it, in turn, had the responsibility to inaugurate change in every Other aspect of community life. To this end communities modified their chapters in various ways and, in some cases, supplemented them with other representative groups described variously as assemblies, boards, and congresses. All .of these representative bodies are discussed together here, because certain observations can be made which pertain to all of them. Therefore, in the paragraphs which follow, "chapter" is used to refer to any representative body with responsibility to and for an entire religious in-stitute or a large portion thereof, e.g., a province. I. Most representative bodies have been made truly representative. Great progress has been made here, in the sense that chapters are no longer con-trolled by a preponderance of ex-officio delegates. In most cases the size of the group has been expanded and communities have been diligent in trying to bring together a genuine cross section of the congregation--diversified as to age, apostolic experience, community experience, and geographic location (in instances where a community is widespread). One thing we have learned here, however, is that this effort has its own inherent limitations, in the sense that to specify the configuration of the delegate group too particularly may arbitrarily 372 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 limit the freedom of the community members to have the representatives of their choice. In other words, suitable chapter delegates are not always or necessarily found in equal proportions in each geographic region or age group. 2. A distinction between the chapter and other non-legislative representative groups is not always viable in practice. This observation applies to those com-munities which have created an additional representative group to serve in the interim between chapter sessions in an advisory .capacity to the administrative group (major superior and council). The composition of this new group usually overlaps, to a large extent, the chapter membership, so a certain confusion of roles and responsibilities results. As chapter members, while the chapter is in session, the delegates have dominative authority over the affairs of the in-stitute or province. As assembly members, however, the delegates have only a consultative function. However, a crisis of confidence in the leadership of the administrative group would soon develop if they overrode or ignored the con-sidered judgment of the assembly very often. So, in practice, the assembly becomes, effectively, legislative or policy-making. Also, assembly members would soon lose interest in serving in that capacity if the matters submitted to them were not of real significance and/or if their judgments were not adopted and implemented by the administrative group. Therefore, the tendency is for such assemblies to either develop a quasi-legislative function or else to be con-sistently frustrated by the ineffectiveness of their role. The question must be asked, though, how many significant agenda items are t~ere which should receive the attention of a broad-based chapter group? It would seem that on many issues the administrative group would profit more from consultation with a more specialized committee within the community, such as the representatives of one particular area of apostolic service, than from the broad-based consultation which a chapter can provide. 3. The frequency with which the group meets is more significant than whether or not it is defined as legislative. If the group meets frequently (e.g., as often as bi-monthly, or even quarterly), there is a tendency on the part of the ad-ministrative group to submit a comparatively larger number of items to its consideration and to defer action even on relatively noncontroversial issues un-til after consultation with the chapter or assembly. Thus there is the possibility of paralyzing the activity and initiative of the administrative group, or at least of weakening their effectiveness as a leadership group. Major superiors may hesitate to make any personal creative approach to a problem or issue without submitting it to a chapter 'referendum.' In some cases this is by design: the administrative group is conceived of as the executive arm of the chapter which, in a sense, retains ordinary authority in the community. If this is patterned on the federal government's model of separation of powers, it fails to take account of the fact that the executive and legislative arms of the federal government are (ideally!) separate but equal and, furthermore, are counterbalanced by the judicial arm. If it is patterned on the model of the relationship between a board of trustees and administrators Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / :373 who are responsible to the board, then it should be noted that trustees or-dinarily entrust a large amount of ordinary authority to their administrators. If the administrators abuse that trust, they are replaced by the trustees, but the latter are not involved in the administration per se of the institution. One ques-tion which a community which adopts this "strong chapter/weak ad-ministrator" model must ask itself is to what extent the chapter members are willing to prepare themselves to consider and to involve themselves in a succes-sion of varied problems and issues. Too frequent meetings also may have the unfortunate effect of discourag-ing otherwise qualified community members from serving as delegates. Once this occurs the moral authority of the chapter is subtly undermined because the community senses that somehow serving as a delegate is not a priority respon-sibility and that the composition of the delegate body does not reflect the 'first choice' of the members of the community. 4. Chapter authority is weakened by confusion over its function. Formerly the understanding of what chapter delegates were to do was quite clear and recognized throughout the community. Ordinarily general chapter meetings coincided with the election of the major superior and other officials, and this task was the primary responsibility of the delegates: In addition to this elective function, the delegates knew they had legislative authority. However, in the pre-Vatican Ii era little change was expected or seemingly desired. Therefore the responsibility for this legislative function did not weigh too heavily on the delegates. Beginning with the special general chapters, however, the whole situation changed, and the legislative aspect assumed great prominence. Chapters vir-tually legislated anew on every aspect of religious life, even to the extent of abrogating their former constitutions almost in toto. Since that time com-munities have been using interim constitutions and chapter decrees in place of their former constitutions. The changes reflected in these documents, of course, could not be effected by simply promulgating them: on-going develop-ment had to take place in order to assist community members, delegates and non-delegates alike, to test out the new vis{on in terms of concrete experience and to internalize that vision in their personal value structures. Quite naturally, chapter delegates thus saw that their responsibility did not end when a chapter session adjourned. They had to communicate the chapter vision to everyone and become agents of on-going renewal. Subsequent chapter sessions then became occasions of further corporate reflection on the values embodied in earlier chapter decrees and led to appropriate modifications, refinements, a shared search for ways to implement ideals, and so forth. Thus the legislative function of chapters shaded into a new one, the renewal function. While this evolution of chapter responsibility is understandable and, from some standpoints, desirable, from another viewpoint an unfortunate blurring of distinctions may occur. That is, all of the pronouncements of the same legislative body tend to carry the same weight. As a result, chapter enactments 374 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 may appear to regress to the minutiae of an earlier era, and hence invite dis-regard, or they may all appear to be merely exhortatory without the benefit of stress or emphasis. If the authority of the chapter becomes weakened in the general estimate by too frequent pronouncements, there will be no authoritative voice left in a community to make a really solemn or effective point when it is called for. Perhaps this is an argument for less frequent chapter meetings, preceded by extensive reflection and development of issues within the community. The renewal function, then, would remain primarily the responsibility of the ad-ministrative group and such other community members and committees as they invite to share their responsibility, while the deliberative and legislative function--the ultimate direction setting--would remain the primary emphasis of the chapter itself. Administrative Groups The day-to-day administration of religious communities as well as or-dinary authority between chapter sessions is entrusted to a major superior and councilors and staff persons who collaborate with them. Just as with represen-tative bodies, there have been a variety of new approaches to maximizing the effective service of~.administrative groups. 1. "Teamwork" is seen as an ideal for administrative groups. Scarcely a group could be found today which would not lay claim to functioning as a "'team," but the connotations of this term are sometimes elusive. The use of it probably reflects an effort to escape from a hierarchical arrangement within the administrative group in which distinctions of rank and authority were strictly maintained, or from a rigid system of role descriptions within the council which tended to discourage creativity and initiative among the members and to stifle leadership in all but the major superior. To state what a team is not, however, is not the same as filling the concept with positive mean-ing. The chief characteristic of a team relationship is probably the high degree of communication and interaction among its members. Team organization is not incompatible with differentiation of tasks and authority among the members--after all, there is only one captain of a football team, and everyone plays a different position on it. (There are even offensive players as well as defensive ones, althgugh one would not like to push the analogy this far!) A team does imply a common goal for the members' efforts, however, and a genuinely concerted effort to reach it. There can be a distribution of authority on a team, and there certainly should be a flexibility in approach, a willingness to capitalize on one another's strengths and to compensate for one another's weaknesses, and a relative freedom to revise the "game plan" or to strategize as play progresses. A few communities have organized their administrative groups in such a way that two or more persons have co-equal responsibility. For example, there Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / 37~i may be three co-provincials who have different spheres of responsibility (such as religious formation, apostolic placement, finances, etc.), but seemingly equal accountability for the affairs of the total province. At least one com-munity reported that they found this to be an ineffective and inefficient arrangement because~f the lack of dynamism and leadership which resulted. Another effect of dividing the decisions to be made into approximately equal shares might be that the "co-provincials" tend to make decisions in isolation from one another without reference to the fact that these decisions ought to flow from an integrated vision of what the community is and is about. On the other hand, if "co-provincials" are all equally involved in every decision, the community's expectation will be that all will be equally knowledgeable about every area of responsibility--which would be a wasteful use of time and effort in some cases. These difficulties highlight the importance of studying the decision-making functions of the administrative group in order to provide, insofar as it can be anticipated, for participation which is proportionate to the centrality and im- 'portance of the issue. Formerly, constitutions took care of this by enumerating those matters which required a deliberative vote of the council and those for which only a consultative vote was required. The fact that administrative teams function in a more collegial and less formal style today should not obscure the insight that different matters require varying amounts of delibera-tion and ~consultation. 2. Administrative responsibility is increasingly shared with staff persons. This phenomenon results from the newly-emphasized distinction between charismatic and administrative leadership, as well as from an increasingly specialized and professional approach to traditional areas of administrative responsibility, such as finances, communications and record-keeping, per-sonnel services, and the management of apostolic institutions. Major superiors and their councils are seen primarily as 'in-spirators' and 'enablers' of religious community life--a role which is distinguished from the more management-oriented phase of their responsibility. It is further recognized that such tasks as financial management and personnel services require specialized preparation which is not always had by those whom the community wishes to elect to office. Also, these specialized tasks are often done better when a continuity of responsibility is maintained, and the tenure of such per-sons as the treasurer is not tied into an elected term of office. While in principle such distinctions can be made, there are also certain dif-ficulties which have been evidenced. First of all, the distinction between "charismatic" and "administrative" leadership cannot be exclusively main-tained: a religious leader who did not have a firm and sympathetic under-standing of the realities of the community's existence in every facet of its life would not be able to give credible inspiration to anyone. The leader's respon-sibility is to-cultivate an integrated vision of every aspect of community life in order to be able to challenge the members to further generosity in their 376 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 religious and apostolic life. Therefore the superior and council must collaborate closely with any staff persons in order to keep abreast of what they are learning about the community and also to help determine the priorities of the staff and to set the overall direction of their work. Another difficulty is apparent when the staff has insufficient authority to be effective. Community members must respect the expertise, community dedication, and delegated authority of the staff in order for their collaboration with the administrative group to really benefit all concerned. There are infor-mal as well as formal ways for the administrative group to i'einforce the staff's authority and responsibility in the community's eyes. For example, if a staff person has been designated to respond to a certain type of regularly-recurring request, the councilor should usually refuse to deal with such a request unless it can be shown that the staff person failed to give satisfactory service. Community members themselves sometimes create problems by requiring leaders to hold in confidence information which effects a staff member's role performance. Then the councilor is forced to intervene in the staff person's area of responsibility and to give a seemingly arbitrary direction, thus cir-cumventing the whole process. Councilors must be wary of allowing such situations to occur very often if they wish to have the assistance of a credible and effective staff. The relationship between the administrative group and the staff brings into focus the question of how large each group should be. This is probably a more relevant question than one which is more frequently'heard, "How many full-time persons are r(quired for community leadership?" In a day of declining membership and ever-pressing apostolic demands, releasing talented members for full-time community leadership often seems like a luxury which a com-munity cannot afford. But if more attention is given to a proper balance of elected leaders (full or part-time) and a supportive staff (full or part-time, lay or religious), new possibilities for maximizing leadership potential can be en-visioned. Obviously this answer varies from community to community, depend-ing on such factors as size, geographic expanse, diversity of apostolates, and the willingness and/or ability of council members to perform staff functions. Choice of Leadership No attempt will be made here to discuss varying and even inconsistent ex-pectations of leadership, although how to deal with that reality is a challenging question that applies both to representative bodies and to administrative groups. As noted above, community members expect chapter delegates~to be e.lectors, legislators, and (sometimes) renewal facilitators. They also expect major superiors and their councilors to furnish both charismatic and managerial leadership, in varying proportions. These areas of ambiguity do furnish a backdrop, however, for some remarks about the ways in which leaders have been chosen in recent years, a period in which there has been ceaseless experimentation with differing methods. In fact, most chapters spend Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / 377 more time determining the method by which they will choose their leaders than they do in carrying out the proce.ss itself. In general, four methods can be identified: choice by discernment, election by the chapter, election by the total community, and a nominated-appointed method. 1. Discernment. This method is difficult to define because its interpretation and application vary in different situations. In brief, though, it is a method whereby the electors reach a prayerful consensus about their choice of leadership. It is an application of the spirituality of discernment--the prayer-ful and communal effort to discover and respond to God's will for a group--to the specific matter of selection of leadership. Its proponents usually contrast it to an election which is considered to be mechanical or political or insufficiently attuned to God's will for the community. Since the effectiveness of the method is dependent on khe development of faith community within the group, its usefulness is qualified if the electors represent a very large or wide-spread community, and do not ordinarily see one another except on the occasion of a chapter meeting. In some cases the discernment process has involved not the chapter delegates, but the nominees themselves. In other words, after a process of nomination (in which the entire community has both active and passive voice), those nominees who decide, after personal discernment, that they would be open to being called to community leadership enter into a process of com-munal discernment. Great objection can be raised to this practice, however, since it arbitrarily restricts active voice in the election to only the nominees. Religious constitutions have traditionally specified very exactly who enjoys the right to elect the major superiors, namely, the chapter delegates. To create a situation in which there are no electors except the nominees themselves--some of whom may have received only a single nominating vote while others may have received hundreds--runs contrary to this whole tradition. There must be many qualified electors in a community who are not themselves potential can-didates for the office of major superior. 2. Election by the Chapter. This is the traditional method for selection of leadership, but the manner in which this process is carried out within the chapter admits of many variations. For example, communities have ex-perimented with nominating procedures which involve the entire community and/or with search committees who are charged with developing a list of nominees. Within the chapter itself great efforts are made to allow candidates to discuss their views and their vision of the future direction of the community in an open forum before the election takes place. The election of major superiors, since it is one of the gravest respon-sibilities of a chapter, should be carried out in a prayerful context (as should "all of the deliberations of a chapter). The chapter body should strive together to search out the best-qualified persons to call to leadership in the light of the religious and apostolic goals of the community. Prayers for divine guidance, for freedom from prejudice and error, and for generosity in responding to God's will should all surround the election. If this is the case, then the sup- 371~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 posed contrast between the discernment method and the election method seems to fade in significance. Furthermore, election by the chapter seems to be the only one which readily safeguards the traditional requirements of a valid election, namely, that the votes be free, secret, certain, absolute, and determinate.3 Even a total community election (to be dealt with below) risks compromising these con-ditions. Some would argue that these requirements should no longer apply and that, for example, the community would be better served if ballots were not secret. While at first glance this may seem to represent a growth in the level of mutual trust and evidence a breakthrough in communications within a com-munity, further reflection might lead to an enhanced appreciation of those traditional safeguards which the Church has provided in canon law. Any com-munity which forswears the use of "free, secret, certain, absolute, and deter-minate" ballots should understand full well what it is sacrificing and be con-vinced that a proportionate good will be achieved. 3. Election by the Total Com~munity. It is doubtful whether this method cduid be successfully applied in any but a very small community where all of the members can be present at an election or where the ballots can be collected within a short period of time. Those who advocate a direct popular election probably reflect a lack of confidence in their chapter, a serious problem which should be dealt with in itself since it affects more than the elections. If the chapter is truly representative, however, and the community has confidence in its responsible leadership, then the desire for a community-wide election would seem negligible. 4. Nomination-Appointment. In this method a higher administrative group appoints major superiors from a list of nominees prepared by the constituency. For example, a province (or provincial chapter) may submit a list of nominees to the administrator general and council who then appoint the provincial superiors. Or the provincial administrative group may appoint regional superiors from among nominees presented to them. The alleged advantage of this method is that the higher superior is able to look over the list of nominees and appoint an administrative team with complementary talents, a result which isn't always obtained in a direct election by the appropriate chapter. This method also reflects the authority and responsibility of the higher ad-ministrative group with respect to the smaller units of the community. The method is compromised, however, if the higher superior feels insuf-ficiently informed about the qualifications of the nominees, or is unable to en-dorse any of them with enthusiasm, or does not feel genuinely free to choose from among them. This last condition might apply, for example, if the list of nominees and the total number of votes each received is published to the com-munity at large. Then there is a subtle expectation that the major superior will 3Canon 169. For a discussion of these requirements, see Canon Law for Religious Women by Louis G. Fanfani, O.P., and Kevin D. O'Rourke, O.P. (Dubuque, Iowa: The Priory Press, 1961), pp. 91-93. Religious Government: A Reflection on Relationships / 379 automatically appoint the nominee ~with the highest number of votes, and the appointment becomes only the ratification of a fair accompli. Concluding Remarks Many other aspects of religious government today could be singled out for observation and study. Some of these which come to mind are the utilization of different kinds of balloting in elections (e.g., preferential ballots and weighted ballots), the respective advantages of staggered terms of office and concurrent terms, the participation of ancillary groups such as committees and commissions in the governing process, and the ways in which different units of government discharge their responsibilities (e.g., how they develop their agen-das and how they formulate and communicate policies). Moreover, in addition to the simple observation of phenomena and trends there is a need to evaluate them in the light of assumptions and principles which are acknowledged by the religious community. These espoused beliefs are of many kinds: political, sociological, philosophical, and theological, to name four important areas. This is not the place to develop a list of represen-tative assumptions and, indeed, the renewal process in communities may not have progressed far enough yet for them to be able to articulate these cor-porately. However, any in depth critique of government should deal with questions such as the nature of human persons, the role of law and structure in human life and associations, how government structures can reflect the emphasis of Vatican II on collegiality, subsidiarity,, and shared decision-making, and on the Gospel challenge to be poor, chaste, and obedient in a world which values none of these. Religious government is the point at which a religious community comes together to organize for its collective mission. Those who occupy leadership positions perform a temporary service for the others in order to facilitate that mission. Many relationships should be facilitated by a government structure: relationships of communication, of consultation, of decision-making; relationships between and among community members, community leadership, lay collaborators, Church, and world. The ideal plan of religious government is simple, clear, adapted to contemporary needs, and flexible. The government should be the point of integration of all the concerns of a com-munity, internal and external, and it exists in order to enable the community to better respond to those concerns. There is abundant evidence today that religious communities have in fact grasped the importance of adapting their government structures to these insights and that many of the changes made, and the inevitable trials-and-errors, have brought them closer to that goal. A Note on Religious Poverty J. Robert Hilbert, S.J. Father J. Robert Hilbert is presently assigned to St. Francis Mission; St. Francis, SD 57572 Introduction In many discussions of religious life, it has struck me that, of the three vows, poverty is the most difficult to come to grips with. One is tempted often enough to suspect that the fundamental problem is an unwillingness to take the direct approach of simply being poor. On the other hand, that might be a simplistic move prompted by the desire to escape the discomfort of the in-evitable tension involved in being in the world, but not of the world. There is a fundamental dilemma: poverty is either a good or it is an evil. If it is a good, if it is true that "Happy are you poor," that it really is harder for a rich man than for a poor one to enter the kingdom, then it makes sense for one to himself choose poverty and to counsel others to choose it, but it does not make sense to dedicate one's energies to the elimination of poverty. On the other hand, if poverty is evil, if it hinders man's ability to know, love and serve God, if it is destructive of the human spirit, then certainly it makes sense to work to overcome poverty, but it does not make sense to choose poverty, es-pecially to make it the object of a vow by which one expresses devotion to God. One can say that the Christian concern is not with poverty and wealth as economic or sociological realities, but is rather with poverty of spirit, a spirit which acknowledges man's basic helplessness and dependence on God, which sees man's good as a spiritual good in reference to which material possessions are either indifferent or are subservient as a means. A man who is materially wealthy may have this poverty of spirit in terms of real humility and detach-ment from his possessions, and a man materially poor may have the opposite of this spirit in terms of pride and greed. Yet one does have somehow to deal with the fact that the Gospels present Christ as saying that it is morally im-possible for a rich man to enter the kingdom, that the beatitudes, at least in 380 A Note on Religious Poverty Luke, seem to be talking about the poor and the rich in a sense that includes the material. in considering the sense of Christ's--and the Church's--call to preach the Good News to the poor, one might say of it that it is an assertion to those who are generally looked down on or who experience pain and need and helplessness that they are important to God and are loved by Him. Not that those who experience comfort, and social and mental and physical well-being are not loved, but that they are more apt to know it and so have less need of assurance than do the sufferers. Poverty in this context, one might then say, is not an economic term, but just a generi~ term for those who are needy in any way. Surely Dives is as poor and needy in a spiritual sense as Lazarus? So it is to him perhaps even more than to Lazarus that we are sent to bring the Good News. One hears arguments, too, on the point that Christ did not urge structural social change, much less work for it. Though he responded to physical needs of people on occasion, as when he fed the multitudes or healed the sick, he did not attempt the elimination of poverty or the overthrow of Roman domination any more than he attempted the elimination ~f disease or of earthquakes. Ob-viously he commanded love of neighbor and a practical expression of that love in feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc., but he did not preach economic or political structural reform. What manner of reflection, then, led the bishops in their 1971 Synod to say that "action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation?''1 (Is there a possibility that our Lord received his death sentence because his teaching and activity constituted a threat to the established social order?) This note is not an attempt to offer solutions to the difficulties and am-biguities of religious poverty, nor is it intended to touch all the elements in-volved. It is simply aimed at emphasizing a few points that seem to me to be often missed or slighted. Before taking up those, however, it might be worth recalling a few presuppositions on which these reflections are based. The Church's Poverty and Religious Poverty One is that a religious community is a community within the Church. Its way of life, its values and ideals are those of the Church. It gives particular ex-pression to certain values in a way different from the way in which other groups in the Church do, but these values are those of the whole Christian peo-ple. Religious life is to give evidence of, to point to, to make sharply visible certain aspects of what it is to be a Christian. There must, then, be continuity in the sense of poverty of religious life and the sense in which the Church speaks of its poverty. This sense, of course, comes to the Church through the ~Synod of Bishops, Justice in the World (U.S.C.C., Washington, D.C., 1972.) p. 34. 382 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 example and teaching of Christ. "Just as Christ carried out the work of redemption in poverty and under oppression, so the Church is called to follow the same path in communicating to men the fruits of salvation. Christ Jesus, 'though He was by nature God . . . emptied himself, taking the nature of a slave' (Phil 2:6), and 'being rich, he became poor' (2 Cor 8:9) for our sakes. Thus, although the Church needs human resources to carry out her mission, she is not set up to seek earthly glory, but to proclaim humility and self-sacrifice, even by her own example.''~ The Tradition of Religious Poverty Another assumption is that a religious community is both an inheritor of tradition and an interpreter of that tradition in terms of the present day. There is a long history of the practice of poverty in religious life. In the course of generations, we have developed a complex of values in the matter of poverty, including the following: detachment from material wealth; sparingness and simplicity in use of material things; possession of things in common; a life of labor; dependence on providence; hospitality; service of the poor. To some extent there is an'absoluteness in these values, aspects of them which are true in general for all men and all times. Even were there a time when the world had no drastic contrast between the rich and powerful and the poor and helpless, men would need reminders that the good life is not found in having things. "You have made all these things, made them very good indeed, yet You are my good, not they," It will always be true, as non-Christian cultures, too, realize, that man comes before God in nakedness and emp-tiness- not with reliance on possessions, nor on education, skills, achievements, nor even with security in good works as giving him in any way a claim on God; he comes to God with awareness of his own nothingness, and of God's infinite and personal love. Response to Particular Periods or Societies Beyond such timeless elements, howe, ver, values involved in religious poverty and modes of expression of that poverty are related to the contem-porary social situation of any given period. Modes of expression of religious poverty differ among various orders and in various times and places in part because religious poverty is an affirmation of values endangered by a particular period or society. !t is a prophetic witness directed to the needs of the time and place. Benedict, Francis and Ignatius had initially very different modes of poverty in their orders, not because they had different views of the fundamental and timeless values expressed in poverty, but because they were responding to the needs of the Church in different histo.rical periods. In considering renewal of religious poverty for our times and situation, ~Vatican 1 I, Dogmatic Constitution on the Church,//8. (Documents of Vatican 11. America Press, 1966, p. 23.) A Note on Religious Poverty / 383 then, it is not enough to accept the externals of the expression of poverty ac-cording to the traditions of a religious order; one must consider the values and attitudes involved, both the religious values affirmed and the worldly values opposed. Let us put this another way. Christ'.s life of poverty, it has been said, was "characterized by a redemptive use of things.''3 This is not simply an accept-ance of an ideal order of creation; it is also a recognition that there is sin-fulness embodied in the present concrete order, a non-redemptive use of things, which must be counteracted. The non-redemptive use, the sinful use, of God's creation is evil not only because it is an undue or distorted valuing of things (St. Paul speaks of "greed, which is idolatry"), but because it leads men to degrade, exploit and treat unjustly their fellow men. Poverty Is Apostolic Another presupposition is that the poverty of a religious order is not an end in itself. It is ordained to man's redemption, to the development of the Kingdom of God. Hence, there will be variation in the poverty of different g~roups according to the nature of their apostolate. Yet this subordination must not obscure the fact that poverty is really meant and is deliberately chosen. Religious poverty is not a mode of life that is in total equilibrium; it is not a way of life characterized by use of God's creation in what might be the way one would hold up as the ideal for all men in the ultimately just world order. Religious poverty is a deliberate move to the side of the poor and oppressed, an affirmation of intended identification with them. It is this because in Christ God has identified himself with them. Furthermore, religious poverty is a mode of apostolate. A religious may recognize that there are many ways of working for the attainment of man's red, emption. In the spirit of the Kingdom and Two Standards of the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius, however, he chooses to work from a position of poverty and humiliations. This is not a completely rational approach to the improve-ment of the human situation. There is a mystery in God's mode of salvation in Christ--through poverty, humiliation, injustice, eventually an unjust death on the cross. Unless there is an acceptance in faith of that mystery as still operative, there can be no full acceptance of religious poverty. l have stated four points that seem to me to enter in to reflection on religious poverty: that religious poverty is to give clear evidence to the Church's sense of poverty; that it involves a sense of the tradition of poverty throughout history; that there must be a re-statement of the spirit and tradi-tion of religious poverty in light of the sociological and cultural situation of the present day; that religious poverty is apostolic, "as Christ carried out the work of redemption in poverty and under .oppression." As I consider these points and my experience of religious life, it seems to aJohn R. Sheets, S.J., Toward a Theology of the Religious Life. (Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, II1,8; Nov., 1971, p. 173.) 384. / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 me that three areas which demand much and serious reflection in efforts at renewal are: that religious poverty must be in fundamental, radical opposition to the spirit of our affluent society, and must, then, require fundamental, radical personal conversion on the part of a religious; that contemporary con-sciousness of social injustice is integral and essential to the meaning of religious poverty and its expression in our day; that being concerned for the poor and being poor are not quite the same thing. Religious Poverty in an Affluent Society In referring to our affluent culture, what I am trying to suggest is that simply having things, being relatively wealthy in comparison to the major por-tion of the world's population is not an accidental adjunct to what we are as a people. Our material affluence is rooted in and has sprung from some of the most basic attitudes and values of our culture. In turn, our affluence reinforces and influences the development of these attitudes and values. Surrendering the right to personal ownership, professing a dependence on a superior or a com-munity for material things, even choosing a standard of economic life which eliminates certain superfluities and luxuries, does not signify or produce a very deep-rooted or wide-ranging change in the attitudes and values we have ab-sorbed since birth. It seems to me that this is the fundamental reason why it is so hard for us to come to any clear and satisfactory consensus about the meaning of religious--or Christian--poverty. So long as we consider the matter on the basis of the attitudes and values which are our cultural inheritance, there is no way we can conclude that real poverty is something which can be chosen and prized, for that culture is in diametric opposition to a spirit of poverty. In a brief article such as this, there is not scope for a full discussion of the American value system. What we are as a people, though, can be learned by reflection on our history. It was not an aberration of a few twisted individtials that brought about the centuries of enslavement of millions of Africans and In-dians. The greed, violence, lust for power, unquestioning assumption of superiority that underlay the centuries of European exploration, conquest, dominance and exploitation were not just occasional faults of isolated in-dividuals. They were part of the fundamental value system of an entire culture. Though we now repudiate some of the cruder manifestations, the same values and spirit are still endemic in Western culture, and have been incar~ nated in the social structures that our culture has established. It is not acci-dent, but basic cultural drive that has developed in this, the wealthiest country in the world, an economic and political structure which "virtually guarantees poverty for millions of Americans.''4 The greed, selfishness and exploitation of the colonial period have borne fruit, through the period of the industrial revolution and the growth of the multi-national corporations, in a world 4Poverty Amid Plenty, the report of the President's commission on income maintenance programs, 1969, p. 23. A Note on Religious Poverty / 385 economy which has created an enormous and ever increasing division between rich and poor, which threatens the human race because of the destruction of the earth's environment and resources. So the world is not one. Its peoples are more divided now, and also more conscious of their divisions, than they have ever been. They are divided between those who are satiated and those who are hungry. They a~e divided between those with power and those without power. They are divided between those who dominate and those who are dominated; between those who exploit and those who are exploited. And it is the minority which is well fed, and the minority which has secured control over the world's wealth and over their fellow men. Further, in general that minority is distinguished by the colour of their skins and by their race. And the nations in which most of that minority of the world's people live have a further distinguishing characteristic--their adoption of the Christian religion.5 What is significant is not only the fact of such division, but also our general ability to ignore that fact. How is it, after 80 years of modern social teaching and two thousand years of the Gospel of love, that the Church has to admit her inability to make more impact upon the con-science of her people?. It was stressed again and again that the faithful, particularly the more wealthy and comfortable among them, simply do not see structural social in-justice as a sin, simply feel no personal responsibility for it and simply feel no obligation to do anything about it. Sunday observance, the Church's rules on sex and marriage, tend to enter the Catholic consciousness profoundly as sin. To live like Dives with Lazarus at the gate is not even perceived as sinful.6 A concern for religious poverty which attends only to the externals of per-sonal or community economy is inadequate. If we continue to fit comfortably within the systematized greed, selfishness, cruelty, love of power of our society, we have no poverty of spirit. If we are ourselves to become Christian and to bring the Christian word to our society, we must attain an empathy with the poor and powerless in our own country and in the world. We have to feel the poverty of the migrants who harvest the food that is so plentiful on our tables. We have to know our society as it is experienced by an unemployed In-dian who sees his children growing up undernourished, falsely educated, and culturally destroyed in a country where his grandfathers lived in freedom and plenty. But once again, we have to become aware of and critical of our own ac-culturation. We must ourselves engage in that continuing education described by the bishops, an education which comes "through action, participation and vital contact with the reality of injustice." We must awaken in ourselves "a critical sense, which will lead us to reflect on the society in which we live and its values," and be "ready to renounce these values when they cease to promote justice for all men.''7 This examination will include not only our 5Julius Nyerere, Speech to the Maryknoll Sisters (Maryknoll Overseas Extension Service, Maryknoll, N.Y., p. 6). 6From an account of the debate at the 1971 Bishops' Synod, quoted in Henriot, "The Concept of Social Sin," Sourcebook on Poverty, Development and Justice, Campaign for Human Develop-ment (U.S.C.C., Wash., D.C., 1973, p. 67). 7Synod, op. cit., p. 46. 386 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 private lives, but the values incorporated in the institutions in which we work. It is necessary, for instance, to examine the basis of our judgment of produc-tivity and efficiency, our decisions about choice of means. Do we give due ac-count to the idea that we are called to follow the path of carrying out the work of redemption "in poverty and under oppression?" Abject poverty, we are told over and over again, is destructive of the human spirit, is an evil which must be eradicated, cannot be the object of a choice, certainly not of a vow, because it is an evil. True enough. But is it possible that our sense of how evil it is is to some extent a reflection of how good we think wealth is? Does our reflection on Christ's statement that it is a moral impossibility for a rich man to enter the kingdom suggest to us that perhaps wealth, too, is destructive of the human spirit, is an evil which must be eradicated? There are many ways in which the full acceptance and real valuing of religious poverty demand not simply a spirit of occasional.self-denial, but a very radical transformation of the basic values inculcated in us from birth within our society, values involved in our attitudes towards material creation, toward the meaning of human life, toward our country's position in world relationships. Addressing Social Injustice Earlier in this article 1 said that contemporary consciousness of social in-justice seems integral to our understanding of religious poverty. To some ex-tent l have introduced this idea in discussing the matter of a critical examina-tion of our values, but let me focus more directly on this point. Poverty has always been an essential of religious life--but its motivation and expression have been modified by the needs of the times. The sinful ab-surdity of the economic situation of our times is not in the fact that there are people who are poor, but in the division described by Nyerere, in the fact that the enormous and unprecedented technological, economic and political power of our times is ordered not to alleviating the plight of the poor majority of men, but to the perpetuation and increase of the imbalance of that division. The bishops recognize this situation as a claim on the Church's expression of poverty. Although in general it is difficult to draw a line between what is needed for right use and what is demanded by prophetic witness, we must certainly keep firmly to this principle: our faith demands of us a certain sparingness in use, and the Church is obliged to ad-minister its own goods in such a way that the (~ospel is proclaimed to the poor . In societies enjoying a higher level of consumer spending, it must be asked whether our life style exemplifies that sparingness with regard to consumption which we preach to others as necessary in order that so many millions of hungry people throughout the world be fed.8 8Ibid., p. 45. A Note on Religious Poverty / 387 What is that sparingness? In general, at least, "those who are already rich are bound to accept a less material ~way of life, with less waste, in order to avoid the destruction of the heritage which they are obliged by absolute justice to share with all other members of the human race.''9 Many cautions are given in discussions of religious poverty to the effect that it should not be confused with economic poverty, that religious poverty in its expression is relative to the milieu in which the community lives and works, that religious poverty is distinct from the claims of justice. Such distinctions, however, can be overdrawn to the extent that religious poverty is moved to an abstraction that has little in common with the poverty of Christ. His Kenosis was accomplished in concrete terms of real identification with the poor and ac-tual confrontation with the powerful of his times. When he said, "Happy are you who are poor," and "Alas for you who are rich," one has the impression that he was not abstracting from the economic situation. More fundamentally, Fr. Arrupe's statement deserves serious con-sideration: But God is not only the God of the poor. He is, in a real sense, God who is poor. For the mystery of the Incarnation has established a special relationship between God and pover-ty whose meaning goes much deeper than mere compassion . God is allpowerful. God has riches beyond our ability to estimate. But he is also a God of justice, who demands that justice be done. l f, then, God, allpowerful and infinitely rich, identifies Himself with the poor, it must be because the cause of the poor is somehow identified with the cause of justice?° Sparingness, for example, is fundamental to religious poverty in part as an example to all men that possessions and use of luxuries are not all that essen-tial to the quality of human life--may, in fact, hinder a man in his real development. Today there is clearly added to this motivation in the Church's consciousness the demand of some sparingness in order that justice be served. It is clear, too, that this demand goes beyond the matter of purely personal or domestic religious life to take in as well the means used in our apostolic works. If there is a demand that our society's use of energy, for example, be reduced, that reduction is called for in all aspects of our life and work. It seems to me, in short, that a level of example and witness in this regard is integral to a realistic understanding of the contemporary value of religious poverty--a poverty that is true to the Church's sense of her call to poverty, a poverty characterized by a redemptive use of things, a use redemptive of the actual sinful use of things in our day. Identification with the Sociologically Poor The Church, following the example of Christ, recognizes a particular call to showing concern for the poor and the oppressed. This call is felt with special 91bid., p. 51. 1°Pedro Arrupe, S.J., Witnessing to Justice (Pontifical Commission, Justice and Peace, Vatican, 1972), p. 38. 3~11~ / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 emphasis by religious, as the history of their efforts on behalf of the poor attests. The kind of assistance that is called for will vary in different periods and with different orders. In our times, there is particularly the note of concern that the structures which perpetuate and increase the division between rich and poor be changed. Even within the wealthiest country in the world, change of structures is necessary for the alleviation of widespread poverty: The paradox of poverty in the midst of plenty causes many to ask why some people re-main poor when so many of their fellow Americans have successfully joined the ranks of the affluent . It is often argued that the I~oor are to blame for their own circumstances and should be expected to lift themselves from poverty. This commission has concluded that these assertions are incorrect. Our economic and social structures virtually guarantee poverty for millions of Americans.1~ The call to concern for the poor and for working for structural changes that will ensure justice for the poor is a call to all Christians. For us who profess religious poverty, it is not only a call to have such concern and to work for such change, but to share Christ's identification with the poor. Discer.n-ment is necessary, harmfully simplistic approaches should be avoided--yet our life and mode of work should be such that our being accounted among the poor is clear. Whatever may be said of the relative norm of poverty with reference to the milieu in which a community lives and works, it should be clear that they are poor in that relative way. If it is a question for all Christians "whether belong-ing to the Church places people on a rich island within an ambient of pover-ty,''~ 2 it is preeminently a question for religious. We should share what we have, and it seems good, sometimes, that we do have in order to share. But we should be present to the poor as willing to share what little we have, not as well-to-do philanthropists sharing their excess. There is a lesson for us, though we might not wish to carry it to that extreme, in the example of St. Francis's unwillingness even to accept alms to be dis-tributed to the poor. There is, moreover, the very practical fact that it is most unlikely that we will appreciate the meaning of being truly poor, or be able really to see our society and its structures from the standpoint of the poor, if we ourselves do not in some real way share their experience. It is evident enough in our rec-tories and convents and schools that most of us share pretty completely the values and attitudes and experience and even prejudices of the affluent, not of the poor. It seems pertinent at this point to introduce a quotation from St. Ignatius Loyola which perhaps returns to the statement of my opening paragraph: ~tPoverty Amid Plenty, loc. cir. 12Synod, op. cit., p. 45. A Note on Religious Poverty Let me just say this; whoever loves poverty should be glad to be poor; glad to go hungry, to be badly clothed, to lie on a hard bed. For if someone loves poverty but avoids penury, following poverty only from afar, is that not to be comfortably poor? Surely that is to love the reputation rather than the reality of poverty; to love poverty in word but not in deed.t3 As 1 conclude this article, my sense of futility returns. If some of the honestly poor people of my acquaintance--in the slums of Milwaukee, in Belize, on the Sioux reservation where I now live--were ever to run into the sort of discussion I have written here, 1 suspect they would not find it so much the word of Christ as the confusion of one who is far from Him. 1 think it might cause some amusement, if not amazement, that a man with so much education and so many years of meditation on the Gospel can make such a complicated business out of the relatively simple question of how he can be poor. But this is written by one who lives in material security, even affluence, for others who live similarly, and so must inevitably reflect the confusion of those bound in that mesh. May that which is impossible to men, that which our own mental gyrations and personal anguish can never bring about, be accomplished by Him who can save; may He relieve us of the burden and constriction of our wealth, pull us through the eye of the needle, and introduce us to the simplicity and freedom of His Kingdom. t3Monumenta Ignatiana, Epp. l, 577. Mortification Brother Thomas E. Ruhf, C.P. Bro. Thomas E. Ruhf is.presently engaged in studies for the priesthood at St. John's University, where he was awarded a Master's Degree in Theology last year. He is a member of the Passionist Monastery; 178th St. and Wexford Terrace; Jamaica, NY 11432. The word "mortification" is seldom if ever heard these days, and, when it is, it strikes a strange and sour note because of its seeming lack of harmony with contemporary man's view of himself and his world. In a society ruled by the lords of consumerism, progressivism and utopianism, the concept of mor-tification is most assuredly an outcast. Mortification is viewed as no less than a perversion of life, since life's goal is seen to be the pursuit of happiness and self-fulfillment, which is attained in extracting from life all its treasures of pleasure and burying as much as possible its pains and sorrows. The mul-tiplication of wonders in science and technology is heralding the dawn of a new age when there will be plenty of pleasures and possessions for all, when disease and pains will be laid to rest forever, and when even death may fall victim to the march of man. To speak of death, suffering or any human limitation is to talk of problems to be solved and not perennial conditions to be fa~ed. Such a society has no use for mortification precisely because it is a radical, concrete and complete affirmation of these realities, precisely because it af-firms them as enduring conditions to be faced and embraced for their creative potentials. The problem with mortification is a problem with suffering and death, with their proper place in a full and authentic human existence. In spite of society's claims of present and future scientific and technological conquests, death, suffering and human limitations remain ever so real. Daily the media parades before our eyes the ~pectr'e.of human suf-fering- innocent children with bellies pregnant with starvation, the disfigured and bloodied corpses of victims of senseless terrorism and calculated wars, the 390 . Mortification / 39'1 sad streams of people with lives and homes ruined by the fury of natural dis-asters. At the same time the tales of polluted water and air, of shortages of oil and energy, of inflation and recession are bursting the bubble of the great American myth of the cornucopia of unending resources and limitless produc-tion. Yet modern society continues its masquerade of denial. This denial of the hard and enduring facts of death, suffering and human limitation is not without its costs, for modern man has fallen victim to a certain sense of cultural schizophrenia. It seems that the greater the claims made for man's omniscence and omnipotence, for his control over nature and life in the face of his obvious lack of it, the greater becomes his sense of personal impotence, of being victimized and fated by the forces of nature and life. As society as a whole becomes more integrated, mechanized and systematized, he as an in-dividual becomes more isolated, alienated and categorized. Sodiety's attempt to do away with all external forms of suffering and pain only serves to intensify and foster his internal suffering and pain. A Contemporary Understanding of the Problem of Suffering and Death If any concept of mortification is to be valid today, it must seek its basis in the new heightened awareness of pain and suffering not only as external world realities but also as internal personal realities. It must find its roots in a con-temporary understanding of suffering and death. Perhaps the most meaningful concept of suffering and death for today's world is the existentialist view. In such a view man is seen primarily as a being-unto- death. His very suffering and limitation become movements in con-sciousness toward the final limit of death, which brings man face to face with the fundamental questionableness of his own being without offering him any answer to it. This ultimate questionableness of life is faced by each man alone. Death represents the ultimate loneliness. All suffering, in being mine alone to bear, is essentially an experience of loneliness foreshadowing the ultimate Ioneliriess of death. Thus suffering and death give a character of existential loneliness to all life, a realization that no other finite reality can solve the basic questionableness involved in the finitude of my existence, that no finite reality can satisfy my radical desire to transcend this ultimate limit. This spectre of existential loneliness casts a long shadow of fear and anx-iety over a man's life. He can deal with this spectre in a number of ways. One way, which is most characteristic of contemporary man, is to avoid the whole question as long as possible. There is a retreat from the limits of his loneliness and death and a search for a sense of security in an immersion into th6 daily activities of pleasure and production. Indeed in America death is a taboo. The subject must never be raised, not even with a dying person. Death is always an unfortunate accident that happens to someone else. Likewise acknowledgement of a deep sense of loneliness seems awkward and inappropriate in a society.dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure and hap- 399 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 piness. Loneliness, a basic reality of life, like death, is viewed as a sickness which alienates people from each other and society and hence is an unfor-tunate development in life that must be avoided and spurned. But in fact "it is not loneliness which separates persons from others, but the terror of loneliness and the constant effort to escape it.''t If a man cannot face and affirm his ex-perience of existential loneliness as a condition of existence, he will not only be alienated from others but even from his very self. As Dr. Elisabeth K~ibler- Ross has observed in her study of terminally ill persons, nothing frustrates and alienates them more than their families' and friends' refusal to talk of suffer-ing and death. As a result Dr. K~ibler-Ross makes a plea in her book, On Death and Dying, for more people to face up to the reality of death for the sake of helping the dying and for their own sake in living real and full lives.2 Modes of Acceptance of Suffering and Death Assuredly the acceptance of suffering and death is necessary for a truly authentic and full life. However there are significantly different modes of acceptance that man has and can choose as his way of responding to these realities. Karl Rahner suggests that there are basically three postures of ac-cepting death? First of all, some see death as the stark and complete termination of all that they have found pleasureable in life. Death is a door op~ning out into dark oblivion, into the ultimate futility of all life and as such is a cause for frustra-tion and despair. Suffering is a grim foreshadowing and reminder of this ul-timate emptiness. Others embrace death with the full consciousness of their being, realizing that they have no answer to the enigma of its meaning, but yet remaining open to an answer to this ultimate questionableness of life from a source outside of themselves and time. It is a response of stoic resignation to fatedness and all suffering, leaving open the possibility that death could be a door to ultimate fulfillment as well as to ultimate annihilation. The third response goes beyond resignation, radically affirming death and all "little deaths" in suffering as doors to a life of ultimate fulfillment, as the necessary frontiers to be crossed on the way to the radical transformation of man's ex-istential situation by a gift from God. This response of acceptance is permeated by a sense of faith and hope in seeing in the very finitude of life its radical nature as free gift from the One v~ho is Infinite. This last response is of course the Christian response. We acknowledge in faith the efficacy of Christ's death and resurrection for the transformation of our own death into eternal life in God. Dying to ourselves becomes the only way to the fullness of life. Existential loneliness in suffering and death is the ~Clark E. Moustakas, Loneliness (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall Inc., 1961), p. 103. 2Elisabeth Kiibler-Ross, M.D., On Death and Dying (New York, N.Y.: Macmillian Co., 1969). p. 13. 3Karl Rahner, S.I., "The Passion and Asceticism," Theological Investigations (Baltimore, Md.: Helicon Press, 1967), v. 3, p. 92. Mortification / 393 very vehicle to authentic life since it is our only entrance into a participation in the Paschal Mystery which is the answer to the questionableness of all life. We believe that as an existential, ontological result of Christ's saving action all life can now be said to exist in a state of mortification, in a state of having already died with Christ that it may now live with him in a sharing in his resurrection. In this sense every life by way of baptism in Christ enters into a state of "ab-solute mortification."' Present Difficulty with Mortification No Christian has problems with accepting mortification as a state of life entered into in baptism, though we perhaps never consciously refer to life in Christ as mortified existence. The problem comes in the choosing of specific acts of mortification above and beyond the suffering and death inherent in the exigencies of life itself. These self-chosen acts of mortification, which have been termed "relative mortification," have for some time played a role in the tradition of Christian asceticism and been a prominent feature of religious life. But today it is a common assumption that relative mortification has no. place in authentic Christian living. In fact it has been condemned as a distortion and perversion of Christianity, and any mention of the subject evokes looks and words of scorn and disbelief. How can it be that such a long tradition of relative mortification has so suddenly been pushed aside and left to die?.llS it simply true that there is no value in practising it at all? To answer this question we must first identify and face the reasons for this rejection. There seem to be two fundamental reasons for this. First it stems from a reaction against the excessive and exclusively corporal nature of past practices of mortification. Secondly the rejection arises out of an affirmation that there is enough mortification inherent in trying to live a good Christian life of love. Certainly whenever the word "mortification" is spoken in Christian circles it immediately calls to mind a grim picture of severe corporal austerities aimed at prevention of or reparation for sin. Such practices of "attacking" the body do violence to our contemporary awareness of the sacrality of all material ex-istence. We react strongly against the Platonic dualistic view of life implicit in these practices which views the soul as imprisoned in the body and yearning for release from its evil propensities. Furthermore instead of releasing a person from his self-centeredness, these practices often enough focused concern on the self by creating an obsessive preoccupation with avoiding pleasure and con-solation in a fight to win salvation. The Christian call to turn outward from the self to Christ and his ~people in a spirit of suffering love is overshadowed by the quest for personal perfection in the conquest of temptation. Hence such prac-tices appear to have little connection with a valid Christian life. 'William J. Rewak, S.J., "Mortification," Review for Religious, May 1965, p. 374. 394 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/3 Inadequacy of Traditional Justifications for Mortification It certainly must be admitted that many past ascetical practices are quite justifiable on "worldly" terms alone apart from any connection with a Chris-tian view of life. Karl Rahner distinguishes three types of ascetical practices which developed independently of Christianity.5 The first type he terms moral asceticism, which uses corporal austerities as a means of self-discipline for the sake of attaining a balance of the various forces in man and thus enabling him to lead a life in harmony with the laws of his nature. Such asceticism seeks to conquer the "animality" in man so that his spirit may rule. This description would fit many of our past practices of mortification. Likewise "mystical asceticism," in using bodily self-denials as a preparation for an experience of religious enthusiasm and mystical insight, has nothing peculiarly Christian about it. The same can be said for "ritual asceticism" which also uses bodily austerities as a way to escape the profane sphere of life for the sake of contact with the transcendent. All these justifications for mortification deny the significance of Christ's Incarna;tion, deny the truth of the Word who is the flesh and blood revelation of God, who reveals the spiritual by means of th~ material. There is no prere-quisite of escape from material reality in order to find God. Contemporary Christianity has rejected past practices of mortification quite justifiably on the grounds that the reasons given for employing them had little to do with solid Christian belief. Indeed the decrees of dispensation of the Friday abstinence and of most of the Lenten fast and abstinence were viewed by many as a sort of"Emancipa-tion Proclamation" freeing Catholics from the slavery of past mortificational practices. In the ensuing exhiliration of freedom not only were the past prac-tices cast off but also the whole concept of relative mortification itself. In the name of freedom for a full human life, many could now repeat the words of James Carroll, "I have given up nothing but giving up for several Lents. I have denied myself self-denial.''6 In the same breath as was said "my work is my prayer," can be said "my life is my mortification." The Search for Enduring Values Yet with all this freedom from the past there seems to be a budding sense of frustration and emptiness. There is a growing awareness that in rejecting past practices we have neglected real values that were inherent in them though covered by distortions. A renewed emphasis on contemplation, solitude, and just plain "wasting time" is finding its way back into Christian literature. These concerns are arising not out of a sense of fear of the modern world and an attempt to hold onto the past but out of the faithfulness to one's own being and the call of need from others. There is a new movement beyond the 5Rahner, op. cit., pp. 60-66. 6James Carroll, "Mortification for Liberation," National Catholic Reporter. December 10, 197 I, p. 10. MortiJi'cation / 39~i smashing of past idolized practices to searching for the foundations of the en-during values and treasures of the Church. The present times demand that we be honest with ourselves. We must ad-mit that our work has not really become our prayer nor our living of life a full realization of the spirit of mortification. As Saint Paul so clearly stresses in the ninth chapter of his letter to the Corinthians, there is more to fighting the good fight and running the good race than the contests themselves. Any good athlete spends much time in preparation for the contest in rigorous discipline and training. Just because we find our exercises for the contest to be inade-quate it does not necessarily follow that all exercises are fruitless. What more appropriate time is there for re-examining and reassessing our own commit-ment to and training for the contests of life than now in this Holy Year of renewal and reconciliation with its special focus on personal, interior renewal? Necessity of Re-affirming the Value of Mortification From our discussion of the possible reactions to the experience of suffering and death, it is clear that total acceptance and creative affirmation of them in hope is not man's natural, spontaneous response. The mere acceptance of suf-fering and death as inevitable and a willingness to face it as it comes along is not enough in view of the Christian's radical call to affirm and give himself fully to these realities. If these "contests" are seen to hold out to every man the prize of the very meaning of all life, then they are not simply "contests" which we resign ourselves to entering, but "contests" to be trained and prepared for. A spontaneous response of faith and hope in the face of suffering and death springs from a person who has already radically affirmed these realities in the actions of his own life. The way a person affirms any values in his life is by means of the actions he freely chooses. It would seem that self-chosen acts of self-denial affect the depths of a person in a very special way that fate-imposed

Issue 67.4 of the Review for Religious, 2008. ; Personal Witness Heart -Knowledge, .Spiritual Reflection QUARTERLY 67.4 2008 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard - St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 5.5806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2008 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ gournal of Catholic ~pir~ual~ for 0 religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scop~ Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 67.4 2008 contents 340 prisms Prisms 342 personal witness Thomas Merton's Legacy: A Personal Reflection Richard Hauser SJ gives personal witness to Thomas Merton's influence in five areas of spirituality: models of spirituality, personal prayer, the sacred and the secular, nonviolence, and interreligious understanding. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion 358 Our Ethnicity.en Route to God Ruth Bolarte IHM, recalling her early religious formation as a Peruvian woman in the United States, points out the need for everyone's ethnic cultural roots to be recognized and made good use of in spiritual direction and in faith and religious-life education. 366 heart knowledge Constitutions and Heart Knowledge Beatrice Eichten OSF proposes that women and men religious may ~ell review their ¢onstitntions and question how they live out in practice their co ,mmunity life and governance today. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Revie~ for Religious 380 Can New Life Arise from the Rule Book? 386 Nestor Gregoire OMI suggests ways that the Rule Book of a religious congregation can become user friendly and be a part of the community's prayer life. Monasticism's Rooted Adaptations Joel Rippinger OSB paints a picture of the contemporary demands on the monastic community and the adaptation required to remain true to monastic life. 392 4O4 413 Revisiting Hope William P. Clark OMI ruminates on all the richness that the virtue of hope gives to our daily living and to our witness-ing to our Christian faith. Becoming All Fire: Thoughts on Religious Identity Hedwig Lewis SJ offers reflections on the Jesuit as "a man on fire" in the light of Decree 2 of General Congregation 35. Though applied here to the Society of Jesus, the ideas have relevance for all women and men religious and for others who desire greater commitment to the Lord. A Source for Prayer Undreamt Of A. Paul Dominic SJ proposes ways that we might find content for our prayer in the dreams that God may use in speaking to us. 425 Scripture Scope: The New Perspective on St. Paul 430 Canonical Counsel: The Lacuna Canon: Common and Constant Opinion 435 Book Reviews 443 2008 Index 339 67.4 2008 prisms 3401 Nvember is the month in the Catholic liturgical tradition devoted to a commemoration of the faithful departed. We remember, those who have died and now have a different role to exercise in the communion of the saints. We remind ourselves that death is not an end, but rather a door passed through to life forever. Some years ago the Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner wrote a long essay in the Quaestiones Disputatae series entitled On the Theology of Death. One of the challenges that Rahner pre-sented was for us to view death as a beginning. Obviously in our Christian faith in the resur-rection of the body we acknowledge that in dying we rise to new life. Although physical death can be seen as an end, that same death can be seen as a beginning. Rahner, however, was drawing our atten-tion to how we prepare for our Christian death by how we live. If we truly 7want to enter into living our Christian faith, we should spend our lives learning how to die. All the little dying opportunities in our life allow for this growth. Something so simple as the physical act of fall-ing asleep at night and waking to a new day can be an exercise in dying. We can't make ourselves sleep, but we can give ourselves over Review for Religious to its possibility. And that attitude/action of "giving our-selves over" is what makes death a beginning. In our everyday life, there can be a lot of bringing things to a completion or to an end (a dying), and then we find ourselves giving ourselves over to a new project. Every time we face an ending or a dying, we are learning how to die by giving ourselves over to something new. As Christians, then, we truly can be said to be peo-ple who spend their lives learning how to die. In fol-lowing Jesus, we are his disciples even up to his death on a cross. Even suffering an unjust and cruel death by crucifixion, Jesus saw and freely accepted his death as a giving over of himself to God and to us--his own gift of self in love. This is the gift God makes present to us in every Eucharist--the eternal stance of Jesus giving himself over to the Father and to us, and inviting us to be with him in this gift. So as we enter into every Eucharist, we again are exercising our learning how to die--a giving of ourselves over to new life. November is also the end of the church's liturgical year. We begin anew our liturgical year with the sea-son of Advent. Just as in the secular ending of a year and then the beginning of a new year, we find ourselves challenged to acknowledge that this year we are one year closer to dying, no matter our age. It seems to be a good time to ask ourselves; as Rahner would remind us, how we accept death as a beginning and how each day we are learning how to die. David L. Fleming SJ The Review for Religious advisory board members and editorial staff pray for a blessed Advent and Christmas sea-son for all of you, our readers. 341 67.4 2008 prayer RICHARD J. HAUSER Thomas Merton's Legacy: A Personal Reflection 342 The Newsweek cover of 19 November 2007 proclaimed 1968 as "The Year That Made Us Who We Are." Prominent among the events recalled were the deaths of Martin Luther King Jr. on 4 April and Robert Kennedy on 6 June. For me the year recalled another death, Thomas Merton's, on 10 December, and Newsweek's title led me to reflect on how Merton had made me and many of my genera-tion who we are as Christians. This surprised me. I had never explicitly assessed Merton's contribution either to 20th-century spiritual-ity or to my own. Then I received and accepted an invitation from St. Mary's College, South Bend, to speak about Merton's legacy to contemporary spiritu-ality. I began delving back into spiritual devel-opments after the Second Vatican Council. Richard J. Hauser SJ writes from Creighton University; 2500 California Plaza; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. Review for Religious To be safe I narrowed my topic to Merton's influence on me, but I soon felt that Merton had influenced my entire generation, affecting major writers such as Henri Nouwen and Thomas Keating. From 1969 to 1972 I studied in the Department of Religion and Religious Education at Catholic University in Washington, D.C. There I became fascinated by Abraham Maslow's self-actualizationpsychology, espe-cially his approach to peak "religious" experience. Deciding for my dissertation to compare Maslow, an agnostic, with a Christian spiritual writer, I did not take the suggestion to use Ignatius Loyola. I had read Seven Storey Mountain in high school; as a young Jesuit I had not become further acquainted; but I would become familiar with him. I chose Merton. Looking back now, I am aware that Merton signifi-cantly altered my approach to spirituality in at least five areas: models of spirituality, personal prayer, the sacred and the secular, nonviolence, and interreligious under-standing. Models of Spirituality Merton transformed my understanding of not only spirituality but also human nature. He moved me from a behavior-centered approach to a contemplative, heart-centered approach. And for the first time I began under-standing the role of grace. In my Jesuit formation from 1955 to 1968, we strove to do God's will as indicated in the daily order. Our day included Mass, meditation, examinations of conscience, the rosary, and other prayers. It included times for work, study, play, eating, and sleeping. Our, day was spent doing things for God. Holiness, as I understood it throughout my Jesuit formation, was in fidelity in doing God's will 343 67.4 2008 Hauser * Thomas Merton's Legacy: .4 Personal Reflection by observing the daily order and keeping the rules: "Keep the rules and the rules will keep you." I frequently failed in observance. I was a perfectionist and experienced guilt. I had migraine headaches during my early years. During my studies at Catholic University, I began rethinking my model of spirituality and of human nature. Though I had never formally articulated it, my understanding of human nature throughout my forma-tion was Freudian: Human nature cannot be trusted because it is dominated by the strong self-centered instinctual impulses of the Id, and so spirituality strives to repress and control this unruly nature. Abraham Maslow's personality theory challenged this model. Maslow describes human nature in a posi-tive series of needs leading to full self-actualization. This actualization occurs as we recognize and respond to our nature's promptings. For my dissertation I sought a theological perspec-tive on human nature that would complement Maslow's psychological one. Merton's theory of the True Self pro-vided that perspective. He stresses that the True Self is the self in an existential union with God. This union is capable of transforming the self if we live in tune with it: "The secret of my identity is hidden in Him. He alone can make me who I am, or rather who I will be when at last I fully begin to be. But, unless I desire this identity and work to find it with him and in him, the work will never be done." Also: "There is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace, and my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God. If I find him I will find myself, and if I find my true self I will find him.''1 For the first time in my life I was exposed to a Christian approach to the self that stressed not sinful- Review for Religious ness but grace. For me, Merton was describing grace as it worked transforming the various levels of Maslow's series of needs. Merton's "self-realization in Christ" was the perfect complement to Maslow's agnostic "self-actu-alization.'~ But Merton's approach to the self was not naive. He realized that discovering our True Self is difficult because we are shadowed by a False Self. This False Self is a product of our secular, materialistic culture; it leads to an understand- ¯ ing of the self that does not include God: "Every one of us is shadowed by an illusory person: a false self. My false and pri-vate self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God's will and God's love--outside of reality and outside of life. And such a self can-not help but be an illusion .A.ll sin starts from the assumption that my false self, the self that exists only in my own egocentric desires, is the fundamental reality of life to which everything else in the universe is ordered" (Seeds, 34-35). Merton's approach to spirituality focuses not on behavior but on the habitual consciousness underlying actions. Spirituality seeks to recognize and respond to God's presence at the center of our self, our True Self. This includes recognizing and rejecting the patterns of our False Self that separate us from God. It is not unlike Paul's contrast between following Christ by faith-ful observance of the external law and following Christ Merton's approach to spirituality focuses not on behavior but on the habitual consciousness underlying actions. 67.4 2008 Hauser * Thonms Merton'~ Legacy: .4 Per~onM Reflection 346 by responding to the law of the Holy Spirit written upon our hearts. This insight illumined my spirituality. When I began my university teaching, I was asked to teach a graduate course called Approaches to Mysticism. Merton's contemplative spirituality became my guide. Personal Prayer Merton transformed my personal prayer, helping me experience prayer as an authentic and fulfilling expres-sion of myself before God and not only as a prescribed religious obligation. He helped me recognize the Spirit's role and become aware of actual contemplation in my life and prayer. I believe that contemplation is the key to Merton's spirituality. ' Daily personal prayer was a regular part of our Jesuit formation. We were given Jesuit-authored meditation books that presented scriptural passages for each day of the year. We were taught the Ignatian methods of meditation and contemplation presented in his Spiritual Exercises. We were instructed to reflect on those passages using memory, understanding, will, and imagination. We prayed for fifty minutes each morning beginning at 5:30. I found these prayer hours difficult and did not look forward to them. They seemed irrelevant; I often experienced distraction, boredom, and sleep. I was faith-ful to this regimen for the first nine years of my Jeslait formation. As part of my formation I taught at a Jesuit mis-sion in South Dakota. Life at the mission was difficult, both in community life and in ministry. The students showed little enthusiasm for the courses I taught or the activities I ran. Discouraged, I wondered if I had fol-lowed the right vocation. I began taking walks alone late at night down the country road. I poured out my Review for Religious discouragement to the Lord. The walks stabilized me; in the stillness I often found peace. I looked forward to these walks and would not miss them if I could help it. I determined to continue serving the Lord. But I did not consider these walks personal prayer-- they were not the Ignatian prayer I was trained in. Needing sleep, I soon was sleeping through the morning prayer hour and getting up in time for the 6:30 Mass. I felt guilty, but one day I realized I was not skipping prayer--I was doing it at night. From that moment my personal prayer changed. I felt that prayer does not have to be a strenuous concentration of mem-ory, understanding, will, and imagination. Simply being with the Lord anywhere--in chapel or outside--was prayer. Theologians might not agree with me, and this was not the Ignatian prayer I was taught--so I kept my ideas to myself. In graduate school Merton gave me a theological foundation for my prayer. He helped me realize I was holding on to a Pelagian understanding of prayer. He showed me that prayer is really more the work of the Holy Spirit than my work: "It can therefore be said that the aim of mental prayer is to awaken the Holy Spirit within us, and to bring our hearts into harmony with his voice, so that we allow the Holy Spirit to speak and pray within us, and lend him our voice and our affec-tions that we may become, as far as possible, conscious of his prayer in our hearts.''2 Merton showed me that prayer can actually be easy and that we can pray from wherever we are in our lives. It does not have to be a strenuous effort to forget our daily lives and to concentrate on Scripture using mem-ory, understanding, and will. "In prayer we discover what we already have. You start where you are and you 347 67.4 2008 Hauser ¯ Thomas Merton's Legacy: .4 Personal R~ection Merton gave me the theology and language to explain and justify what had become my regular practice of personal prayer. 348 deepen what you already have, and you realize that you are already there. We already have everything; but we don't know it and we don't experience it. Everything has been given to us in Christ. All we need is to experience what we already possess.''3 Finally, and unbelievably, I learned that my prayer sometimes fulfilled Merton's description of contem-plation- being touched by God in a way transcending words. What I had considered merely natural human expe-riences-- Maslow's peak experiences-- were actually encoun-ters with the divine: "Contemplation is a sudden gift of aware-ness, an awakening to the Real within all that is real. A vivid - ¯ - awareness of infinite Being at the roots of our own limited being. An awareness of our contingent reality as received, as a present from God, as a free gift of love. This is the existential contact of which we speak when we use the metaphor of being 'touched by God'" (Seeds, 3). I realized these experiences happened most frequendy for me--and for Merton--in nature, and they happened most frequently outside of formal prayer times. He showed me that contemplation is not merely the preserve of cloistered monks and nuns, but that we are all called to it by our baptism. In short, Merton gave me the theology and language to explain and justify what had become my regular prac-tice of personal prayer. This had several enduring effects Review for Religious on my rhythm of personal prayer. I moved toward more and more silence in prayer, allowing the Holy Spirit to pray within me. I began daily prayer with my personal concerns rather than Scripture. I arranged my place of prayer to ensure I could always view God's creation. I altered my annual eight-day retreats: I stopped going to retreat houses and went to places of great natural beauty near a mountain or an ocean--and I began looking for-ward to these retreats. The Sacred and the Secular Merton's ideas had many ramifications in my life. He helped me transcend an artificial distinction I had made between the sacred and the secular. He helped me recognize that daily life is sacred. Before the Second Vatican Council and throughout my formation, I had lived with a basic misunderstand-ing about spirituality and holiness. I believed that spiri-tuality is primarily faithful performance of devotional practices aimed directly at worshiping God, such as Mass and visits to chapel, and that holiness is measured by fidelity to these practices. I did acknowledge other things as important, such as doing God's will and charity toward others, especially toward the most needy. These things, however, seemed not as central to holiness as the explicitly religious activities. When the council came, I was deeply influenced by the document "The Church in the Modern World" (Gaudium et spes). The council clearly taught that being a good Catholic is more than simply performing reli-gious obligations faithfully. A good Catholic must also be actively involved in serving the kingdom of God by living in love in ordinary daily life, and especially by working for justice in the world and working for the poor. 349 67.4 2008 Hauser ¯Tbomas Merton's Legaiy: A Personal Reflection This call occasioned a crisis in my life. I began to feel there had been too much emphasis on religious activities and not enough on service to others. I questioned my commitment to daily Mass and meditation. For a while I dropped daily personal prayer. I had set up a dichotomy between sacred activities and secular activities. Merton helped me overcome this dichotomy. His understand-ing of the True Self was key. The True Self exists in an existential union not only with God but also with the entire human family. There is no true union with God without union with one another, and so the Holy Spirit moves our hearts not only to love God in religious activ-ities but also to love one another in our daily activities: "Christ prayed that all men might become One as He was One with his Father, in the Unity of the Holy Spirit. Therefore when you and I become what we are really meant to be, we will discover not only that we love one another perfectly but that we are both living in Christ and Christ in us, and we are all One Christ. We will see that it is he who loves in us" (Seeds, 65). Living a life of service to others is not a distrac-tion from union with God but actually a condition for reaching this union: "One of the paradoxes of the mys-tical life is this: that a man cannot enter into the deep-est center of himself, and pass through that center into God, unless he is able to pass entirely out of himself and empty himself and give himself to other people in the purity of a selfless love" (Seeds, 64). Merton emphasizes that the quality of prayer affects the quality of our action. The more deeply we are united to God in prayer, the more energy we have to serve our neighbor. "Action and contemplation now grow together into one life and one unity. They become two aspects of the same thing. Action is charity looking out- Review for Religious ward to other men, and contemplation is charity drawn inward to its own divine source. Action is the stream, and contemplation is the spring. The spring remains more important than the stream, for the only thing that really matters is for love to spring up inexhaustibly from the infinite abyss of Christ and of God.''4 Merton gave me the theology to dedicate myself to both prayer and service. Since both flow from the Holy Spirit, both are sacred. This theology impelled me to social action. Soon after I began my university teaching, I initiated a campus boycott of iceberg lettuce to sup-port the farm workers' union. I encouraged nonviolent picketing of the food service lines. The boycott took more than a year but was ultimately successful. Nonviolence Before reflecting on Merton's spirituality, I had a lim-ited understanding of nonviolence. I thought of it sim-ply as conscientiously objecting to the war in Vietnam and, influenced by Martin Luther King's civil rights movement, as not retaliating physically when attacked. Though I admired these positions, I saw those who took them as rare, highly idealistic, and a bit naive. Merton revolutionized my understanding. His description of the True Self showed me that an attitude of nonviolence is an integral part of living the gospel and following Christ. Since God dwells within every human being, this com-munion has radical consequences for how we think and how we act. When we are in tune with God at our center, in our True Self, we experience our oneness with others, even with our "enemies." Our behavior changes. Merton helped me realize that Western understand-ings of the person foster secularism, individualism, materialism, competition, and a sense of superiority. 67.4 2008 Hauser ¯ Thomas Merton's Legacy: A Personal R~leaion Merton helped me.realize that Western understandings of the person foster secularism, individualism, materialism, competition, and a sense of superiority. This False Self has the illusion that our existence is not connected with God or with others, and this illusion leads to violence: "People who know nothing of God, and whose lives are centered on themselves, imagine that they can only find themselves by asserting their own desires and ambi-tions and appetites in a struggle with the rest of the world. They try to become real by imposing themselves on other people, by appro-priating for them-selves some share of the limited supply of created goods and thus emphasizing the difference between themselves and other men who have less than they, or nothing at all" (Seeds, 47). Merton concludes simply: "I must look for my identity, somehow, not only in God but in other men. I will never be able to find myself if I isolate myself from the rest of mankind as if I were a different kind of being" (Seeds, 51). The transformation Merton calls for happens most profoundly in contemplation. In a busy Kentucky city, Merton experienced his most well-known contemplative awakening: "In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of Review for Religious separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness.''s Such consciousness is the foundation for Merton's understanding of nonviolence. It can move us to deal with our neighbors always with compassion and love, not violence. We seek nonviolent ways to show our neigh-bors the divine within them as it has been shown joyfully to ourselves. This is the way Merton was leading me to radical implications of being a Christian. How inad-equate my understanding of nonviolence had been! Merton lived during the turbulent 1960s and applied nonviolent principles to social movements. He became the prophetic voice for many involved in these movements. While studying in Washington, I attended many mass demonstrations against the Vietnam War. I remember a group of marchers on Pennsylvania Avenue carrying a ban-ner slandering President Nixon. Merton helped me realize that this was not true nonviolence. Without compassion and love, it was merely a redirection of hatred. Truly non-violent social movements exclude hatred, because we are all members of one human family with God as our Father. I began applying nonviolent principles to personal con-flicts. I realized how often I sought to resolve conflicts by some sort of psychological intimidation. I saw anew the need for prayer. And I began teaching a course titled Faith and Nonviolence. We read the New Testament, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Cesar Chavez, Daniel Berrigan, and Merton. The course applied nonviolent principles to both societal and personal conflicts. Interreligious Understanding Although I had taken several courses on world reli-gions during my theology studies, I understood these religions mainly as institutions with distinctive creeds, 67.4 2008 Hauser * Thomas Merton's Legacy: .4 Personal Reflection codes, and cults. Through his approach to contem-plation, Merton led me toward an empathetic under-standing of them. Key to this deeper understanding was Merton's insistence that the contemplative experi-ence of the divine is beyond words: "Contemplation is always beyond our own knowledge, beyond our own light, beyond systems, beyond explanations, beyond discourse, beyond dialogue, beyond our own self." "It cannot even be clearly explained. It can only be hinted at, suggested, pointed to, symbolized. The more objec-tively and scientifically one tries to analyze it, the more one empties it of its real content, for this experience is beyond the reach of verbalization and rationalization" (Seeds, 2 & 6). Since all human beings share the same human nature, and since the same God dwells within us all, we may indeed share similar experiences of God. Reading Merton's Inner Experience confirmed this idea for me. Buddhist descriptions of satori are not unlike Merton's descriptions of contemplation. Merton presents a poem. Devoid of thought, I sat quietly by the desk in my official room, With my fountain-mind undisturbed, as serene as water; A sudden crash of thunder, the mind doors burst open, And lo, there sits the old man in all his homeliness. Merton comments: "There sits Chao-pien himself, the same and yet utterly different, for it is the eternal Chao-pien, one with no familiar name, at once humble and mighty., utterly beyond description or comparison because he is beyond yes and no, subject and object, self and not-self. It is like the wonderful, devastating, and unutterable awe of humble joy with which a Christian realizes: 'I and the Lord are One.'''6 Review for Religious This was a major breakthrough in my understand-ing. After my own experiences of contemplation, I could now allow Merton's books and essays on Zen Buddhism, Taoism, Sufism, Judaism, and Hinduism to lead me to deeper understanding of these religions. Since I wanted my students to understand the centrality of prayer and contemplation for every world religion, I began adding these readings to my courses. We all mourned Merton's untimely death in Bangkok on 10 December 1968, during his three-month trip to Asia. This death was especially sad because his firsthand Asian experiences would have given him further data on similarities between Eastern and Western mysticism. My Debt to Merton I realize that many today take for granted the five areas of spirituality that I have described. But Merton's insights were presented before the council and offi-cial Catholicism accepted them. Indeed, his own abbot general censored his 1961 antiwar writings. Merton's writing became foundational for a new generation of Christians and spiritual writers. This fortieth anni-versary of his death is the first time I have stopped to acknowledge my debt. I do not consider it an exaggera-tion to say that Merton was a prophet heralding a new age of spirituality. Merton paved the way for my own understanding of the council's teaching on the Holy Spirit in Christian spirituality. Merton's insistence that the True Self is ontologically united both to God and to all humanity and that the Holy Spirit is the source of this communion transformed my previously unrecognized American indi-vidualism. I had never grasped that the indwelling of the Spirit has actual effects in daily life and daily prayer. The 67.4 2008 Hauser * Thomas Merton's Legacy: .4 Personal Reflection combination of Merton's description of the True Self and the council's message on the Holy Spirit revolution-ized my spirituality. I was so energized by these insights that I wrote three books and dozens of articles. I am indebted to Merton for "bringing me home" to Ignatian prayer. Merton's descriptions of prayer flow-ing spontaneously from daily life led me to reconsider my understanding of it. I realized that Ignatian prayer is not simply to be identified with intense concentra-tion on scripture texts as found in the meditations and contemplations of the Spiritual Exercises. Prayer more characteristic of Ignatius is found in his Contemplation for Obtaining Divine Love and flows from daily life. Observations of Ignatius at prayer, like the following recollection from one of Ignatius's first companions, assure me that I am on the right track: At night he would go up on the roof of the house, with the sky there up above him. He would sit there quietly, absolutely quietly. He would take his hat off and look up for a long time at the sky. Then he would fall on his knees, bowing profoundly to God. Then he would sit on a little bench because the weakness of his body did not allow him to take any other posi-tion. He would stay there bareheaded and without moving. And the tears would begin to flow down his cheeks like a stream, but so quietly and so gently that you heard not a sob nor a sigh nor the least possible movement of his body.7 Merton helped me internalize that hallmark of Ignatian spirituality "Finding God in all things." He also paved the way.for my understanding of Ignatius's discernment of spirits, but that is another article. I have asked myself why my journey into Ignatian spirituality took so long. I recognize now that Iowas blocked by invalid False Self assumptions. I needed Review for Religious someone to address them directly. In God's providence Thomas Merton was that person--the person who with God's grace most made me who I am today as a Catholic Christian. Notes 1 Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions, 1961), pp. 33 & 36. Hereafter, in the text, Seeds. 2 Thomas Merton, Spiritual Direction and Meditation (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1960), p. 67. 3 David Steindl-Rast OSB, "Recollections of Thomas Merton's Last Day in the West," Monastic Studies, Vol. 7, pp. 1-10. 4 Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island (New York: Doubleday Image, 1955), p. 65. 5 Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander (New York: Doubleday Image, 1989), p. 156. 6 Inner Experience, pp. 300-301, taken from L.S. Cunningham, Thomas Merton: Spiritual Master (New York: Paulist Press, 1992). 7 W.W. Meissner SJ, Ignatius of Loyola: The Psychology of a Saint (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), p. 280. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Has Thomas Merton or another spiritual writer influenced my practices of the spiritual life? Like Hauser, how would I describe the change? 67.4 2008 RUTH BOLARTE Our Ethnicity en Route to God ~ elonging and "distinctness" are both .signifi- ~ cant dimensions of my life. Years ago I left my country of origin, Peru, and began religious life in the United States. During those first years, away from fam-ily and friends and the emotional and material support they had been for me, my desire and need to belong and be one of.the group made me conceal a part of myself, my Peruvian culture. My initial years of religious for-mation did not acknowledge my Hispanic heritage and the spiritual treasure it was. My being Hispanic was only a curious novelty, something to be asked a few questions about. Without any intentional fault of those guiding me on the spiritual journey, I neverthe-less received the unspoken message that I should abide by the new codes and values that were presented to me and somehow forget what I had learned in Peru Ruth Bolarte IHM, a member of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, is director of the Catholic Institute for Evangelization; 4404 North 5th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19140. Review for Religious about God, life, and people. Eventually, little by little, my God-friend became the God of rules and formality. Spontaneity, touching, and initiative disappeared, and a "prove yourself" attitude emerged. I believed in my heart that hard work, silence, and distance were the key to my religious life in the United States. In order to be recognized as one of the group, I adapted myself to the mainstream culture and disre-garded my images of God, of prayer, of life and death. When the opportunity presented itself, I limited my "ethnic sharing" to external aspects of culture: food, music, stories, and dance. These were safe issues and did not upset anyone. People, consciously or not, were simply not interested in listening with open hearts to the heart of my culture: my experiences of God through family, nature, joy, and suffering; my views on authority, poverty, power, or church. I was not raised with a code of beliefs and rules to obey. We.entrusted ourselves to a loving God who walked, ate, laughed, and cried with us throughout the events of our day. Church was not the only place where we could worship God. We gave glory and praise to God through our family celebrations, our processions, and our dead. In later years I would find out that my traditions of religion were what theologians and the church named "popular religigsity." Pope Paul vI explains this concept in his apostolic exhortation Evangelii nuntiandi: " One finds among the people particular expressions of the search for God and for faith, both in the regions where the church has been established for centuries and where she is in the course of becoming established. These expressions were for a long time regarded as less pure and were sometimes despised, but today they are almost everywhere being redis-covered. l 67.4 2008 Bolarte ¯ Our Etbnicity en Route to God The Holy Father explains that these religious expres-sions are susceptible to many misinterpretations. If, however, they are well oriented through the pedagogy of evangelization, they are rich in value since they reflect the thirst for God that 0nly the poor and simple can know. Popular religiosity is a major part of the spiritual life of Hispanic people. Hispanic spirituality is divine and human at the same time; it is incarnated spiritual-ity. 2 God is perceived as all-powerful, sovereign, and superior to all human beings, but also as a member of the family--someone who sits at the table and does not need a special invitation. God is not a far distant image in heaven; God is Emmanuel, always at our side, accom-panying us all day every step of the way. Since these expressions of faith were not acknowl-edged during my formation years, my cultural identity became dim. I only became aware of this only when I visited Peru after having lived in the United States for five years. I began to feel this tension between two seemingly opposite forces, my Pei'uvian culture and my adopted American one, between my yearning to "belong" and my efforts to hold on to my "distinctness." What a surprise it was to find that I did not "belong" anymore to the place where I had lived most of my life! Two cultures, American and Peruvian, had shaped me into a new person I only pardy understood. Returning to my homeland made me conscious that somehow my identity and personhood were rooted in both the American and Peruvian cultures. Once I became aware of this, I felt a need to inte-grate both cultures in my life, whether I resided in Peru or in the United States. The questions for ~e were, How do I do that? and who will understand? Many questions arose, 'and there was no one to talk to about Review for Religious them. Even though I had spiritual directors, I did not feel comfortable bringing up these "cultural" issues. For ten more years I lived with the questions and the ten-sions of being different and trying to belong to a com-munity, a parish, a church that was at the same time borne and foreign. During this time I learned to assert myself and prove to others that I was as capable and prepared as any other religious in the United States. I have come to believe that wholeness in our lives is a process of becoming,, something we undertake each day. Tension is an opportunity for growth and devel-opment. Becoming conscious of my longing to "belong" while also recogniz-ing my "uniqueness" and sense of inde-pendence marked the beginning of a long road borne. Only when I started to ask myself questions about my Latina identity, reading the works of various Hispanic theologians and reflecting critically on my experiences in the United States, was I able to be at borne with the tension of being part of two worlds. I had the opportunity for this reflection while doing the research for my thesis. After so many years living in the United States, I was finally able to name struggles and hurts, and more than anything I could identify, cel-ebrate, and rejoice in my cultural heritage. The tension I had felt became a source of wealth and fulfillment Becoming conscious of my longing to "belong" while also recognizing my "uniqueness" and sense of independence marked the beginning of a long road home. 361 67.4 2008 Bolarte ¯ Our Etbnicity en Route to God As my own "true self" was gradually revealed to me and then to others, a new person emerged, one that was freer to relate to God and others. rather than being a barrier to my social and personal development. The cultural wealth of our various ethnic groups, yours and mine, is a main component in our human and spiritual development. It is crucial that those involved in religious formation, spiritual direction, and ministry consider the cultural factors in people's spir-itual journeys. People need a sense of belong-ing and historical con-tinuity. If we deny our family origins and his-tory, we deny ourselves. 0nly when we feel affirmed in our identity can we be free, open, and welcoming to other cultural groups. On the other hand, people often develop a sense of inferiority, a poor self-image, when they feel minimized or attacked in their ethnic identity. In many cases these feelings become a defen-sive or aggressive attitude toward the dominant ethnic group or toward other minority ethnic groups. Since spirituality involves all aspects of life--psy-chological, physical, social, and political--we need to recognize that all cultural groups have distinctive ways of facing life, sickness, family, power, pain, and death. An inte, grated spirituality recognizes that all of our lives must be subjected to the transformative power of the Holy Spirit. We hear and appropriate the Good News of Jesus from our various cultural perspectives. Those perspectives influence how we understand the message Review for Religious and how we respond to it. Vgho can be sure of a univer-sal description that is the norm for all? The ministry of Jesus is to reveal the meaning of life and offer humanity an opportunity to enter freely into a loving relationship with God as adult daughters and sons. Because an important root of spirituality is found in the self, we must integrate the psychological value of self-affirmation, self-fulfillment, or self-realization with the Christian tradition of self-denial, self-emptying, or self-surrender. From the moment of birth we seek in our human development a proper balance, the right connectedness with others and the right separateness from others. The challenge for everyone is to achieve relatedness without symbiotic engulfment and indepen-dence without alienation and emptiness. As my own "true self" was gradually revealed to me and then to others, a new person emerged, one that was freer to relate to God and others. In faith I had the power to respond to the gift of my being and abandon the "false self" of pretenses; concealments, and fears. It was this "false self" that I was called to deny, the self that hid my ethnicity. Thomas Merton summarizes this dynamic when he affirms that if we find God we find ourselves and if we find our own selves we find God.3 For Merton, maturing in the spiritual life is a discov-ery journey, the discovery of oneself and of God. One of the tasks of those involved in faith formation is to search for and reveal the seed of God that is already there in her and her culture. They must lead her to recognize Christ in herself and challenge those aspects of her which need purification so the complete image of God can be revealed. All through human development, critical reflection is required. As people grow in maturity, there is a shift 363 67.4 2008 Bolarte * Our Etbnicity en Route to God from being acted on by the world to acting on the world. In my experience of tension between two worlds, it was only when I internalized and reflected on being a part of two cultures that I could incorporate the tension into who I was. Duringthis internalization, I needed to grieve my cultural losses, experience the pain of the hurts, and forgive those who purposely or not had discriminated against me. Sometimes people do not perceive that ignoring cultural differences is a form of discrimination: it deprives someone of her distinctive cultural identity, the unique person she was created to be. Our spiritual journey in Christ requires accepting that our worth, our value, our selfhood as children of God is given to us as our birthright. It means knowing deeply that we are known, loved, and invited to partnership in being with the God who from all eternity intended us and who desires our love. To answer the question "Who am I?" we need to incorporate all our past--including the past of our family, culture, religion, and national group. Only this person can be the subject of our own destiny. Knowing that I am loved by God, I need not live in anxi-ety, or seek affirmation through achievement or some other form of power, for I learn to accept imperfections and strengths, my own and others'. God's grace invites us to become the persons we were created to be. God's love does not absorb, anni-hilate, or force itself upon the beloved. Instead it longs for the beloved to become more and more "other" or differentiated. Without such "letting be" of the beloved, the dialogical intimacy essential to a loving relation-ship would be impossible. God allows unique persons to emerge and become capable of deep relationships because, God, "how could you give yourself to me unless you had fii'st given me to myself?.''4 Review for Religious By no means is my endeavor to integrate cultures within myself and my religious life a finished task. It is a process that every day makes use of the newness I encounter in the many kinds of relationship in my life. Sometimes I long for the support of my Anglo friends because they can understand my experience; other times I look for my Latino support group because they can feel forme. There are times when I feel alienated from one or both of the cultures, like a fish out of water; at other times I am tired of the tension of the two worlds and I just want to run and hide. Being a "bridge per-son"-- gente puente--is dangerous business. One takes the risk of being hurt or judged--becoming the scape-goat for one of the cultural groups. At these times I remember Who called me to be a Latina woman reli-gious evangelizing in the United States. God is the one who gifts me with the ability to interact with two ethnic groups. Yes, the gift entails pain and suffering--dying to my "false self." But in Jesus' resurrection I find the hope and joy of new life and the courage to continue living in a tension that is a source of new life for many, including me. Notes ~ Pablo VI, Evangelii nuntiandi (On Evangelization in the Modern World), §48. 2 Rosa Marfa Icaza, "Prayer, Worship, and Liturgy in a United States Hispanic Key," in Frontiers of Hispanic Theology in the United States, ed. Allan Figueroa Deck (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995), p. 136. 3 Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation (New York: Dell, 1960), p. 53. 4 Cited by Nicholas of Cusa as quoted in John Haught, God aj%r Darwin (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 2000), p. 40. 67.4 2008 heart BEATRICE EICHTEN Constitutions and Heart Knowledge knowledge 366 In this article I suggest that religious--you and I, wherever we are--reflect on our vari-ous constitutions, on what we say about our life together and on how we live what we say. For most congregations the original con-stitutions antedate all the members. They were written to carry the inspiration and hopes of founders, foundresses, and early members regarding the possibility of living the gospel with charismatic idealism and practical action. They contain many elements--identity, vowed life, community, mission, prayer, membership, governance, and stewardship--all matters of relationship. After Vatican Council II ~any members were involved in adapting to the changing times. This called for re-visioning and revising the constitutions and having them Beatrice Eichten OSF here offers an adaptation of words to a Franciscan Sister's community. Her address is/577 Huff Street, #1; Winona, Minnesota 55987. eichten.consuldng@gmail.com Review for Religious approved. Now, many years later, it may be helpful to review our constitutions and ask (possibly in a second-ary document) how our community life and governance are lived today. This would be a practical effort, not an academic one. In the fast pace of life today, with many calls on our attention, have we lost touch with the heart of who we are and why we are here? Few members entered their community because they read compelling statements in their congregation's con-stitution, and it is surely the same today. Women enter a community because they are drawn to members who embody its charism, who have been claimed as God's own and who love and live for, hope and work for, God's kingdom on earth. Such women have the energy and spirit of the founders and the early members. They may not be able to quote the constitution, but they know its values and challenges. They have "heart knowledge" of their constitution, from their experience in the presence of God and their community. One could say that they know their constitution "by heart." Their lives express their constitution, the dreams and hopes and challenges it contains. We all know persons like this--we may even be one! How do people acquire that "heart knowledge"? By persistence. I am reminded of my training as apastoral psychotherapist. We were told that only after we learned the training center's theory well would we know when to adapt or depart from it. I remember the foundational text--it was like reading a foreign language! I read it diligently, paragraph by paragraph. Some sentences were a paragraph long! I would read them several times silently, and then out loud. I even underlined the sub-ject, verb, and object as I tried to figure out what they meant. Bit by bit, as I studied the text and saw it used 367 67.4 2008 Eicbten ¯ Constitutions and Heart Knowledge by skillful practitioners, I came to know and understand the theory very well. The text became a practical work-ing document for me, one that was useful and which I felt comfortable adapting as needed. Your constitution is like that. It captures the funda-mentals of your way of life--who you say you are as a congregation and how you will live your life together. As you study it and live it, you begin to live it "by heart." You make some adaptations that are, hopefully, faithful to the intent of the original document. After a while you live your life without conscious reference to your constitution--and you may have lost some of the motivation and challenge it carries. A wise Sufi teacher said of the Koran that'it is like a map. If it is used well, if you follow the rivers of life it charts out for you, it helps you make progress in living a faithful life. If you do not use it, why have it? But, he added, it is important to remember that, unlike maps, rivers change course over time. If you insist on follow-ing the river as it is mapped, you will miss the flow of life. Our constitutions are like that map, and charism, vows, and mission are rivers of our lives. Vghen maps are used wisely, they help. Ernie Larkin OCarm offers another image for our constitutions. He says we "emphasize the presence of God in all things, but may tend to forget the envelope that contains it." Our constitutions are the envelope that contains the essentials of our community way of life, essentials that are "the medium through which God comes." Our constitutions contain our "Now," which is "the only place where one can meet God." Fundamentally, then, constitutions exist to articu-late "heart knowledge," and are not the mere sets of rules and laws that a legalistic mindset too easily makes Review for Religious them. St. Clare of Assisi was aware of this. She insisted that her Rule, the guideline for the Poor Ladies' reli-gious life, express clearly her sisters' impulse in coming together. Essential to her vision was the privilege of poverty, a privilege and obli-gation which she insisted be written into their official Rule. It contained inspiration or poetry along with obliga-t_ ion or requirement. It became a living document when its followers lived by it. C.S. Lewis expresses the idea: "poetry replaces grammar, gospel replaces law, longing transforms obedience." Constitutions contain both inspiration and require-ments. Congregations sometimes register only the inspi-ration while bypassing the requirements. Sometimes they bypass the inspiration and register only the require-ments-- and chafe at them. So how do we make our constitutions truly living documents that honor both poetry and obligation? In our relationships with God and one another, do we "mind the music and the step"? Are joyful inspiration and gracefully disciplined foot-work changing us into Jesus' disciples? Fundamentally, then, constitutions exist to articulate "heart knowledge," and are not the mere sets of rules and laws that a legalistic mindset too easily makes them. Conversion Religious constitutions come from our relationship with God, from our desire to let God be the center of our life. There are different ways to do this. Franciscan 369 67.4 2008 Eicbten ¯ Constitutions and Heart Knowledge constitutions seek conversion of life. The Third Order Regular Rule of St. Francis says this: "With all., who wish to serve the Lord; the brothers and sisters of this order are to persevere in true faith and penance. They wish to live this evangelical conversion of life in a spirit of prayer, of poverty, and of humility." You and I know that conversion is not a comfortable experience, nor is it one you can program for yourself: "I think that this year I will be converted to poverty, or nonviolence, or . " Typically, conversion comes to us unbidden, in ways that surprise and perturb us. Dr. Ann Ulanov, a Jungian psychoanalyst, says: "Being truth-ful with ourselves can be messy business. [We think] the illusions we have created . . . will be more readily received than our true self." She goes on to say that we all have protective armor which can look like virtue or competence or generosity. Nonetheless, it is armor designed to hide our wounds and messiness and keep us safe and protected. The human reality is that those very wounds create chinks in our armor. Conversion occurs because God will always find the chinks and slip through them to unsettle us and invite us to make "soul decisions," decisions to recommit our hearts to a pilgrim's journey in witness to the gospel. Soul decisions open us to be changed by God's abundant love into true disciples. Sister Helen Prejean resisted the gospel's social-justice dimension until, at a presentation by Sister Maria Augusta Neal, she heard the phrase "integral to the Good News was that they would be poor no lon-ger." Helen adds, "And I got it. She cracked me open." Perhaps her very resistance was the source of that con-version moment. She moved a year later from a suburb to a housing project that was "less than five miles . . . Review for Religious but it was galaxies away." She could not have done that without a profound soul decision. How do our relationships in community open us to "soul decisions" or conversion moments? I see four movements. Relationship with God We all entered a communal life of prayer and con-templation, of working relationships, and of minis-try that fulfills and stretches us. Communal life, lived fully, offers ample opportunities for conversion. Parker Palmer says we enter religious life with the illusion that outside there is jealousy, compe-tition, resentment, power struggle, status difference, and more, but in religious life there will be only love, sharing, working together, generosity, equality, and so forth. We find, however, after living in a religious community for a while, that people are the same both inside and outside religious life. We pour effort into learning to commu-nicate, to deal with conflict, to share our faith, to do many other things, hoping thereby to have the perfect community. Guess what? Even if we do learn all these things, there is still iealousy, resentment, and failure. We learn that there is no perfect community. We have to face, says Palmer, our "illusion of salva-tion by interaction." In the face of contradictions and In our constitutions and in our living of them we are called to center our lives on God, realizing that God longs for us and desires our love. 371 67.4 2008 , Eicbten ¯ Constitutions and Heart Knowledge differences, we are called to "go deep inside [ourselves] beyond the polarities to a place of unity where every-thing holds together." We know that place as God. Etty Hillesum says of this place: "There is a really deep well inside me. And in it dwells God. Sometimes I am there too." In the midst of our real relationships, in our prayer and letting go and giving over to God, we move to the awareness that salvation is from God. We only come to know that when we come to know the mystery of God--that God is for us and is given to us. In our constitutions and in our living of them we are called to center our lives on God, realizing that God longs for us and desires our love. Coming to believe this leads us to have room for others, seeing.in them the face of Jesus, accepting, lov-ing, and receiving them because God loves them and receives them. This leads me to the second interper-sonal movement. Relationship with Others in Community Our commitment to life in community is not some-thing casual or optional. It is a lifelong commitment to our congregation, to its shared life in the Spirit, and to its members rights and responsibilities. As members we are interdependent financially, structurally, and relation-ally. Sandra Schneiders says that a constitutive element of communitarian life is "a permanent acceptance of the community itself as the primary and determining rela-tional context of one's life." It means loving, and living today at this particular time, in this particular commu-nity, with these particular women--with all our gifts, limitations, and idiosyncrasies. Our diversity is "authored and authorized by the Source of all life, in whose Mystery diversity poses no Review for Religious threat to unity." When we become aware that the very diversity that delights God troubles and disturbs us, we have stepped into a special moment for conversation and conversion. We realize that diversity need not be a threat to unity. Rather, in our diversity, we realize the need to make "a commitment to sustained and deliber-ate conversation for the purpose of achieving a common ground." Michael Blastic OFMConv points to St. Francis as a prime example of relationships with the other: Francis allows the other to be other. His sense of self is an openness to and for the other. Francis continu-ously looks to the Other, Jesus Christ, as the content of his self. By definition. Francis's self was room for the other. Francis was "a person in full possession of him-self, but [was] never by himself. In order to be an example for others, Francis needed to work at being himself---it did not come naturally., for him. Fran-cis did not nor could he accomplish this identity for himself by himself. One cannot become a self with room for others by oneself for oneself. In our constitutions we call ourselves to this kind of awareness of the other, challenging ourselves to embrace diversity within the congregation as a sign of the Spirit and, by doing so, to proclaim the possibility of harmony on earth. Accepting diversity, however, does not mean that individualism reigns, even though we remain differ-ent and retain our unique characteristics (the only way we each have to express our humanity). Accepting our diversity enables us to give a countercultural witness to a new kind relationship, a relationship based on unity, on a mutuality where there is no "other." This witness of community, says John Allen, a Catholic newspaper cor- 373 67.4 2008 Eicbten ¯ Constitutions and Heart Knowledge respondent in Rome, is the most powerful gift we have to offer our fragmented and troubled world today. Relationship for Mission We are in our religious community not simply for ourselves. Our vowed commitment "does not exist within the individual alone, but within the context of community . . . a community fully engaged in con-versation about its life." The mission statement in my community's constitution challenges us to "be a com-munity of compassion, reconciliation, and reverence for all creation, to rebuild our own society, and to reach out in solidarity to our sisters and brothers throughout the world." Becoming part of the spirit and flow of energy that is our religious community stretches us and opens us to God's great energy working in the world today. As reli-gious we have a great responsibility. We need to know and to claim that we are the face of God to those around us, and we need to open our eyes and hearts to see the face of God in creation and in every creature. How we live that responsibility is a challenge. Marie Chin RSM, in a presentation to my Franciscan community, said that we are challenged to take a crucial step in recognizing that we can no longer equate community with mere group living or, to put it more blundy, simply living under the same roof for expediency or convenience. Community has to be for a greater project than self. Somehow we have to change our root image of community as a place of security where we have all our needs met and instead begin to explore the chal-lenges of justice, the challenges of forming relation-ships that are right and just and which are potentially present in community. Review for Religious Her challenge confronts our tendency to become, as Laurie Brink OP says "settled religious, [who have] lost sight of the power and passion of our original covenant with God." It is not that we are not involved in commu-nity life or engaged in a valued ministry, but rather that we are settling for comfort and "good enough"--which in turn means liv-ing with little zest and passion for life and ministry. It means not being willing to take risks or make changes that might unset-tle. Ron Rolheiser OMI says that the problem for reli-gious today is not that we are not good people, doing good things, but that we are not great people. We have settled for giving ninety percent of ourselves and held on to the ten percent that would give witness to the pas-sion and energy of God alive in us. When we entered, I would guess, we wanted to give ourselves a hundred percent. Avis Clendenen offers an interesting reflection on how we may have adapted Jeremiah's response to God "from 'too young' to 'too old'; Ah, Lord God! I am weary from speaking the truth in love. Our best days are behind us. I am too old." And God says, "Do not say 'I am too old,' for even now to all to whom I send you you will go; be not afraid, for I am with you to deliver you." Are we holding back? Can we live more fully every moment of our life today and on into the future? The problem for religious today is not that we are not good people, doing good things, but that we are not great people. 67.4 2008 Eicbten * Constitutions and Heart Knowledge 376 Relationship with Structure and Authority Our constitutions are about holding with care the relationships that shape our life together. They assume and emphasize our relationship with God, which in turn is expressed in relationships with other members and associates and with the church and society. Treating these relationships with care can only happen when both members and leaders take seriously their responsibility as part of community. As individuals, you bring your personal power to the community, ideally making it a force for growth, bridge building, and healing, rather than a force for negativ-ity, divisiveness, and controlling behavior. Together you affirm that your congregation is there to facilitate your religious way of life and your ministry, and you accept responsibility as members to participate in defining and working towards the purpose of your community. The goal of your congregation's governance is to exemplify and facilitate the living of your congregation's charism, weaving "the organizational elements of shared values, mission, and vision and translating tl~em into reality, into a course of action." In the governance of our religious congregations, we have various indications of history and personality. Rigid authority structures have left many with scars and cautions, and efforts towards new models of communal living have not always been successful. Leadership functions amid our practice and expec-tations of ourselves as members of our communities. Patricia Wittberg SC offers three models of relation-ships of community and authority. Hierarchical/Bureaucratic Model: This model offers an organized way to carry out the purpose and mission of the congregation. The value it emphasizes is effi- Review for Religious ciency; the mode of operation is dependency. Power and authority are concentrated at the top and flow downward, as does communication. There is little individual responsibility. The young are mentored, and the model can continue without changing. Every congregation has some elements of hierarchy/bureau-cracy which are needed for effective functioning of an organization. Associational Modek This model values individual fulfill-ment; the individual "I" is at the center of the model. Relationships are one-on-one and dependent on the individual's choice of persons to whom s/he wishes to relate, both within'the organization and outside it. Persons live as if this were a professional organiza-tion where membership is equated with paying one's dues or meeting basic requirements and participating as one wishes. Leadership is often not acknowledged or is reluctant to call for difficult actions on the part of members. This model is not likely to reproduce into the next generation. Communitarian/Relational/Intentional Modek The value for this model is the common good; interdependence is the desired mode of operation. Relationships and communication are mutual and are focused around a sense of common identity--"we" with members and leaders working together for common goals. In this model, individual members are willing to sacrifice or limit some personal goals for the common good. There is a mutual shaping of the future. Wittberg says today'~ congregations have their ¯ Toe in the Hierarchical/Bureaucratic model; ¯ Torso in the Association model; ¯ Hand reaching out to the Communitarian model, but fearful of sacrifice or of retreat to the Hierarchical model. She offers this reflection: Religious congregations, precariously balanced between the competing commitment models of 67.4 2008 Eichten ¯ Constitutions and Heart Knowledge 378 ] bureaucracies and intentional communities, may. ¯ have mutually contradictory expectations of their leadership or of their members . Congregatio.ns which refrain from addressing the ambiguous roles of leadership [I would add membership] may miss discov-ering creative and psychologically healthy new ways of filling them. Most communities, I wager, create goals based on the Communitarian model while denying or not acknowledging that the other models exist and may even predominate. There is no right/wrong, good/bad to any model; each has good elements. It might be worthwhile to reflect together on the blessings and challenges of each model as you experience them in your community. The challenge may be to identify and implement the best elements in each as we move into the future. Governance is part of the process of communal transformation. It invites members to a continual com-munal effort toward conversion of heart, mind, and spirit. We bring together our individual selves with our dreams, passions, idiosyncrasies, and personal power. Through the design of our constitution, we seek together the common good for the sake of the gospel. We are one with many, experiencing a range of relation-ships that offer the possibility of transformations into people mutually empowering and accountable. All of these relationships--with God, with one another, with authority, and in mission--are what constitutes your religious congregation and mine. Relationship calls for risk, trust, hope, and moments of conversion, moments to be followed up with firm "soul decisions" to give our all to God's grand dream "that all may be one." Review for Religious Personal Reflection / Group Discussion "Fundamentally constitutions exist to articulate 'heart knowledge,' and are not the mere sets of rules and laws that a legalistic mindset too easily makes them." Have I experienced a "heart knowledge" approach to the reading and study of the constitutions of my congrega-tion? What are some necessary steps for me to take in order to read the constitutions in such a way? What happens to me when I approach the constitutions of my congregation in terms of relationship~to God, to community, and to mission? How do I understand my relationship to structure and authority? Dark Matter It should not surprise us that we encounter darkness and unknowingness within; two-thirds of the cosmos is dark energy and we are offspring of that unfolding mystery, pregnant with possibilities, gestating, incubating in our wombs. The shapeless masses and undeveloped forms lie clogged in a fathomless morass, yet the Potter takes the no-thingness, gently birthing it into a new creation. Barbara Mayer OSB 379 67.4 2008 NESTOR GREGOIRE Can New Life Arise from the Rule Book? 380 ~iin every religious congregation the religious Rule s the distillation of the community's spirit, ideals, goals, and governance. It is the result of years of reflec-tion and prayer, revisions and constitutional changes. It is meant to be the mission statement (long before the term was ever developed) of all the members of the religious congregation: novices, newly professed, and those with perpetual vows. But have the rules become too much a document of doctrinal values and governance procedures in too nar-row a sense? While they are read and studied, reflected upon and taught in many conferences, are they a source of nourishment at the grass roots? Do we consult the Rule Book about what to do, or do we use it for prayer and as inspiration for our prayer, our liturgy, and the community's day-to-day life? Is it more reference book than prayer book? Nestor Gregoire OMI lives at 504 - 3rd Avenue East; Meadow Lake, Saskatchewan; S9X 1H5 Canada. olppastor@sasktel.net Review for Religious How do the Rule Book and the constitutions serve your congregation? Is it very directive, constricting the community's life and spirit, or does it improve vision and expand the horizons of community members? Does the text go beyond expressing doctrinal correctness and touch the community's lived experience? How does the Rule actually fit in the day-to-day living of the local community? Do particular rules have noticeable par-ticular effects? Are there unintended consequences? The Rule Book must be more than a reference book that the novices study, consult, and know parts of from memory. It must become user friendly and be a living part of the community's prayer life. A good indicator of this would be how worn the pages of our personal copy of the Rule Book are. Are they library fresh, or do they have fingerprints, personal notations, and other signs of frequent use? Does the book appear to be one that is close to the heart of a community member? User Friendly Each community can work to make the Rule user friendly in its own way. There are many ways that indi-viduals and communities can find to do this and thereby nourish their own and the community's spiritual life. No one size fits all. Be creative. In the publishing world there have always been meditation books to serve our prayer and reflection, often with a page containing one thought or insight for each day of the year. The reader need not delve into a developed chapter. Often religious congregations will prepare a book of meditations for each day of Lent and Advent and send it out to their members. One of the best ways to make the Rule Book user friendly is to ask members of the community to develop 381 67.4 2008 Gregoire * Can New Life Arise from the Rule Book? 382 a series of meditations and prayers that arise from the values, the vision, and the actual words of the rules. What themes recur frequently throughout the rules? What resources are there available to assist reflecting and praying about the meaning and implications of indi-vidual rules and their contexts? With the Rule Book as our source document, it is possible-to develop a series of meditations which incor-porate the values and teachings of general chapters, writings of our congregation's past and present spiri-tual teachers, and stories of members who served well, lived the charism with joy, and even may have given the congregation its particular tone. Bring the character and flair of these members to the meditations. The stories and the experience of members who have preceded us can help us discover in the Rule mean-ings that are new to us. Each congregation's Rule Book did take on flesh, in joy and tears, in earlier members. What possibilities does the same Rule challenge us to try and perhaps fulfill today? By preparing a series of meditations on the rules and constitutions of my own congregation, the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, I discovered new connections being made between the documents of the past four general chapters, the talks of our superior general, and the text of the Rule. New depths appeared in my own under-standing of our "mission statement." The Founder's Writings There are many opportunities to take bite-size quo-tations and insights from the talks and writings of the founder to flesh out the meaning of particular state-ments in the Rule: We can parallel today's text with passages which ring with the conviction of the founding Review for Religious members. The writings of the founder and founding members can help us appreciate and integrate the offi-cial text into our daily lives. Using the actual words of our congregation's founder can develop a fuller understanding and application of this particular rule. Our understanding of the present text must not be based only on its meaning on the page. It must be broadened to the possibilities that are given to it through the insights of our foundation documents and the firstmissionary endeavors. Allow the writings of the founder and the early members to give new flesh to our understanding of our community charism, the religious values and idealism of our institute. When we try to broaden the possibilities for new insights into and understanding of the Rule, we can find togetherness and nourishment in our foun-dational days and in our church's mission in our mod-ern world. Not only must we seek the contributions of the past to our living the Rule today, but we must be receptive to the new insights and challenges that our situation brings to the Rule. The Rule must always be in dialogue, giving to and receiving from our current mission work, our reflections, and our prayer. Daily Prayer The words of the Rule can be used in composing prayers for the community's daily life. Take individual statements of our rules and constitutions and adapt them into prayers of intercession for the daily office. A little editing can bring the rules' clear and concise statements into our prayer with God. Here are two examples, from our Oblate Constitutions and Rules. The text is not just read but becomes a living part of our prayer. 67.4 2008 Gregoire ¯ Can New Life Arise from the Rule Book? Leader: Lord Jesus, may we always work in cooperation with you, our Savior, and imitate your example-- Response: --by committing ourselves principally to evan-gelizing the poor (Constitution #1). Leader: We pray that the community of the Apostles may with you, our Jesus, be the model of our life (Constitution #3). Response: May we come together in apostolic communi-ties of priests and brothers, united to God by the vows of religion, cooperating with you, our Savior (Constitution #1). We must search for other places in the Rule that can be used in composing new prayers for various community gatherings: at the beginning of meet-ings, on renewal days, at funeral prayer services, and so forth. 384 Poetry and Song Our Rules are meant to be user friendly, to be alive in us, to be at home in our emotions and in our heartfelt prayers. They must touch us in order to move us, to energize us tolive the religious values and the charism our Rule expresses. In her classroom a good teacher makes sure that her students not only pay attention and read the lesson on the board, but also write it, sing it, recite it, and put it .into bodily motion whenever possi-ble. There are so mgny ways that lessons can and should become part of her students' minds and hearts and lives. Too often our religious Rule has been limited to the printed text. Can we express it in new ways? One of the most underused possibilities for our Rule to become more user friendly is to turn it into poetry and song. Where are the gems of religious thought that are seeking to get off official printed pages and be sung Review for Religious as proof of our willing service of Christ and as ways to bring joy and love to the poor? Has the text of our Rule ever become a hymn or a refrain? Have we asked the poets in our midst to look at the Rule and allow the poetic muse to bring forth through them new pic-tures for our imaginations, fresh words that touch our hearts? And what of the photographers, the painters, and those who can sketch? Can they create visual expres-sions of the valued teachings in our Rule? Can the text evoke in them color, pattern, and depth that they can share? For the next community gathering, can one of our photographers bring together a collection of sym-bolic photos and significant texts to help us see our Rule in new and vibrant ways? Let the imagination within your community enable your Rule to be absorbed by your community through all five senses. How else? Let me draw a picture from many a childhood. Will your community's Rule Book be like an encyclopedia that was bought years ago to give the children a learning atmosphere but was hardly ever used? Or will it be like your mother's cookbook, tat-tered, pages falling out or sticking together, scribblings in the margin, flour stains, memories of mother calling us or fragrances inviting us to just-baked cinnamon rolls or to supper? Cookbook, prayer book, rule book--all redolent of love and devotion and sharing. How differ-ent are they? 67.4 2008 JOEL RIPPINGER Monasticism' s Rooted Adaptations ~f~irtainlmg oass ta f porrotyfe ysseeadr sm ionn ak cwohmom hausn liitvye odf Benedictines, I am aware of the reality that, at the beginning of the third millennium, monasteries of men and women living according to the Benedictine Rule constitute an endangered species. We run the risk of becoming an exotic form of religious expression, with our communities acquiring the character of religious theme parks and our spiritual tradition being taken over by increasing numbers of nonprofessed laypersons intensely attracted to the monastic charism. Several developments have been part of this phe-nomenon. Vocations to vowed monasticism have been in decline for some years, especially in North America and Europe, and that course seems to be continuing. With this decline there has been a marked increase of lay oblates and affiliates to monastic communities. Joel Rippinger OSB writes again from Marmion Abbey; 850 Butterfield Road; Aurora, Illinois 60504. Religious Many of those bringing with them this new interest in monastic life have adopted and are putting into prac-tice much of this ancient heritage. Indeed, one of the remarkable aspects of the recent rise in popularity of all things monastic has been the spate of books and articles by such non-Catholic and nonprofessed writers as Kathleen Norris. Norris and others have brought to monastic life both an inherent sympathy for its spiritual character and an outsider's insights into its distinctive charism. They have brought to wide circles of believers their insights into monastic common life and liturgical prayer. The contemporary phrase "family values" has a spiritual counterpart in what book publishers have pro-moted as monastic values. In fact, it seems that attaching the very word Benedictine or monastic to any book can assure many readers. The number expands when it takes in American and British television productions chroni-cling life inside monasteries for visitors from outside the cloister. The recent surprise hit from the Grande Chartreuse in the French Alps, "Into Great Silence," was an exploration of the most austere monastic order, the Carthusians. All of this has generated some striking spiritual scenarios. Increasing numbers of the laity are seeking retreats and spiritual direction at monastic houses, even as the professed monastic men and women struggle to maintain sufficient staff to care for their visitors' needs. Diocesan priests, who once were sent unwillingly to monasteries as a place to be disciplined and do pen-ance, now willingly sacrifice time and personal comfort to make personal retreats in the solitude and silence of monastic guest rooms. A cottage industry has arisen to publish material on St. Benedict's Rule as a model for corporate management, ecological balance, and family 67.4 2008 Rippinger ¯ Monasticism's Rooted Adaptations The hospitality called for in the monastic tradition trumps demands for orthodoxy or religious conversion, life. And, as we have said, programs of spirituality are likely to attract sincere searchers if they use the terms Benedictine or monastic in their publicity. At one level, all of this is cause for rejoicing. An ancient and revered tradition of spiritual formation and communal observance has been retrieved. What only a few decades ago many considered an arcane and irrelevant current of church life is now prized as a source from which to draw the gospel's living waters. Nor does it hurt that monasticism repre-sents a strain of tra-dition that antedates the Reformation and the more polemi-cal and controver-sial categories of the Catholic Church's public profile. Protestants and other non-Catholics come to pray and to dialogue in monastic settings, and they feel at home. The hospitality called for in the monastic tradition trumps demands for orthodoxy or religious con-version. Moreover, the sacred space of monastic cloisters attracts an intriguing variety of searchers. There are those seeking the soundness and insights of spiritual direction, pursuing like Tony Hendra the wisdom of the "Father Joes." There are those drawn by the aesthetic appeal of Gregorian chant and the spare beauty, not of bare ruined choirs, but of natural landscape and architecture that inte-grates silence and a life shared in community. There are those who, caught in the frenzy and rootlessness of what passes for contemporary culture, see in the deep-rooted witness of monastic communities a safe haven. Review for Religious At another level, there is cause for concern. The fact that some monastic communities are dying is a reminder that this is part of a historical cycle that has been in place for well over 1500 years. The dying also alerts us to an unsettling prospect for the near term. There will be fewer and smaller communities of pro-fessed monastic men and women in North America and in first-world countries generally, along with the emer-gence of an ever larger number of nonprofessed devo-tees of all things monastic. The irony here has already been referred to. Devout "outsiders" come to a monas-tery today for the experience of leisure and for restful rhythms of prayer, but they also expect to encounter monastics, whose own time for spiritual direction and holy leisure is now much eroded from what it was in an era of bulging novitiates. It may in fact be a blessing that the outsiders look-ing over the cloister wall are now faced with the real-ity of human struggle and imperfection that is always present in monastic enclosure, but too often in the past has been disguised by various romantic views of monas-tic life. The economy of monasteries is of a piece with its marginal status in society--always a bit parlous and never capable of assuring a comfort zone for those who are committed to it. At the same time the interface with a nonmonastic public has changed. The services pro-vided by the larger monastic communities have evolved with the passage of time. No longer anchored exclu-sively in such institutional ministry as education or pas-toral care, many of the more contemplative houses now emphasize the signature monastic marker of hospital-ity. Monasteries that were once remote in both a physi-cal and a psychological sense now have accessible Web sites and accommodating retreat centers. While some of 67.4 2008 Rippinger * Monasticism's Rooted Adaptations Monasteries of the third millennium have broader borders their contact with an outside public entails the selling of caskets and caramels, fruitcakes and jam, greeting cards and icons, another dimension consists in offering guests the freedom of a room without HBO or wireless com-puter hookup, but with the amplified sounds of nature and the silence of the cloister. The counsel of a wisdom figure and the simple rhythms of a daily round of prayer and work constitute for many guests the unique spiritual ambience of monastic hospitality. If monastic life has been de-romanticized in recent years, it has also been given a wider religious compass. Monasteries of ~e third millennium have broader bor-ders than their predecessors. An international com-munity like Taiz6 illustrates an ele-ment of young than their predecessors, people that is quite at home in the lit-urgy and life of a monastic commu-nity. Thomas Merton would no doubt be impressed at how his Trappist community at Gethsemani recently invited a number of victims of clergy sex abuse to their community to have the monks hear their stories. The spirit of ecumenism and religious renewal heralded by Vatican Council II is incorporated in the variegated communities of Bose and its satellite houses in Italy. The number of non-Catholic and non-Christian com-munities that have claimed monastic connections in recent years is not small. These include not just tra-ditional communities of the Anglican and Lutheran tradition that follow the Benedictine Rule, but variants Revie~v for Religious of the Orthodox faith that follow the different forms of Eastern monasticism. This has led to some fascinat-ing boundary crossing, such as Pentecostal seminarians in Missouri taking regular weekend retreats at a local Trappist monastery or a Monastic Institute sponsored by St. John's Abbey in Minnesota inviting representa-tives from Buddhist and Islamic traditions to speak of monastic hospitality. A measured look at the future should not induce too much anxiety. Monasticism in the third millennium can count on doing what it has always done: adapt its timeless liturgical round and its particular work of com-munity life to fit the needs of a changing world and ever more complex demands. To do that in a way that is faithful to its spiritual pedigree and open to a wider public will require drawing both old and new from its storehouse. The shape of a future monastic identity will have less to do with drawing people by the charm of its physical surroundings and more with the substance of spiritual life. However newly configured it becomes in the course of the coming generations, one can only hope that monasteries will remain places where a wide variety of people can find a place of peace, a place where the work of inner transformation can be encouraged and expedited. 391 67.4 2008 WILLIAM P. CLARK Revisiting Hope spiritual reflection An Irish-American author, by the name of Frank O'Connor, writing of his growing up in Ireland, told how he and his pals enjoyed hiking in the countryside. Sometimes they would come to a wall separating one farm from another, a wall that seemed too high to scale. They would then toss their caps over it and thus be motivated to scale it. When obstacles daunt, we need to use our hope like those caps. In one of Graham Greene's novels, a man speaks of hope in a strange way. He refers to it as a disease. If it is a disease, it is a disease which both comforts and strengthens and is an antidote for the cancer of despair. We very much need hope after all the disheartening things we have experienced in our world and in our church in recent years. We need hope William P. Clark O!VII, in active retirement from teach-ing philosophy, writes from St. Henry's Oblate Residence; 200 North 60th Street; Belleville, Illinois 62223. Revi~-w for Religious in our own public and private lives. Charles Spurgeon offers a good image of hope: "Hope is like a star--not seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only discovered in the night of adversity." Hope seems especially important as we grow older. As adults we come to realize that choices really do not exist in the way we thought they would when we were children. We expected the regal power of adulthood to provide clarity and insight and control. In the light of humbling realizations, hope takes on increased impor-tance. According to an oft-quoted saying of Julian of Norwich, "The highest honor we can give God is to live gladly because of the knowledge of that love." We can give God that honor only through faith and hope. We know of God's love through faith. The primary object of hope--and our destiny--is to be perfectly united with God in love. Diametrically opposed to hope is the belief that existence is meaningless. If existence has no mean-ing, why would anyone want to continue living? One of our most intimate experiences is of ourselves as incomplete, as unfinished. As someone put it, "In this life there are no finished symphonies." We are drawn beyond anything we manage to achieve. Regardless of the level at which we find ourselves, we feel an attrac-tion to something still higher. In a certain sense, we leave every achievement behind in the very moment of accomplishment. When we achieve what we most want, our pleasure in it often fades. We even may be most acutely aware of our failures precisely when, after some achievement, someone praises us for it. Even in our achievements, we experience the need to go beyond where we are. We still hunger for what is "not yet." Desire outstrips satisfaction. Desire or longing is a driv- 393 67.4 2008 Clark * Revisiting Hope ing force in our lives. It can show itself as aching pain or as hope. As Christians we deal with the future by choosing to believe that life, not death, is the ultimate reality. We choose to turn continuously to our God in hope. That hope rests on the conviction that we are free and thus we have real control over our future. We can turn from where we are to what we want to be. Hope is confidence in God's power to do all things. Hope is the "nevertheless" of faith. In spite of every contradiction, we believe in the divine life within us and that God will bring it to completion if we but persevere in trust. We believe God will preserve and guide the church. Sometimes believing those things is difficult. That is why we must again and again ask the Lord to strengthen our hope. Hope might well be described as the dynamic force of faith and love. Because we are pilgrims, because we. do not see God and do not yet share God's love defini-tively, our faith and our love need to be permeated with hope. We know we cannot attain final fulfillment on earth. We know equally well how decisive our life on earth is in regard to final fulfillment. It is through hope that we press on. Hope offers a vision beyond the inevitable difficul-ties of our human condition, beyond human suffering and even death. It is hope that enables us to choose life, even in a deathlike situation. In hope we trust God can bring life out of death. Sooner or later virtually every-one has to face a deathlike situation in which they are challenged to choose life. It is a deathlike situation to be forced (in fear) to enter long-term nursing care. It looks like the end of the road, the gateway to death. From a purely human Revie~ for Religious point of view, there seems nothing to look forward to except the loss of privacy and freedom, humiliating dependence, chronic pain, and loneliness. To many it appears worse than death. How do people find the courage to carry on in such a situation except through hope? Persons with severe disabilities, persons who have undergone some crushing loss or misfortune, how can they find the courage to go on except through hope? Obviously the hope in question is not a form of escapism or wishful thinking. Rather it is the kind of hope that the Catechism calls a "theo-logical virtue." That terminology is helpful, emphasizing two charac- .teristics our hope should have. By saying it is a virtue, we are saying it is a well-intentioned, stable aspiration. By saying "theological" we are saying it is directed toward God and is a gift from God. Christian hope is not based on self-confidence. Self-confidence is fragile even in a purely human sense. A combat pilot in World War II put it this way in his book God Is My Co-Pilot: "Those who knew no strength except their own to lean on soon found that fear can sabotage even the strongest hea~'t." As Christians, the fulfillment we hope for is pure gift. It is not something we deserve because of our own talents, or efforts, or merits. Nor should hope be confused with optimism. Hope and optimism are quite different. Optimism often distorts reality, making it look better than it is. Hope is the assur-ance of God's fidelity even in the most troubled times. Hope means surrendering everything into God's hands. Christian hope is not based on self-confidence. 67.4 2008 It is not unusual for people to lose hope, to become disillusioned, even bitter, when years of hard work bear no apparent fruit, when little of a desired change is accomplished. Such temptations can surface in any life when one's efforts and prayers seem to be without result. We may be tempted to confuse unseen results with waste, utter waste. That is a mistake. Real faith and hope pro-vide the remedy for that temptation and that mistake. For whatever reason, hope seems to be a some-what neglected virtue. In the Christian tradition we find much more emphasis on faith and charity than on hope. Simply consider the output of books and articles, whether in academic theology or in popularization. Hope also seems an underdeveloped virtue. One finds people whose faith is firm who nevertheless experience considerable fear and anxiety. In his book The God 1 Don't Believe ln, Juan Arias tells of a conversation he had with the great Dominican theologian Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange. The conversation took place toward the end of Garrigou's life. He is quoted as say-ing: "How difficult is hope! I feel I shall soon reach my God. I cannot deny that my faith and my charity have been purified and that they are virtues which I possess in peace, but hope is my torment." Scripture scholars tell us it is often difficult to dis-tinguish faith and hope in the Bible. One reason sug-gested for' this is that the original Hebrew text uses the same root word for both ideas. Thus there seems to be a scriptural basis for saying that hope is not something apart from faith. Bernard H~iring calls hope "the inter-nal dynamism of faith." Faith is more than intellectual assent to a body of propositions. The fullness of faith is the gift of one's whole being to God as Truth itself. The biblical con- Review for Religious cept of faith includes trust in the Lord, who is faith-ful, who pledged to remain with us, who gave us that hope-inspiring message recorded by John: "Do not let your heart be troubled. Trust in God and trust in me. There are many mansions in my Father's house; if there were not I should have told you. I am going to prepare a place for you, and after I have gone and prepared you a place, I shall return to take you with me; so that where I am you also may be" (Jn 14:1-4). In the Bible, faith is understood as a joyous, grateful acceptance of the One who is our savior and our hope. In the Epistle to the Hebrews, there is a close con-nection between faith and hope. "Faith is the confident assurance concerning things we hope for and conviction about things we do not see" (Heb 11:1-2). Scripture scholars tell us this is not a formal definition of faith. In any case, the passage gives us a good insight into the dynamic nature of faith. It suggests how hope is implied in faith. We think of hope as a reaching beyond. Faith is depicted here as enabling us to reach beyond ourselves and our own powers in a double sense. The first part of the passage, "Faith is confident assurance concerning things we hope for," represents reaching beyond our-selves into the future. It concerns what is not yet pres-ent but is confidendy awaited. The second part, "Faith is. conviction about things we do not see," represents reaching beyond ourselves to grasp a present reality that is unknown except through faith. Together these two dimensions describe essential characteristics of Christian existence. First, Christian existence is marked by the assurance that the goods promised by God will be ours. Second, Christian existence is marked by the conviction that the past and present facts on which that assurance is based are indeed facts and not illusion. 67.4 2008 Clark * Revisiting Hope The assent of faith is a surrender to God reveal-ing himself and his kingdom to us, a surrender based ultimately on the testimony of the Spirit, not on the strength of any argument. Faith gives assurance to our hopes because God does not reveal abstract, philosophi-cal ideas, but trust-inspiring truths of salvation, or, better, God reveals himself as a lov-ing Father. To put it another way, by faith we not only believe in God but we also believe that God believes in us. Typically we focus on the first part of that statement. Most people, if asked what ° they mean by faith, would answer with a simple formula such as "It means belief in God." We fail to appreciate the implications of the second part of the statement, that God believes in us. This latter idea is the basis of our hope. Saying God believes in me means he knows I am capable, of being totally fulfilled. It means I have such a capability because God has so willed it. This is possible because God's faith in me does not depend on me, on my goodness. That faith in me comes from the fact that God first loved me. That love is the foundation of my goodness and my value. As Fulton Sheen used to say, "God does not love us because we are good. We are good because God loves us." God's love is unshakable. God loves us without the possibility of regret or reversal. The Bible constantly reminds us of God's initiative. It tells us over and over again of God's loving invitation to us, that he does not regret his work, that his friendship is everlasting. It is By faith we.not only believe in God but we also believe ¯ that God believes in us. 398 Re~iew for Religious not easy to believe in this faith God has in us. It is not easy to sustain the hope that belief implies. So we often minimize God's generous love. We hesitate to believe that God believes fully in us. Only too often do we have to face our limitations and our brokenness. In spite of that, God seems to be telling us: "I know everything about you but I still believe in you." In Isaiah we read: "The mountains may depart, and the hills be shaken, but my love for you will never leave you, and my covenant of peace with you will never be shaken, says Yahweh" (Is 54:10). God does that in spite of our infidelities, our sins. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool" (Is 1:18). We can trust completely in God's faithfulness even though it is beyond our ability to measure. According to our narrow standards, even a mother can lose faith in her child. But God never loses faith in us: "Does a woman forget the baby at her breast, or fail to cherish the son of her womb? Yet even if these forget, I will never forget you. See, I have branded you on the palm of my hands" (Is 49:15-16). Even if we deliberately turn away from God, God continues to believe in us. He goes on believing in our capacity to return. Like the father of the prodigal son, he will go out every morning and evening to wait for us with open arms. When he sees us returning, he will run to meet us and prepare a feast for us. There is not one text in the Bible mentioning sin and judgment without some reference to the hope to which God calls us. This conviction that God believes in us, this hope, is obviously important in our spiritual life. It also has great witness value. Traditi6nally we have been encouraged to witness to our faith by the way we lead our lives. In 399 67.4 2008 Cl~rk * Revisiting Hope 400 today's world it is vital also to witness to our hope. In our shrunken world we are constantly made aware of the problems, the suffering, the evil that exists in virtu-ally every corner of the world. That led Louis Evely to say, "Hopelessness gnaws at our era." We are called to witness to the meaning of Christian hope. We need to show by our lives how our hope gives us strength and courage to face the difficulties and problems that inevitably come into our lives, to show, as Isaiah says, "Those who hope in Yahweh renew their strength, they put out wings like eagles. They run and do not grow weary, walk and never tire" (I~ 40:31). It is important to bear that witness. In Lumen gen-tium the council fathers urged Christians not to hide their hope in the recesses of their hearts, but to bying it to bear on the external structures of daily life. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was fond of saying, "The world belongs to those who offer it the greatest hope." Christian hope is a gift, a gift of peace, but also a deci-sion. Christian hope means that in and through Christ we can courageously face sin and evil in the world and in our own lives. Hope frees us from the need to predict the future and allows us to live in the present with the deep trust that God will never leave us, but rather will fulfill the deepest desires of our heart. It is important to realize that Christian hope is not a form of escapism or wishful thinking. It is a Christian virtue, not a purely human virtue. No one naturally hopes for victory in the face of helplessness or defeat. In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul utters a triumphant cry of hope: "Condemnation will never come to those who are in Christ Jesus, because the law of the Spirit which gives life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death" (Rm 8:1-2). Paul's hope arises Revie~ for Religlous out of his personal experience of the inward struggle and anguish that characterize the human situation (Rm 7:14-23). He ends that description with a desperate cry: "What a wretched man am I? Who can free me from this body under the power of death?" And Paul answers: "God--thanks be to him--through Jesus Christ our Lord" (Rm 7:24-25). What distinguishes Christian hope is that it arises in the very face of human helplessness and defeat and is anchored in Jesus Christ. The Epistle to the Hebrews says: "This is the anchor our souls have, reaching inside the curtain, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever of the order of Melchizedek" (Heb 6:20). This does not mean we are to leave the present world as it is and simply wait for God to make it new. History reveals that the Christians who did the most for the world in which they lived were precisely those who thought most of the next. We need to look not only at what we hope for but also at what we are doing when we are hoping. Hoping implies looking ahead, but it is not just envisioning something we do not yet possess. The experience of hope includes three things: desire, we want what we hope for; belief, we believe what we hope for is indeed possible; doubt, we fear what we hope for may not hap-pen. Those are the elements of human hoping. Hope, as a Christian virtue, is something different, something more. The difference lies in the third element. Christian hope does not include doubt. Christian hoping is not just believing in the possible. It is a conviction about what is sure. Christian hope is the gift of certainty that what God has promised will surely be ours. St. Paul calls it a "hope that never disappoints" (Rm 5:5); in 401 67.4 2008 Cl~rk * Revisiting Hope Christian hoping comes only as a gift of grace. 402 Hebrews it is called "a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul" (Heb 6:20). Christian hoping comes only as a gift of grace. It is rooted in faith, which is itself a gift. Our faith and our hope are not based on history. A natural reading of history surely does not provide us encouragement to hope. In fact, that reading of history suggests that noth-ing will ever change radically for the better. That reading of history provides no model of people living together in mutual respect and universal love. In fact we see just the opposite. The human appe-tite for violence is enormous. A cynic would say history shows that people love killing each other. Almost three thousand years ago Homer wrote in the Iliad: "Men grow tired of sleep, love, singing, and dancing sooner than war." One need look no further than the last cen-tury for ample evidence supporting that view. But there is another history, the history of God's definitive intervention in our world in the person of Jesus Christ. Our faith and our hope are based on that intervention, on God's word--his word in Scripture and his incarnate Word. In his second letter, St. Peter tells us: "What we are waifng for, relying on his promises, is the new heaven and the new earth, where uprightness will be at home" (2 P 3:13). Old Testament prophets have spoken of "swords beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks" (Mi 4:3); "lions sleeping alongside lambs, the poor given justice, the weak raised to strength, and no hurt or harm done on all God's holy mountain" (Is 11:6;9). Preaching to the Jews, Paul said: Review for Religious "To keep his promise God raised up for Israel one of David's descendants, Jesus, as savior" (Ac 13:23). Hope is a challenging virtue. There are times when our hopes seem to be in vain. Hoping for, if not an end, at least a lessening of suffering and evil in the world seems almost a futile effort. And, from time to time in our personal lives, we are disappointed in our hopes. Often we may feel we have only enough spiri-tual bread in our basket for one day, and we are fearful about tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come. But we do not live in those tomorrows. We have no guarantee there will even be a tomorrow for us. In any case, just as the past is history and should not preoccupy us, so the future is mystery and should not preoccupy us. There is a difference between living for the future and living in the future. The former is done in the present; the latter alienates us from our real life. Among the ancient Christian symbols in the Roman catacombs, there is one which depicts an anchor with two small fish attached to the points of the anchor. The symbolism is clear. We Christians are the small fish attached to the anchor of our hope, Jesus Christ. God offers us the fullness of hope in Jesus Christ. Christ, as the fulfillment of God's saving love, is our hope. Christ is the great visible sign of God's fidelity and love for all men and women. Christ is our hope as victor over all the negatives of life, over the disappointments and frustrations, over anguish and pain, over sin, and even over death. "In the power of the Holy Spirit, may you be rich in hope" (Rm 15:13). 403 67.4 2008 HEDWIG LEWIS Becoming All Fire: Thoughts on Religious Identity Abba Lot, one of the Desert Fathers,. on a visit to Abba Joseph, confided: "Abba, when I am able, I recite a short office, I fast a little, I pray, I medi-tate, I stay recollected. As far as I can, I try to keep my thought pure. What else should I do?" Abba Joseph rose to his feet and stretched out his hands to heaven. Suddenly his fingers became like ten lamps alight. He turned to Abba Lot, eyes sparkling, and whispered, "If you will, become all fire." 404 A young Jesuit, in one of his regular sessions with his spiritual director, asked searchingly: "What is it to be a Jesuit today?" The older Jesuit grabbed a hard-copy of the Decrees of General Congregation 35 (GC35) that lay beside his compute.r, raised it aloft, and said, emphasizing every phrase: "To be a Jesuit today is to be 'a man on fire.'" Many a mystic has written about the "spark of the divine" in every human heart. Divine Providence graces each Of us with potential to turn that spark into a blaze. Hedwig Lewis SJ, th~ author of several professional and psycho-spiritual books, reside~ at St. Xavier's College; P.B. 4168; Ahmedabad 380 009; Gujarat, India. His website is http://joygift.tripod.com. Review for Religious We can let it burn so fiercely that everything around catches fire, spreading far and wide, destroying despair and detestation, creating space for hope and harmony. Hearts Inflamed Fire has often been used to express diverse emotions we experience: purification and passion, comfort and control, devotion and devastation. "Becoming all fire" would mean controlling these conflicting tensions and living life to the full--hearts on fire with Love. And Love then spreads out, setting other hearts afire. All religious are called to be on fire with Love and to let Love shine forth through their good works, in keeping with their charisms, so as to bring glory to God and spread the joy of the kingdom. The Jesuits recently rekindled their own fire. Over a period of about two years before GC35 (held in the first months of 2008), they met in their provinces and came up with suggested topics for discussion, which were sent to Rome. These were scrutinized and presented to the delegates of GC35, who zeroed in on six themes and drafted them into decrees. These were promulgated in early June. Decree 2, titled "'A Fire that Kindles More Fires': Rediscovering Our Charism," defines Jesuit iden-tity today. It responds to questions like: What does it mean to be a Jesuit in a globalized world? What mean-ing and message do Jesuit life and identity bring to people of diverse identities? Drawing inspiration from this decree, I offer here some reflections on what it means to be % man on fire" in the Society of Jesus. I hope this article will serve as a source of enlightenment to Jesuits, to those who share the Ignatian constitutions, and to other men and women religious, and will help them to be "persons on fire." 405 67.4 200g Lewis ¯ Becoming.41l Fire: Tbougbts on Religious Identity The Enkindling Spirit Religious founders have been "men and women on fire," and members of all religious orders and congrega-tions today can tell stories of how they originated as a spark that enkindled other sparks and became a flame. A torch was handed from generation to generation. The first Jesuits "began a narrative, they lit a fire.''t GC35 beautifully summarizes this tradition in the opening paragraph of Decree 2: The Society of Jesus has carried a flame for nearly five hundred years through innumerable social and cul-tural circumstances that have challenged it intensely to keep that flame alive and burning: Things are no different today. In a world that overwhelms people with a multiplicity of sensations, ideas, and images, the Society seeks to keep the fire of its original inspi-ration alive in a way that offers warmth and light to our contemporaries. It does this by telling a story that has stood the test of time, despite the imperfec-tions of its members and even of the whole body, because of the continued goodness of God, who has never allowed the fire to die. (§1) When we read the histories of other religious communi-ties, we find them echoing these sentiments. The story of the Society of Jesus begins with St. Ignatius Loyola. The very name Ignatius suggests fire. Ignatius faced not only cannon fire but also the ecclesi-astical canons that almost had him burned at the stake. His spiritual journey as a "pilgrim" takes a defini-tive turn after his "sublime illumination" at the River Cardoner in Manresa (§5). He set myriad hearts on fire with the love of God, sharing his spiritual experiences through "conversations" and his "school of prayer," the Spiritual Exercises. He enlightened a few enthu-siastic men on the ways of God, forming a group that Review f~r Religious would share his vision of spreading Christ's kingdom. As the Eucharistic Preface of his feastday liturgy states, Ignatius provided the church "with a society of apostles on fire with [God's] love." A letter that Ignatius wrote in 1546 reflects his fiery spirit. A certain Friar Barberan in Spain had publicly expressed a wish that all Jesuits from Perpignan to Seville should be burned at the stake. Ignatius, in Rome, heard of the outburst and wrote to a friend, "Please tell Father Barberan from me that I wish him and all his friends and acquaintances, not only between Perpignan and Seville, but throughout the whole world, to be set on fire and burned up by the Holy Spirit, so that they may all attain to great per-fection and signalize them-selves gready, to the glory of his Divine Majesty." St. Francis Xavier, the pioneer apostle of the Society, ventured beyond physical and socioreligious frontiers "to set the world on fire." Through five centuries to the present, Jesuits have been inflamed with the same spirit and have followed the blazing trails of their predeces-sors and created new paths (§25;.Decree 1, §6). As "men on fire," charged by the Ignatian magis, Jesuits are urged to spread the fire of God's love even in the darkest parts of the world's civilizations (§22). They must gather people around and warm their hearts, listen attentively to their varied stories, encourage them to dance in harmony with their different melodies, and thus "give them meaning and provide focus in a frag-mented world" (§1). The Jesuit vision is to re-create a divine milieu by manifesting "a strong sense of the The very name Ignatius suggests fire. 407 67.4 2008 Lewis ¯ Becoming All Fire: Thoughts on Religious Identity sacred inseparably joined to active involvement in the world. Our deep love of God and our passion for his world should set us on fire--a fire that starts other fires! For ultimately there is no reality that is only profane for those who know how to look" (§ 10). Hopefully GC35's decrees will bring to reality the prophecy of the Jesuit visionary Pierre Teilhard de Chardin: "Someday, after we have mastered the winds, the waves, and gravity, we shall harness for God ener-gies of love. Then for the second time in the history of the world we will have discovered fire." 408 Persons on Fire The "new" fire that GC35 has lighted engulfs the "spirit" of the Jesuit identity as spelled out in the pre-ceding three general congregations. To be a Jesuit today is to be "a man on fire." The fire at the heart of a Jesuit's identity and mission is Jesus Christ (§2). The "man on fire" is an alter Cbristus, for Christ is his con-stant companion (§3). The "man on fire" lets his light shine through good works for the greater glory of God (§22). He enkindles other hearts with the Love that burns within him, for that was Christ's deepest yearn-ing: "I have come to cast fire on earth!" (see §21). From an Ignatian perspective, it is a "fire" that con-sumes and cleanses, for the Jesuit is "a sinner, yet called to be a companion of Jesus." It is a fire that cannot be contained, for the Jesuit is "a man for and with others." It is a fire that urges the Jesuit, a "servant of Christ's mission" (§7), to the edges of society (§24) in the ser-vice of faith and the propagation of justice (both human and environmental) (§7, §24; Decree 1, §6). The fire is kept ablaze by the Jesuit living out generously the Ignatian "polarities": "being and doing, contemplation Review for Religious and action, prayer and prophetic living, being com-pletely united with Christ and completely inserted into the world with him, as an apostolic body" (§9). Our near-contemporary St. Alberto Hurtado (of Chile, 1901-1952) was "a fire that enkindles other fires" (§25). He established the nonprofit organization Hogar de Cristo (the Hearth of Christ) to aid the homeless. It provides both shelter and human warmth for body and soul. Hurtado not only enkindled these unfortu-nate people, but wanted his experience with them to intensify the fire in his own being. He made this conviction abundantly clear: "Love them in order to make them live, that a more human life may develop in them, unlocking their intel-ligence, putting an end to their backwardness. May the errors anchored in their hearts prick me continuously. May I be tor-mented by the lies and illusions used to intoxicate and enrapture them; may the mate-rialistic press that pretends to enlighten them irritate me; may their prejudices stimulate me to show them the truth. And this is nothing more than the translation of the verb 'to love.' I have placed them in my heart so they may live as people in the light, and the light is none other than Christ himself, the true light that enlightens everyone who comes into the world. All the light of natural reason is really the light of Christ; all knowledge, all human science. Christ is the supreme science. ,2 Father Pedro Arrupe SJ was described in 1952 as "a man on fire" by a seventeen-year-old student in Madrid, The "man on fire" is an alter Christus, for Christ is his constant companion. 409 67.4 2008 Lewis * Becoming All Fire: Thoughts on Religious Identity Adolfo Nicol~is.3 Like Hurtado, Arrupe had sheltered the hapless victims of the atomic bomb at Hiroshima. Given his training in medicine, Arrupe ministered to those suffering from severe burns. His experience would inflame his own heart with greater compassion and love - - for the suffer- ,~ ing. Later, as the Jesuits' superior general, he would open centers for refugees (see Decree 1, §6). Arrupe's is also a good example of how "men and women on fire" foster religious vocations: they walk their talk and talk their walk in the service of the Lord. Arrupe's lecture on his experiences at Hiroshima had rekindled in young Nicol~s's heart the burning desire to become a Jesuit. Nicolas would later follow the great missionary to Japan and eventually succeed him as supe-rior general in Rome. The Jesuit "man on fire" must realize that "the Jesuit identity is relational." He shares in the life of a com-munity, each member drawing its fire from the same source: Christ. Together as "friends in the Lord," they bear witness to the Light. A glowing community life, one that is intensive and joyful, attracts people, "inviting them--above all the young--to 'come and see,' to join us in our vocation and to serve with us in Christ's mis-sion. Nothing could be more desirable and more urgent today, since the heart of Christ burns with love for this world, with all its troubles, and seek~ companions who can serve it with him" (§ 19). The Jesuit "man on fire" must realize that "the Jesuit identity is relational. Review for Religious Playing with Fire Jesuits are also, by choice, "firemen" in Christ's brigade. The "demons" of this age are on a rampage, spreading on earth the fires of the underworld through irreligion, injustice, and consumerism (see §21). As firemen in Christ's brigade, Jesuits have been called to unflagging commitment to Christ and his mission of extinguishing the fires that defile human dignity and ravage natural resources. The Jesuit fireman plays with fire and becomes vul-nerable to the "inferno" he has to confront. It often means getting burned by rampant injustice or religious fanaticism. He comes under fire when he ventures beyond the frontiers--as is evident in the long list of Jesuit martyrs for social justice in recent times. Yet he remains committed regardless of thorns, threats, and thrashings and moves ahead fearlessly under the banner of the cross (§11; Decree 1, §9). The pathway is not always bright. There are periods in the Jesuit fireman's life when the fire within him burns low, threatened by storms inside or out, or the path is hidden in thick smoke. He experiences, in short, the challenge of the cross--where "the Divinity is hidden." The light flickers or fades in the struggle, and doubts and anxieties oppress. The time may compare with what mystics have described as the "dark night of the soul." "The experience of a hidden God cannot always be avoided, but even in the depths of darkness the transforming light .of God is able to shine" (§7). The "man on fire" must not lose hope, but seek and find that "light" so as to rekindle his fire. After the example of Jesus our companion, whose "entire life was a kenosis," he must feel supported and continue on his mission (§ 14). 411 67.4 2008 Lewis * Becoming/Ill Fire: Thoughts on Religious Identity While GC3 5 was in session, every Jesuit community around the globe kept a small lamp lit in the chapel as a symbol of oneness and solidarity, uniqueness and unity. Every Jesuit, in his own God-given way, must more than anything else be "a man on fire." And then, merging his flame with the flames of other religious "men and women on fire," together with "all persons of goodwill" (§21), he must set the world ablaze. Notes ~ GC35, Decree 2, §2. The texts of all the decrees are available at www.sjweb.info. Paragraph numbers of this decree will be given in the body of the article thus: (§2). 2 Albert Hurtado, personal reflection written in November 1947, quoted in "Saint Hurtado's Christocentric Mindset" by Hedwig Lewis sJ, Ignis 2005, no. 4, Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, Anand, India. 3 Adolfo Nicolfis sJ, "Eight Encounters with Father Pedro Arrupe," Province Express, Australia, 14 November 2007. 412 A Birthing On my way to Damascus I was tripped by Grace, and fell Into the hands of Love. My brain lay scrambled And pride lay wounded I felt blinded. Deep within my labored soul Faith gave its birth cry. Paulson V. Veliyannoor CMF Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC A Source for Prayer Undreamt Of God speaks first in one way, and then in another, but no one notices. He speaks by dreams, and visions that come in the night, when slumber comes on mankind, and men are all asleep in bed. Then it is he whispers in the ear of man, or may frighten him with fearful sights, to turn him from evil-doing, and make an end of his pride; to save his soul from the pit and his life from the pathway to Sheol. (Jb 33:14-18; JB) If it is true that God speaks to us in dreams, what fol-lows? Or what should we do? We should speak in turn. Or we should at least desire to do so and try. Speaking to God in dreams as God does to us in dreams is not normally at our command. However, whether we dare speak to God after we have dreamt depends on us: it is definitely within our power. Such speaking to God is prayer indeed. Prayer linked with dreams may start in dreams and end in them or continue after them, or it A. Paul Dominic sJ last wrote for us in our 66.4 (2007) issue. His address is Human Development Centre; Port Mourant, Corentyne; Guyana (South America). 413 67.4 2008 Dominic ¯ A Source for Prayer Undreamt Of 414 may begin only outside them, drawing inspiration from them. Both kinds could be learned, though for now my interest is in the second,~ which is simpler: it is prayer following the dreams. The literature on prayer has been mosdy on how to pray rather than on what to pray. Is it worthwhile to con-sider the manner and matter of prayer separately? In any case, being persuaded myself that more deserves to be said about what to pray about, I would like to deal with the hardly dreamt-of topic broached above. To state it explicidy, whatever you dream at night can well serve as food for your prayer. I believe that something sensible can be said about dreams as source material for our praying. The idea proposed here is really part of what Christians generally use in their meditative or contem-plative prayer, namely, the Bible.2 They use the whole Bible, even if not every page and even though they most often use Gospel passages.3 Even in the Gospels, some paragraphs may seldom be considered prayer-worthy. It is a rare person who will pray over the genealogy of Jesus given at the beginning of Matthew. Still, the Bible in all its multiplicity and variety serves Jewish and Christian prayer. I think this is true of the bibli-cal passages about dreams, albeit they are not noticed much.4 Biblical dreams are found here and there in both Testaments. For many, they could prove to be a new wellspring of prayer. God Active in the Unconscious A

Issue 66.4 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; 66.4 2007 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, ~dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul V! said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the .]csuits of the A~issoori Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulcvard ¯ St. Louis, A'lissouri 63108-3393 "li~lephone: 314-633-4610 ° Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Marl: rcvicw@slu.cdn ¯ \.\;eh site: www.revicwforrcligious.org Manuscripts, books fi~r review, and correspondence with the editor: Revicw for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Bonlcvard ¯ St. Louis, A'IO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth A'lcl)onoogh OP ° Pontifical Collcge Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Colnmhus, Ohio43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ 1:O. Bo× 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, ~\~issouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2007 Review fi~r Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contaiued in this issue of Review for Religions for pcrsoual or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sectious 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must hear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permissiou is NOT extended to copying for commercial distrihution, 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. view for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Adviso~7 Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonoiagh OP Eugene Hensell OSB M~ry Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jud~" Sharp Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ LoOis and Angela Menard Bishop .Ter~ Ste!b.SVD Miriam D. Ukeriti~. CSJ QUARTERLY 66.4 2007 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 living faith Credible Witnesses Regina Siegfried ASC revisits the martyrdom of five sisters of her congregation fifteen years after the event to invite us all to reflect on what it means to be credible witnesses. 350 358 Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio Antonio (T.J.) Martinez SJ draws upon conversations and experiences with parishioners to propose six pragmatic guidelines on how a new priest ministers to a Latino Catholic congregation. Personal and Group Reflection Questions Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Mark E Plaushin OSFS proposes Salesian spirituality as offering a paradigm for Catholic pastoral praxis on the battlefield which can mitigat.e anxiety and restore spiritual resilience. Reflective Questions for Personal and Group Use Review for Religious 377 prayer in our life Contemplative Gifts Carolyn Humphreys OCDS reflects upon the richness of the gift of a contemplative orientation to life and our need to guard and nourish what we receive by a manner of living that is rooted in humility. Prayer Suggestion 386 Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Elissa Rinere CP traces some of the struggles of the last forty years regarding Eucharist as celebration, Eucharist as sacrament received, and Eucharist as object of adoration. 401 Jesus and Mary ~, The Christ Child, the Father of the Man A. Paul Dominic SJ raises the question: How can adult Christians celebrate and enjoy Christmas for what it is in our faith lives? Prayer 412 The Mother of the Lord in Byzantine Spirituality John M. Samaha SM introduces us to the rich, but different, ways that the veneration of Mary permeates the entire life of Byzantine Christianity. departments ~ 424 Scripture Scope: A Preface to Reading Matthew 429 Canonical Counsel: Conscience and Confidentiality from the Members' Perspective 434 Book Reviews 443 2007 Indexes 66.4 2007 prisms 340 St. Paul identified us Christians as "ambassadors of reconciliation." As Paul says, God has reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation (2 Co 5:18). In the large-scale picture of history, we often have not lived up to that role, either as individuals or as a church community. The fact that we can identify wars as reli-gious wars does not fit well with people who are meant to be known as reconcilers. Probably even worse are the examples from history of the fight-ing between Christian nations and even between Christians in the same nation. One does not have to be an avowed pacifist to acknowledge that something is terribly amiss when the faith that holds us to be brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ has. so little effect in our behavior. There is an evident gap between the faith statements that we might intellectualize about and the faith reality thatis meant to reside in our hearts. We might even take our example of divi-sion into the lived experience of our parish and church life today and our religious community life as well. It makes little difference the iden-tifying labels we use, whether pre-Vatican I~ vs. post-Vatican II, liberal vs. conservative, tradi-tional vs. contemporary. The reality is that there is often present a "warring" mentality that con-siders one side the enemy or the "bad guys." Review for Religious Too often Catholics of whatever stripe are more intent on "defeating" or "dismissing" the opposition or those of a different opinion or practice. Quoting man-made laws, as Jesus tried to point out to the scribes and Pharisees, is not the way to be a negotiator or a reconciler. What does an ambassador of reconciliation need first of all? An ambassador needs to be at the heart of the Christian message, following the one commandment--to love God with all one's heart, with all one's soul, with all one's strength, and with all one's mind, and to love one's neighbor as oneself. And an ambassador needs to pray. To pray means dialoguing with God, and dialogue means both to talk and to listen. Learning to talk and to listen to God carries over into being able to listen and to talk to others, my neighbors. We may not need to learn how to talk, but we certainly need to learn how to listen, and maybe to pray, and even to really love our neighbor. Loving, praying, and dialoguing are necessary activities for an ambassador, necessary activities to learn how to do for one who identifies as a Christian. As we see in the Gospels, Jesus is the first "ambas-sador of reconciliation," the One sent by the Father who loved the world so much. But to be a person who dia-logues, to be one who negotiates, to be a reconciler seems so hard for us to do. It is only in our devotion to Jesus that we find ourselves empowered to live in such a way. The church and our world have never had a greater need of such ambassadors. Like the Christmas gift of Christ, we pray that we may be ambassadors of reconcilation, "a gift that keeps on giving." David L. Fleming SJ 341 ES. The editorial staff wishes all our subscribers and readers a blessed Advent time of hope and expectation and a Christmastime celebration of peace andreconciliation. 66.4 2007 REGINA SIEGFRIED Credible Witnesses living faith 20 October 1992--Rebel soldiers shoot Mary Joel Kolmer ASC and Barbara Ann Muttra ASC, their guard Peter, and two ECOMOG (Economic Community of West African States Cease Fire Monitoring Group) soldiers, on a stretch of road to Barnersville, Liberia, West Africa. 23 October 1992--Five armed NPFL (National Patriotic Front of Liberia) men arrive at the sisters' home in Gardnersville and kill Kathleen McGuire ASC, Agnes Mueller ASC, and Shirley Kolmer ASC. 31 October 1992--Early-morning phone calls and radio announcements break the hearts of fam-ily, friends, and sisters as they learn that the five Adorers of the Blood of Christ died days ago. Regina Siegfried ASC has written often for this journal. She may be addressed at 4042A Botanical; St. Louis, Missouri 63110. Her e-mail: ReginaSiegfried@sbcglobal.net Review for Religious October 2007--Fifteen years hold enough days to dull the pain most of the time, to create narratives that may or may not match the deep stories of community myth, and to reflect on the meaning of lives poured out. Martyrs and prophets--the words, are appropriate for these honored dead, but we would rather have our five sisters still living and laughing in our midst. Words can be too easy, unless they call us today to be courageous in a world still violent, broken, war-ravaged, and suffering. How do we respond, not only to their valiant lives, but also to our own deepest longings to be credible witnesses? In the early days of Christianity, the word martyrs meant witnesses, disciples of Jesus, those who proclaimed his life, death, and resurrection and who preached the good news of the household of God in their society and culture. Luke 24:48 says clearly: "You are witnesses of these things." Acts 1:8 indicates the same: "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." In Acts 10:40-4.1 we read: "This man God .raised on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead." By the 2nd century, execution for faith became associated with martyrdom. But martyrs are first and foremost witnesses to the gospel and messengers of a new way to live. The Constitution of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ uses the phrase credible witness in section 18 on gospel pov-erty: "To give credible witness to the liberating poverty of Christ in the world today and to grow toward poverty of spirit, we live in evangelical simplicity, personally and as community." To be credible witnesses can often mean losing much of what society holds precious. Status, material goods, 66.4 2007 Siegfried ¯ Credible Witnesses Credible witnesses are prophets who speak truth to authority, who advocate for the powerless, and who become voices for the silent, comfortable lifestyle, and easily expendable income can voluntarily or involuntarily fall away. Credible witnesses see beyond and beneath the obvious, the material, and the sufficient to live in solidarity with those who hold enough invisible wealth and power and grace to convert even witnesses to a new way of living. Credible witnesses are prophets who speak truth to authority, who advo-cate for the powerless, and who become voices for the silent. They bear witness to the pain, suf-fering, and anguish in the lives of others simply by being there with them, sharing in the blatant unfair-ness and violence of lives that deserve much better. The Adorers killed in Liberia were credible witnesses long before bullets claimed their lives, long before their blood soaked the soil of a war-torn country whose peo-ple were precious and dear to them. The details of their lives and deaths are now familiar and recorded elsewhere. Those who knew them recall quite vividly lives dedicated to the poor, to women, to children, to the.sick, and to students years before they went to Liberia to witness to the gospel there and to discover a different face of God, a countenance that would draw them to insist on return-ing to share again in the passion of a people suffering in a relentless and seemingly endless civil war. Even as the conflict slowly escalated, Barbara Ann was more concerned about getting a grant to purchase five Hondas "so some of our physician assistants can go to these villages for supervision. Some villages are over ten Review for Religious miles interior over rough dusty roads" (21 March 1987 letter from Klay, Liberia, to her friend Meg Wittenbrink). After a year in Liberia, Agnes wrote on 24 May 1989 to Angelita Myerscough ASC: "I'm sure I am not the same person who came a little over a year ago now. I feel my life is much richer for having spent time with these people. They have given me every bit as much as I have shared With them." On 21 April 1990, writing to Marisa Nardoni ASC in Tanzania, Mary Joel reflected on the readings after Easter: All the readings are from the Acts of the Apostles and it is so reassuring to read how strong they were now that his Spirit has taken over in them. And how we should be because the Spirit is with us and is here, guiding us, leading us on. It must have been something like the saints experienced when they were put on the line for Jesus, how they knew that he, the Lord, was their Savior and that life had meaning for them and that they could stand up for him, even though it meant being killed. It is such a powerful message. And he can do so much in us and through us, if we're only open to him. Barbara Ann, Agnes, and Mary Joel were in Liberia for the people, not to get killed. Years of service in the United States were background for more service to people in Liberia. Not naive, they knew the risks of being with people who were suffering more than they themselves were. Kathleen and Shirley had reputations in the United States as bold and fearless advocates in the face of injustice. When Shirley was provincial of the then Ruma province, she sent Mailgrams to Tom Enders, Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs, to the Guatemalan Embassy, to Senator Charles Percy, Senator Alan Dixon, and Representative Paul Simon to express "deep con-cern regarding four workers missing in Guatemala and 66.4 2007 Siegfried ¯ Credible Witnesses the disappearance of two Dominican nuns of Grand Rapids, Michigan, I urge you to support HR 101, stop-ping U.S. aid to Guatemala." In 1987 Shirley wrote a lengthy essay, "Human Suffering and Its Consequences for World Peace," maintaining that "it is the very lives of many of our brothers and sisters who live a life of suf-fering, an existence that borders on the intolerable every day." Even before Kathleen became the peace-and-justice coordinator for the then Ruma province, she drafted a "Possible Diocesan Pastoral Letter Regarding Peace and the War in the Persian Gulf" when she ministered in the Jefferson City, Missouri, diocese. She called for "the whole Catholic community to pray for a peace which is life-sustaining for all our sisters and brothers. We have to acknowledge that we are citizens of a nation which readily uses military force to secure its national interests and to attain its political objectives all around the world." These are simply small examples from the lives of women who lived as credible witnesses years before they were killed in Liberia. If we consider them martyrs, we can just as readily regard them as prophets. Prophets speak truth to author-ity; prophets proclaim the coming of the household and reign of God in season and out of season. Like roses in December, prophets are .unexpected messengers, wit-nesses, and signs of God's presence among us. Prophets are the most credible of witnesses, for their lives are their words and their words are their lives. Standing and stay-ing in solidarity with the suffering, the neglected, and the forgotten, prophets choose life in the face of death and pour out compassion for people bent down by injustice and oppression. Prophets might flinch in the face of vio-lence and injustice, but they do not run away. Fifteen years removed from the days of raw grief, dis-belief, and pain offer us a cautionary tale. Life and the Review for Religious mission and our ministries have indeed moved on, devel-oped, and deepened, something the five absent from our midst would want. The caution comes with the tendency to settle for the mediocre, to choose complacency and comfort, to opt for the safe, for the familiar and easy, because we might - fear the new, the unexpected, and a different vision for our congregation. Our charism is wild, fierce, fiery, ten-der, and urgent. It impels us to live our ordinary lives with extraordinary passion, grace, and commitment. Violence seems to circle our globe like pollen caught in the air currents. Although Liberia and Croatia, where ASC sisters also work, seem to have reached some modicum of nor-mal existence, violence erupts in Afghanistan, Palestine, and Iraq. Children and women are trafficked; slavery is not as over as we once thought. Today, in postwar Croatia, our sisters are witnesses and prophets, living the gospel message even with "many sisters left with serious repercussions and traumas which they feel to this day," Sister Ancilla Vukoja ASC reports. When their Serb Orthodox neighbors expected to be turned away from the drug rehab center the sisters had opened in Aleksandrovac (in the vicinity of Banja Luca) because of the violence they had committed against the sisters and other Croatians, the sisters told them, "We read the Scriptures and in these words we find the forgive-ness and strength to be persons of love toward all." Their martyrdom is in giving witness to forgiveness and recon-ciliation. Some of them remember the trauma of being Prophets are the most credible of witnesses, for their lives are their words' and their words are their lives. 66.4 20O7 Siegfm'ed ¯ Credible Witnesses forced to cross a mine-laced bridge over the Sava River following in the exact steps of the sister leading them through as they sang the Magnificat. When a journalist asked Sister Maristella how she felt and what she thought about, knowing that she was facing death, she replied: "All I could think about was the many other people who were dealt the same fate. I felt that my life was no more important than theirs. I thought that it was even harder for them because, unlike us, they had children who would be orphans." The Adorers who walked that path traveled in spirit with the sisters who fled the Sino-Japanese war in China in 1937, with the ASCs who were held hostage several times and narrowly escaped death in the Congo between 1959 and 1964, with the sisters who stayed and suffered with the people in Guinea Bissau during the civil war there, and with the ASCs who trudged on a road out of Liberia in 1990. As credible witnesses, the congrega-tion has a history of walking difficult routes because the charism impels us to stay beyond the expected time and to remain with people who are precious to us. Sister Ancilla writes: Times like those, however, sometimes uncover unknown heroic potential, readiness to suffer and offer one's life for others, for goodness and love toward others. I can-not but think of our sisters who voluntarily remained in Bosnia during the fiercest conflicts and danger, sharing the fate of the Catholics in that country. They could have retreated to safety but did not out of solidarity with those who could not leave because they did not have the necessary documentation. They realized then more than ever that they were needed by their people. They were a sign to which a suffering people were able to turn and where they could find a trace of hope and protection. Our charism, our slain sisters, and our own hearts call us to live in deep compassion with all the pain and suffer- Review for Religious ing of the least among us. That stance and life make us the best we are meant to be because our charism pulses with the life of all the people of the world. Our charism is wild, fierce, fiery, tender, and urgent. We need to be where the need is greatest. Are we? Background Resources Boehmer, Clare, ASC. Echoes in Our Hearts. Ruma, Illinois: Adorers of the Blood of Christ, 1994. Konieczny, Stanley. Acting in the Most Noble Tradition: The Life and Ministry of the Adorers' Five Martyrs of Charity. ASC Profiles 14. Rome: International Center of Spirituality, Adorers of the Blood of Christ, 1999. Kolmer, Elizabeth, ASC. "The Death of Five Adorers of the Blood of Christ and the Changing Meaning of Martyrdom." U.S. Catholic Historian 24:3 (Summer 2006): 149-164. Okure, Teresa, Jon Sobrino, and Felix Wilfred, eds. Rethinking Martyrdom. SCM-Canterbury Press, 2003. Schubeck, Thomas L., SJ. "Salvadoran Martyrs: A Love That Does Justice." Horizons 28:1 (Spring 2001): 7-29. Siegfried, Regina, ASC. "Choose Life: Reflections Ten Years after Five Deaths," Review for Religious 61:5 (September-October 2002): 472- 480. Vukoja, Ancilla, ASC. "How the Sisters in the Zagreb Region Lived Their Charism during the War and the Postwar Period (particularly in the vicinity of Banja Luka)." May 2007. 16 profili di testimoni della Cbiesa in ltalia. Comitato preparatorio del IV Convengo ecclesiale nazionale (a cura di) Speranza del mondo. 349 66.4 2007 ANTONIO MARTINEZ Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio d s I rushed into the sacristy for my first Mass in Spanish only a week after being ordained, my heart was beating fast. I had not spoken Spa.nish for eight years. I had just been assigned to our Jesuit parish, Sagrado Corazdn, in the segundo barrio in E1 Paso, Texas, on the Mexican border. The parish serves a poor, immigrant, Latino Catholic congregation. My fears about celebrat-ing this Mass increased when a young Mexican woman holding a blanketed newbbrn asked me to bless her baby at Mass. Recognizing that I was new to the parish, she offered instructions on how I should proceed. She would approach me at the presider's chair before the concluding blessing, cradle her baby in my arms, and then kneel as I went and raised it over th~ altar, in front of the congrega-tion, as an offering to God. "What in the world?" I thought to myself. I wondered if I had heard her correctly. But, having just graduated from one of the finest schools of theology in the country, Antonio Martinez SJ, newly ordained but back in more studies, lives at John LaFarge House; 6 Sumner Road; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. Review ~or Religious I saw in this request an instance of everything I was not to do--do not make too many distinctions between the ministerial priesthood and the priesthood of the people, do not over-ritualize any of the liturgical celebrations, and do not present yourself as so distinct a mediator of God's grace that the people minimize their own close relation-ship with Christ. Behind each of these admonitions was a "theol-ogy from below," teaching that God, through the Holy Spirit, speaks directly to his people and that the church's ministers can learn from them as well as teach them. Mentally brandishing my line of graduate degrees and sensing an opportunity to instruct the faithful, I politely yet briefly explained to her the idea of a "theology from below" which advocated a more lim-ited function of the office of the priest. Dismissing her until later, I told her I would bless her baby after Mass, on the outside steps of the church, before she and her family headed back home. Two days later I recognized the same lady I had met in the sacristy on Sunday as she humbly made her way to the priedieu before the altar dedicated to La Virgen de Guadalupe. As she finished her rosary, I purposely went near so that she migh~ thank me for both enlightening and empowering her. She came towards me with a shy smile. Graciously thanking me for the quick blessing over In ,their spirituality Latino Catholics 'understand that there, is a sacred distance between God and ~his people that is mediated by the sacred functions of a priest. 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio her baby, she also said she had been thinking and praying more about this "theology from below." Then, without showing any resentment or anger, but also without any hesitation, she simply said in her hushed Spanish, "You know, Father, I'm also that theology from below." She left as unobtrusively and reverently as she came. Her simple and direct comment left me frozen in my tracks, and then I felt a wave of shame and embarrass-ment. Everything I thought I knew about being a priest paled in comparison with what this one Latina woman had now taught me. Unassuming and unpretentious, she had just shattered my theological and presbyteral pre-sumptions, employing the very method that made them so convincing and dominant in the first place. With one sentence she had sent me to figure out what this barrio congregation wanted and expected from their priest--and could teach me. And there was little time to do this before I had to leave for my next assignment. From the numerous experiences and conversations I had with the parishioners, six axioms arose on how to be an effective Catholic priest to them. I think many Latino populations would agree with them, whether parishes or schools. I offer them, not as theologies or spiritualities, but as practical helps toward seeing and appreciating the Catholic priesthood from a Latino point of view. 1. Eres un sacerdote, dirige tu pueblo. / Maintain the distinction between the ministerial priesthood and the priest-hood of the people. Many Latinos draw a clear distinction between the priesthood of the people and their priest. While there exists a connection, the "special character" about which the ordination rite speaks in its introduction not only results from centuries of theological exploration, but more immediately is sensed in the faith of the people I was sent to serve. The ministerial priesthood, through the bestowal of sacred orders in a line from the first apostles, Review for Religious puts the ordained man in a position of special responsibil-ity, with the expectation that he fulfill the important task of following in the image of Christ by liturgically gath-ering, proclaiming, and consecrating. Latino Catholics continue to insist that this belongs to the ordained priest-hood, for in their spirituality they understand that there is a sacred distance between God and his people that is mediated by the sacred functions of a priest. This distance gives meaning to their worship and praise of God, who is among them yet distinct from them. And, while the parishioners with whom I spoke note that this does not make the ministerial priesthood better than the priest-hood of the people, it does maintain a difference, both in character and in function, which positively and directly affects their relationship with God. 2. Dales tu bendicidn. / A blessing from a priest means something. While canon law clearly outlines the importance of a blessing from a priest, it is the parishioners at Sagrado Corazdn who have emphasized this fact. Before and after every Sunday Mass, I was approached by large numbers of Latino Catholics, young and old, asking for blessings over themselves, their families, and their various religious items and' sacramentals. For them, the priest speaks not only on behalf of the people, but, with great humility and unworthiness, also speaks on behalf of Christ and his church. In so doing, priests function in persona Christi when they give a blessing, making Christ a more immedi-ate reality wherein they, their children, and all the things blessed represent both an offering up to God and God's return of that offering to them in their lives. Ritualized gestures in accordance with the church's instructions only accentuate this reality for a culture where actions speak louder than words. 3. Saluda al pueblo. / Kiss their babies, hug their grand-mothers, and shake everyonek hands. At some parishes, on 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood I O1: Lessons from a Barrio a few occasions (both weekdays and Sundays), I have noticed priests entering and leaving the sacristy or church without saying hello to people nearby. The laypersons gathered for Mass have, of course, enough to do greeting one another, and I do not wish to focus overly on the pre-sider. But I have found that, for Latino congregants, the absence of greeting from their priests strikes them as not only odd but rude. They come to church to praise God, be with each other, and be with their priest. Far from giv-ing the priest a measure of prestige, his failure to interact with his parishioners at the end of Mass alienates them from himself and the church. The congregants from this culture feel most included when they get some "face time" with Father, which in turn reminds them of their impor-tance as the Body of Christ. Moreover, in an age where any "touch" from a priest raises suspicion in some people, Latino Catholics, at least in this barrio, expect and appre-ciate a warm, tangible greeting from their priest, whether it is a kind embrace, a firm handshake, or a kiss on their baby's forehead (this last one especially, according to a Jesuit priest serving in another barrio). 4. Presentate como un padre. / Wear your clerics. Clerical clothing has sometimes raised problems, espe-cially during and shortly after the height of the horrific sexual-abuse scandal in the church. Latino Catholics in the barrios, however, want their priests to look like priests when working as priests. Our parish sits along the Mexican border, and the sight of our church and of priests in clerics gives people hope and a sense of home after a long, dangerous, and even abusive journey. Furthermore, far from looking for their priests to blend in and be their buddies .and far from looking down on clerical garb as old-fashioned, the Latino culture likes clothing to reflect well-defined roles, for it helps people avoid any ambigu-ous conduct in their relationship with priests. Then, too, Review for Religious clerical garb, when not abused, stands as a symbol of ser-vice and of respect for God, the church, and the congre-gation; it is a witness to the Catholic faith they are proud of. This symbol of their faith is something Latinos cling to most especially as they migrate to foreign places and cultures where they may suffer abuse simply because of who they are. 5. Portate como un angel /ddbere to and model a higher standard of behavior. Latino Catholics have always looked for a higher standard of behavior in their priests, even if they have not always found it. For them, once you stand as an official of the church, the sacred oils and your public vows remind every-one of their quest as God's people not only to be good but to become holy. How priests act, then, either fosters the destiny of every human being to be with God, or under-mines it. Not only should a priest behave well, but he should avoid even the appearance of impropriety. He should not only practice the evangelical counsels of pov-erty, chastity, and obedience, but also be careful to witness to them. The Latino culture in the barrio, as a culture that invests greatly in role models, looks to its priests as models of a higher standard of ethical action, noble aspi-ration, and devotion to God, giving themselves and others the hope that their quest for holiness is not illusory. 6. Respeta al papa. / Speak respecqCully of your brother priests and the magisterial church. The high value the Latino culture puts on family life spills over into the way they see the church, their "other family"--many barrio parishio- Latino Catholics have always looked for a higher standard of behavior in their priests, even if they have not always found it. 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio ners attest to this and live it every day. And, just as with family loyalties, priests owe. fidelity to their brother priests and to the authority of the episcopacy, especially the Holy Father. Personally and socially identifying with the struc-tures of the church, they expect their priests to uphold those structures in a world where their other cultural structures are confusing, embattled, problematic, mocked, absent, or in disarray. While certainly open to dialogue, the Latino people are never open to disrespect. These axioms may need to be further nuanced, and others may be desirable. But, from my experiences and conversations with the people I served in a barrio, these are the lessons I have learned so far. My experience in other parishes across the United States has shown that these expectations are not limited to barrio Latinos or even Latinos in general. They cross cultural and genera-tional lines. I have read that Latino immigrant experience seems quite similar to that of Irish immigrants in earlier years. If Latin Americans will make up the majority of the Catholic Church in the United States by 2020, then I, for one, had better pay more attention to what they expect of their priests. I should pay more attention to.just what these "practical theologians from below" really are saying, so as to serve them and the church more faithfully. On a certain Sunday a while ago, I invited all those who had unbaptized newborns up to the altar for a special blessing. I would offer.the babies up to God by holding them over the altar. The first one was the child of the mother who had approached me and given me my first lesson in Priesthood 101, a course many other teachers added to later. As I held the baby up, the congregation erupted in a thunderous applause. To my mind, they were recognizing that, while I was young and foolish, with their help I just might make a decent priest after all. Review for Religious Personal and Group Reflection Questions 1. What "axioms" might I list as helps that I have learned from the people to whom I minister? 2. What experience have I had in dealing with people from other ethnic or cultural traditions? 3. How do I choose to grow in my ability ~o minister in Christ's name? the muted trumpet these dead will not rise to life but to an eternal dying and though they hear the trumpet blow its promise, its ringing joy, its piercing clarity, all muted distant, distorted like words heard undemoater deafness, dullness from the grave stumbling, not leaping, not smiling, shining but bitter, weeping how far away it sounds the ~nuted trmnpet Sean Kinsella 66.4 2007 MARK F. PLAUSHIN Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Caatholic pastoral praxis during combat operations kes into account that soldiers confront situations that demand resourcefulness and optimum integration of their physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual selves. The soldiers' tour of duty ranges from boredom to adrenaline-pumping combat. The brutal geography saps energy and offers minimal aesthetic inspiration. In growing numbers Arabs regard Americans as occupiers, not liberators. Regardless of national goals or personal attitudes, occupiers bear the burden of proving that they are there "in the interests of the occupied. Amid all this, soldiers face the task of spiritually adapting to the experi-ence of war. Our soldiers are spiritual; many are Catholic; they will face a cycle of deployments in the years ahead. It is appropriate, then, that Catholic chaplains foster a spiri-tuality that mitigates the anxieties which stem from war Mark E Plaushin OSFS has served in the Army for twenty-two years as an infantry officer and a cultural affairs officer and as a chaplain with two tours in the Middle East. He is now Senior Catholic Chaplain at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington. His address is 721 Lawrence Street, N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. Review for Religious so that an authentic and devout life can flourish. Salesian spirituality can help maintain and/or restore spiritual resilience, a sense of self that serves survival and can serve transitions out of combat situations. I am convinced that soldiers can put the experience of war into their own faith story without yielding to two dangerous extremes: despair as articulated in Anthony Swoford's Jarhead and hubris as trumpeted in Stephen Mansfield's The Faith of the American Soldier. Catholic praxis demands balance and perspective. War is evil and unequivocally antithetical to authentic living. On the other hand, despair is not a worthy response to it, for God's grace overcomes evil and restores human flourishing. Anthony Swoford paints a despairing picture of war's impact on the human person. A veteran of the First Gulf War, he grieves over his shared responsibility in the death of several Iraqi soldiers. The story of their anonymous deaths is told in the context of his dark experience as a Marine and is saturated with unrelenting cynicism and unyielding hopelessness. It is indicative of a malnour-ished spiritual life, but is nonetheless an important spiri-tual manifesto. He offers savvy warning about those who come home from war and tell "what they call good news, the good news about war and warriors." The truth is that war is not good news. Swoford writes: I am entitled to despair over the likelihood of further atrocities . In crowded rooms and walking the streets of our cities, I am alone and full of despair, and while sitting and writing, I am alone and full of despair--the same despair that impelled me to write this book, a quiet scream from a buried coffin. Dead, dead, my scream. What did I hope to gain? More bombs are coming. Dig your holes with the hands God gave you. (Anthony Swoford, Jarhead [New York: Scribner, 2003], p. 254) Inspired, Swoford's message is strapped for evidence of a God who loves and heals. Many have been exposed to 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Many military Catholics, no different than their civilian friends, lack a substantive spirituality combat and have experienced spiritual restoration. They celebrate successfully God's love for them and put war in the larger and rich picture of how God is at work in the world even as we grieve over war's sorrows. Though I mourn Swoford's despair, Stephen Mansfield's thesis is more of a problem. Recounting an experience of young Marines praying before a mission in Iraq, he writes: "They know there is a spiritual-ity to war, that warriors should trust in something beyond themselves to be of any use. So in the bar-rens of Iraq they build an altar of faith and ask their God to make them the war-riors he has called them to be.''~ Mansfield argues for a "faith-based warrior code.''2 Warriors must trust in some-thing greater than themselves, but Mansfield claims that soldiers "have been given no code, no moral or spiritual framing for the profession they now find themselves in or the war they now face death to win.''3 It is unfortunate that many soldiers do not own their faith and make it their own, even though the "code" already exists in the gospel and its message is right there in our traditions. Many military Catholics, no different than their civilian friends, lack a substantive spirituality. Though Mansfield offers insight into the shortcomings of religious support on the battlefield, he seems to celebrate war as a spiritual act. While he captures the elegant dilemma of millen-nial Christians serving in the armed forces, he deifies the American Christian soldier as righteous by virtue of his or her identity as such. Like all gospels of prosperity, this theory suffers from Gnostic influence, Review for Religious Swoford experiencing spiritual anemia and Mansfield a spiritual hubris are inadequate responses to soldiers whose anxieties undermine their spiritual health. Warriors are spiritual, not because they embrace a cult, but when they focus on their essential vocation of self-gift. The Catholic chaplain can offer a spirituality that neither embraces despair nor trumpets war. We are authentic neither in despairing nor in dancing, but in an acceptance of God's love and in our sequent resolution to embrace him and those he sends into our lives. The Gospel amid War's Anxiety The tactical dynamic--compounded by numbing rep-etition, interaction with an ambivalent and unpredictable indigenous population, and an uncertain sense of contrib-uting to a limited national victory--tends toward exhaus-tion of soldier resilience. Numbers of troops leave the desert emotionally, physically, and/or spiritually depleted. Many pursue the task of recovery, conscious and appre-ciative of personal and professional resources available to them. Others struggle on their own to regain their poise or their passion for life, only to feel personal defeat and exhibit an unhealthy sense of self. Even those who recover often suffer personal and professional setbacks. Given these circumstances, those who command troops and those who give troops pastoral care face a multiform threat to their well-being. Military decision making is incomplete if it does not mitigate risk in its varied forms. Yet commanders and troops know that risk attends even routine operations. We also know that, when soldiers are led by capable and honest leaders, receive challenging and realistic training, and have strong morale in units with a tested esprit de corps, they will face any threat and level of risk. Further, these warriors are more likely to survive war and help 361 66.4 2007 Plausbin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety 362] others do so. This includes setting positive conditions for recovery from the rigors of war after redeploying to the United States. All commanders want to bring their soldiers home alive and intact, and chaplains share responsibility for safe homecoming. Pastoral praxis, however, envisions more than biological survival and physical integrity. Pastoral care in the war zone, as in any apostolic setting, seeks to sustain and enhance the life of the soul. We refer to spiri-tual resilience when we reflect .on this sense of self that marks authentic lif~ in Christ. This resilience is essential to healthy personal relationships, whether one continues in a military career or returns to civilian life. Helping sol-diers keep or recover resilience means nothing less than helping them integrate their experience of war into their life's story so well that they can still or again celebrate God's love for them. This is the central task of the gospel in the war zone. The primary threat to a fighting man or woman's spiri-tual center of gravity is anxiety. Francis de Sales (1567- 1622) says, "With the single exception of sin, anxiety is the greatest evil that can happen to the soul.''4 Because anxiety saps people's strength, they have a diminished capacity for resisting temptation arid practicing acquired virtues.5 The practice of virtue is the life of charity, the organization of people's lives toward God. Devotion is superabundant charity. Charity is the archetype virtue and accommodates all other virtues to a person's state in life.6 Francis cor-relates the disabling of virtue with greater susceptibility to temptation. This "disabling" is the organization of self toward someone or something other than God. This has an effect on .the soldier, his unit, and military operations. Contrasting abuse of prisoners with a pro-fessional way of handling them can demonstrate this. A sergeant who captured a few insurgents after they had Review for Religious ambushed and killed three of his fellow soldiers told me, "Sir, I just wanted to kill them all, but I knew it was the w.rong thing to do." Such conduct is an example of the resilience soldiers need to navigate difficult moral deci-sion points correctly, with integrity. Each armed service promotes virtue through core values.7 The cultivation of these values, from basic entry training through retirement, is essential to the spiritual fitness that characterizes - good soldiering and a ful-filling career. The battle-field minister, proffering Salesian spirituality as a practical illumination of the gospel, understands that the life of charity demanded by the gospel is prerequisite to, and fruit of, a healthy spiritual life. Anxiety, on - the other hand, is a spiritual pathology: it degrades spiri-tual health. It is a disordered desire to be free of an evil or to acquire some good.8 This contributes to disorgani-zation of the individual's personal resources--not least of which is a positive sense of self. Let us see how anxiety enters the soul. When .our soul perceives it has suffered an evil, it is dislSleased. This displeasure, which we call sadness, is naturally something we want to be relieved of as soon as possible. But why do we seek relief?. De Sales suggests two answers that determine our spiritual deportment. One, the soul seeks relief out of love for God and for a better .relationship with God. Remembering all the good things God has given, the soul is patient if relief from sadness does not ,come quicldy.9 It depends on God's providence rather than its own effort,l° The primary threat to a fighting man or woman's spiritual center of gravity is anxiety. 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Alternatively, the soul seeks relief out of self-love.~t In this spiritual estrangement, the soul relies on its own effort. It has an inadequate awareness or no awareness of God seeking a loving relationship. In this case, all other goods, whether people or things, are either grasped or discarded without reference to God or his purpose. This is a poor use of personal freedom. It is not uncommon for such a distressed person to make inappropriate choices regarding sexual behavior, substance abuse, and even vio-lence. The soul feels overwhelmed, inadequate, or inau-thentic, and a God who has a personal interest in them seems unimaginable. 36-4 Spiritual Resilience Spiritual resilience is diminished when there is no sense of God's providence--ttiat is, how God is "orga-nized" toward our completion.12 De Sales notes that anxi-ety breeds impatience and agitation. The soul "will excite and wear itself out in a search for escape," producing a cycle of sadness--anxiety--sadness--anxiety, which is "extremely dangerous.".~3 The soul's desire to be free of evil or to acquire some good is not misplaced. God is good and has imbued in us the instinct for good. But anxiety dis--orders our rela-tionship with God and others. It distorts the individual's understanding of the good and the way to achieve it. An anxious soldier may stop eating, become sleepless, and act angrily. Although none of these behaviors are good, the soldier adopts them as if they are good. His disordered view of the good leads to harmful action or neglect. A soldier thus weakened may fail when lives are at risk. If injury or death results, this leads to a crash of self-esteem, a spiritual and emotional crisis. Every mission in the combat zone, without excep-tion, calls for a wearying intensity that creates a taut- Rev&w for Religious bow effect. Archers with arrows always notched hold their bow under constant tension. Such tension is not eased until one is within the perimeter of a friendly camp. Even then mortar and rocket attacks, or bombs borne by per-sons or vehicles, may cause a constant wariness.14 Keep a bow too taut for too long and you may be too numb to act quickly; not keep it taut and you may be too late. The tension is compounded by months in hostile terri-tory where attacks are inevitable somewhere. The soldier's risk of casualty is an anxiety that is not shared in our civilian community. Let me suggest four themes based on my experience. Interestingly, it is not death that soldiers always fear most. (1) When we left an operati[ag base to make sense of the stirred-up population, superheated weather, and the mystery that is Iraq, I made an act of contrition. Because I do nbt carry a weapon and my bodyguard and teammates did, I often did the driving so their hands were free to fire their weapons. I prayed that if attacked I would react as rehearsed--facilitating our escape or the enemy's destruc-tion. I reviewed our plan, our first-aid procedures, and the radio procedures for calling in a medical-evacuation heli-copter (MEDEVAC). I thought through situations that might require these skills while simultaneously comforting the dying, administering the sacrament of the sick, or honoring the dead. In short, I asked God to strengthen me so that I would not let my buddies down. This concern motivated us to know our jobs, rehearse our mission, and stay in shape. Despite the self-confidence that comes from good planning, tough training, and solid leadership, an error in judgment or even a brief moment of cowardice could jeopardize others. (2) My fear of letting others down was an anxiety miti-gated by experience, training, practiced communication, and common-sense leadership. On the other hand, the fear of being maimed offered few practical remedies. The 66.4 2007 Plaushin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Another ground for anxiety is the fear leaders share in ordering others into combat. odd thought crossed my mind that losing one eye would not be too bad, but losing both would be worse than death. If it were a choice between losing an arm, a leg, my genitals, or some horrendous combination of these, I prayed for a quick death and one that would precede incineration in the burning fuel and exploding ordinance of my vehicle. Some risks seemed remote and conjured little anxiety. For instance, death itself or capture by a sword-wielding fanatic seemed unlikely to me; for others, such thoughts provoked concern. (3) Another ground for anxiety is the fear leaders share in ordering others into combat. Leaders up and down the chain of command balance concern for their troops with mission accomplishment. Senior officers must trust their juniors to lead, knowing mistakes and losses are inevitable; this is necessary to their maturing. (4) Anxiety also stems from separations within families. No matter how solid a relationship may be, it will be chal-lenged by fear of loss. Although digitalization has enhanced rapid and continuing communication, distance and absence increase fears by not enabling family members to embrace. Numerous counseling sessions confirm that e-mail and the telephone are two-edged swords. They allow an exchange, of information but do not permit the quality communication essential to intimacy. In fact, too much information can be transmitted, causing dis-traction and stirring up anxiety until reunion is achieved. But reunion itself also causes tension. Only by managing expectations and integrating the experience of the military deployment into the family's story will the family flourish. Review for Religious The issues above cause soldiers both appropriate concern and grist for anxiety. By "appropriate concern" I mean a savvy appreciation of the risks along with con-fidence in God's providence. Where concern has been displaced by anxiety, however, there is need for healing. A Salesian method can be summarized in three stages. (1) Challenge the soldiers to identify and describe the sorrow that burdens them. (2) Aid them in consciously turning their sorrow over to God's providential care. (3) Encourage them to experience the devout life as compat-ible with soldiering. War as the Source of Sorrow Recall that anxiety is a disordered attempt to free the soul of sorrow. Many soldiers identify the root sorrow in their soul incorrectly. They report as source what is actu-ally a presenting issue. The marriage may be in trouble, the children may be acting out, a friend may have been wounded, she may have been attacked, together they may have killed a combatant or noncombatant, or some other combination of things common to soldiering may have been experienced. Yet, as tragic as all of these may be, they veil the source. Our original misuse of free will has left us flawed and in search of authenticity. When we experience anxiety fed by fear of letting buddies down, physical trauma, leading others into harm's way, suffering a ruined relationship, or anything else, we experience sorrow that stems from our incompleteness. We grieve oversuffering a loss or anticipating one. War stirs up a profound awareness of this inadequacy--our inability to control the events, cir-cumstances, and conditions that can destroy us or those we love and the things we value. While war can be legiti-mized and even benefit the community, it is inherently destructive of the human person. Even winning does not 66.4 2007 Plaushin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety make us more complete, more fulfilled, or more human since war's brutality exhausts our intellect, emotions, physical being, and spiritual life. God responds to this suffering by providing the grace which completes us. This redemptive work helps us weave the experience of war into the cloth of our personal story and celebrate God's reconciliation. The role of Salesian spirituality is to promote indefatigable optimism in this process and in the human person. Many soldiers who receive God's grace do respond to his presence. They are resilient, and they integrate their experience into their life's story. This being said, an authentic response to war begins with experiencing it as miserably depleting. This either turns us inward or toward God and those wonderful others he sends to us. This brings us back to De Sales's observation that sorrow arises from either a love of God or a disordered love of self. If we see only our own selves as necessary and sufficient to make us complete, we set the stage for anxiety and the consequent disordering of our lives. If, however, we acknowledge our incompleteness and see God as the one who can make us complete, we live well.~5 We cooperate with the Father who makes good our deficiencies through the grace of Jesus Christ. Yet all disciples stand in a gap between possessing Christ and possessing fullness in Christ. This is our root sorrow. Because we do not yet possess this fullness, we hold on to the good things God gives us: Though they cannot complete us, we understandably hold on to them as evidence of his love and we fear losing them. And our fear of losing them is aggravated in the brutality and uncertainty of the war zone. Diminishment of spiritual integrity and peace sterriS from this, from an event that is disordered, dehumanizing, and destructive in its nature. The resilience to address this lack of fullness is fos-tered by grace, which in turn is characterized by a life Review for R~eligious organized for union with God. It begins with encourage-ment to consciously recognize and describe the sorrow war places on the soldier's heart--this lack of fullness, adequacy, or completeness. This is validated in confession, counseling, and group process.16 Thus a person learns to engage the dilemma of discipleship in the "valley of the shadow of death.''17 Turning War's Sorrow Over to the Father's Care Once the soldier is conscious of the sorrow stemming from the experience of war, has enumerated her palpable concerns, and has been validated, it is appropriate to chal-lenge her to turn her sorrow over to God's providential care. If she is aware that only union with God brings com-pleteness, how will she organize her personal resources to turn toward God? Salesian spirituality, like all spiritualities, explicates the gospel so disciples can adapt it to their circumstances. It provides a way of responding in a particular way to the gift of Jesus' life for us. Let us highlight ways Salesian spirituality contributes to a healthy sense of self and a proper ordering of self toward God. In his Introduction Francis de Sales treats this search for authenticity, reflecting on the disciple's "devout life," defined as a careful, frequent, and prompt response to God's love.18 This love or grace is God's relentless pres-ence wherein he offers redemption in eucharistic life. Here Jesus feeds, teaches, heals, and forgives. Soldiers who receive this grace and explore the force of war on the soul are ready to turn their sorrow over to the Father at this time and place. De Sales's guidance helps here with humility and gen-tleness. His own humble and meek lifestyle resulted in these virtues becoming synonymous with his spiritual leg-acy. Optimism, too, is present in the "gentleman saint's" 66.4 2007 Plaushin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety spiritual patrimony. Under the master virtue of devotion, humility, gentleness, and optimism are the virtues essen-tial to a balanced, authentic response to war. The humble, gentle, and optimistic soldier is oriented toward the God who is ready to heal her in a life-sustaining embrace. This is God's gift of reconciliation, which is Jesus Christ. Jesus' continuous gift of self promotes spiritual resilience and our vocation of self-gift. Practicing these and other virtues is incarnafional and eucharistic. Jesus, real God and real man, who really died on the cross and really rose from the dead, really walks among his people now in our eucharistic life, evidenced in a consistent, evolving, sagacious communion with God in personal prayer. This communion is essential to our disposition because it is the place for turning the sor-rows of war over to the Father. The warrior is encouraged to pursue a way of discipleship that includes a lifetime encounter with word and sacrament in communion fel-lowship. Healing comes by placing oneself in the presence of God's grace in these ways. The devout life is a viable response to war and the means for placing its burden into God's providential care. The Soldier's Devout Life De Sales published the Introduction in 1609, in a Europe that was conflicted. The Protestant and Catholic Reformations spawned persecution, acrimony, and armed conflict. Intertwined with the evolving Reformation, competing visions for political, religious, and economic society contributed to wars between sovereignties then turning into modern nation-states. Interregional conflict shaped a complex and volatile international system, com-pounded by Islam's advance in the East through conquest, coercion, and cultural assimilation.~9 Francis was well respected, and many sought his coun- Review for Religious sel. Though not an army chaplain, he was known to polit-ical and military figures, and he faced rigorous service during the Catholic Reformation. During his 1594 mis-sion into Calvinist Chablais near Lake Geneva, he "lived in a fortress garrisoned by the Duke of Savoy's soldiers [and] worked to some extent under their protection in conditions of intolerable hardship and poverty, ridiculed, persecuted, attacked even physically, saying Mass day by day in icy, half-ruined churches, preaching to empty pews.''2° His pastoral paradigm serves us well. De Sales's approach was to consistendy and construc-tively engage those whose anxiety affected their self-worth or preempted their awareness of God. The Introduction guides readers from their initial desire to live the devout life through a full resolution to continue it no matter what. He offers insights into how this resolve is nour-ished by prayer and sacraments, by the practice of virtue, by turning from temptation, and by renewing their com-mitment. His concept of devotion is robust--even athletic. He uses phrases such as "spiritual agility and vivacity" and discusses devotion as a spiritual fire that "bursts into flames.''2~ Its appeal rests in the celebration of the voca-tion of charity which we all share, soldiers included. It is a vocation that places suffering in the context of our story. This is clear in his "purgative,' meditations. One that is meaningful to the soldier is "The Fifth Meditation--On Death." He writes: Consider the uncertainty of the day of your death. O my soul, thou must one day quit this body. When will it be? In a town or in the country? In the day or in the night? Will it be without warning or with warning? Will it be the result of disease or of some accident? Wilt thou have time to confess or not? Wilt thou be assisted by thy confessor and spiritual Father? Alas! We know nothing at all about these things. We only know 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety The soldier's vocation is one of preparation, readiness, and especially action, even in the midst of uncertainty. 372 that we shall die, and always sooner than we expect.22 The warrior is near death, and it is unrealistic to imagine the situation on the battlefield otherwise, but anxiety is displaced by reflection on our vulnerability in the context of final fulfillment in the Father. The soldier's vocation is one of preparation, readiness, and especially action, even in the midst of uncertainty. Action is emphasized because superabundant char-ity is the action of God's incarnate love. Thr.ough the Holy Spirit, in the Body of Christ, we are Jesus' heal-ing presence. The vocation of charity is our response to God's incarnate gift of reconciliation and encompasses our state in life. It is a way of being in the world modeling Jesus' own vocation of self-gift. This pro-vides a healthy con-text for suffering. For the soldier, suffering while courageously doing one's duty is an indicator of spiritual resilience. Francis writes: "Among these devout people those who suffer afflictions are not overconcerned about their sufferings and never lose courage. To con-clude, look upon the eyes of the Savior who comforts them, and see how all of them together aspire to him.''2~ De Sales sees prayer and sacramental encounter as the center of the devout life. God pours upon us the grace to live the vocation of charity whereby we order ourselves toward him and others. This ordering occurs in prayer and sacrament, which are places for our spiritual transi-tion. In these places we move from our incompleteness to being filled by God's goodness. Francis emphasizes this Review for Religious when he writes, "We must pause here, Philothea [which means "soul that loves God], and I assure you that we can-not go to God the Father except through this gate.''24 When using phrases like God's grace, I mean God's presence. He is the gift that "orders" us through his teach-ing, feeding, forgiving, and healing. Thus De Sales intro-duces one of the most powerful exercises in the Salesian repertoire--calling to mind God's presence. While we may intellectually acknowledge that presence, we may not take it to heart and thus be more anxious than attentive to what is required of us in any particular time or place.2s The importance of this is found in a special vision soldiers cultivate and which we call "situational aware-ness." It signifies contextual vision because fear narrows vision and we lose our sense of the peripheral. Salesian disciples seek God as manifest in the world--even on the battlefield. Soldiers recount how, despite loss and suffer-ing, "some little thing" restored their vision of God as present and rekindled their efforts to feed, teach, heal, and forgive. This grace does not originate in a God who sits outside of our reality and to whom we nod in defer-ence from afar, but a real someone who chooses to walk with us in the dust and blast, and to break the bread with us. The devout life improves this eucharistic vision. Our response to this presence is a virtuous life, and De Sales teaches: "All men should possess all the virtues, yet all are not bound to exercise them in equal measure. Each person must practice in a special manner the virtues needed by the kind of life he is called to.''26 For example, patience and chastity are virtues pertinent to a warrior. This promotes union with God and turning away from things that distract us from him. One of the most practical sections of the Introduction is Francis's treatment of temptation. In a world where risk and consequence attend choice, the optimum opera- 66.4 2007 Plausbin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety tion of free will is anxiety free. Our choices are grounded in a self-concept that models Jesus' own integration of his physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual compo-nents. This appeals to soldiers because Francis's anthro-pology respects our potential for giving God glory in the day-to-day effort to "be all that we can be." The devout life is appropriate for the soldier and sets conditions for lessening or getting rid of anxieties that may afflict those who serve in combat. In this freedom, soldiers can recover spiritual resilience and refresh the imprint of the gospel in their hearts. Humility, Hope, and Providence Stephen Mansfield and Anthony Swoford's books are deficient in humility and hope, respectively. Catholic war-riors need a spirituality which helps them adapt the gospel to their lives' circumstances, not a Christocentric warrior's code. More, they must become free of anxiety, which is spiritually toxic and replaces eucharistic relationships with narcissism. If unchecked, it diminishes the capacity to deal in a healthy way with war and postconflict transitions, because these events are not put in the context of one's faith journey. The ability to celebrate Godat work in the world is disabled, as evident in Swoford's biography. Salesian spirituality builds and sustains a spiritual resilience which mitigates anxiety. It supports conscious articulation of the sorrow that war imposes on the heart and consistent turning of this sorrow over to God's providence. It reinforces commitment to the vocation of devotion that is practical and useful for Catholics on the battlefield and throughout the war zone. This spirituality celebrates the optimism, humility, gentleness, and super-abundant charity that characterize God's incarnate healing presence--Jesus Christ, Prince of Peace. Review for Religious Notes * Stephen Mansfield, The Faith of the American Solider (London: Penguin Books), p. 175. 2 Mansfield, The Faith, p. 157. 3 Mansfield, The Faith, p. 142. 4 De Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans, and ed. John K. Ryan (New York: Image Books, 1972), p. 251. See Col 3:14, wherein love's relationship to other virtues is stressed. 5 De Sales, Introduction, pp. 251-252. 6 De Sales, Introduction, pp. 121-122. 7 The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines virtue as the "habitual and firm disposition to do good" (§1803). The use of the word "value" in the armed services corresponds to this--Army: loy-alty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal cour-age; Navy and Marine Corps: honor, courage, and commitment; Coast Guard: honor, respect, and devotion to duty; Air Force: integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do. 8 De Sales, Introduction, p. 252. 9 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ,0 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ~* De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ,2 1 have in mind the "the economy of salvation." Providence is this effort on our behalf culminating in the incarnation. "The promise made to Abraham inaugurates the economy of salvation, at the culmination of which the Son himself will assume that 'image' and restore it in the Father's 'likeness' by giving it again its Glory, the Spirit who is 'the giver of life.'" Catechism of the Catholic Church, §705. ,3 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. '4 Insurgents fired rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs), albeit poorly aimed, into an area of our forward-operating base (FOB) through which we had mapped a favorite running route. Our intelligence officer rec-ommended we increase our pace in that sector. Everyone chuckled-- "sort off" ~s A theme in Augustine's Confessions: "You stir man to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you." Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 3. See also Psalm 62:2. 16 After Iraq's "capitulation" in 2003, I heard confessions of troops transitioning home. Penitents and I were in tears, moved by the events these good men endured. 375 66.4 2007 Plaushin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety 17 Psalm 23:4 (King James Bible). ,8 De Sales, Introduction, p. 40. ,9 The Battle of Lepanto stemmed the Ottoman advance in 1571. Francis was four. ~0 Elisabeth Stopp, A Man to Heal Differences: Essays and Talks on St. Francis de Sales (Philadelphia: St. Joseph's University Press, 1998), p. 4. This is similar to the experience of Catholic chaplains operating today out of FOBs. 2'De Sales, Introduction, pp. 40-41. 22 De Sales, Introduction, p. 60. 23 De Sales, Introduction, p. 70. 24 De Sales, Introduction, p. 81. 2s De Sales, Introduction, p. 84. 26 De Sales, Introduction, p. 122. Reflective Questions for Personal and Group Use How would I share my spirituality as a help to someone in military service? Does my lived spirituality have an effect on how I deal with anxiety? How would I see Plaushin's approach to a spirituality responding to military combat affec~:ing the way I live my spiritual life in my given circumstances? 376 Review for Religious CAROLYN HUMPHREYS Contemplative Gifts We need not live in the desert or dwell in a monastery in order to live contemplatively. Not so surprisingly, there are people in deserts and in monasteries who are not contemplatives, and people in the inner city and in prisons who are very contemplative. Living contemplatively is a way of being alive that resembles a continuous quiet flame in a world darkened by sin. The light does not shine by our doing something or making something happen. We cannot do contemplation or make it happen. Rather, we let it happen in us by graces from God. A contemplative orientation to life is an exquisite gift to us from God. This gift comes in many forms and ways. We guard and nour-ish what we receive by a manner of living that is rooted in humility. When we open contem-plative gifts with care and treasure their con- Carolyn Humphreys OCDS, a registered occupational therapist, last wrote for us in early 2004. She produces a four-page quarterly, Mary's Garden, from 7101 E. Rosecrans Avenue, #159; Paramount, California 90723; U.S.A. prayer in our life 1377 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts 378 tents, we find we are no better or holier than anyone else. Rather, we are one with all wounded and sinful humanity. When we perceive all humanity as equal, there is no incli-nation to feel greater or lesser than those of another race, nationality, religion, or ability. This manner of living is a great gift indeed. This self-knowledge is a dear teacher. It is present in all contemplative awareness. This inner knowledge tells us that we are the ones responsible for our feelings, behavior, and actions. To avoid blaming or projecting our negativity on others is a sound step forward on the contemplative path. Cooperation with .God's still small voice within gives us wisdom greater than our own, and thereby keeps inap-propriate comments about others in check. Self-knowl-edge does not occur without common sense. Common sense tells us many things. People who are levelheaded are more apt to keep confidences than those who engage in frivolous or malicious gossip. Individuals who know their true selves are humble and are serious about stay-ing away from negative influences. We ask God that we may be receptive when he reveals us to ourselves. This is a courageous prayer, because such self-knowledge is hard to take. We grow spiritually, however, by learning more about ourselves through being receptive to grace in whatever form it takes. When self-knowledge increases, we are able to live in God's presence more fully. We live in the presence of God when we have the ability to discern his presence within us and around us. Our lives are quite ordinary, but we notice the extraordi-nary in our days. God is at the kitchen stove, office desk, and bathroom sink. We recognize his presence, and so we are fully attentive to What is in the present moment. We recognize the level of our ability to love when we seem empty of love, when we seem full of love, and at all levels in between. ,Together with our level of ability to love, we Reviezv for Religious acknowledge our ever present need for God's grace, and acknowledge that our thirst for God is never quenched. Living in God's presence helps us let go of concerns during our daily prayer so we can simply be present to his life and love. No matter how much we have to do, it is not what we do, - but who we are, that defines us as unique persons. If all we do is "do," we can eas-ily destroy the reality of who we are in the sight of God. Doing things well is not a substitute for well --- being. Finding our identity in the many things we do can detract from who we really are as humble persons in the light of God's love. If we keep our eyes open and focus on gospel teach-ing when we pray, we gradually learn to see the world with the eyes of Christ. No longer do we walk around in a befuddled state, or tend to our duties in a preoccupied way. Our heads are neither in the clouds nor in the sand. We concentrate on, and respond to, that which goes on within and around us at the moment, in the light of God's love. This orientatioh enables us to go beyond the obvi-ous and look for what cannot be seen, such as inner hurts, hopes, unspoken needs and dreams. A contemplative way of being is evident in an out-look on life that influences our behavior with the positive, affirming, loving transcendence of God. This transcen-dence bonds the infinite goodness of God with the finite people and things of earth. In our day it is a continual challenge to maintain such an outlook. We are limited beings, and the temptation to deny, regress, or avoid con- If alt we do :is "do," we can easily destroy the reality of who we are in the sight of God. 379 66.4 2007 Humphreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts 380 flictive or derogatory thoughts always seems to be with us. In a contemplative way of being, however, we face the reality of these thoughts with honesty and courage. This helps us become more loving. It takes work, though, and a resistance to self-indulgence. If we look as objectively as we can at the opposing aspects of our daily choices, we step away from whatever causes negativism or self-absorp-tion. We move forward to what gives us a clearer perspec-tive on the possible results of our choices. To find beauty in the broken places and troubled areas of our lives is a constant component of our contemplative gifts. In doing this, we look at what is in our hands and hearts and find peace instead of turbulence. The more we are sustained by our trust in God, the easier we find him in all that passes in and out of our hands and our lives. We see Jesus more clearly as our minds become free of rejections and afflictions. We sit down, sit still, and really listen to the still small voice of God. Only with the passing of time, and the help from grace, do we become more alert to the world within us. We must be watchful because this world is easily obscured by the world outside us. Through the energy of grace, the effects of contem-plative gifts flow from the inside out. The degree of our awareness of these gifts develops in concurrence with many factors. We are fascinated by how God works in ourselves and in others. Seeing God thusly liberates us from interrupting people with trivial incidents concern-ing ourselves. We listen to others with an open heart and mind by focusing on them. We are aware of what they are saying, how they are saying it, and what their behav-ior reveals. Learning when to talk and when to be quiet refines our humility. The more we seek God, the more our self-absorption diminishes. A marker of our seeking is the sparing use of sentences containing the words 1, me, or my. There is no burning need to prove our point, Review for Religious manifest our intelligence, proclaim our opinion, or prate about our experiences. When we are seeking God, we respectfully listen to what people tell us and refrain from forming our responses or nourishing our prejudices while they are talking. We listen as a friend or confidant rather than as an adversary or advisor. Silence Is Golden Love for silence is a contemplative gift. Silence becomes a gem that is sought, treasured, and reverenced. To be comfortable with the silence of God, of others, and of ourselves is rare and beautiful. Silence nurtures us far more than we will ever understand. It becomes the primary way in which we grow in love. In the early stages we discover the many ways in which love can be posses-sive or self-centered. When we observe quietly, we may see people using others as objects of pleasure or using them to complete their character by filling their needs and inadequacies. We realize that no one should be used as an object or extension of someone else. Our silence enables us to be signs for others of God's presence and peace, even when life's storms come our way. During disturbing times we use silence to think things through before taking action. We are not overwhelmed by all that we have to do. We break down large, intimidating, time-consuming tasks into manageable segments. We han-dle them one hour at a time. These periods then resemble stepping stones across a river. We give our attention to one stone at a time. In doing so, we are on the other side of the river before we know it. If we do not keep our con-centration on the stone at hand, we may slip and fall in. Or, if we do not even attempt the first stone, we will end up finding a longer, harder way to get across. Taking life one step at a time gives us time to visit our inner sanctuary, our place of. rest. After we finish 381 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts Taking life one step at a time gives us time to visit our inner sanctuary, our place of rest. 382 one thing and before we start another, we can rest in our sanctuary and think deep, serious, playful, or lightsome thoughts. A better option is just to gaze quietly upon the heart of Christ. Like crossing the river, we move toward God small step by small step. We move onward inch by inch rather than waste time on hurry, or worry about the pile of work ahead of us. When God becomes our primary reality, many positive things happen to us. All that seemed important before God entered our lives takes on an insig-nificance that truly surprises us. To be faithful to the contemplative way when the going gets rough takes patience and fortitude. The con-templative way is manifest in the tranquillity of order. The more our lives are centered on Jesus, the more these traits will develop: we pray consistently, eat moderately, dress modestly, exercise appropriately, use money wisely, speak quietly, and treat others with dignity. We spend our leisure time in carefree activities, and read and use the media in ways that instruct or uplift. Our homes are simple and cozy. We conduct ourselves well and deal with our family and others with respect and grace. Rather than grumble, we do something about what causes a com-plaint. We work with concentration and good humor. Our motives are clear and direct. The quality of each day is more important than the quantity of things we do or the places we go. In dark times we may not understand what is happening, but somehow we know God is there. We trust in God and hope for the best. Indeed, there are Review for Religious many times when we lose a treasure only to find a greater treasure or lose our way only to find God's way. The contemplative way is mostly a way of silence and darkness. We want to speak about God, but we realize that images,' analogies, and words fall short. Nothing we can say seems adequate. Words are a hindrance because, although we ardently seek God, we can never really find him. If we think we have found God in our words and definitions, it is not really God, but only our own fal-tering concept about God, who is all mystery. We never fully grasp who God is. We move toward God with open hearts in the silent night. We move ahead wordless in the unknown but holy darkness. Even though God is beyond all mere human thoughts or definitions, we persevere in communing with him through prayer. It is our lifeline. To a contemplative, prayer is as important and as natural as a heart beating. Prayer is the energy that makes our spiritual lives go, and the rock that never lets us give up hope. In the inner atmosphere of prayer, we are one with God and all cre-ation. Awareness of this unity with all is at a deeper level of consciousness than that of normal life. A contempla-tive outlook is one of continual spiritual wonder. There is an awe at the sacredness of all life, which reflects the love that flows from the S6urce of life. A contemplative outlook sees without seeing, in a profound depth of faith, and knows without knowing, in knowledge too deep to understand. We know God to the extent that we are invis-ibly touched by him who has no hands. To know this is to awaken to him who is the most real. We realize God's tre-mendous love and respond to it from our deepest depths. To become all that God meant us to be is to find our true selves in Christ. To be so in touch with what is truly real lets the authenticity of our lives reach out and touch that which is most authentic in others. 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts Contemplation is a journey of love through realistic care for others. We, who are connected with all people by the strong bonds of prayer, give to them by prayer, and through the appropriate use of our talents. Yes, a con-templative way of life grows from roots in quiet prayer. Quiet prayer results in quiet listening, fine-tuned obser-vation, a giving of ourselves and a daily openness to God's mysteries and wonder. Seasoned contemplatives are well mellowed by years of quiet prayer content with mystery and wonder. They use their talents well, and are at home with themselves. The self is forgotten. Their focus on others makes their presence a transparent gift: there are no strings. The gift shows itself in people's ability to see that the givers discover, appreciate, and make wise use of the treasures hidden in everyone and everything that comes along. Being a contemplative is a never-ending liberation. We are alone but not lonely, because we are in communion with Jesus, who resides in our hearts. He is our anchor and our compass. We are one with others because we wrap them with our prayer. Other people rarely intimi-date us, because we forgive them easily and know our own unique gifts. We become more receptive, more grateful, more filled with grace. Faith is far from abstract theory; rather, it is an everyday reality sometimes shrouded in mystery. Wonder is always with us, for we look beyond appearances, set aside prejudices, and change what keeps us closed in on ourselves. As long as we move ahead, we see God in everything and thereby sense a greater unity with God who is all. As we travel on the path of love, we give away the fruits of our contemplative gifts. We also sing songs of God's love and praise, which, as Newman suggests, seem to always echo in our hearts: Review for Religious Praise to the Holiest in the height And in the depth be praise; In all his words most wonderful, Most sure in all his ways! Some Contemplative Scripture Points 1. "If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him." Luke 11:13 2. "No one knows the Son except the Father and no one knows the Father except the Son -- and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him." Luke 10:22 3. "There are different gifts but the same Spirit; there are different ministries but the same Lord; there are different works but the same God who accomplishes all of them in everyone. To each person the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good." 1 Co 12:4-7 66.4 2007 ELISSA RINERE Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life T time spent in preparing this article was, quite nesdy, a personal spiritual journey. One difficulty has been that every aspect of Christian life is a reflection of the Eucharist. The Eucharist "speaks" everything. It is all-encompassing. A dilemma arises, whether to begin with some reflections on the Eucharist and then find reli-gious life within them, or begin with some reflections on religious life and then come to a focus on the Eucharist. One author I read stated the situation very well. Eucharist implies coherence: it brings all the disparate elements of the church into unity, tending to one end, one goal, one truth.~ Religious life finds its coherence here. In canon law the Eucharist has different aspects: the celebration of the Mass, the sacrament to be received, and the sacrament reserved in a tabernacle for adoration. We can consider what these three aspects might mean in relation to our way of life in the church. Elissa Rinere CP, a canon lawyer, is Coordinator of Pastoral Planning and Director of the Office of Worship of the diocese of Norwich, Connecticut. Her address is 7E Westchester Hills; Colchester, Connecticut 06415. Review for Religious We begin by making two observations. First, the Eucharist is larger than religious life. The goal of being a eucharistic community is the goal of everyone who shares in the sacrament-of baptism. It is the mandate given to us in the Gospels. Second, the vision of what would be if we could give a pure response to this awesome mystery is different from the practice that we human beings come up with at various times in history. The vision is celestial and the practice is terrestrial. Our challenge is to bring these two things into harmony. The Eucharist as Celebration Yesterday. When I was in grade school (a public school), my friends and I went to Sunday Mass "religiously." We would, however, sit behind the stairs in the back of the church and have contests about who could find the old-est saint in the pages of our St. Andrew's Missals. We paid attention to Mass only at the consecration, when the bell rang. From behind the stairs we could not see the altar, but we did stop talking. No matter how poor our behavior, we were sure that we were fulfilling our Sunday obligation just by being there. The prayer belonged to the priest, and the people watched. Today. We say today that theology emphasized the "confection" of the Eucharist and now emphasizes "cel-ebration.'' 2 The most august sacrament is the Most Holy Eucharist in which Christ the Lord himself is contained, off-ered, and received and by which the church continu-ally lives and grows. The eucharistic sacrifice . . . is the summit and source of all worship; it signifies and effects the unity of the people of God and brings about the building up of the body of Christ. Indeed, the other sacraments and all the ecclesiastical works of the apostolate are closely connected with the Most Holy Eucharist and ordered to it. (Canon 897)3 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 388 In speaking of the Eucharist today, we would probably use the terminology of this canon, since it comes directly from the documents of Vatican Council II. The Eucharist is Christ himself. In the celebration we have the source and summit of all the church's life. That is, everything we do comes from and is brought back to the Eucharist. Every celebration is an action of the whole church. Every celebration is a sign of, and brings about, the unity of the people of God. The liturgy is the exercise, not only of the ordained priesthood, but also of the baptismal priest-hood. There was quite a journey from the focus on the confection of the Eucharist to the current focus on cel-ebration. Journey. Celebration of the Eucharist was, according to reputable authors, one of the most hotly debated top-ics of Vatican II. The manner of celebrating Eucharist is important in itself, but also because it brings a specific image of the church into existence. That is, the Eucharist is not merely a ritual; it is a creative force within the community. It is the way we express and create what we believe to be the true nature of the church. Singing our hearts out and saying the rosary fervently give different images of the church. The work of the Vatican Council to revise the cel-ebration of the Eucharist Was looked on by many as the work of the devil, an error bordering on heresy, which would destroy the church and turn us all into heretics. When the new rite of the Mass was implemented on 30 November 1969, some protesters poured red dye into fountains around Rome as a sign of mourning. "The waters of Rome run red, just as the waters of Egypt were transformed into blood" at the death of the firstborn.4 The celebration of the Eucharist became a rallying point for those opposed to the reform of the church because liturgical changes were the most obvious evi- Review for Religious dence of the reform. The council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum concilium, SC) is a marvel of compromise, especially in the areas of language, music, and lay participation . Concerning language, the use of vernacular was encouraged, but Latin was to remain in use (SC §36). Forms of music other than Gregorian chant were encouraged, but Gregorian chant was to be retained (SC §116). Even the musical instruments native to a given country were to be employed, but the pipe organ was to retain "pride of place" among them (SC §120). Regarding lay participation, there was to be some dis-tribution of ministries within the liturgy. In the theology of confection, the priest functioned virtually alone. In the theology of celebration, there were to be authentic litur-gical ministries for the laity in virtue of their baptismal priesthood. This was objected to by those who feared an inappropriate equalizing of the two priesthoods, with lay ministries obscuring the "subordinate" nature of the bap-tismal priesthood. The revised liturgy was seen by many as an abuse of authority that removed from the church's faithful any obligation of obedience. The changes were described as "the tearing of the seamless robe of Christ, which is the church's unity.''s The best-known opponent of the liturgical renewal was Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, who established the Society of St. Pius x in the 1970s. He wrote in 1974: "We close our ears to the destructive novelties now found in the church.''6 Through the pontificate of Paul VI, the liturgical renewal continued to move forward despite objections. The Eucharist is not merely a ritual; it is a creative force within the community. 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Later on, there were several instances of a slowing of the renewal. Some would say there has been a "pulling back" from some of the foundational principles of the reform movement. In early April 2007, an item on the Catholic News Service website announced that a policy was in the works to restore some use of the Tridentine Mass in the whole church. (It was being used only by permission of diocesan bishops.) The article said that the restoration was aimed at "ending a liturgical dispute which has simmered in the church for more than twenty years" and thus bringing greater unity. [Benedict xvI issued the document on July 7, 2007. (ed.)] Why have I brought up all this history? I did it to point out that the celebration of Eucharist--the source and summit of the church's life--has been a hotbed of controversy, not just for decades but for centuries, and that we manage to go forward only through dialogue, discus-sion, and compromise. Little by little, despite difficulties, the celebration is becoming more diverse, more incultur-ated, allowing for more and more differences of opinion. From all reports, liturgical changes will continue to be announced. Pope Benedict, in the apostolic exhortation recently published, mentions the possibility of the Sign of Peace being moved to some other spot. And, of course, there remain difficulties concerning the new translation of the Roman Missal, which is a topic for another day. Connection to Religious Life The theological vision of the Eucharist as celebration is the unity of the church. The church, of course, is all the people of God, all the baptized. For religious life, then, within this great vision is the goal of unity toward which we progress through our human practices. In contrast to the vision, ways of celebrating the Eucharist keep disturb-ing some. Forty years ago it was a tug-of-war between Review for Religious traditionals and progressives. Today a new element has been added: those who find the Eucharist unacceptably clerical, exclusionary, hierarchical, or rigid. For these peo-ple, Eucharist is often a painful experience of oppression rather than a time of prayer and unity. Hopefully they find better experiences elsewhere. All these points of view on the celebration of the Eucharist are found in some religious communities. Can Eucharist be a point of unity in them? It depends, I think, on whether people are willing to compromise for the sake of one another. This becomes, then, a question of ecclesiology. Religious life is called to be prophetic in the church. What visions of the church are present in our communi-ties? We constantly seek practices of celebration that will bring us closer to the theological vision of unity. °- Inasmuch as the practice of the Eucharist as cel-ebration has continually moved forward, has never stagnated, and has always sought better balance between conflicting prin-ciples by becoming appro-priately inclusive and diverse, it is, in my opinion, mirrored in religious life. We can see ourselves reflected in the evolu-tion, the tensions, the struggles to do the right thing. If the Eucharist is not at the heart of our unity, but rather a point of strife and division, we should discuss not the Eucharist, but rather what it means to be church, prophet, and peacemaker. Where we do not dialogue and do not discuss, compromise, forgive, and accept what we might not prefer for the sake of the common good, the Eucharist itself may not help much. Eucharist is often a painful experience of oppression :rather than a time of prayer and unity. ,391 66.4 2007 Rinere * Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Eucharist as Sacrament to Be Received Why discuss receiving the received Eucharist sepa-rately from celebration? Besides having some distinct characteristics, reception has undergone some signifi-cant developments. In today's theological vision, it can be described as multilevel communion: inner communion with Jesus and intercommunion with all others who share the Body and Blood of Christ. Yesterday. Those who recall the early years of the 20th century before Vatican II may have observed some people receiving Communion rather rarely. Only priests distributed Communion, and only the consecrated hosts were distributed, not the chalice with the precious Blood. Returning silently to their places in the pews, communi-cants knelt reverendy and, bowing their heads, communed adoringly with the Lord they had just received. Receiving Communion was an act of public and private devotion. Today the changes are clear. Receiving Communion is frequent. Few people stay in their places and refrain from receiving. "Extraordinary" Eucharistic ministers are com-mon. Communicants may receive in the hand or not, and Communion under both species is common. Receiving Communion is a natural consequence, of being present at the celebration. The 2002 General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes the distribution of the Eucharist as a procession in which part.icipants come forward as a community, sing, and receive Communion. Sharing in Communion is to actualize the Eucharistic community and also to foster a personal relationship with Christ. Not long afterwards the Eucharistic community is dismissed with the commission to be Eucharist to those they encoun-ter. St. Augustine is often quoted as writing "Receive who you are, and be the One you have received." The "energy" surrounding the reception of the Eucharist has changed from being personal and inward Review for Religious to being outward, communal, ministerial, and unifying. Receiving the Eucharist commissions us to inner prayer, but also to the service of others--to be bread broken. Our service of others comes from our unity in Christ. Journey. The history of the liturgical renewal focuses on practices and attitudes. In the history of the Eucharist as sacrament, the two most universally accepted innova-tions were the reception of Communion in the hand and the distribution of Communion by the laity. These were never really wanted by the church authorities who were regulating the reform. In 1968 the bishops of Belgium and Germany asked permission to experiment with Communion in the hand because it was a faster method of distribution. When the experiment ended three years later, the people refused to give up the option. Finally, in 1974, all efforts to eliminate the practice were stopped. With some similarities, extraordinary ministers have been reluctantly permitted to function since 1969. As late as 2006, official documents have reminded the whole church of how "inappropriate" this ministry is for the noncleric. Catholics still feel more comfortable with receiving the Eucharist as an act of personal devotion. Witness the difficulties of implementing the liturgical principles connected with the Communion procession: People do not sing, many still rush the line, many leave the church early. I suggest also that people are not enthusiastic about "Eucharist received" as a commission to ministry. Nor are people quick to realize the unity fostered by their sharing in the Body and Blood of Christ. Religious Life. From my experience of religious com-munities, I have the impression that many religious pre-fer the personal and devotional aspects of receiving the Eucharist to the ministerial aspects--the outward ser-vice- and only afterward the unifying aspects of being 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life "Eucharist received:'; is certainly re qected in the service every Christian renders to others. part of the Eucharistic community. There is a tendency, after personal devotion, to be more invested in service to others than in service to one another in our religious communities--even though service to community mem-bers comes, of course, from our being united by our shar-ing in the Eucharist. "Eucharist received" is certainly reflected in the service every Christian renders to others. However, Eucharist received also should be reflected in those rela-tionships which are closest. For instance, within families the Eucharistic bond is intended to be effective-- real--between spouses and parents and children. This Eucharistic bond forms the "domestic church" that is at the heart of mar-riage. For religious, the Eucharistic bond must be at the heart of commu-nity relationships--a true force holding the community together. Most women religious no longer live in large institutional settings where they would form the daily Eucharistic community at Mass. Nowadays the unify-ing force of the Eucharist, wherever members share in it, should find its .first and most clear reflection at home, where we live with each other. Discussion, or any way of reflecting in community life the Eucharist as sacrament received, would best not focus on the Eucharist as such, but on the quality of our com-munity life, the Eucharistic character of our relationships with one another. What are the Eucharistic characteristics of relation-ships? What are the Eucharistic characteristics of com-munity relationships? How do we call one another to Review for Religious be Christ for each other in community? W-here is the Eucharist we receive effective in our communities? Groups that grapple with questions like these do not seek clear and definitive answers. Rather, they seek bonding, shar-ing one another's weaknesses, failures, successes, foibles. Perhaps being Eucharistic means forgiving and accepting rather than getting things right. If we can struggle with these kinds of questions, with this level of honesty, we will experience our religious life as mirroring our "Eucharist received." Our reception of the Eucharist will inspire an expanding vision; our act of private devotion will seek fulfillment in service to others and unity with those closest to us. Eucharist as Object of Adoration Let us now consider the Eucharist as an object of adoration. This aspect of the Eucharist has a significant history in the church, although such devotional practices as benediction and exposition did not develop until the 12th century or later. Historically, Eucharistic devotions originated as ways to safeguard and emphasize the doc-trine of the Real Presence. Benediction, exposition, and processions were theologically inspired rites intended to confirm the faith of the faithful on this point. The Real Presence, of course, suggests adoration. And theological vision sees adoration as finding a ritual completeness in celebration and other worthy activity. Nourishment from the Eucharist gives strength for carrying out apostolic action. Yesterday. Again, older people will recall the not uncommon practices of concluding Mass with benedic-tion or having exposition during Mass. Every parish had its time for Forty Hours Devotion. The architecture of churches called attention to the tabernacle and the Real Presence. Today we are seeing some resurgence of tradi- 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 396 tional devotions, even a return to traditional architecture. But is it merely a return of what was, or has there been some degree of transformation? Today. In his recent apostolic exhortation Sacramenturn caritatis, Pope Benedict speaks of the intrinsic relationship between Eucharistic adoration and Eucharistic celebra-tion. He says the relationship is much more clearly seen since the liturgical renewal brought about by Vatican II. He refers, of course, to the years it has taken to find a bal-ance between the Eucharist seen in celebration and recep-tion, and the interior and personal aspects of Eucharistic devotions and adoration. Journey. Vatican II set out the basic principle that devotional practices are to "harmonize with the liturgi-cal seasons, accord with sacred liturgy, [be] in some way derived from it, and lead the people to it, since in fact the liturgy by its very nature is far superior to any of them" (SC §13). Echoing this principle, Pope Benedict calls ado-ration of the Blessed Sacrament a "natural consequence" of the celebration, which "intensifies all that takes place during the celebration itself" (§66). Devotions that do not relate to the celebration of the Eucharist, that do not call to mission and community and lead back to the celebra-tion of the Mass, are incomplete. That is, adoration is completed by outward relationships. Consider for a minute that a part of the renewal sur-rounding eucharistic devotions concerned the placement of tabernacles in churches. An instruction published in 1967 stated the principle of why tabernacles should not be on the altar: In the celebration of the Mass the principal modes of Christ's presence to his church emerge clearly, one after the other: first he is seen to be present in the assembly of the faithful gathered in his name; then in his word, with the reading and explanation of Scripture; also in Review for Religious the person of the minister; finally, in a singular way, under the eucharistic elements. Consequently, on the grounds of the sign value, it is more in keeping with the nature of the celebration that, through reserva-tion of the sacrament in the tabernacle, Christ not be present eucharistically from the beginning on the altar where Mass is celebrated. (Instruction E~¢charisticum mysterium, 25 May 1967, §55) From that one principle came the years of wrangling over the placement of tabernacles in churches. The argu-ments went from on or off the altar to in or out of the sanctuary, from the body of the church to a side chapel. No clear consensus ever emerged, so now all disputes are settled by the diocesan bishop. The questions on tabernacles are relate~l to how peo-ple understand the Eucharistic presence of Christ in the Mass and the various other modes of his presence in the celebration of the Mass. Before Vatican II, Eucharistic devotions acknowledged the Real Presence in the taber-nacle and tended to ignore the other modes of Christ's presence. It seems these devotions had to disappear while the community became more familiar with the presence of Christ in the assembly, the word, and the priest; and the tabernacle had to move so we would find Christ in one another. Now we see a resurgence of Eucharistic devotions in many parishes and religious houses. This resurgence could be a regression to what was, inner adoration for its own sake, or it could be a reworking or a reweav-ing of the inward and outward aspects of the presence of Christ. Pope Benedict said in the apostolic exhortation: "If suitably updated, traditional Eucharistic devotions are worthy of being practiced today" (§68). In other words, insofar as the traditional Eucharistic devotions are united to and balanced with the celebration of the Mass, both are enriching. If either branch of Eucharistic expression loses 397 66.4 2007 398 Rinere * Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life touch with the other, the mutual enrichment is frustrated. If the inner life of adoration does not enrich the outward impulse to service, the fullness of the Eucharistic reality is lost. If the outward impulse to service is not personal-ized by an inner adoration, the fullness of the Eucharistic reality is lost. This balance between inner devotion to the Real Presence in the Eucharist and outward service to the Real Presence in others is the goal for all Christians. We undertake action for justice when Christ is really present for us in one another. Religious Life. At the time of the council, the Eucharistic life of the church had not changed in a long time. The council presented the challenge of renewing and updating our Eucharistic worship and devotions so they reflected a balance between inner tradition and outward action. Now hear that again, with some words changed: At the time of the council, religious life had not changed in a long time. The council presented the challenge of renewing and updating our way of life so that it reflected a balance between inner tradition and outward action. Those who entered our communities in the 1960s happily and gloriously threw off old trappings of reli-gious life as we moved into the 20th century from the 17th, 18th, or 19th. In my own community we jettisoned what kept us inward, cloistered, separated from the world around us. Just as Eucharistic life of the church seeks the balance between tradition and progress, religious communities need the same cautious pursuit. Thus, discussions about Eucharistic adoration .might really be about whether our way of life is or is not balanced between tradition and progress. In the past forty years, have we progressed well in all things? What did we remove from our lives and why? Did we eliminate anything that we need now to hold us Review for Religious together? Did we erase anything that spoke clearly of who we are and what we are about? How can we more. effectively weave past, present, and future together? I do not know the answers to these questions, but wouldn't they make for some interesting conversation at community gatherings? There is much talk these days about women religious being "invisible" in the church. There is much mutter-ing about traditional communities having many vocations while progressive communities do not. Can the struggle to find a balance between inward Eucharistic adoration and outward service be instruc-tive here? Religious life, too, seeks a path of fidelity. We have looked at three aspects of the all-encompassing topic of the Eucharist. Regarding Eucharist as celebration, Eucharist as sacrament received, and Eucharist as object of adoration, we traced some struggles of the last forty years. Can we see ourselves reflected in the mystery which is the "source and summit" of all Christian life? Are we celebratory despite our differences? Can we compromise for the common good? Are we Eucharistic in our deal-ings with one another within community? Are our lives a good balance between tradition and progress, between adoration and action, between yesterday and tomorrow? Looking into such questions would bring Eucharist to the center of the room. It would become more clear to us that the source and summit of the church's life is the source and summit of our lives as well, for "the other sac-raments and all the ecclesiastical works of the apostolate are closely connected with the Most Holy Eucharist and ordered to it" (canon 897). Notes ' Paul Quenon ocso, "The Eucharist: Symbol of Coherence," in The Sacraments: Readings in Contemporary Sacramental Theology, ed. Michael Taylor SJ (New York: Alba House, 1981), p. 145. 399 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 2 Joseph Powers SJ, "Eucharist, Mystery of Faith and Love," in Taylor, Sacraments, p. 119. 3 Code of Canon Law: Latin-English Edition (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1999). 4 Annibale Bugnini, The Reform of the Liturgy: 1948-1975 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1990), p. 289. 5 Bugnini, p. 280. 6 Bugnini, p. 294. 7 See Bugnini, pp. 640-661. 400 Fool's Gold Golden moon of year's end, fiat in the sky, sliding, shrouded, out again, high. No denomination marks its face-- not harvest or prairie, blue moon or silver: no song or moan just moon, alone. But I, contented, lie under this wintry sky chewing on pieces of winter moon tasting of June. Eilee~ Haugh OSF Review for Reli~ous A. PAUL DOMINIC The Christ Child, the Father of the Man For all the humbleness of Christ's birth as Luke portrays it, there is no denying the glamour of Christmas, however people perceive it and adapt theinselves into it. It was so at the first Christmas. The shepherds, the Magi, and Herod all behaved differently. The yearly Christmas in our days smacks of different traditions in differ-ent places. Also, the glamour in church is differ-ent from that of the market; people are attracted or repulsed. But surely there is room for some new traditions, if only they are sensitively cre-aged and sensibly introduced. To start with, however, it is worth discerning what is definitely good and downright bad in the usual responses to Christmas. One may contrast here the experience of Christian children with that of the secular publicJ Christian children celebrating Christmas have an innocence and A. Paul Dominic SJ wrote for us earlier this year, in our 66.2 issue. His new address is Human Development Centre; Port Mourant; Corentyne; Guyana, South America. Jesus and Mary 401 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 402 insight worthy of the true splendor of Christmas, reveal-ing it particularly in their mirth, as G.K. Chesterton has noted. The same thing cannot be said of the merely sec-ular Christmas, an expensive seasonal festival in winter attracting all and sundry. If the commercial Christmas catering to compulsive spending mars the innocent glam-our of Christmas, recent campaigns for the abolition of even the word Christmas would achieve a mere mimicry of Christmas devoid of mirth and glamour. Common among Catholics (at least in India) is another scenario, one they are fond of. Although they are not ignorant of the basic truth of Christmas, they are not well enough informed to appreciate, much less appropriate, the genuine glamour of what they celebrate. They have remained more or less with the same glimpse of Christmas as they had in their childhood. Their enjoy-ment of Christmas has remained stuck in the categories of the child-mind, that has however lost its intuitive spiritual ~ision. So they almost make an idol of the Christ Child, or at least diminish him in their own eyes. Such a rou-tine and even stunted devotion readily becomes a cult of the Infant Jesus carried on throughout the year, even during Lent and the Easter season. Such a popular cult with its unholy accretions--not the least of which is the mushrooming of miracles reminiscent of those reported in the apocryphal gospels--has prospered in India and caused Infant Jesus shrines to be built that attract not only Christians but also Hindus and Muslims. In such vagaries or caricatures of piety, one cannot but suspect something unwholesome and un-Christian. An illustra-tion of this would be a simple Hindu asking a Catholic if the Infant Jesus is a God different from the Christ on the cross. One may compare this to what a biblical scholar says about the Christmas crib. He does .not deny Francis of Assisi's contribution to Christmas when he made the Review for Religious first creche to illustrate the infancy gospels, but he says: "One can appreciate that enormous contribution and still be obliged to wonder whether, through fostering maud-lin sentimentality, the crib/creche might in certain circum-stances become false to the main theological purposes of those narratives." 1 Surely, then, the devotion to the Infant Jesus can-not follow the ancient apocryphal fervor or the modern materialistic route, but must derive, as always, from divine inspiration. The litur-gical inspiration based on Scripture has a pri-mary place. As the old saying goes, lex orandi, lex credendi (the law of prayer is the law of belief). The populaF Infant Jesus devotion has got it wrong,, pro-moting the supposed -- saying of the Infant Jesus in an apparition: "The more you honor me the more I will bless you." This reflects the gosPel tradition regarding Jesus' infancy only minimally. On the other hand, the liturgy, with its true springs of devotion, spreads out the mystery of Christ during the year, including the annunciation to Mary and the birth of her Son, his passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit. Such thinking is in line with what the pristine church came to discover before the close of the first century. After pondering the Lordship of Christ revealed in his death and resurrection, it came to realize his Lordship at his very birth. The early Christians intuited, as shown in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, that Christ was the Lord at his birth, indeed, at his very coriception. John The devotion to the Infant Jesus canno't follow the ancient apocryphal fervor or the modern materialistic route. 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 404 made bold to say that the only-begotten Son of God became flesh, to be identified as Christ. Inheriting the full intuition of the evangelists faithfully enough, every gen-eration of Christians must learn to embrace the whole of the mystery of Christ. The only way open to us is that we reverse the way the first generation traversed, beginning where they ended and ending where they began. What they could understand only backwards, from the end, we start from the beginning. So we may frame a question as follows. Knowing that Christmas is not a self-contained mystery suitable for children and guarded by conservators, how can adult Christians celebrate and enjoy it for what it is, namely, an incipient open-ended mystery? A simple answer, already hinted at, is that we ought to be forward looking, developing an eschatological sensitivity. An initial clue may be found in Luke's telling of Christ's birth as following upon John's. At his birth John was very special to his parents and even their neighbor-hood. For all that, however, their focus was on the future; they wondered, "What will this child be?" That was the way they were interested in him as a unique individual of exceptional worth and grace. "For the hand of the Lord was with him" (Lk 1:66). However glorious he was at his birth, reminiscent of Isaac, Samson, and Samuel, it was no more than a measure of his future. Rightly, then, his father Zechariah gave voice to the unanimous expecta-tion of his neighbors, uttering a prophecy about his long-awaited son: And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Lk 1:76-79) Review for Religious In the story of Jesus, too, the same pattern of inter-est is noticeable. When Jesus was born and the news was made known to others, the focus was on what was to follow. If the shepherds told the details of the newborn child, it was not to glorify him in his swaddling clothes and perpetuate him in the manger; rather, the minutiae surrounding him were signs of what he was destined to be. Born a savior, he would prove himself a born savior, though one of an unexpected sort: he would save his peo-ple from their sins. The infant Savior was then and there no perfect Savior, if one may dare put it that way, for he was to become perfect in time's due course. Explicitly averring so in an early passage (5:8-9), the Letter to the Hebrews expatiates upon it later: When Christ came into the world, he said, "Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body you have prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings you have taken no pleasure. Then I said, 'See, I have come to do your will, O God.'" . . . When he said above "You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt offerings and sin offerings," then he added, "See, I have come to do your will." He abolishes the first in order to establish the second. And it is by God's will that we have been sanc-tified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. (Heb 10:5-10) Besides Savior, another title of the infant Jesus was King, both in Luke and Matthew. The glory of any infant king lies in his future. So when the Angel Gabriel announced to Mary God's plan for her, he did not con-fine himself to remarks about the pleasant or miracu-lous details of Jesus' birth or status; rather, he went on to describe intently his purposeful destiny. Born in the line of King David, he would himself be a king in his own right, but, unlike David, would exercise his king-ship without end. Something of that future both King 405 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man Perhaps no mature mother could be absorbed totally in the present affairs of her child without being future oriented. 406 Herod's fear and the faith of the Magi foresaw, and they acted accordingly only to prove in different ways the last-ing kingship of him who, however, could exercise it only when he came of age. For all her motherly adoration of the Christ Child, Mary was not wholly occupied with his existence as a bun-dle of wonder. Right from her conception of this child, she was forward looking even as she became involved with him and treasured her immediate experience of him. Even in the first flush of her motherhood, she was left wondering what her child was going to be, especially after hearing what the visiting shepherds had to tell her about him. As she gazed at him in her arms, she also kept peering into whatever was emerging about him indicative of his future. A highly significant occasion was her meeting with Simeon. Hearing .his utterance, glorious and yet strange, about the destiny of her child for the rising and falling of many in Israel, she could not rest content clinging to Jesus only as to the son of her womb. Going beyond her motherhood, she had to set her eyes on the prophetic figure that he was to grow into, fulfilling the expectations of her own people. Perhaps no mature mother .could be absorbed totally in the present affairs of.her child without being future oriented, especially as the child grows out of childhood. Mary was led to visualize her Son's future right from the start by the divine intervention she recognized in her-self and the shepherds and the Magi and Simeon and, Review for Religious of course, her own Son, especially on his first visit to the temple. One may well say that almost every event in her life had a way of transporting her from her present involvement with her Son to the oncoming scenario of his life. Her life with her Son consisted, then, in detecting and discerning God's designs for him. It was an experi-ence of not merely seeing her Son with her wondering eyes and cherishing him as her own flesh and blood in homely surroundings. More than that, it was a matter of her perceiving him beyond space and time and so seek-ing an understanding of him as the grown man he was becoming. If ever the child is the father of the man, it was uniquely so in the case of her Son, Jesus. Such an ¯ understanding could not be given or received by flesh and blood. In her own way but also in the light of her Son's ever revealing Abba, who was and is and will be, Mary pondered the mystery of her child, whether suckling or growing and maturing. If there was a time when people knew Jesus only in the flesh, it could not continue that way; it had to cease sooner or later (see 2 Co 5:16).2 And Mary, his mother, would have learned this early, though it seems she never learned it enough. That is why, at certain junctures, she did not understand her Son's words and deeds. Her Son was deepening her understanding and her consolation. It is a credit to her that she continued to ponder what was occurring.3 The babyhood, childhood, and youth of Jesus were passing stages in more ways than one. He grew--continued to grow--in age, wisdom, and grace. If Mary was not unaware of her Son's growth, she could be stunned at times by what seemed a sudden growth and awareness. This.concerned his unique relationship with his Abba, even to the point of letting his earthly parents become deeply worried about him when we was twelve, at the dawn of his Jewish adulthood. All the rest of his life 407 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 4O8 stoW told in the Gospels, including his passion, death, and resurrection, was an unfolding of that initial appreciation of his Abba's delight. It is in this light that at Christmas we can hear the whisper of the Father to his Son: "You are my Son; today I have begotten you" (Ps 2:7). Later, of course, we hear "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased" (Lk 3:22). Anyone who does not cherish such a perspective of Jesus even while being engaged in contemplating his childhood misses in no small measure the mystery that he is. The great mystery of our religion is indeed pre-cisely he, the kind of person he was and is. It is multipolar mystery touching many stages of his life, one leading to the other not only step by step but by leaps and bounds. An ancient hymn sang it thus: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, preached among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory. (1 Tm 3:16) Revelation of him in the flesh is indeed Christmas and Christmas gloW. To appreciate it fully, all three elements in the description--the person revealed, the fact of rev-elation, and the mode of revelation--must be weighed and valued. Perhaps John does this best and so he can say, "The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glow, the gloW as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth" On 1:14). This glow, of course, is the gloW of his entire life. St. Ignatius, till sometime after his conversion, was not an enlightened believer. He came to be blessed with enlightenment, however, as he matured in the faith. He shared his experience in his practical notes that became the classic Spiritual Exercises. There he proposes a con- Review for Religious templation on Jesus' birth in which he helps retreatants not to miss the fullness of the Christmas mystery. He points out that, if the Lord is born in great poverty, it is so that, after many hardships such as hunger, thirst, heat, cold, injuries, insults, and so forth, he may die on the cross.4 The church discovered such a spirit and introduced it in its way of praying. It nurtured it in a simple way through the Angelus. Reciting it three times a day, any-one-- child or adult, peasant or professional, artist or scientist--can learn to be at home with the full mystery of Christ. The three antiphons and three Hail Marys recall the mystery of joy at Christmas and associate us with Mary, who knew that joy as no one else. The conclud-ing prayer begins again with the annunciation/incarna-tion only to lead to the mystery of the passion, cross, and resurrection. There is no better way of doing homage to Jesus at any time, even Christmas. The Story of the Other Wise Man by Henry Van Dyke teaches all this in another way. With the proverbial three wise men, a fourth one, named Artaban, plans to visit the newborn Jewish king. He sets out with three gifts for him: a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl. But, on the way to the agreed place of meeting, he finds a sick traveler lying alone on his desert path. He stays with him to nurse him to health. That prevents him from reaching his friends in time. Left alone, he sells his sapphire to provide him-self with the necessary caravan for the journey. When he reaches his destination, he finds sadly that the family of the baby king has fled from Bethlehem to escape Herod's murderous plans. To the house where he is staying, sol-diers come to slaughter a child, and he gives his ruby to them and saves the terrified mother and child. Setting out again, he travels far and wid

Issue 59.6 of the Review for Religious, 2000. ; NOVEMBER: DECEMBER 2000 ,VOLUME 59 NUMBER 6 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, iVlO 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 subsEription rates. ©2000 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. Jew rel,g,ous 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 Tracy Gramm James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB. Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Patricia Wittberg SC NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER 6 contents 566 spiritual practice Retrieving the Practice of Silence Donald J. Goergen oP enters us into an appreciation of silence that we might commit ourselves more to its observance. 575 The Dangers of Solitude Kenneth C. Russell, guiding readers through some 12th-century advice to hermits, shows its 2 l st-cenrury relevance to hermits and others as well. 584 A Spiritual Direction Mary Beth Moore SC gazes at, listens to, a few moments of reality and possibility within contemporary sisterly living. 594 a witness response Contemplative Religious Witness: A Redemptoristine Monastery Dennis J. Billy CSSR finds the life of a group of contemplative sisters very much present to his apostolic mission, and happily reflects that the reverse is true as well. 601 AVowed Response to the Postmodern World Andr~ Maureen Soete SSND seeks ways for the vowed life to contribute more vigorously, more effectively, to the alleviation of troubles in our troubled world. Review for Religious 608 examples from the past Mary Ward: Centuries Her Scroll Lawrence F. Barmann sketches the life story of Mary Ward, the saintly English founder of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, as an inspiration for us living in the current ecclesial milieu. 614 627 St. Catherine's Letters: Human Love, Gracious Authority Stan Parmisano OP finds that in style and content the letters of Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) have surprising and challenging and charming relevance for persons living today. Katharine Drexel's Cultural Relevance Now Normandie J. Gaitley SSJ sketches the life of the recently canonized Mother Katharine Drexel SBS (1858-1955), a Philadelphia debutante who used her inheritance to serve Native Americans and African Americans. 633 643 vocation When Vocations Happen by Accident Elizabeth Julian RSM describes with quiet enthusiasm her sense of a flexible small community in New Zealand that fosters acquaintance and has shown itself to foster vocations. Vocational Support Donald Macdonald SMM speaks of the human need of support in one's vocation and of the providential availability of that support if we are alert to its manifold presence. departments 564 Prisms 650 Canonical Counsel: Responsibilities of the Novice Director 656 Book Reviews 666 Indexes to Volume 59 November-December 2000 prisms Whave come to appreciate the rich complexi.ty of the biblical term jubilee, espe-cially as we have looked toward the new millennium. But as we approach the Advent and Christmas seasons of the year 2000, one focus of jubilee stands out. Jubilee implies celebration. Advent and Christmas seasons pro-vide an opportune moment for us to consider what it is that we celebrate. Celebrati6n often means bringing people together, sometimes those dearest to us, and at other times the "crowd" that comes together only for special occasions. Celebration can include elegant banquets or simple fin-ger food. It may suggest a refined cocktail party or a noisy beer-keg-and-pretzels get-together. Celebration can imply long-term planning or it may be a spur-of-the- moment, spontaneous occasion. We celebrate beginnings, like newborn babies and the wedding day; we celebrate completions, like school graduations and retirements. We observe national patriotic days, and we take time for religious festivals. But for all the aspects of a jubilee year of forgiveness, justice, and reconciliation, what is it that we most cele-brate? The biblical notion of jubilee celebrates, above all, our being God's people and our living like God's sons and daughters. This planet called Earth is "home" for us because it is God's home. Our space-age view of our planet Earth has brought home to us how much we all are "stewards," not owners, of God's gift to us. Review for Religious What is striking is how our jubilee celebrations enter us into the Gospel Prodigal Son parable. Whether we more identify with one who hopes to see life as only an arena of personal delights and squanderings or whether we more identify with the other who defines life as a kind of slavery with weighty obligations and grim duties, we realize how much we need a jubilee understanding of life. Both sons, in Jesus' famous parable, understand neither the father who helped bring them into life nor the life which this father wants to share with them. The first son in his self-cen-tered celebrating misses the point of celebration. The second son in his self-defined servitude also misses the idea of celebra-tion. Just as the father in the parable goes out of the way to meet each son, so God continues to break into our life to call us to a reality of biblical jubilee. Advent is our jubilee celebration of our longing and desire to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our life. Christmas is our jubilee celebration of God's desire and longing to come and play forever among the children of Earth. Advent and Christmas are at the center of our understanding jubilee because both seas~ons emphasize the heart of all our reasons to celebrate: God calls us sons and daughters, and we know the redemptive salvation that Jesus brought, of living in God's home all the days of our life. David L. Fleming SJ thank you for your ~uppor~throughout thi~ pa~t yoar and pray that (~od~rieh o a nd~ abundant iubiloo Advont and ~hri~tma~ Th~ Mitor~ and ,of Revi~ ~orRoligiou~ . " November-December 2000 spiritua practice DONALD J. GOERGEN Retrieving the Practice of Silence Jesus experienced the need for quiet. "In the morn-ing, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed"(Mk 1:35, NRSV). What did he seek there? What did he find? The Book of Psalms is quoted in the New Testament more often than any other book of the Hebrew Bible. What role did the psalms play in the prayer of Jesus? "Be still, and know that I am God" (Ps 46:10). How often in the course of his life did Jesus pray over verses like that, or this: "For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation"? (Ps 62:1). There are few things in human life more important, both personally and communally, than discovering the value of silence. Spirituality and religion are important dimensions of human and social life, and so are silence and stillness. Other civilizations, perhaps more pastoral, more agrarian ones, had greater opportunities for the practice of silence. Our times seem less fortunate in that regard. Yet silence is essential to wholesome living. My purpose in these reflections is to help us appreciate silence more and commit ourselves to practicing it. Donald J. Goergen OP wrote on celibacy for our May- June 1998 issue. His address is Friends of God Dominican Ashram; 720 35th Street; Kenosha, Wisconsin 53140. Review for Religious Worship, Charity, and Silence Which is more important, love of God or love of neighbor? (Mk 12:28-31). It does not take much to realize that this question is falsely posed. Which is more important, inhaling or exhaling, yang or yin? St. Anselm spoke of God as "the Being a greater than which cannot be conceived." Certainly, for one who believes, God alone deserves to be worshiped. Adoration and praise are the only appro-priate responses to God. Although there is nothing in human life more important than love of God, the God of Jesus instructs us that there is something that must precede or accompany it. "So, when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remem-ber that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift" (Mt 5:23- 24). "Those who say 'I love God,' and hate their brothers or sis-ters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also" (1 Jn 4:20-21). As important as worship is, equally important is the practice of charity, love of neighbor, the "works of mercy" (Mr 25:31-46). The revolution in Jesus' teaching was not that he understood love of God, the Shema (Dr 6:4-5), as the core of the Hebrew Scriptures. Almost every practicing and devout Jew understood that to be the great com-mandment. But Jesus' placing love of neighbor (Lv 19:18; Mk 12:31) on a par with love of God, that was revolutionary, and for him that was what true religion is about. For Jesus, the second commandment is not secondary, not second in the sense of less significant. According to Matthew, it is "like" the "great and first" commandment (Mr 22:38-39). Luke (10:27) reports them as really one commandment. True worship or love of God is inseparable from true com-passion or love of neighbor. But what do love of God and love of neighbor, or worship and the works of mercy, have to do with the practice of silence? Abhishiktananda, or Henri Le Saux, the French monk who came to India in 1948 and immersed himself in its reli-gious environment, wrote: Now if something has passed in this long discourse by the way of words, yet beyond words, if you have heard in the words of the Upanishads some echo of what the Spirit has November-Decenlber 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving the Practice of Silence certainly whispered in your heart when you sat in contem-plation of the mystery of the Father and the Son, then you will discover by yourselves the secret of what is called the Advaitic or Upanishadic prayer. It can be summed up in one Hebrew phrase of Psalm 65, which Jerome translates: silen-tium tibi laus. Silence is praise for you. Silence in prayer, silence in thanksgiving, prayer, and adoration, silence in meditation, silence inside and outside as the most essential preparation for this stillness of the soul in which alone the Spirit can work at his pleasure.~ The contemplative and interior journey, the love and worship of God, are dependent on silence. But charity or love of neigh-bor depends on silence too. A loving kindness toward our human companions on this earth requires the silent journey inward just as true worship of God requires it. Can there be true love of neigh-bor without confronting the truth about ourselves? Can we expect reconciliation and forgiveness in our world if we ourselves are not yet ready to forgive? If we are to transform our world, we must also be working on becoming transformed ourselves. Social engage-ment requires time apart. Silence is essential if we are to deepen our love for God and our love for our neighbor. Silence, Solitude, and Simplicity What does silence sound like? What does it look like? Are there different kinds of silence? Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earth-quake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. (1 Kg 19:11-13) True silence, the inner stillness, the still point, is an achieve-ment to be sought, yet always remains a grace. But it is a grace upon which we must focus our attention. It requires discipline, which does not guarantee interior silence, but rather prepares the way. We must devote time to "the practice of silence," the practice of interior and contemplative prayer, the practice of an awareness that is the fruit of quieting the mind.2 Such "quiet" is not easily obtained in our world today. Not Review for Religious that a busy, technological, urban society is the enemy of silence, but neither is it a friend. Modern social and commercial life cannot prevent the pursuit of silence, but neither do they encourage or value it. Entertainment is a noisy industry. The more channels we have on television, the better. But then they must be filled--with "stuff," whatever it be. They compete for attention; thus, the more out-rageous, the more likely the success. The Internet now multiplies ways to distract us from an inner stillness. Not to find television entertaining seems quaint. To see it or the overuse of the Internet as distraction from true entertain-ment, a life with God quietly pursued, is sec-ular heresy. For silence is not the stuff of which modern societies, commerce, or edu-cation are ordinarily made. Not that the media, the schools, the churches, market-places, and businesses are avowed enemies of silence; they are just uneasy with it. We are talking about a disciplined silence that requires resolve. Its close friends are solitude and simplicity. These compan-ions reveal how countercultural true silence really is. Solitude is one of silence's most cherished friends. Yet how difficult it is in our world today to find solitude, to pursue solitude, to practice solitude. We are "driven" away from it. We can hardly face the silence within ourselves. We flee. As Francis Thompson wrote: I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter.3 The running is aided by all the activities of our world, justified by the needs of our world, and rationalized by "This is just our world and that's the way it is." To desire silence we must value solitude. We identify aloneness with loneliness. But, until we are at home with ourselves, we will always be lonely, no matter how busy, how "with it," how much with others we might be. As we know, marriage is no cure for loneliness. Neither is single life. Dietrich Modern social and commercial life cannot prevent the pursuit of silence, but neither do they encourage or value it. November-December 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving tbe Practice of Silence Bonhoeffer once cautioned us to be wary of the person who lives with another or in community who cannot be alone, or who lives alone but cannot live in community.4 Sociality and solitude are two sides of the same coin: we can-not find one without the other. Silence lives on solitude. We must find ways to structure it into our lives on a regular basis, like the food we eat. Where can we find that place apart, that space for being alone, and for how long can we keep ourselves there with-out being taken up by distractions~ Where can we go to practice silence? Or how in the midst of activity can we find that cell within? s One of solitude's companions is simplicity of life. Simplicity inside requires simplicity outside. A cluttered, thing-filled, con-sumer- intensive environment is hardly the place in which to prac-tice an awareness that few things in life are important. The world immediately outside myself needs to reflect what I am trying to attain within myself. Simplicity in life is an outward expression of simplicity within. One's "within" and "without" go together. And now we can see more clearly why our current economic world can easily become an enemy of silence. The pursuit of silence eventu-ally becomes a pursuit of simplicity of life--which is a recognizable enemy to a consumer economy, a global and ever expanding mar-ket economy. Not that the market is evil; it is just easy prey to the pretension that it alone is important, the be-all and end-all of human life. The practices of silence, solitude, and simplicity enable us to see the truth about economic pursuits: How inhumane they can be when given priority in life, how grounded in greed they become! Kinds of Silence There are a variety of silences.6 Silence can be either destruc-tive or constructive.7 Destructive silence is refusing to speak when a word is called for, a word of consolation, of affection, of chal-lenge. Destructive silence can be passive aggression, a refusal to participate, a lack of care, a form of punishment, unconscionable noncommunication. But silence as context for an interior journey is positive. Silence as a socia! context is the absence of noise in our imme-diate environment. There are different degrees of environmental silence. A noiseless environment is difficult to find in modern Review for Religious urban settings. One can distinguish rural silences and urban silences. For someone unaccustomed to rural silences, the sound of the cricket or the howl of a coyote can be disturbing. There are sounds to which we have become accustomed and those to which we are not. Familiar sounds need not destroy environmen-tal silence, but can blend with it. There is a silent stillness to the vastness of nature: the sounds and silence of the ocean, the moun-tains, the desert, the plains. Each is a different environment and a different silence. On a windless day, sitting atop one of the mountain peaks of the Sangre de Cristo range near Christ in the Desert Monastery in northern New Mexico, one can hear an almost Human silence absolute environmental silence. Human silence is the presence of nonspeech, call be a silence It is not necessarily noncommunication or non-of solitude, communitarian. Silence itself can communicate abundantly, and it is amazing what can be corn- but it can also be municated without words. Human silence can be a silence of solitude, but it can also be commu- communitarian. nitarian. A solemn silence can prevail in Christian or Buddhist monasteries or a Hindu ashram, in a synagogue, church, or mosque. These settings or "environments" can be sacred space. There are times and places when human speech is out of place or out of season. Human silence can be community silence, but there is also personal silence. An individual person can cultivate silence--by seeking environmental silence, or sacred space, or solitude, but also by the practice of silence: avoiding unnecessary speech, c~eating personal space, the silence of one's own room, withdrawing to "the cell within," lis-tening to music, allowing absorption in art and beauty, acquiring an inner stillness and the practice of meditation. Personal silence itself is not only oriented toward calm, tran-quillity, and an absence of stress, but ultimately toward interior silence, the silencing of the mind, even if this is rare or only momentary. I remember a conversation with a cloistered Dominican nun, who had a doctorate and had been teaching before joining this cloistered contemplative community. When I asked why she had joined the monastery, she replied, "I needed to stop thinking if I was going to start praying." The human being is a reflective being, but also a contemplative being that sometimes needs to move beyond thoughts (mental silence) as well as wordsv-~z-~'~---)-'[-i November-December 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving the Practice of Silence (verbal silence). The interior journey is in fact directed toward this deep silence within, this cave of the heart, this still point, this soul of the soul, this human spirit. Spiritual silence is the human spirit at peace, the silence of the spirit in its communion with the Spirit of God, the divine Spirit, the Holy Spirit. This is mystical silence, with its dark nights, its ecstatic joy, its calm recollection, its deep rest. Silence of any sort is most often not constant, but periodic, coming at intervals, having a rhythm of its own. Deep silence, mystical silence, is not an achievement but a grace. Thus one can speak of the grace of silence, a grace that is present in varied ways and at varied levels, exteriorly and interiorly: the prayer of silence, the silent Presence, the Holy Mystery. It is this mystery that we cel-ebrate in liturgy and seek in contemplation. We experience litur-gical silence, a pastoral silence, intimate silences, times and places not to speak, for which words are inappropriate, occasions on which only silence can communicate. Silence can communicate from within a depth beyond words. In community, in friendship, in ministry, and in prayer there must be silence as well as speech. Divine silence is God's very own silence, God's very own self-communication, God's' awesome and incomprehensible transcen-dence, God's overwhelming intimate immanence, God's elusive presence and mysterious absence, God's truth and God's beauty, the Nameless One whose name is Father, Son, and Spirit, the One- Who-Is, the One-Who-Is-With-Us, the silence of being, the sound of ore, the soundlessness of communion, the union of God and humanity, the union of Word and flesh, the triune union, the incor-poration of humanity into the silent triunity of its Creator. There is ultimately no distinction between divine Silence and divine Speech. They are one 'and the same. God's speech is silent, and God's silence speaks. Silence and Theology .The practice of silence is necessary not only for the spiritual journey and to sustain our humanity. It is also essential for doing theology. Theologians are accountable for their theology to their professional peers, to their varied communities of faith, and to society at large for the quality, fidelity, and social implications of their work. They cannot absolve themselves of this threefold responsibility. But the theologian is also accountable to God. One Review for Religious does not stand before the Holy Mystery, the mysterium fascinans et tremendum, without asking the Holy Spirit for courage, guid-ance, and wisdom. In other words, all theology must begin with prayer. It has both a reflective moment and a contemplative moment. It is not an ego project, but a work of the Spirit. Theology cannot be done apart from silence. The practice of silence, of placing oneself in the presence of God, of meditation, of listening, of longing are all part of doing theology. Theology can too easily become words, verbal batdes, polemic, agenda ridden, jargon, rather than revelatory, illuminating, con-nected to life, committed to Truth. This happens when theolo-gians neglect the practice of contemplative silence--which would make them aware of both the inadequacy and the necessity of words for communicating the divine mystery. A theologian needs to be practiced in the art of silence. So does the magisterium in the church need to practice it. "Roma locuta est," the saying goes. But think of the symbolic power in "Roma tacuit." What a wonderful example that could be. Magisterial authority must reflect that we are a learning church as well as a teaching church. Is not part of the crisis over author-ity the ways in which the church exercises its authority? We do not grant authority easily to those who do not listen. Silence gives value to words. Apart from words, silence can be sterile, but apart from silence words lose their power. As Ecclesiastes (3:7) says, "There is a time for keeping silence, a time for speaking." Silence is a work of the Spirit. True silence is ulti-mately prayer. It speaks with authority. It communicates truth. It creates community. It is the voice of the soul, of the human spirit, and of the Holy Spirit. Can we afford to allow its practice to become peripheral in our lives? In The Sleeping Beauty, Ralph Harper points to the value of silence for our world: Each order of experience has its own a.tmosphere. The atmo-sphere of presence, of giving, of wholeness, is silence. We know that serious things have to be done in silence, because we do not have words to measure the immeasurable. In silence people love, pray, listen, compose, paint, write, think, suffer. These experiences are all occasions of giving and receiving, of some encounter with forces that are inex-haustible and independent of us. These are easily distin-guishable from our routines and possessiveness as silence is distinct from noise.8 November-December 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving the Practice of Silence Not only nuns and monks, but all of us need to retrieve the art and practice of silence. We need to dip deeply into the silent abyss of self, of God, of God in the self and the self in God, We need to explore the emptiness and the fullness that lie within us. We need silence. Notes 1 Abhishiktananda, "The Upanishads and Advaitic Experience," in The Further Shore (New Delhi: I.S.P.C.K., 1984), p. 117. 2 Buddhist traditions also see a triple relationship: compassion, rooted ¯ in egolessness, which in turn is rooted in mindfulness. These three are intimately connected. See Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying (San Francisco: Harper, 1992), esp. pp. 59-72, 116-122, 188-201. 3 The first lines of "The Hound of Heaven." 4 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1954), esp. pp. 76~89. "Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone. ¯. The mark of solitude is silence, as speech is the mark of community. Silence and speech have the same inner correspondence and difference as do solitude and community. One does not exist without the other. Right speech comes out of silence, and right silence out of speech. Silence does not mean dumbness, as speech does not mean chatter. Dumbness does not create solitude and chatter does not create fellowship" (p. 78). s See Catherine of Siena: The Dialogue, trans. Suzanne Noffke OP (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), on the "cell of self-knowledge," pp. 25, 118, 122, 125, 135, and 158. 6 Theodore Pereira in "Eloquence in Silence, Healing in Stillness," Indian Theological Studies 33 (June 1996): 99-126, has written about different types of silences. 7 "Silence itself is expressed in several ways. We know silences of contempt and of joy, of pain and of pleasure, of consent and of solitude." Jean-Luc Marion, God without Being (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), pp. 53-54. ~ Ralph Harper, The Sleeping Beauty (London: Harvill Press, 1955), pp. 110-111. The word "men" in the original was changed to "people" to accommodate current usage. Review for Religious KENNETH C. RUSSELL The Dangers of Solitude ~o~e~oe ldi!a nTgheerrse oisf as ololintugd tera. dAitniodn t hoef wwaarrnniinngg sw hoauvlde- bneo th ceormmiets solely from cenobites suspicious of solitaries off doing "their own thing." Religious who have the highest regard for the blessings and joys of the life of aloneness with God have tempered their enthusiasm with cautionary words about the special difficulties the solitary is likely to encounter. Thomas Merton, for example, warns that "sordid difficulties and uncertainties" attend .the life of even interior solitude,l Authors from the first centuries of the church conjure up frightening pictures of the demons who lie in wait for the unsuspecting hermit, while modern writers warn newcomers to the desert that solitude will force them to confront the disturbing image of their true self. The message is clear: more awaits the novice hermit than the beauties of nature and the spiritual delights which ancient and contemporary enthusiasts of the eremitical life tend to emphasize. I suppose that most contemporary solitaries would agree that demons in one guise or another must be wrestled with and that it can, indeed, be a distressing experience to come face to face with the self we usually avoid in a flurry of activity. However, I also suspect that most hermits are somewhat amused by both the modern and the ancient depiction of their lot. They would be only too happy to confess that there are no monsters writhing in the Kenneth C. Russell last wrote for our March-April 2000 issue. His address remains 40 Landry Street, Apt. 1505; Vanier, Ontario; K1L 8K4 Canada. November-December 2000 E5-7-5 Russell ¯ The Dangers of Solitude corners of their huts and that the identity crisis so precious to their contemporaries does not keep them awake nights. What they actually confront, it seems, is a routine cycle of sun and cloud on a prairie stretching clear to the horizon. There are no mountains or valleys to speak of. Their bad days are as unremarkable as their good ones. They struggle against subtle temptations, not spectacular ones. It has always been so. The 12th-century Cistercian Aelred of Rievaulx recognized this in his hard-hitting Letter to a Recluse, addressed to his elderly sister but written with less seasoned solitaries in mind? So did his contemporaries Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes, who wrote shorter and less theologically dense letters to male recluses who had asked their advice.3 Twelfth-century recluses lived in circumstances that are quite different from those in which most modern hermits seek solitude. But this does not mean that the letters of Peter and Bernard are merely quaint witnesses to a bygone era. The basics of the eremitical life are constant across the centuries. They are also unaffected by the way in which different solitaries choose to live the eremitical life. Whether the solitary is a recluse, a hermit, or a homeless wanderer like Benedict Joseph Labre does not radically modify the eremitical life. Consequently the letters Peter and Bernard wrote to 12th-century male monastic recluses remain relevant to male and female solitaries of all kinds, even today. Indeed, it seems to me that their practical orientation makes them especially useful. Therefore, I want to focus on the difficulties these authors see arising when the honeymoon period of the eremitical life--which may last a good long time--is finally over. In highlighting some of the minor difficulties which can grow into major problems if not attended to, it is not my intention to present a negative view of the solitary life. It does have dark days; it would not be a human enterprise if it did not. However, in focusing on the gray periods, I am not denying its spells of fine weather. I am merely reiterating the warning uttered down the centuries that people who wander off into the desert on their own had better know what they are about. Peter the Venerable's Letter to Ghislebert Peter the Venerable, the great abbot of Cluny, was, by his own admission, a very busy man. In fact, he shocks us a bit by admitting that he read the letters from a Cluniac recluse named Ghislebert in Review for Religious his choir stall on Holy Saturday. He claims that he had simply not been able to find a moment to read them earlier. Peter may have been rushed, but he nevertheless knew something about the eremitical life. Not only did he himself periodically spend time in solitude, but he had pastoral experience in directing monks who sought a solitary retreat for a limited period or for life. There were actually a large number of hermits living in the woods near Cluny. Peter the Venerable, then, knew what he was talking about when he replied to Ghislebert's request for guidance. The key to Peter's advice is the emphasis he puts on the idea that, as a recluse, Ghislebert has been buried with Christ. We do not know the nature of the liturgical ceremony with which Ghislebert was committed to his cell, but other sources indicate that the idea of being buried with Christ and dead to the world was sometimes dramatically represented by using funeral rites to initiate such enclosure. In any case, Peter emphasizes that, if his effort to live as a recluse is going to succeed, Ghislebert had better be sure that he is indeed dead to the world and the world dead to him. To drive home the point, Peter quotes the desert father Arsenius: "Flee people, be silent, and you will be saved." In short, be what you have set out to be and all will be well. Although we may feel a little ill-at-ease with the medieval idea of the recluse being rather literally buried with Christ, it is obvious that any new solitary needs to make a definitive break with the world and his or her past to get off to a good start. He or she has to be serious about being marginal. But, for all the images of being cut off and buried, the reality is that a living human being goes into the desert. He or she wants to be there, of course, but the spiritual and especially the psychological conditioning to solitude is not achieved by a mere act of will. The hermit, in fact, begins with some interior dividedness. Part of the self has no interest in disappearing. Inevitably the life force will rise up against the isolation and denial of achievement that the solitary life demands. Hermits also soon discover, as the Carthusian Guigo II puts it, that they are a crowd unto themselves. They are, indeed, the doorway through which the world presses into the cell. They may succeed in finding a quiet spot on the sidelines of society, but the Hermits soon discover that they are a crowd unto themselves. November-December 2000 Russell ¯ The Dangers of Solitude internal vacuum created by their withdrawal makes them vulnerable to the imagination's readiness to reassert their right to a place in the world. Since hermits have what we might term a "weak" present, the mind tends to take refuge in either the past or the future. Bernard of Portes will highlight the way in which the past crowds into the hermit's mind. Peter the Venerable puts more emphasis on the daydreams about the future which exploit the hermit's status to draw him away from his solitude. He pictures the monk turned hermit imagining that he feels the tabs of a bishop's miter on the back of his necl~ or fantasizing that he is the wise, holy, and much admired abbot of a large monastic community. This is all nonsense, of course, and surely most beginners are as amused by the tricks the imagination plays as Peter the Venerable is. What is not funny is that these silly thoughts can trouble prayer. It is also true, unfortunately, that small threads can weave themselves into strong ropes. If hermits are not careful, they can convince themselves that they are made for something better than the sorry life of a solitary. A more serious pressure to "return from the dead" and reenter the hustle and bustle of.life, bit by bit, springs from the essential nature of the solitary existence. Hermits have to live without the external momentum that social interaction usually provides. They are not carried along by the excitement of what is going on at their workplace, nor can they look forward to parties or sports events to distract them. Unfortunately, unless solitaries maintain their focus on whatever is the task of the moment, their day-to-day existence will begin to feel dull and wearisome. The obvious way to relieve this lethargy is for the solitary to engage in a small amount of pastoral or counseling activity. This sounds like a psychologically sound idea, especially to modern Christians, who are more than a little suspicious of the way hermits pull away from the good causes "activists" think so important. Peter the Venerable, however, is not so sure. He is afraid that this public ministry will become addictive. Instead of relieving the hermits' boredom so that they can return to the solitary life refreshed, each turn outward makes solitude all the more unbearable and the turn away from it all the easier. What looks like a solution to the pressures of the eremitical regime can destroy a hermit's ability to live the solitary life. "Doing good" can do a hermit in. A second consequence of the turn outward is that the solitaries' Review for Religious availability attracts people who offer two enticing things: prestige and cash. Since the strict eremitical life deprives hermits of the ordinary opportunities to see themselves mirrored in the reaction of others, Peter the Venerable rightly fears that Ghislebert will take the high esteem in which he is held by those he helps as the true measure of his worth. The abbot sees a further danger in the money that the hermit will be offered for his services. With all the good intentions in the world, Ghislebert can easily find himself managing a little charitable fund which will grow, as such things do, until, as Peter puts it, he is putting up buildings and demolishing himself. Peter's point would seem to be that hermits who are not perfectly honest about their motivations can make a place for themselves in the world. They can keep an address in the woods, as it were, and still be part of society. The price they pay, unfortunately, is the abandonment of their original commitment. History offers many examples which confirm that the hardest thing in the world for solitaries is actually to be what they profess to be. Aelred of Rievaulx was very hard on the way in which solitaries drift into outside activities. He sharply admonished them to wake up to the facts of their vocation. "When you are pressured to get involved: Tu sede, tu tace, tu sustine. Sit still, keep quiet, and stick it out! Period! Leave the doing of good deeds to those who .have the responsibility for such tasks." The solitary's fundamental temptation, it seems, is to focus on something other than God. According to Peter, this can be anything from good works to an obsession with health or appearance. "Doing good" can do a hermit in. Bernard of Portes's Letter to Rainald The Carthusian Bernard of Portes agrees with Peter the Venerable that solitaries need to be on guard against the distractions that are likely to entice them away from their fundamental commitment. He is particularly sensitive, however, to the spiritual and psychological repercussions of the hermit's withdrawal from society. He understands very well that the social self will not go lightly into solitude. Though hermits are united to all believers and, indeed, all humanity in their union with Christ in his church, the social self wants to strut its stuff in the midst of the diversions November-December 2000 Russell * The Dangers of Solitude Hermits do not have the social status they enjoyed in the 12th century. of the marketplace. It does not want to be shut away with not much more than God to focus on. Therefore, Bernard warns Rainald that he must expect a spell of bad weather sooner or later. One day he might be hit by a wave of sadness and the next be in a bad mood and irritable. He will find tapes from his past running in his head while he reedits the script of what he said and did. A troupe of lewd thoughts will stage its floor show one day, and lukewarnmess flood in the next. It seems that there is no escape from these inner storms and flat stretches. Indeed, Bernard maintains that hermits go into the desert specifically t6 wrestle with these elements that distract us from God. They are, we might say, the psychological echoes of a hermit's attachment to the world he or she claims to have renounced. Bernard of Portes warns hermits that, because they are no longer carried along by the current of daily life in society, they will be the targets of acedia and sadness. Acedia, a listless psychospiritual condition, weighs so heavily on its victims that some escape from the boredom o'f the here and now into dreams of what has been and might yet be while others slip into the torpor of chronic fatigue. This affliction, which involves a hanging back from the initial vocational commitment and a failure to actualize it in the present moment, "detemporalizes" hermits. It weakens their focus on the here and now and sets them adrift. Therefore they look outward for things to occupy their mind and fill their time. Bernard says it is very important for hermits to give their life a certain self-generated dynamism by moving from one activity to another th~'oughout the day. Oddly enough, this is in accord with the traditional wisdom that the secret of the eremitical life is "Keep it moving." Bernard also emphasizes meditation and advises Rainald to be totally present to the words he is saying when he recites the Office. Bernard, it is quite clear, believes that acedia can be held at bay if a hermit puts his or her mind to it and lives in the present moment. Sadness, however, is another matter. Bernard seems convinced that an occasional period of feeling down is an inescapable feature of the eremitical life. Sadness is, I suppose, a pit into which an Review for Religious individual ill-suited for solitude might tumble, but this does not seem to be what Bernard has in mind. He is describing, not a chronic or pathological condition, but the normal downturns of life--which the hermit feels more intensely because of his or her isolation. On the spiritual level, the alternation of these strong and weak periods is inevitable in view of the ebb and flow of God's grace. If acedia pulls one away from the present, sadness can be said to sink one into it. Sadness is the clouding over of the eternal horizon of hope which draws us forward. Without the attraction of the ultimate goal--which is, remember, the sole dynamic element in a hermit's life--the individual is oppressed by the miseries of the present. For no good reason, anger can well up in the solitary and rail away at the self or other people: "Nothing they do is ever any good, and nothing I try ever works out!" Such slack times call for patience, because, once again, the temptation is to shift attention away from God and the love that is his due. The self, whether proud or inadequate, whether much sought after or neglected, must not become the primary object of the hermit's attention. Application to Modern Hermits Is any of this applicable to modern hermits living in country cabins and cheap city apartments? I think so. Times have certainly changed, but the leisure of the hermit can still go flat, and money remains a worrisome issue. Unlike their 12th-century counterparts, modern hermits do not have to figure out how to channel their excess funds to the poor without attracting a crowd of beggars, but they do have to worry about how to live apart from the world and still earn their keep. Unless they are supported by a religious congregation or order, paying their bills and providing some measure of stability in an unsettled time can be a real preoccupation. Indeed, it can shipwreck their project altogether. Pride, which Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes see as a major threat to hermits, would seem to be less of a worry these days. Solitaries are looked up to once again, but the applause is not unanimous. In fact, many people who give their lives to the service of Christ and his poor question the sense of such a calling. Certainly hermits do not have the social status they enjoyed in the 12th century. In any case, while many religious who become November-December 2000 Russell ¯ The Dangers of Solitude With no one else to worry about, they can become obsessed with every ache. solitaries identify themselves as hermits, most lay hermits have no official status of any kind. They live a hidden life which is just that, hidden. The lack of social status does not mean, of course, that hermits are immune to the temptation to take a little secret pride in the uniqueness of their calling. Pride, however, does not seem to be the great danger it was to hermits in the Middle Ages. Certainly relevant today, however, is the emphasis Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes put on the need for the hermit to exist in the now. This almost Buddhist focus on being present to the moment is for both of them basic to the eremitical life. Without this absorption in the here and now, distractions press in. The hermit, to borrow a phrase from the world of sports, "loses his or her concentration" on the worship of God in unending prayer. This is a major problem, but, given the restrictions of the solitary life, it manifests itself in small and sometimes silly ways. For example, hermits may get too wrapped up in their work or turn repairs to their dwelling into a full-scale redecorating project. They can become finicky fussbudgets who insist that every item in their cell be lined up just so. Worse yet, with no one else to worry about, they can become obsessed with every ache and sniffle. What are we to make of Peter the Venerable's condemnation of the tendency of hermits to make themselves useful to their fel-low Christians by offering them the fruit, as it were, of their con-templative silence? Must we conclude that he, and Bernard as well, would censure the spiritual direction and parish activities in which some contemporary hermits get involved? Not necessarily. In their letters both authors emphasize--and we must keep in mind that they were writing to recluses, that is, to solitaries who in theory were totally cut off from the world--that the singularity of the eremitical life means that hermits will have to work out what is best for them. Therefore, while Bernard borrows from the cus-toms of the Carthusians to make all kinds of suggestions to Rainald about the details of his life, he realizes that it is up to the hermit to exercise discretion in choosing what suits him. Consequently, we can conclude that, although Peter and Bernard show that it is easy for hermits to delude themselves about why they are rendering this or that occasional service, it is up to them to determine, after Review for Religious taking counsel, what fosters their aloneness with God and what hinders it. I suspect that there are times when novice solitaries, going through a dark period, might welcome the sight of a few demons raising cain in their living room. They might even be glad to summon up the self-absorption required for the drama of a first-class identity crisis. Anything exciting and novel would be a relief. What they have to contend with, however, day in and day out, as Peter and Bernard remind them, is the subtle task of remaining faithful to their original commitment in all kinds of psychological weather. They have much to gain and much to lose. Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes, who shared a high regard for the solitary life, warn them, therefore, to take care. Notes ' Thomas Merton, "Notes for a Philosophy of Solitude," in his Disputed Questions (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1960; Noonday Book, 1976), p. 165. 2 A Rule of Life for a Recluse, trans. Mary Paul MacPherson, in The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, Vol. 1: Treatises, The Pastoral Prayer, Cistercian Fathers Series, no. 2 (Spencer, Massachusetts: Cistercian Publications, 1971). 3 Neither the letter of Peter the Venerable to Ghislebert nor Bernard of Portes's letter to Rainald has, as far as I know, been translated into English. The Latin text and a French translation of Bernard's letter can be found in Lettres des premiers chartreux, Vol. 2, introduction, critical text, French translation, and notes by "un chartreux" (Sources chr~tiennes, no. 274; Paris: Cerf, 1980), pp. 50-79. For the Latin text of Peter's letter, see Giles Constable, The Letters of Peter the Venerable, Vol. 1 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), pp. 27-41. November-December 2000 MARY BETH MOORE A Spiritual Direction Connie drew the heavy drape across the window, noting the ast gray light filtering from the west. She turned on a small lamp on one side of the room and lit the vanilla candle at the other. Immediately its aroma permeated the small space. She selected a Mozart disc from the handful of CDs near the love seat, placed it carefully on the turntable, pressed play, and adjusted the volume so that the maestro's graceful, precise notes were barely audible, as subtle as the candle. She paused, looking slowly to each corner until satisfied by the atmosphere she had created. Free of clutter, the parlor was just large enough for the love seat, chair, and coffee table. She sat down on the chair. Connie never sat until she was satisfied. She was a short, heavy woman and, since it was not easy for her to get out of a chair, she considered the act of getting into it. She had a few moments before her guest arrived, and this time was also planned. The guest or, more precisely, the directee required the kind of attention one must work up to. So she made an effort to appreciate the room for its own sake. She awaited the security these preparations usually brought. She summoned the attitude of inner peace which any directee had a right to expect of her, breathing deeply, ignoring the slight pulse in her legs, ankles, even noting the contradiction between attending to a pleas-ant carnal sensation--the candle--and determinedly shutting out the unpleasant. She made herself breathe. Connie had been a spiritual director for almost twenty years, Mary Beth Moore SC writes from 3496 Jerusalem Avenue; Wantagh, New York 11793. Review for Religious and people liked her. She had talent in this abstruse area, and she knew this because her directees said so. Most of her clients were nuns, participants in a lifestyle whose subtle conflicts she knew as her own, having been a nun now for forty years. Relationships: community, friends, principals, superiors. Even, occasionally, a romantic entanglement. And, of course, the relationship with God. Connie never told them what to do. She listened. She asked ques-tions. She recalled for the searcher his or her own best qualities. (Yes, even the occasional priest or layman found his way to her.) Generosity. Loyalty. Courage. Connie never mi~de these things up. Yes, that was the talent. Seemingly from thin air, she would recall a point the directee had made two months before, or ask precisely the right question. "What must you do to grow in this sit-uation?" The question was perhaps trite, but the answers never were. Stammering or articulate, passionate or cool, the directee usually responded with a perfectly credible plan of action, one whose truthfulness went to the heart of the matter. She had learned to expect the creativity that her directees brought with them. Still, Connie did not consider herself creative. She thought of herself as a modest person, and attributed the results to God's grace. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a face that had always been plain, and was now old. Of course, Connie had not once seen her own brown eyes transformed with the glow of the full attention she gave to the directees. They simply thanked her. She expected nothing more. At the sound of the doorbell, Connie took hold of the chair arms and, giving herself a boost, stood and steadied herself before crossing the short distance to the front door. She was pleasantly nervous for this encounter with her client, and she hurried as much as she could, knowing how uncomfortable it was to wait at her door. The Bronx brownstone faced southeast toward the Sound and Long Island, and through the winter a stiffwind blew almost steadily. She opened the door to see a petite woman framed against the dark corridor of the street, hopping around on the stoop to cope with the cold. The sky behind her was clear, but dark. The city lights obliterated all but the highest-hung stars. "Marilyn, my dear, come in quickly before the wind knocks you down." "It almost did. I parked a block away, and--" "Did you meet much traffic?" Connie took Marilyn's coat and shivered at the cold that rolled off of it. November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction "Som'e, as usual. The Cross Bronx is always crowded." "Oh, that's a terrible road. I always feel glad when I turn off. A cup of tea before we start?" "I would love it, if it's no trouble. It sounds so good." "No trouble at all. Go in and make yourse.lf comfortable. I'll be right back." She indicated the room she had just prepared, and waited to be sure her guest was seated before disappearing into the inner quarters to make tea. She returned with a tray and two steaming cups. They were silent as they fixed the tea to their lik-ing. Part of Connie's skill was to suppress small talk as the pre-lude to spiritual direction. Chatter cluttered the spirit, she believed. She had once lived as a hermit for three months, and the disci-pline served her well. After a suitable interval she moved to her cus-tomary opener. "So, tell me, what brings you to spiritual direction?" "Ah, yes. Well, I have the intuition, this notion. It haunts me and I feel almost, I don't know, maybe, embarrassed to share it. Or even ashamed--though maybe that is too strong a word. I've tried to discuss it, get a hold, but I." Connie listened as the other woman stuttered, and felt a tug of compassion. She leaned ever so slightly toward her, her eyes widening to lend support to the recitation. A sexual problem per-haps. Everything supposedly out in the open these days, but the unique turns of the human heart, and the struggle to articulate them! She waited. ". this notion, and others don't want to hear, or maybe can't hear. Almost a conviction actually." "A conviction that ." Connie was poised, waiting for the other to look up. "I don't want to offend you, as well. But I suppose it's foolish to come and beat around the bush. You see--" "'I assure you, my dear, I won't be offended. I'm eager to hear what you have to say." "A conviction that it's over. Over, over, over." Connie frowned, noted the slightest wave of impatience with the conversation's turn. "You'll have to tell me what 'it' is, I think." "This." She spread her hands as if her meaning should be obvi-ous, indicating the candle, the lamp, and Connie herself with thrusts of her chin. "Convents. Middle-aged women living in polite little groups, good-hearted, but accommodated. Comfortable. Convents, parlors, single beds, obsessive neatness, vanilla candles. Over." Review for Religious "Leave my candle out of it, at least," Connie said, more emphatically than she had intended. She was offended, but she did not realize it quite yet. "O.K. Your candle may be spared." Marilyn grinned. "But as for the other elements, well, the writing is on the wall." "Nebuchadnezzar? A kingdom about to fall?" Connie tried to get her bearings. The other's hesitancy had disappeared, her voice got stronger by the sentence, and Connie began to think that her earlier, tentative approach might have been a ploy. "Yes. That's exactly right, Connie. The humble kingdom we built for ourselves that did so much good. Children we taught, sick we nursed. It was a world in itself, a kingdom if you will. We had a place in a religiosity that was shared by Catholics every-where. In that Catholic world, we had a mystique of holiness, otherness. We were a cheap labor pool. Now others can do what we did, without living a special way of life." She took deep breath while Connie waited with alarm. "I believe our lifestyle is ending." Buy time. That was Connie's second idea, after the first one, something like, who do you think you are? Who are you, sup-posedly asking me for help, boldly upending a tradition? One that needs no defense. "I must keep eye contact," she thought. "Marilyn, too, is a committed religious, sincere, middle-aged, a seeker like myself." She was unused to such a strong emotion that was not compassion. She focused with effort. "Fall back on tech-nique," she urged herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was light. "Well, that's radical, for sure. Possibly a bit reductive. I'll need some time to take in the idea. But, in any case, you know that spir-itual direction does not provide answers. Why don't you tell me about your prayer. What's happening there?" "Connie, don't you see? That is what's happening. I pray, but I feel afraid. This sense of winding down . . . it, it assaults me. This is the result of my reading the signs of the times. And, very selfishly, I wonder what will happen to us. I'd actually like some-body to refute me." "'Prayer is the balance of mind and heart. Perhaps you think too much." November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction "Prayer is the balance of mind and heart. Perhaps you think too much." "Oh, maybe. It's just when I have an insight I always think it's correct. I'm not pious, either." Marilyn's voice had softened. Connie saw that she had heard her words as a correction, as in fact they had been. She had men-tioned fear, a key word in Connie's work, the rope binding the spirit, an adversary of growth. Usually Connie would have asked about it, but this evening it suddenly seemed like too much trou-ble. She was impatient, her back began to ache. She sought for a middle ground. "Or perhaps I think too little. You're a challenge to me, and I'm not sure if I can be as objective as I like. Can you"--she searched for the way back to Marilyn's point--"can you stay with the questions?" She got a little stronger. "Ride the questions." Marilyn thrust out her chin, as if shg regarded the question as an object in the room. There was a pulse of silence. "Yeah. That's a good idea." She smiled and looked at Connie with a glint of humor. "Good luck. I'll pray with you." There was a notable pause, and Connie sighed before turn-ing to topics of lesser import. Her back pain was easing, and she felt relieved that the conversation had returned to a manageable place. She was no coward. She had borne others' tears and rage at God. But a messy squabble with herself as partner was not at all congenial. She had put the balance back. She would pray with and for Marilyn. Both were careful to refrain from gossip in the spiritual-direc-tion setting; the set of those who chose such support was small, and many knew each other. Still, there were allowable facts--some-one's new job, an elderly sister's passing. And, after the intense discussion of the inner life, it was consoling to take in the mellow light and the full attention, each from the other. When they had finished the tea, and the candle wax threatened to spill on the table top, Marilyn moved to go. Connie helped her with her coat, saw her out into the cold air. The street was quieter now and a single star, maybe a planet, winked above the streetlights. She closed the door and went back to her direction room to turn off the light and blow out the candle. The wax had leaked onto the table into a viscous pool. "Ride the question," she repeated softly aloud to herself. She had been pleased to hit upon a phrase Revie~v for Religious that seemed to help her directee, but, as she turned it over in her mind now, looking at the empty room, it sounded trite, facile. The dialogue with Marilyn echoed in her mind, and a sensation rip-pled quickly, like the hint of an unpleasant duty she could not quite remember. She stepped away from the room with unusual haste and headed for the community recreation room and her favorite TV program. When Connie got to the community room, Sarah was watch-ing a public TV program--something about endangered species-- with the intensity of a graduate student. While she made eye contact with Connie, she held up a forefinger to postpone conversation until the program seg-ment ended. Connie sank into the chair and waited. She did not mind. It was more inter-esting to observe Sarah than to watch the parade of facts on the screen. She could easily see in the woman the ardent girl she had taught thirty years before, and, in her unsettled state of mind, that girl seemed to inhabit the room again. Sarah's field was biology, and she brought her expertise along with boundless energy to a nonprofit agency that monitored the environ-ment. Connie studied her with detached affec-tion. What was it that made Sarah so interesting? The combination of ambition and idealism, thought Connie. She was the perfect nun for our time. Connie mused about the effect of her own ministry. She had joined Sarah and the others in the brownstone house the year she finished her term as novice director. It had been her initiative to work free-lance in spiritual direction, and the community con-firmed' her choice. Her clients found her by word of mouth. She spent her day much as she had with the novices, in a disciplined but unhurried rhythm of prayer, study, and client appointments. It was Sarah who persuaded Connie to get a paying job two years ago. Some of the sisters in her own house had argued against it, but Sarah persisted. She pointed out to Connie that she com-plained about being the one to answer telephone solicitations and wait for plumbers. Sarah, the realist, reminded the community that their income base was shrinking, since the elderly sisters far outnumbered the younger wage-earners. Connie began to mind She could see in the woman the ardent girl she had taught thirty years before. November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction not having even a modest paycheck to present for the running of the house, and the quota for the retired sisters' care. The only thing she did not tell Sarah and the others was that she was tired of not having tales to "tell at supper about the outside world they inhabited each day. What could she say about spiritual direction? In that field there were no general issues, no little anecdotes, to report, only secrets of the heart whose value was discovered as the directee conferred it. So Connie took a job as the secretary in a little Catholic school in the Bronx. She bolstered the idealistic young man who was prin-cipal and lent an ear to the parents who rushed through with for-gotten lunches and umbrellas. She now had tales for the dinner table with the community, and savored even more the evenings of direction. She did not allow herself to miss the easy pace she had once enjoyed. She was often tired. She worried intermittently about losing weight, especially when Sarah inaugurated a new restric-tion in the community diet. She gave up insisting that they buy whole milk: it was not worth the commentary on cholesterol. But these were small .annoyances, predictable, familiar. If the occa-sional ache or pain pressed itself too deeply into her conscious-ness, her mind might leap to the future for a moment. But the pain subsided, or was integrated into what she chose to put up with. It was against her principles to measure herself by a worldly standard. She gazed at the TV for a bit, savoring the comfort of her (avorite chair until the program finished and Sarah pressed the mute button. "How was your day?" Connie asked. "Really productive," Sarah answered brightly. "I spent the morning editing that junior high 'natural city' curriculum. Jake did a great job with the project and I told him so. Then I had a meeting with the Friends of the Harbor committee. Giuliani's guy stopped in. Nice person actually, said he would continue to press our concerns with the mayor. He sounded sincere, but we'll keep the pressure on anyway. Peter was pleased." "Peter?" "Grossman, the earth sciences professor from Bronx Community College, that one who chairs--" "Oh yes, I remember him." Connie made it a point to keep up with the cast of cha[acters that peopled Sarah's offbeat job. "Did Jake's wife have the baby yet?" Review for Religious "Three days ago! I thought I'd told you. Mother and daugh-ter are doing fine." Sarah described the particulars of the birth in detail, then trained eager eyes on Connie. "How was your day?" Connie's mind returned to her session, where a seasoned nun had suggested that religious life would become a thing of the past. It was an abstract idea, after all. The common room she shared now with Sarah was perfectly real and stable. The house had been paid for. "Connie, your day?" Sarah's voice called her from her reverie. "Anything wrong?" "Wrong? Oh no." She hesitated. "Do you think about the future, Sarah? I mean our community. Do you think there will be nuns living in this house in twenty years? Youngish nuns, enthu-siastic like yourself, women who believe in prayer, the vows? Some of my directees"--she tried to be deliberately vague--"a few think our way of living is a thing of the past." Sarah frowned. "It could be, you know. Let's face it. No one has joined the community at all in the past five years, and those of us in it aren't getting any younger. It could be. But, hey, God our Mother will bring to birth something new. Birth, growth, decay, matter recycle into new growth. It's a universal process. Why should we escape it?" She reached for the TV wand."Do you want to watch anything else?" "You've thought about this?" "Oh, it crosses my mind now and again. Shall I turn this off?." Sarah waved the remote again. "Sure." Connie could see that Sarah was preparing to leave the community room, and a wave of desolation passed over her. She longed to call out, "Please don't go, yet," but she knew perfectly well such a request would startle Sarah. "She'd probably think I'm having some kind of attack," Connie thought. "What reason could I give for the need of her presence?" Nothing came to her. Sarah was at the door now, turning back, her gaze objective and ldnd. "You O.K., Connie?" "I'm just fine," Connie answered quickly. "Sufficient for the day is the trouble thereof." Sarah was satisfied. "Sleep well, then." "You too." Connie was alone now in the familiar room, and hothing could threaten her. Soon her strange moment of panic would pass, and she would move to her usual routine, fold back the newspaper, November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction enjoy the silence. She had an honorable job. She loved Sarah, and the others with whom she lived and shared an uncomplicated love of friendship. She scanned the headlines, then tossed them aside to read the Arts page, a book review, but she struggled to concen-trate. "Loneliness has no hold over me," she thought. Loneliness and solitude were the same companion in different dress, the bite of one and the consolation of the other alternating throughout her days. But the mood of release she sought at the end of the day still eluded her. She focused on the gratitude she must render for the events of the day, and recalled a grandmother who had come to the school to deliver a forgotten lunch. In her mind's eye she could see the weary black face transformed with smiles when the child hove into view. But, when the memory dimmed, a keen discomfort reasserted itself. She pushed through her rote evening prayer, "Now Lord you may dismiss your servant in peace, for my eyes have seen your sal-vation. A light of revelation to the Gentiles and a glory for your people Israel." Simeon, welcoming his life's end, having seen the object of his heart's desire. "He was lucky," she thought. The prayer did not seem to help at all. She turned off the light in the common room and made her way out by the light of the street lamp filtering through the blinds. She turned toward the kitchen. "A nice cup of tea," she thought. "It will clear my mind." She made the tea. She measured out her usual two spoonfuls of sugar, tasted it, then furtively added a third. She sipped it slowly and regarded the clock, whose subtle whine could be heard in the silence. "I tell my directees to face their fears. And so must I," Connie concluded. "What was it, then, old age?" But she dismissed this quickly. Maybe prettier, fitter women, yes, even nuns might struggle with this, but she had never known herself that way. She had long ago accommodated herself to aches and wrinkles. Nor was it fear of death. Not yet. Her mother, her aunts, stout women all, had lived into their nineties. "I probably have a few decades in me," she mused. What had Marilyn said? "It's over." That was the phrase that had ripped her, as if a web of equilibrium she hardly knew existed was torn, and its sundering had discovered a category of feeling she could not recognize. "Now, Lord, you may dismiss your servant in peace, because my eyes have seen your salvation." Simeon's words came back Review for Religious again, with the picture of the bearded sage, smiling and content, holding an infant whom he knew certainly to be the savior. Who did he think he was? "I'm jealous of him," she thought. And, since the habit of honesty was well established, Connie began to name the struggle. The child Simeon held had just been named Jesus, newly circumcised, accompanied by proud parents. She was jealous of Simeon's proximity, his luck to be in the right place at the right time. She was envious of the consolation of touch, the embrace that illuminated him, at once revealing the true iden-tity of the child. But most of all she was jealous of his certainty. As a young idealistic woman, and through all the vicissitudes of the years, she had fallen back on the certainty that she was doing God's will. And, just as the meeting with a newborn child had transformed Simeon from a bumbling old man into a prophet, so she had thought her lifestyle would transform her. She looked around the kitchen slowly, scrutinizing the cabi-nets, the fridge. Stalling. The fear she felt was not provoked by the encounter with Marilyn, but rather unmasked by it. Fear, raw fear, as when a young child is lost in a crowded arena. Connie placed both hands on the teacup and concentrated on the warmth that spread to her palms. She recalled, with effort, that she was an adult. But, slowly, understanding came to her. What was threatened was certainty and specialness. The fear in her belly suggested that she had bartered for those goods with the austerity of her lifestyle and her vows. Yet she herself had taught the basic truth of spiri-tual direction so many times: All that is not love must be rooted out. She could not blame anyone or anything external for her new situation. She sat thus at the kitchentable for a long while, and the tea, untouched, grew cold. By and by she simply admitted that an inner battle was just beginning; she might as well go to bed. Fear would come and go, and grief, too, must attend the process. She lay in bed, listening to the faint sounds of traffic, making an effort to yield to sleep in order to be ready for the next day. But, as she was poised on the mysterious shelf before consciousness falls away, a phrase floated up from the well of memory, a saying she would work with for months to come, "Though a bird be tied to earth by only a thread, still he cannot fly." November-December 2000 a witness response DENNIS j. BILLY Contemplative Religious Witness: A Redemptoristine Monastery At the end of each academic year, I leave my work at the Alphonsian Academy in Rome and spend the summer months as an author in residence at Mount St. Alphonsus, the Redemptorist retreat center in Esopus, New York. During my time there, one of the responsibilities I share with the other members of my community is to celebrate Eucharist at the nearby Redemptoristine monastery of Our Mother of Perpetual Help. This small community of contemplative nuns devotes itself to being what their 18th-century Neapolitan foundress, Maria Celeste Crostarosa (1696- 1755), called a "living memory" of the Holy Savior. My close contact with the sisters there has helped me appreciate more deeply the contemplative dimension of my own vocation. It has also helped me see the intimate relationship between the Redemptorist and Redemptoristine callings, two very different lifestyles-- one apostolic, the other contemplative--deeply devoted to a common charism of proclaiming "plentiful redemption" in Christ. Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor to this review, may be addressed at Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma; Italy. R~view for Religious Spousal Love As a community of women entirely dedicated to contemplation, the sisters at Perpetual Help Monastery maintain a spirit of separation but openness to the world around them. They follow the norms of papal enclosure as laid out in church law and interpreted by their Constitutions and Statutes, but do so with a keen sensitivity that their contemplative vocation places them at the very heart of the local church. In the spirit of Vatican Council II, they have also renewed their way of life to be more in keeping with the spirit and charism of their foundress. In doing so, they have attempted to adapt the contemplative life to the exigencies of North American culture while at the same time taking care to maintain the significant countercultural and eschatological witness that religious life in general and the contemplative life in particular seeks to convey. The result is a small but dedicated group of women religious whose lives are deeply immersed in the mystery of Christ and his body, the church. Verbi sponsa, the recent Vatican instruction on contemplative life and the norms of papal enclosure, describes cloistered nuns as becoming, with the Virgin Mary, "the 'living memory' of the church's spousal love" (§1). I could not read these words without thinking of the special meaning they would have for the Redemptoristines at Esopus and throughout the world. Mary's close.relationship to her Son places her in a position of humble service toward all who turn to her. "To Jesus through Mary" was the way St. Alphonsus de Liguori (1696- 1787) liked to express Mary's role in the economy of salvation. Everything she does is meant to lead us to a closer, more intimate relationship with her Son. Her loving and heartfelt fiat in Luke's Gospel reminds us that it could not be otherwise. Her response to the angel reveals a deep trust in God's trust in her. She became the Mother of God because of her spousal relationship with God, which was itself a gift from God to her and, through her, to all the world. When seen in this light, to be with Mary a "living memory of the church's spousal love" leads quite naturally (perhaps it would be better to say "supernaturally") to being a "living memory of the redeeming Christ." Each remembrance is a single dimension of a To be with Mary a "living memory of the church's spousal love". Ly-95---2 November-December 2000 Billy ¯ Contemplative Religious Witness much larger reality: you cannot have one without the other. Keenly aware of this connection, the Redemptoristines at Esopus proclaim their spousal love for their risen Lord at their daily Eucharist, where he eats with them, drinks with them, and caresses them with the gentle, calming breeze of his Spirit. A Eucharistic Community It is often said that something is not fully experienced until it is remembered. If this saying is true, then the Redemptoristines' desire to become a "living memory" of their Lord must foster a deeper experience of Jesus' presence in their hearts and in their midst. One need only consider the deep spirit of prayerfulness that fills their daily celebration of the Eucharist to see that this is so. These simple celebrations tap into the hidden life of contemplation going on in the deepest recesses of their hearts and reveal the height and depth and breadth of the paschal mystery. The daily Eucharist is the center of the sisters' lives. It immerses them in the mystery of God's love which their lives espouse and puts them in intimate contact with their risen Lord. The Eucharist reminds them of the "eucharistic quality" of the cloistered life itself (see Verbi sponsa, §3). Separation from the world enables the sisters to be present t6 the world on a much deeper level. It enables them to share not only in Jesus' life of kenotic self-offering, but also to join him in his eternal act of thanksgiving to the Father. This close connection between the Eucharist and the sisters' contemplative vocation touches the very heart of the redemptive mystery. It affirms Jesus' ongoing presence in their community and gives meaning to every dimension of their largely hidden life of prayer. The sisters' daily remembrance of Jesus is possible only because of Jesus' continual remembrance of them. They seek to be a living memorial to the living memorial he has left them in the Eucharist. They, more than anyone else I have met, take to heart Jesus' words "Do this in memory of me." In this light, life in the Redemptoristine cloister at Esopus takes on the threefold dimensions of banquet, sacrifice, and presence that characterize the mystery of every Eucharistic celebration. Being a "living memo~ry" of Jesus, in other words, means seeking to give nourishment to others (banquet) through a humble offering of self (sacrifice) in the name and in the company of Jesus, who is "Emmanuel, God wi~h us" (presence). The Review for Religious Eucharist, in other words, not only is the summit of their lives, but permeates everything they do. Without it, there is no way they could continue or even survive. From Death to Life I once had the occasion to experience this eucharistic quality of the sisters' lives in a profound and beautiful way. Sister Mary Regina, one of the sisters in the community, was nearing death after a long-drawn-out battle with cancer. This was happening at the very time I had been scheduled to lead the sisters in their annual ten-day retreat. After learning that Regina's death was drawing near, I fully expected the retreat to be canceled (or at least postponed), since the sisters' hearts were heavy with sorrow and their schedule was already overloaded by the "round the clock" attention Regina's condition demanded. I was ~urprised, therefore, to learn that the community wanted the retreat to go on, despite the added strain it would put on them. I was even more surprised (but also delighted) when, on the first day of the retreat, the prioress asked if it would be all right to celebrate Mass in the infirmary so that Regina could attend from her sickbed. That Eucharistturned out to be the last Regina would ever share in--at least on this side of death. The breaking of the bread took on special significance as we celebrated in the presence of one whose life was ebbing away. The nearness of death brought a special solemnity to our celebration. Regina's silence added depth to our words; her gaze, a quiet calm to our troubled, questioning hearts. The knowledge that she would not be with us much longer affected the way we prayed. Everyone in the room seemed to have one eye fixed on the Lord and the other one on her. And that was the way it should have been, the way the Lord himself wanted it. This was Regina's moment. With her community around her, she was free to be herself before her Lord. Firmly fixed on the host, her eyes told us in a quiet, nonverbal way that Jesus was with her in a way he had never been before. So it is, I believe, with all of us at or near the time of death. Each one of us must one day drink from the same cup. Now it was Regina's turn. Separation from the world enables the sisters to be present on a much deeper level. November-December 2000 Billy ¯ Contemplative Religious Witness Near the end of Mass, I looked around the room and experienced that sense of communion that can only come from hearts united by their common yearning for God. As my eyes moved from face to face, I could sense the pain that the community as a whole and each of its members was experiencing as a result of Regina's illness and imminent death. I could also sense the deep love that bound them to each other and, at this special moment, to Regina. In the midst of the sadness, my gratitude deepened and gave way to a deep sense of peace. The Lord was with us, and that was all that mattered. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in the upper room. The Heart of the Church Contemplatives, we are told, live at the very heart of the church. On this day I was grateful for this brief glimpse God had given me into the heart of a contemplative community. There the simple mysteries of life and death are recognized, pondered, and celebrated. There human existence is plumbed to its depths and experienced in all its wonder and heightened fragility. There the restlessness of the human heart forages in the darkness of divine mystery. There God is allowed to be God and is welcomed, however he chooses to come. Very few of us ai'e called to live as contemplatives in the heart of the church. Those who hear the call and respond to it often find that they have been driven to it by the relentless pursuit of a passionate divine Lover. Happiness would elude them anywhere else. Only there, in the cloister, can they give themselves exclusively to God with all their heart, mind, soul, and strength. Their hidden life behind their monastery walls is the visible reminder of what they have left behind--and journeyed into. So essential is it to the good of the whole that it recedes, almost by necessity, to the background of life's numerous surface activities. Like the heart itself, it is never seen, rarely heard, seemingly still, but always pumping. The heart, one might say, is an appropriate metaphor for monastic enclosure itself. Some of the most vital activity in the entire body takes place within the narrow, confining chambers of the heart. These otherwise empty cavities are formed by the inner contours of the heart's muscle fibers. The constant expansion and contraction of these tissues forces the blood through the chambers Review for Religious and creates enough pressure to make it flow throughout the rest of the body. In a similar way the empty spaces within the cloister are visibly shaped by the rules of monastic enclosure which, firm yet flexible, allow the life of the contemplative community to distinguish itself from the rest of Christ's body in order to perform for it a special function. Here the all-important apostolic dimension of the contemplative life comes to light. The contemplative community plumbs the depths of the Spirit so that the life of the Spirit may flow more freely to all the members of the body. Here the law of inverted magnitudes operates in full force. The contemplative community confines itself in time and space in order to open itself up to and move more deeply into the sacred. This simultaneous movement ("juxtaposition," if you will) of contraction and expansion is at the center of the contemplative experience. Although not everyone is called to live a life of monastic enclosure, all of us are called to foster a contemplative attihade toward life. For us to do so, this dynamic .movement of physical withdrawal and spiritual expansion must somehow come into play for each of us. Active and Contehaplative I began these reflections by stating that my contact with the Redemptoristine community at Esopus has given me a deeper appreciation of the contemplative dimension of my vocation as a Redemptorist, missionary. I also like to think that, in some way, the appreciation has been mutual, giving rise in them to a deeper sense of the apostolic dimension of their lives as contemplative religious. We share a single charism which, although expressed in drastically different lifestyles, brings to light the plentiful redemption wrought for us in the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Contemplative religious, we have seen, live in the very heart of the church. The Redemptoristines, to my mind, do much the same for the apostolic mission of the Redemptorist congregation. Both orders, after all, share common origins and embrace the same motto: Copiosa apud eum redemptio ("With him there is plentiful redemption"). To follow the Lord in his work for the poor and most abandoned (as Redemptorists try to do) is closely tied to being a "living memory" of the risen Lord (as the sisters try to be). Each order focuses on a different dimension of the one redemptive mystery and, for this very reason, is intimately related to the other. Noventber-December 2000 My experience at Esopus has taught me that contemplative religious can best contribute to the apostolic mission of the church by simply being themselves and living whatever Rule they follow with patience, humility, and deep compassion. In doing so, they reveal the depth of their humanity and remind us of the intimacy we are all called to share with the divine. The eucharistic quality of their lives enables them to celebrate the present moment-- whatever it may bring--by sharing the gifts of self-offering and sensitive personal presence. Their life of solitude places them at the very heart of the church's life and ongoing mission. Their enclosed life offers the world a countercultural and eschatological sign of what is still to come, yet somehow already mysteriously present in the deepest recesses of the human heart. Like the Redemptoristines at Esopus, contemplative religious are called to lose themselves in the mystery of the divine in order to find themselves in the face of the very next person they meet. They plumb the depths of human experience in order to move more deeply into the sacred and live in intimate spousal union with their divine Lover. All of them are living reminders of the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. All are visible expressions of the church's living memory of what took place in the person of Jesus Christ and takes place today in his body, the church. Theirs is a message for all times, all places, and all circumstances. Those who hear it will recognize the need to foster in themselves a contemplative attitude toward life. Those who do not will miss a unique opportunity to peer beneath the surface of life and behold, as never before, the innermost treasures of the human heart. Review for Religious ANDRI~ MAUREEN SOETE A Vowed Response to the Postmodern World Tphosetm choadrearcnte wriostrilcds asryem bpetionmgs s, taunddie rde aalnitdie ps roofb oeudr bsyo -sccailelend-tists, sociologists, anthropologists, philosophers, and theologians. All seek to understand the reality, foresee the consequences, and arrive at some satisfactory description and response. Since I am not a theologian, scientist, philosopher, or any of the above, I do not claim to understand this reality, much less propose responses. What I offer is simply my own response as a woman religious, specifically a School Sister of Notre Dame. The Situation of Our Age Postmodern issues have been touching us and coming into our consciousness for some time now. Our world is rapidly chang-ing, and what we once thought were objective, unchangeable real-ities are in fact changing. The "way to be" and the "way to do" for the present generation seems so different from our way. What can all this mean to SSND sisters and associates at this time? This time of change may feel like a breakdown. The world has become so different that we may not like it and may question Andr,~ Maureen Soete SSND has ministered in Japan for thirteen years. This article is the address she gave to an assembly of Japanese and North American School Sisters of Notre Dame in Kyoto on 9 January 2000. Her address is 11 ol Kawarada-cho; Matsugasaki; Sakyo-ku; Kyoto 606, Japan. November-December 2000 Soete * A Vowed Response the direction in which it is heading. Envisioning ourselves living in this new age, we may have the feeling that we do not fit, for what we understood as reality is being challenged. This is not just the usual generation-gap experience that we have all probably experienced from one side or the other. This phenomenon has been observed by many since the first hints of it in the 1970s and is obviously a real cultural shift. The choices for different lifestyles, the questioning of what we considered permanent values, and the challenges to our thinking are in some ways unnerving. We may catch ourselves longing for the good old days--the secure structures, the way students "used to be," and the way convent life was. It almost tempts us to choose to respond by retreating--by going back. These times are being described by the word chaos. Some of the chaotic things that people observe and study are political, eco-nomic, and social oppression; poverty, starvation, and unemploy-ment; the oppression of women; the ecological crisis; nuclear threat; secularism, materialism, and the failure of churches to renew themselves and inspire belief. Chaos causes a great deal of anxiety, but it also provides us with the moment and the call to rediscover our real story and our deepest roots. How Our Foundress Would Respond As followers of Mother Theresa Gerhardinger, we can ask ourselves how she would manage in this age, how .she would respond if she were alive today. We know that our answer would have something to do with our charism. What is it that she passed on to us that is ageless? What is the changeless essence that will survive these times and even give us the hope we need to go on? When we think of Mother Theresa responding to her time and day we think of a strong woman of prayer, a woman of God, a woman in touch with the reality and needs of her day, a woman animated and energized by the conviction that women can change the world, a woman who knew that, if people can change, the world can cMnge too. But at the root of all these images of her was her sense of God's desire and call "that all be one." She longed for the oneness of all in God. She was a woman willing to strug-gle for unity on every level. She could see unity in diversity, for she believed in the rights of individuals and the respect due to each person. She learned the Review for Religious lessons essential for real unity--lessons of love, respect, appreci-ation, tolerance, and trust--first from her own parents and later from her mentors Bishop Wittmann and Father Job. These were her models, inspiring her to foster the same values among her sis-ters and her society. It was her commitment to unity and her drive "to make one" that gave her tireless energy for mission, and could give us the same tireless energy. The Postmodern Age The academic world has come to use the term "postmodern" in an attempt to name this period of the world's history because this is the period in which people are reacting to all that is false and untrue, all that has not worked in our familiar modern age. In some way the choice of the name "postmodern" is like calling the butterfly a "postcaterpillar." "Postcaterpillar" might be a suitable name during the period when we observe that the caterpillar is no more, that what was once the caterpillar now seems dead or half dead, changing unaccountably. But once we see the beautiful creature with bright wings emerge, flutter freely, and take flight, we find ourselves calling it a "butterfly." Similarly, because of the lack of clarity about the future, schol-ars describe the present reality by noting changes from the earlier condition.When all of the characteristics of this age become clear and show some coherence, it will be time to give the new period a name. The world may not reach that point in our lifetimes, but I hope that all of us want to be a part of the creation of the new name. We can do that by appropriately influencing, shaping, and creating some of the characteristics that will emerge. I suggest that a principal characteristic must be unity. That same oneness that was Christ's mission and Theresa Gerhardinger's mission must be our mission too. Failure of the Modern Age The modern age promised us that by science and technology, by dividing the whole, dissecting and labeling every part, and con-trasting one thing with another, it could understand and solve the problems of our world and probe the depths of reality. It promised that the world would be controlled and developed and perfected, and that human beings would reach great heights. But science November-December 2000 [--~2 ¯ Soete ¯ A Vowed Response Our prosperity and plenty come to us on the backs of the poor and oppressed. itself has had to admit that the mysteries of the world are far beyond such probing; that our scientific advances have actually destroyed much of our world and have led us to live in fear of some scientific developments; that actually, in spite of all of our sci-entific progress, we have missed opportunities to expand and develop our spiritual and human potential and have inst(ad created horrendous human misery. MI of the human misery in the world today is a sign that these former beliefs are not working. When I think of the oppression, poverty, ecological recklessness, uncontrolled materialism, and other problems of our day, I can understand why a new generation rejects our old answers. When I hear dogmatic pronouncements from our churches or from our governments about how things should be and see that those very pronouncements bring about more division than unity and hope alnong peoples, I can understand why some of my own young nieces and nephews reject them as incomplete, irrelevant, without meaning in their lives. It is probably true that there have always been famines, always children abused, always conflicts among religious groups, always people oppressed and exploited and murdered--but we have not always known about them with such immediate clarity. Now, thanks to advances in technology, we do. We are informed immediately about what is happening around the world. And we know now what the prophets and economists have been telling us for a long time, that our prosperity and plenty come to us on the backs of the poor and oppressed. And now the poor and oppressed know that too. We can see all of the "signs of the times" on our nightly news programs. It is up to us to read them carefully, interpret them honestly, and respond accordingly. If society is not organizing itself so as to be inclusive of all citizens, but chooses rather to be exclusive, then the developments in the world around us must sig-nal that we are going in the wrong direction. If our lack of respect for our environment cries out to heaven and to us in its misery, if our land is no longer fertile, our water is befouled, and our air is poisoned--if we really see and recognize this, we must know that we are going in the wrong direction. Review for Religious If our neglect of the poor and downtrodden causes our edu-cation and healthcare systems to fail, and if our competitive cul-tures make the lives of many people miserable, then all of that neglect and competition must be the wrong direction. If the signs tell me that life the way we have thus far organized it is not work-ing, that nothing succeeds, that my actions effect disaster for oth-ers, I am obviously moving in the wrong direction. After recognizing all of this, what do we do? We must make choices in response to these signs. We can choose to be "the tired ones" who give up to let someone else lead the renewal. We can choose to be "the selfish ones" who create only our own security and pleasure. Or we can choose to be "the hopeful ones" who will look for new possibilities for ourselves and for the world. I want us to be the ones who choose to be hopeful. I think we must con-tinue to believe that human beings hold the potential to create a world that works for all peoples. Our Vows as a Response I think that as vowed religious we might bring new dimen-sions to the thinking about solutions to world problems and could radically affect outcomes--not by seeing ourselves as an elite group distanced from our neighbors by some holy and private choices, by mysterious vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience, but rather by remembering--and letting ourselves be reignited by--the zeal with which I think we all made our first vows. I mean the per-sonal hope that we would change the world for the better, that we ourselves would bring with us the presence of Christ, that by sharing our love, faith, and hope we would make Christ visible and bring all the world to oneness in God. What happened to that most wonderful zeal and enthusiasm? I think that we religious need to ponder deeply the meaning of our vows and the witness our lives can give, must give, in con-trast to various trends and news events. I think of instances of environmental pollution, of trials for war crimes, of the terroriz-ing of ethnic and religious groups, and of the mother of a young child who could kill another woman's little girl. We seek to be effective in demonstrating hope and bringing it into our world. In a world where millions (including helpless children) suf-fer from the lack of such essentials as food, clothing, shelter, medicine, and education; in a world where people use their wealth November-December 2000 Soete ¯ A Vowed Response to produce more wealth so that they can live in a style that uses up the goods of the earth; in a world where people want more and more and give less and less to the laborers who produce the goods; in a world full of people who throw away and waste without even a thought--in such a world I have promised, we have promised, to use only what we need and to share everything we have. Are we keeping that promise? Would anyone who looks at us, our lifestyles, or our closets notice our choiceto do with less and our willingness to share? Would they be edified, stand in awe of the way that we are keeping our promise? In a world where groups of human beings look upon other groups as lower and with great intolerance seek to get rid of them; in a world where "ethnic cleansing," ways of death, become a way of life for some; in a world where nationalism means that free-dom to be intolerant of the differences of other races or peoples-- in such a world I have promised, we have promised, to love inclusively and to take on Jesus' own reverence and concern for all people, excluding no one. Are we keeping that promise? Would anyone who looks at us, at our way of being with the people with whom we live, at our way of being with the people at our place of ministry, notice our love, tolerance, and respect? Would they be edified and stand in awe of the way we are keeping our promise? In a world where the strong and influential make decisions for the weak; in a world where whole groups of people are not consulted about matters that affect vital areas of their lives; in a world where people are murdered because they disagree--in such a world I have promised, we have promised, to search for God's will and the right direction through dialogue and conversation, con-sultation and collaboration with all concerned. Are we keeping that promise? Would anyone who watches how we lead or partic-ipate in groups of students or teachers or coworkers notice our collaborative style or the way we listen to every person? Wotild they be edified and stand in awe of the way we are keeping our promise? What Then? I have spoken about our vows, emphasizing them as three promises because the term "vows" can sometimes be spiritualized and focused only on our commitment to God. In thinking about them as promises, I had a sense of a great possibility. I began to see Review for Religious that what we promise is more like a radical way that all human beings need to choose if we are to create a world where all people can live with dignity. I Wonder what might happen if we shared these choices of ours more openly among ourselves and witnessed to them more radically with our associates and with our partners in ministry. I am not so sure of our next step. I am not so sure how this small core of friends and others like us might have a good impact on our society and our world. But I think that somehow we can--and I challenge ourselves and others to come alive with that potential. "Striving for Unity" is our charism. We are supposed to be masters of it by now. Why, in our Japan Region alone, if we add up all of our years of religious life, we have more than three thousand years of our SSND lifestyle! I hope that we and others may gather together everyone's good insights and with them create for ourselves an exciting and real-istic dream as we step forward with God into this third millennium. Many of us will probably not be around when the next era gets its name, but--just as we prefer the word "butterfly" to "postcaterpillar" when thinking of the little creature's potential--would we not want the concepts of oneness, tolerance, collaboration, acceptance, and respect to be part of the name given to the next era? Are there initiatives for us to take, or can we at least support and encourage the wonderful people around us who are already dedicating their lives to this conversion and transformation of the earth? Is this not what we want to use our energy and ingenuity for? Is this not a way that we could use our positions as educa-tors and as ministers? Is this not worth the offering of the rest of our lives? We have promised to use only what we need. Are we keeping that promise? November-Decen~ber 2000 LAWRENCE F. BARMANN Mary Ward: Centuries Her Scroll examples from the past Today, amid questions about effective evangelization in the 21st century, about leadership and ~uthority in the Catholic Church, and about women's fuller participa-tion in these efforts and echelons, there is much that can and should be learned from Mary Ward at long last. During her lifetime four hundred years ago, she experi-enced much suffering and failure, but her full contribu-tion to the church and the world seems now to be only beginning. For religious in the United States and else-where who may know little or nothing of this extraor-dinary woman, I hope this article may provide a brief but warm introduction. The recent book I will be draw-ing from and citing is an excellent place to make fur-ther acquaintance with her goodness and truth. I refer to Mary Ward: Pilgrim and Mystic by Margaret Mary Littlehales IBVM) Mary Ward was an English gentlewoman, well-con-nected by birth, and related to many of those who were executed for their part in the ill-conceived Gun Powder Plot of 1605. She was born in Yorkshire in 1585, three years before the defeat of the Spanish Armada and four- Lawrence E Barmann is a professor of American studies and theological studies at Saint Louis Univ, ersity. His address is Humanities Building; 3800 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious teen years after Pope Pius V's bull Regnans in excelsis made techni-cal traitors out of all English Catholics who claimed allegiance to the pope by inviting them to dethrone Queen Elizabeth. So mar-tyrdom for the faith, or at least willingly accepted hardship for the ability to practice it, became the very atmosphere in which Mary Ward grew to adulthood. Such an atmosphere is often inducive to quick spiritual maturity, and in Mary Ward's case it certainly was. By the time she was sixteen, Mary Ward had developed a strong prayer life and the conviction that God intended her for the religious state in some form. Her parents thought otherwise, and Edmund Neville, heir to the earldom of Westmoreland, became her suitor. After Mary had gently rejected him, Neville became a Jesuit; and at twenty-one she persuaded her father to allow her to go to the continent to try her vocation to religious life. In 1606 Mary arrived at SaintoOmer in the Spanish Netherlands (now northern France), where English Catholics escaping persecution in their homeland had been migrating for decades. Through the advice of misguided confessors, she entered a Poor Clare convent, only to realize within a year that this was not where God intended her to be. In 1609 she returned briefly to England, where she seems to have gained some light about God's choice for her. Upon returning to Saint-Omer with a small group of English women about her own age, she set about doing for women's education what the Jesuits were doing for boys among the emigr~s. She called her community the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and her specific intention was "to train English girls from Catholic families to be wives and mothers or religious, but all to be apostles for the faith in England." She was convinced that women were quite as capable of edu-cation as men, though she thought they did not need precisely the same courses. For Greek and Hebrew she substituted modern lan-guages, and for physical training, dancing. Moreover, she set about having her own followers trained to teach such things. In the patri-archal world and church of the 17th century, this was considered wildly innovative and thus suspect; and so the church authorities, who alone could approve her work as a religious institute, were to make Mary pay dearly for such innovation. Once, in 1617, after hearing a Jesuit priest comment on the work of her schools that, "when all is done, they are but women," Mary remarked calmly but with conviction: "There is no such dif- November-Decen~ber 2000 Barmann ¯ Mary Ward ference between men and women that women may not do great things . And I hope in time to come it will be seen that women will do much . What think you of this word 'but women'? but as if we were in all things inferior to some other creature which I suppose to be man." Mary Ward's convictions about this and much else were drawn not primarily from books and debates, but from her intense relationship with God and from his grace working through her wonderfully balanced and prophetic personality. As the schools grew and young women increasingly wished to join Mary Ward's community, she needed to settle on some rule of life. By 1611 already about forty women had cast their lots with hers. Both the local bishop and her confessor tried to force her to adopt either the Augustinian, Benedictine, Franciscan, or Carmelite rules. To these urgings she could only respond that "they seemed not that which God would have." These "English Ladies," as they were now commonly called by their supporters (or "Jesuitesses," by their detractors), could not have adopted any of those earlier rules for women and continue to do the work to which they were called; all four rules as they were applied to women in those days required canonical enclosure. Finally Mary Ward had her answer, and it was to lead to incredible suffering for the remainder of her life. To the papal nuncio in Cologne, Monsignor Albergati, she explained: About this time, in the year 1611, being alone in some extraordinary repose of mind, I heard distinctly not by sound of voice, but intellectually understood, these words: "Take the same of the Society"; so understood as that we were to take the same both in matter and manner, that only excepted which God by diversity of sex hath prohibited. These few words gave so great a light in that particular institute, comfort and strength, and changed so the whole soul as that it was impos-sible for me to doubt, but that they came from Him whose words are works. Mary Ward's conviction that God intended her to adopt the Jesuit Rule to her institute of religious women and to do her spe-cial work in the world rather than in a cloister was what 17th-cen-tury western Europe obviously needed if it were to remain at all Catholic. But it was a conviction far in advance of the convictions of most of the male authorities in post-Reformation Rome. Furthermore, the Jesuits had managed to incur the jealous wrath of the secular clergy in England, and these latter pursued Mary with calumnious accusations simply because she intended to estab-lish a female religious congregation based on Jesuit principles. Review for Religious These calumnies found a ready hearing in Rome. The Jesuits them-selves were ambivalent about her institute, sometimes being extremely helpful and sometimes joining the enemy. In 1622 Mary Ward finally met the Jesuit general, Mutius Vitelleschi, who was deeply and permanently impressed by her. Henceforth the Jesuit general would instruct his men to be supportive of Mary's work and gracious to her, short of such involvement as might lead to a sort of second order--something St. Ignatius Loyola had strictly for-bidden. Meanwhile Mary's institute had established schools not only in Saint-Omer, but in Liege and Rome, and would soon have houses in Naples, Perugia, Munich, Vienna, Pressburg, and elsewhere. Mary herself, always of delicate physical constitution, went back and forth across the Alps, mostly on foot, frequently in winter and in the midst of the Thirty Years War, in order to strengthen and encourage her followers; while at the same time she worked tirelessly to gain the necessary support of bishops, the Roman curia, and the pope, for the approval of her institute. The number of high-placed clerics who opposed her for reasons that had nothing to do with reli-gion, or even good sense, always outnumbered those who sup-ported her. The bishop of Vienna, for instance, wrote to Rome in 1628 to complain that the English Ladies had opened a school there without his peymission (though they had the emperor's per-mission and he had even given them a house and funds) and that the girls in Mary Ward's school had actually performed publicly in a comic school play! With the Catholic religion collapsing in central Europe, a bishop's jealousy of his rights against the only Catholic ruler of any weight in the region would ultimately prevent the Catholic education of young women in the empire. Of popes with whom Mary had to deal, Urban VIII, who would condemn Galileo at Mary Ward's conviction that God intended her to adopt the Jesuit Rule to her institute of religious women was what 17th-century western Europe obviously needed if it were to remain Catholic. November-December 2000 Barmann ¯ Mar~ Ward about the same time that he condemned Mary Ward, was the most duplicitous. She first had an audience with Urban in 1624, in which she pleaded for approval of her institute and in which Urban smiled and smiled and totally misled her about his intentions. Eventually he ordered the suppression of all of her houses and the dissolution of her institute, and this merely on the basis of English clerical calumnies and calumnies spawned by the hurt pride of ambitious continental clerics. Mary herself was eventually imprisoned as a heretic in a Poor Clare convent in Munich, by order of the Roman Inquisition. There she nearly died, though she so impressed the resident Poor Clares that they knew she was anything but a heretic. Meanwhile, her followers were being systematically driven from their houses and were mostly on the verge of starvation. Having at length been released from prison, Mary set out at the end of 1631 for Rome in order to clear her good name for the sake of what she hoped might be the future of her institute. Kneeling at Urban's feet she burst out, "Holy Father, I am not nor ever have been a heretic." At which the pope interrupted, "We believe it, we believe it; we need no other proof." He also allowed the institute to continue (under private vows) in Rome and under his protection. In 1637 Mary Ward set out again for England, though it would be May of 1639 before she actually got there. She sought a letter from Pope Urban to give to Queen Henrietta Maria to gain the queen's support for her institute. The letter Mary received speaks of her as "one much esteemed in Rome both for her well-known qualities and piety, which will without doubt cause Your Majesty to see and hear her." This was the same Rome which, only half a dozen years earlier, had imprisoned her as a heretic and decreed the destruction of her life's work. The queen did receive Mary gra-ciously, but within a year the country would be in the throes of political ttirmoil that would end in civil war and the execution of the king. Without completely abandoning her hope of establishing a school in London, Mary went north to Yorkshire in 1642, and there she died at Osbaldwick, a short distance from the city of York, on 20 January (old style) 1645. After her death Mary Ward's institute did in fact flourish, and finally, in 1977, after a wait of 366 years, the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary was able to realize Mary Ward's original insight and founder's charism by adopting the Jesuit Constitutions, and with the blessing of the Jesuit general, Pedro Arrupe. Margaret Mary Review for Religious Littlehales's study of Mary's Ward's life reveals many things. It reveals the costliness, but also the great happiness, of completely abandoning oneself to God. It also demonstrates that, within the external church structure, official authority can be quite wrong, but probably less so in proportion to the genuine humility of its wielders. Mary Ward's life demonstrates incontrovertibly that God's intended purposes are often achieved through the near annihilation of the human instruments of that achievement. Christians should not be surprised by this, for such was the case with God's own Son. Contemporary religious, both men and women, can find great encouragement and inspiration in the life of this saintly English woman. Dorothy Day did, and she even titled her own autobiog-raphy with a remark Mary Ward once made as she pondered what lay ahead of her as a young woman bent on seeking only God's will--"the long loneliness." Note 1 Margaret Mary Littlehales, Mary Ward, Pilgrim and Mystic, 1~8Y- 164~ (Tunbridge Wells, England: Burns and Oates, 1998). Pp. 272. £18.95. Patrimony my patrimony is a deity unknown whose name I cannot pronounce communicated to me in stuttering speech, in fits of temper and in weeping, in so many questions unleavened by answers in silence and in absence by those struck dumb and those afraid to speak Sefin Kinsella November-December 2000 STAN PARMISANO St. Catherine's Letters: Human Love, Gracious Authority One level of St. Catherine of Siena, perhaps her deepest, is revealed in her Dialogue.' But this great work, whether in the original or in proper translation, is strange fare for many mod-ern readers. Its subject matter--mystical union with the Trinity in and through Christ--is high and heavy and, I should think, attractive only to the relatively few seriously intent upon such union. Its language often includes words and phrases borrowed from the scholastic theology of the day, though Catherine's orig-inal genius keeps breaking through, giving new form to old mat-ter. The book is also rife with personification and allegory (Christ the Bridge, the Tree of Life, Vineyard of the Soul, and so forth)-- fun for the medieval reader, but dry and tedious for today's read-ership. Also, in the Dialogue Catherine is quite formal and impersonal. The lively, dynamic personality recorded in history is certainly there, but it has to be searched out, for it is hidden in the shadow of the great Truth she labors to expound. She herself is merely un'anirna in the mighty presence of her God. Her letters are a different matter.2 They are personal--writ-ten not by an anonymous "soul," but by the flesh-and-blood Catherine. Io Caterina rings throughout, addressed not to people in general, but to here-and-now individuals. The letters evoke wide and popular interest. They deal with Catherine's own life Stan Parmisano OP wrote about theology and faith in our September- October issue. His address remains Saint Albert's Priory; 5890 Birch Court; Oakland, California 94618. Revie'a, for Religiou, and visible experiences and with details about life around her, social and political as well as spiritual. Their language is not borrowed from or freighted with outmoded rhetorical devices, but is pleas-ingly spontaneous and informal, as alive today as in Catherine's own time. On the whole the letters are original. They are Catherine, in every vibrant word and phrase--simple, nuanced, various, alive with passion for the truth, and the truth in particu-lar situations. They are "unliterary," to be sure, for they were talked, not written, by our unlettered saint, but they are clear and coherent, direct and firm, though also tactful. Catherine sometimes digresses, loses the train of her thought, but she never really rambles on or gossips. She has little time for light conversation ("Let us run, let us run, for the time is short!"), and her central point is almost always clear and precise. Though each of her letters is unique, many of them fall into a common pattern. They begin with Jesus, and with Catherine as the slave of the servants of God--never, for Catherine, a mere pious formula, but always freshly genuine. Then she often seems to lose herself in the contemplation and exposition of one of the mysteries of faith, which, however, turns out to be pertinent to the subject of the letter. Soon she comes to the question at issue, and, if in the initial paragraphs she was high and spiritual, peacefully contemplative, now she is very much the active apostle dealing practically and in detail with earthy mat-ters. She ends with statements of love and concern for her corre-spondent, placing all in the hands of God: "Bathe you in the blood of Christ crucified. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love." The letters reveal the breadth as well as depth of Catherine's concerns, and her marvelous ability to adapt, with no compromise of ideal, to various situations and personalities. To a little niece she writes in gentle, childlike simplicity about the wise and foolish virgins in the Gospel and the lamps they bear: "Do you know what this means, my daughter? By the lamp is meant our heart, because a heart ought to be like a lamp. You see that a lamp is wide above and narrow below, and so the heart is made to signify that we ought always to keep it wide above through holy thoughts and holy imaginations and continual prayer; always holding in mem-ory the blessing of the Blood by which we are bought . I said . simple, nuanced, various, alive with passion for the truth, and the truth in particular situations. November-December 2000 Parmisano ¯ St. Catherine's Letters that a lamp is narrow below, and so is our heart: to signify that the heart ought to be narrow toward these earthly things--that is, it must not desire or love them extravagantly, nor hunger for more than God wills to give us" (letter no. 23). To Alessa, as to other of her women disciples, she sends prac-tical advice about the religious life, which is to be lived "both with and without moderation . For love toward God should be with-out measure, and that for creatures should be measured by that for God, and not by measure of one's own consolations, whether spiritual or temporal." And how manage this? "Make two homes for yourself, my daughter: one actual home in your cell, that you go not running about into many places, unless for necessity, or for obe-dience to the prioress, or for charity's sake; and another spiritual home, which you are to carry with you always." This last, she con-tinues, is "the cell of true self-knowledge," embracing both the knowledge of God and the knowledge of self, "two cells in one. ¯ and when abiding in the one you must abide in the other, for oth-erwise the soul would fall into either confusion or presumption. For, if you rested in the knowledge of yourself, confusion of mind would fall upon you; and, if you dwelt in the knowledge of God alone, you would fall into presumption" (no. 49). Still within the uncompromising truth and love of Jesus, but with some relevant adaptation, she writes in a much different vein to Sir John Hawkwood, the English soldier of fortune who was the scourge of the Italian city-states. She begs him to leave "the service and pay of the devil., and take the pay and the cross of Christ crucified." He is a soldier; let him remain such, but let him now become Christ's knight: "I beg you, then, gently in Christ Jesus, that, since God and also our Holy Father have ordered a crusade against the infidels and [since] you take such pleasure in war and fighting, you should not make war against Christians any-more-- for that is wrong to God; but go against the infidels. For it is a great cruelty that we who are Christians, and members bound in the body of Holy Church, should persecute one another." And she concludes abruptly but quite aptly with a subtle undertone of warning against his soldiering altogether: "I beg you, dearest brother, to keep in memory the shortness of your time." Her final words are as usual: "Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love" (140). To that formidable woman of the world Queen Joanna of Naples, who first sided with Clement, then Urban, then with Review for Religious Clement again in their rival claims on the papacy, Catherine writes in a similar manner, but with deeper sorrow and fiercer passion: "Dearest Mother--mother, I say, insofar as I see you to be a faith-ful daughter of Holy Church--it seems to me that you have no mercy on yourself. Ah me! because I love you I grieve over the evil state of your soul and body. I would willingly lay down my life to prevent this cruelty. Many times I have written to you in compassion, showing you that what is shown you for the truth is a lie; and the rod of divine justice., is ready for you if you do not flee so great a wrong. It is a human thing to sin, but perseverance in sin is a thing of the devil . Be merciful, ah, be merciful to yourself]. I say no more to you. Remain in the holy sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love" (348). She writes differently to Gregory xI than at a later date she would write to Urban vI. Gregory was weak and vacillating, and so in her letters to hi~n she exhorts him to be "manly" and firm in his high office of supreme pontiff: "Be manly in my sight, and not timorous . I, Catherine. write you in his precious Blood, desiring to see you a manly man (uomo virile) without any servile fear." And, when Gregory hesitates in his resolve to return to Rome for fear of being poisoned there, Catherine reminds him that there are other, more terrible kinds of poison; and at any rate there's as much poison "on the tables of Avignon . as on those of Rome!" (229, 239). Urban, on the other hand, from the start of his pontificate was already betraying that spirit of anger and vindictiveness that would end in personal revenge, violence, and mt~rder. One had written to Catherine after the election of Urban: "It seems that our new Christ is a terrible man." In her first letter to him, Catherine appears to be aware of this and shapes her words accordingly: "Next I beg you, and constrain you by the love of Christ crucified, as to those sheep who have left the fold--I believe for my sins-- that, by love of that Blood of which you are made minister, you delay not to receive them in mercy, and with your benignity and holiness force their hardness; give them the good of bringing them back to the fold, and, if they do not ask it in true and perfect humility, let Your Holiness supply for their imperfection. Receive from a sick man what he can give you" (291). Religious life is to be lived "both with and without moderation." November-December 2000 Parmisano * "St. Catherine's Letters She writes to William Flete and other hermits at Laceto a gem of a letter begging them to leave for a time the peace and quiet of their forest retreat and come to Rome on pilgrimage in support of Urban. She desires them so to lose themselves as to seek "nor peace nor quiet elsewhere than in Christ crucified." If out of piety they are loath to leave their solitary life, they must know that there are woods and forests aplenty in and around Rome! (326). To Raymond of Capua, her Dominican soul brother and dearest friend, she writes in every which way: tenderly, pas-sionately, in joy, in anger; now as a scolding mother, now as his obedient daughter, now reproving him for cowardice and want of faith, now exposing her own weakness and want of love. And, often uncomfortably for Raymond, always she wants him together with herself to die a martyr: "I tell you, sweetest Father, that, whether we will or no, the time we are living in enjoins us to die, so do not live any longer." (333). Catherine's Human Love This last suggests one of two facets of Catherine's personality that may prove especially problematic for the modern reader of her letters, namely, the quality of her human love. The spontane-ity, passion, naturalness, and totality of her love for the Person of Christ is beyond question: she is quite literally consumed, body and soul, with love for Him, who is mad (pazzo), drunk (ebro) with love for her. But, when it comes to lesser*folk, her native inclina-tions seem to be oversupernaturalized, and her love may appear forced and lacking in the milk of human tenderness and warmth and understanding. This would explain the extreme discomfort she experiences when ordered by the Lord to leave her solitary life and give to others the same love that she gave to

Issue 54.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1995. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Mis'souri 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. ©1995Review 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 com~nercial 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 Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1995 ¯ VOLUME54 ¯ NVUMBER4 contents 486 499 5O8 mission Twenty Inner-City Years Joanna Bramble, CSJ explores feelings, questions, and insights from her effort to revitalize an inner-city neighborhood and empower its people. Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor Margaret MaW Knittel RSM raises some questions which suggest a fluidity of vision and a loosening of ties in regard to corporate sponsorship and the fruits of our labor. Retirement's Wisdom Years Catherine M. Harmer MMS proposes that retirement for religious may be a time of deepening wisdom and individuation and a time for a greater spirituality to emerge. 519 531 guidance The Enneagram Tad Dunne examines understandings of the enneagram and suggests ways of moving to a larger world of meaning and values. Imaging Spiritual Direction Mary Vginifred CHS discusses guidelines for spiritual direction and presents three images illustrative of the relationship between director and directee. 535 56O heritage The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs Mary C. Sullivan RSM highlights the prayer of personal conversion wi{h its many gifts as captured by Teresa of Avila in her rich metaphor of "dwelling places." Playing with Edged Tools Donald Macdonald SMNI allows the thought of John Henry Newman to enter us into a richer appreciation of vowed public profession as a part of radical gospel living. 482 Review for Religious spirituality 566 How Am I Doing? Signs of a Healthy Spirituality Melannie Svoboda SND suggests some indicators for checking on how healthy our spirituality is. 573 Appreciating God through Creation Roderick Payne OFM illuminates the heritage of St. Francis to draw attention to some aspects of prayer through creation. 585 589 594 6OO religious life Individualism and Rel!gious Life John Gallagher CSB reflects on three options dealing with the compatibility of contemporary individualism in relation to religious life. Psychological Screening for Religious Life Kevin E. McKenna reviews the help given by the Code of Canon Law for religious congregations attempting to form a consistent policy regarding psychological reports at the time of admission and the maintenance of personnel records. Reformulating the Religious Vows William Reiser SJ reviews the meaning of vows in religious life and suggests that an option for the poor might be a promise for our times. Let's Talk Again about Poverty Richard J. DeMaria CFC probes the meaning of poverty for religious-life practice today. ¯departments 484 Prisms 615 Canonical Counsel: Cloister for Nuns: From the Early Centuries to the 1917 Code 622 Book Reviews ~tuly-August 1995 483 prisms Pope John Paul's two recent docu-ments offer vision and direction: the apostolic letter Orientale lumen (The Light of the East) and the encyclical Ut unum sint (On Commitment to Ecumenism). More than helps to enter into the third millennium, they issue a call to conversion. In Orientale lumen the pope emphasizes that our Eastern Catholic and our Orthodox brothers and sisters are earnest bearers of a venerable and ancient tradition integral to the church's heritage. He calls for all members of the church's Latin tradition to become fully acquainted with this treasure. He desires us all to be fired by a pas-sionate longing that the church's catholicity become man-ifest to church members themselves and to the world, a catholicity comprising the several traditions together rather than in opposition to one another. John Paul uses monasticism as a special vantage point from which we can identify values important today for expressing the contribution of the Christian East to the journey of Christ's church towards the kingdom. In the East, monasticism, which did not experience the differ-ent kinds of apostolic life as in the West, is seen not merely as a separate category of Christians, but rather as a refer-ence point for all the baptized, according to the gifts offered to each by the Lord. John Paul singles out the common traits uniting the monastic experience of the East and the West and forming a bridge of fellowship, "where unity as it is lived shines even more brightly than may appear in the dialogue between the churches." lie empha-sizes the splendid witness of nuns in the Christian East: "This witness has offered an example of giving full value in the church to what is specifically feminine, even break- 484 Review for Religious ing through the mentality of the time. During recent persecu-tions, especially in Eastern European countries, when many male monasteries were forcibly closed, female monasticism kept the torch of the monastic life burning. The nun's charism, with its own specific characteristics, is a visible sign of that motherhood of God to which Sacred Scripture often refers" (9). Among the values reflected in monasticism for the life of the church, the pope highlights 1) a balance in Christian life lived as a personal response to an individual call and as an ecclesial and community event; 2) a liturgy revealing the proper harmony of the baptized-in-Christ and the eucharistic meaning of all creation; 3) a maturing journey in terms of knowing self and being free and able to love as Jesus loves; 4) a tradition of spiritual guidance from brothers and sisters to whom the Spirit has granted this gift; 5) a community showing us a life of communion and service beginning in the family and extending to the wider community; 6) a unity of theology and spirituality deriving from the triune God--the principle and foundation of the Christian understand-ing that the human person is meant for and made for relation-ship; and 7) an all-pervading mystery, enveloped in awe, with which the face of our God presents us. In still wider ways the encyclical Ut unum sint continues the call to deepen the unity we seek with one another and with God. Insisting that the unity of all Christians is God's will and is at the heart of the mission Christ entrusted to his followers, John Paul begs forgiveness for times when Catholics and the papacy itself have contributed to the divisions among Christians and calls for discussion about ways in which the pope can exercise power and authority in a reunited church. He notes that a heritage of saints belonging to all communities provides hope for the dialogue of conversion. "When we speak of a common heritage, we must acknowledge as part of it not only the institutions, rites, means of salvation and the traditions which all the communities have pre-served and by which they have been shaped, but first and foremost this reality of holiness" (84). The urgency of building for the future out of the strengths of Christian heritages marks both of these papal writings. We, like the pope, need to set our sights on this unifying and evangelizing mission of all Christians, thereby living up to religious life's own spiritual heritages. David L. Fleming sJ a~uly-August 1995 485 rnissJon JOANNA BRAMBLE Twenty Inner-City Years After almost twenty years of working towards the revital-ization of West Oakland, a depressed inner-city neigh-borhood, I took a year's sabbatical of travel and spiritual enrichment. In the middle of that year, I decided not to return as director of Jubilee West, the Community Development Corporation I had helped to create. I real-ized that I had unresolved feelings about my years in West Oakland, feelings and questions that I needed to work through before I could move on to the next steps in my work for justice. The reflections below document my liv-ing with those questions. What are my usual feelings about Jubilee West? I feel proud of what it has accomplished, but often I feel deep sadness for the people whose lives have changed very lit-tle, especially the ones I knew well and tried the hardest to help. I feel deep sadness at the unemployment, the drugs, the depressed people, and the piles of garbage that are evident with only a brief drive through the neighbor-hood. I often have an overwhelming sense of failure and powerlessness: so much of my life, love, work, anxiety, joy, hope . . . and so many people still with such con-stricted lives! I feel sadness and grief that the neighbor-hood where I worked for so long was worse after twenty Joanna Bramble CSJ is a consultant to nonprofit organizations in management and program analysis and a member of the provincial council of the Los Angeles province of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. Her address is 529 Jean Street; Oakland, California 94610. 486 Review for Religious years than it was before. It is not that our work did not change anything or made it worse; it just could never do enough. But the main cause of continuing disintegration in that neigh-borhood is not my and others' lack of effort or creative ideas. It is high unemployment and the increasing sale and use of drugs, along with other systemic oppression. How do I keep aware of the interrelatedness of many situations and people and things and somehow see my place as both important and unimportant? What was the situation I came to in 1973? And what did I want to achieve? The 1970 census and the Oakland 701 Study gave the following statistics about the West of Cypress area: ¯ 80 percent black and 18 percent Mexican American ¯ median family income: $3,941 ¯ unemployment rate 26.3 percent for men, 35.7 percent for women ¯ 50 percent of families on welfare; mean welfare income $2,110 ¯ 90 percent of the houses had been expected to be unusable by 1969 (most of these houses are still standing in 1995) ¯ median number of school years completed: 8.4 ¯ 24 percent of people over twenty-five years of age were high school graduates Residents listed their major problems as limited incomes and a high rate of unemployment, extremely poor housing, and poor-quality education. All of these problems still exist and are complex and interrelated. I chose to come to this depressed environment from eleven years of teaching English in white, suburban Catholic high schools. I had interest, concern, compassion, energy, enthusiasm, high hopes . . . and two months of training in community orga-nizing. I remember walking through the neighborhood and mentally singing the words to "Anatevka" from Fiddler on the Roof, newly popular then. The song speaks of the nothingness of the town: "people who pass through Anatevka do not even know they have been here., someone should have set a match to this place years ago." That is what West Oakland looked like to me. But the song goes on to describe Anatevka as home: "where else could Sabbath be so sweet., where I know everyone I meet." That too was West Oakland. It did not take me long to get to know friendly people, many of whom had lived there for years. I walked the streets and .~ly-August 199~ 487 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years sat in people's kitchens to discuss neighborhood problems. Soon some longtime residents and I started the West Oakland Improvement Association. What did I want to achieve? Mainly, I did not want a repeat of Anatevka; I did not want people displaced to make room for gentrification or other forms of development. In 1974 I wrote that my major goal was to help increase the peo-ple's awareness of their power to direct their own lives. Over the next twenty years, I became more deeply aware of the immense problems in people's lives and in the physical neigh-borhood. What I wanted to do both stayed the same and evolved, as did the strategies we used. Always there was the goal of empow-erment. As a community organizer I wanted us to win on issues that people had chosen as urgent concerns. More importantly, I wanted to build an organization that could continue to empower people and revitalize the neighborhood. We won on many issues. Our victories brought pride and increased self-confidence to a number of neighborhood people. But building an organization never really happened. People seemed too concerned with per-sonal survival to stay involved very long. It became more and more difficult to talk with people about community problems when they were concerned with getting enough food for their kids, paying the rent, and dealing with drug problems. These survival issues prompted me and my good friend Sister Pat Sears to start St. Patrick's Center at the Campbell Village Housing Project, where we saw to basic necessities, providing food, clothes, counseling, and a youth program. But decent afford-able housing remained the most urgent problem. Concern about people who were being displaced or were living in substandard housing, inspiration from Jubilee Housing in Washington, D.C., lots of participation from neighborhood people and suburban friends, and awillingness to step into the unknown with faith and hope led me and Pat to start Jubilee West as a nonprofit Community Development Corporation in 1980. We immediately began to buy and fix houses for poverty-level people even though we knew nothing about real estate or construction and had almost no money. Jubilee West also continued and expanded the com-munity services and youth programs begun at St. Patrick's Center. What successes can Jubilee West celebrate over the last fifteen years? Eighty units of scattered-site housing, most of it perma-nently affordable to poverty-level families: five million dollars in property assets removed from speculation and able to be con- 488 Review for Religious trolled by the community far into the future; hundreds of children helped with tutoring and enrichment; many others helped with mentoring and private scholarships to attend college; hundreds of adults placed in jobs, coming to literacy and ESL classes, or receiv- .ing emergency food, clothing, and needed counseling; and an his-toric building rehabilitated to accommodate various community events and to house the offices for other services. When I left, Jubilee West had a committed board of directors, a staff of varying degrees of competence, and a good funding base, although financial crises were and continue to be frequent. So why do I frequently feel like a failure? Mainly because I very much wanted to do something "for the people in the houses" more than just fixing houses and lowering rents and because I feel that most people's lives are not changed very much from what they were before. As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never mar-ried, with three or four children from different fathers. She has about a tenth-grade education, has never held a paying job, has very poor nutrition, and probably has an alcohol or drug problem. If she is not in JW housing or other subsidized housing, she may pay as much as 60 or 70 percent of her AFDC income in rent, leaving her less than $200 per month for all other expenses. She has no car, and so her experiences and those of her children are mostly limited to the West Oakland neighborhood. She appears depressed and apathetic or else quite hostile. So what did I wantJW to do for this woman? I wanted us to empower her to enrich her own life. What did I mean by this? How would I hope to be able to describe her after a .few years? I have thought a lot about my hopes for her, and I recently became aware that they are similar to my unrealistic goals for myself: As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never married, with three or four children from different fathers. .~uly-/lugust 199~ 489 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years I want her to have succeeded in or be in the process of get-ting off drugs, getting more education, finding a job and then a better job, stabilizing her family, getting enough income to move out of subsidized housing, deepening her spiritual values, becoming more psychologically whole, building community with her neighbors, keeping her house clean, taking care of her kids, and working for change in the neighborhood through participating in JW and other organizations. I want her to stay in the neighborhood or come back after she succeeds in order to help the commu-nity work for justice. As I write this, it seems so unrealistic that I want to add face-tiously that she should also be thin and beautiful, but not care too much about her looks. Obviously, one reason I feel like a fail-ure is that I had very unrealizable expectations. Only a few peo-ple could achieve the hbove, and only with superhuman effort or lots of good luck. I wanted my "typical" person to be aware of her power to change and control her own life. That sounds like a good goal. But perhaps my biggest mistake was that I did not give enough conscious acknowledgment to the reality of systemic oppression. When she tries to change in other than very small ways, she runs up against huge obstacles that make it exceedingly difficult if not impossible for her to "control her own life." Only a few really "win" in her situation; but, because those few do win, she feels that she too should be able to win. She blames herself and society also blames her, telling her in many ways that it is her fault. In some ways I contribute to this when I talk about "self-help" without at the same time talking about systemic oppres-sion. Her self-blame does not give her more energy to "fight the system" and to make small and then larger changes in her life; instead it leads to depression, apathy, or hostility. Similarly my self-blame, my feeling myself a failure for not being able to empower her, does not give me more energy to fight the system; in me also it leads to depression, apathy, and sometimes hostility. Issues of injustice in economics, politics, and education are profoundly interrelated. A minimum wage that inserts working people into the poverty level without enough money to pay the rent, a business economy dependent on a certain percent of unem-ployment, thousands of job layoffs so that even many people with good educations are unlikely to keep their jobs that pay a living wage, unjust distribution of wealth including "hidden" subsidies 490 Review for Religious for the rich (whereby more money is "spent" on tax write-offs for interest on home-ownership loans than on all the housing programs for the poor), drug traffic that brings huge profits to a few wealthy people, a welfare system that discourages work, the worst schools usually in the poorest areas, housing thought of as an investment for profit rather than a home to live in, pervasive discrimination against minorities, especially African-American males--these are only a few examples of the interconnected sys-tems that cause my "typical" person's situation. I have known all this for a long time. Did I fail to keep it in my awareness because I felt I could do little about it and I like solvable problems? In any case, I concentrated on self-help pro-grams-- how soon I found that often they do not succeed either! Each person in any self-help program must "choose life" for her-self, of course, and begin to act on her own behalf while at the same time society, "the system," must stop oppressing her. Both are interrelated. But as I reflected on my Jubilee West experience, I still heard the same familiar inner voices of my own self-blame. If only I had been smarter, worked harder, tried something more creative, then I could have made a bigger dent in solving these problems. At this point I was fortunate to come across the book Surplus Powerlessness by Michael Lerner. Lerner first talks about real pow-erlessness, the reality of an unequal distribution of power in this society: If a small number of us try to change things, we will run up against a brick wall. In fact, even if millions of people were to engage in activity to change things, in the short run we would find our society very difficult to change. The brick wall is not just a subjective illusion. The basic fact is this: American society is a class-dom-inated society. A small number of people have vast eco-nomic power while the overwhelming.majority has almost no power in the economic realm. Economic power gives that small group a huge amount of political power. While the rest of us have some political power, it takes vast expen-ditures of energy and time to win small victories. But to say that the elites of wealth and power have over-whelming power is not to say that they have absolute power. Things could be quite different if many people were to engage in the struggle for change. It would be a real strug-gle- and there would be many difficult defeats.~ After talking about realpowerlessness, Lerner describes surplus ~uly-Augus~ 199Y 4.91 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years powerlessness as "the set of feelings and beliefs that make people think of themselves as even more powerless than the actual power sit-uation requires, and then leads them to act in ways that actually con-firm them in their powerlessness." He is describing me when he shows how many activists continually manage to redefine the con-ditions of success in such a way that they always feel "one down" for not having accomplished enough; they redefine their victo-ries as failures and do not credit their own real accomplishments. I certainly do that often. Lerner reminds us that when society claims it is set up in a fundamentally fair way, in which people can make it if they really try, powerlessness is seen as a product of the individual's personal failures. Thus self-blame becomes the central element in surplus powerlessness. It grows stronger every time we blame ourselves for having failed in some important way and have no compassion for ourselves in view of all the ways that reality pushes us to be less than we want to be. Taking responsibility for one's own life works only for the part of the population and for the societal issues where objective conditions allow for real change. People need help to distinguish between factors out of their control about which they could be legitimately angry and factors that would change if they changed how they thought about themselves and how they lived their own lives. Surplus powerlessness, self-blame, deflects attention from the real problems and hence from any real solutions. The anger that might be reasonably directed against a social order which gener-ates personal unhappiness is instead directed inwards and becomes depression or a dangerous buildup of repressed violence. But Lerner's next point is also part of my" experience. Once people are no longer disempowered by self-blaming, they are in a better position to change their environment. Surplus power-lessness can be lessened by supportive group interaction and by developing compassion, showing people that the problems they face do not come from personal inadequacies, but are faced by others as well, and that people need one another's help in facing these problems. My reflection on Lerner's concept of surplus powerlessness shows me that I have been blaming the victims, both my typical West Oakland person and myself. I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. 492 Review for Religious But, to avoid the extreme of blaming others for my problems, I frequently go to the extreme of not giving much acknowledg-ment to the real powerlessness in my life, to the real systems that are oppressing me as well as my typical West Oakland person. At this point in my reflection, I read Joanna Macy's books Despair and Personal Power and World as Lover, World as Self about the need to feel pain, experience it, work through it: my pain and the pain of others. I see that as a big clue for me. I went back to my sabbatical journal written in Washington, D.C., in 1992. One of the questions in Mary Cosby's class on "call" was "What is your deepest pain?" I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much personal pain. Actually my greatest pain seems to be feel-ing the pain of others: so many homeless people on the street, so many hurting children, so much violence in the world., and feel-ing powerless to do very much about any of this." A few days later at a creative-movement session I felt overcome by sorrow and tears. I kept feeling, saying, crying to myself: "I didn't know how to make it better for people. I am so sad about that ¯ ¯ . sad because people were not helped, not so much that I couldn't help but that they weren't helped., thinking of Sylvia, Spring, Connie, Deedee, Charetta, Pat, A1, Brenda . . . tears because I couldn't do it, but more because life did not change for them . " I remember feeling that I must be avoiding some deeper personal pain if the major pain I was aware of was pain for the world, for other people. Now I see that a major need for me is to feel my pain, which greatly includes pain for the world. Joanna Macy says in Despair and Personal Power: "We have trouble cred-iting the notion that concerns for the general welfare might be acute enough to cause distress., but pain for our world touches each of us, and this pain is rooted in caring., our apparent pub-lic apathy is but a fear of experiencing and expressing this pain, and once it is acknowledged and shared it opens the way to our power." 2 I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. July-August 199Y 493 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years During that semester in 1992, I picked up an old journal from 1988, specifically looking for how I dealt at that time with my pain over the distressing situations I experienced daily at Jubilee West. A pattern seemed to be: I would run into a small or large problem that was usually a symptom of a larger systemic problem; feel frustrated and ptwerless; think I should be able to solve it; blame myself because I could not; go to bed depressed, wake up with somehow more energy ready to try again, to think up some new way to address the problem . . . but rarely allow myself to really feel my own pain and sadness. Although many people were involved in Jubilee West, I always felt myself ultimately respon-sible. I also frequently neglected my deep need to gift myself with beauty and nourishment for my soul. I have always felt a great desire for silence, solitude, beauty, prayer--for finding ways to experience the sacred in all of life. But I often let compulsive efforts to solve problems rob me of the centeredness necessary for living and acting from a contemplative way of being. As a step in the process of"living the questions" and of writ-ing this article, I walked around the West Oakland neighborhood visiting some of my longtime friends. I had not been able to do this since leaving Jubilee West three years ago; when we moved away last fall, I just disappeared without telling many people that I was going. So this walk was a pilgrimage for remembering and finding cause to grieve and cause to rejoice. What do I learn for myself from all of this reading and reflec-tion and from my recent pilgrimage of walking in West Oakland? What does my inner wisdom tell me? What follows are some exploratory answers as I live the questions: 1. Feel your pain, take time for it. your personal pain and that of the West Oakland people that you care about, and the world that 'faces the possibility of total destruction. Allowing myself to feel pain is hard to do; I am more used to giving thirty seconds to pain and then moving on to possible solu-tions. But, on my walk through West Oakland, I was more able to be with the pain of what I experienced: my own fear when I went into Campbell Village by myself because of what I know of the violence, drugs, and crime that are always there; the usual mounds of garbage everywhere, especially in front of my friend Sally's apartment; Sally's son in jail for using and selling drugs--I remem-ber him as a cute, loving eight-year-old; the fifteen or twenty men on the corner of 14th and Peralta as they always are--drink- 494 Review for Reh~ious ing and buying drugs; Trisha's house boarded up because she was evicted for drug activity, when she had been one of Jubilee West's most promising tenants. 2. Feelyourjoy also and others' joy as well: celebrate small suc-cesses, continue the lifelong task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." My walk through West Oakland gave me many opportunities for experiencing joy. It felt good to remember all the times I have been in people's houses having coffee and conversation. My friend Joanne greeted me with a big hug, and we laughed over old times together. Two of her children are doing very well, she is enjoying her job taking care of hand-icapped people, she still feels empow-ered by the victories we achieved together many years ago, and her sense of humor is still spectacular. Annie also greeted me with open arms; she is an elderly woman who owns her own home and several oth-ers in the neighborhood, though all of them are in various stages of disrepair. As I sat in her tiny kitchen, she asked me who she could get to help her change her will, and I remembered how hard it was, many years ago, to convince her to make a will at all. My last stop was Charles Garcia, who because of our orga-nizing efforts scraped up $1,700 twenty years ago to buy the falling-apart house he was living in--a small amount, even in 1974, but monumental to him. Although he was not home, his pride of ownership was evident everywhere: lots of beautiful roses in the front yard, a stained-glass window over the door; his daugh-ter spoke of wanting to. move her own growing family back to that neighborhood. I was pleased to see that there was only one burned-out house on Chester Street, when there had been many a few years ago, and I felt pride as always at Jubilee West's twenty-two new-con-struction apartments on Goss Street, definitely the ~best-looking housing anywhere in the neighborhood. My experience of joy on my walk through the West of Cypress neighborhood brought home to me the truth of Joanna Macy's Celebrate small successes, continue the life-long task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." jUuly-August 199Y 495 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years words: "When we open our awareness to the web of life, we con-nect not only with the sufferings of others, but to the same mea-sure, with their gifts and powers . . . if we can grieve with the griefs of others, so, by the same token, by the same openness, can we find strength in their strengths, bolstering our own individual supplies of courage, commitment, and endurance."3 3. Acknowledge real powerlessness and systemic oppression. Deepen awareness of this as a reality check, as the main reason for not continuing self-blame, as a step to determining at which point to try to intervene. Catch yourself when you are blaming the vic-tim, whether that victim is yourself or someone else. 4. Acknowledge surplus powerlessness in yourself and in others, and try to find ways to deal with it, mainly by group sharing and by compassion for yourself and others. 5. Give up the myth that there is one key to changing the world. I have had the fantasy hope that there is one key to changing oppres-sive systems and that, if I could just find it, I would know what to do. Now I am more aware that transformation is happening on many levels at once and that it is not necessarily more important to work on one rather than another; I have lots of options for where I can best use my gifts to work for change. 6. Give up the myth that I am totally responsible (even when and if it is my job to be in charge), that I necessarily have the power to create the changes I want. Sometimes I have that power, often I do not. Any transformation will take many people working in many ways. A friend told me recently that she has become passionately committed to nudging the world toward justice and ecological san-ity. The idea of nudging shows a good grasp of reality and the pos-sible, and many people are doing this all over the world. 7. Give as much time as possible to the beauty, silence, and soli-tude that I so long for and know is essential to the life of my soul. My greatest desire is to act from a deeply contemplative stance. I do not always live that way, but I become more and more con-vinced that it is the only way to be who I am, to be at peace with myself and the world. Many questions remain as I come to the end of these reflec-tions, but hopefully every deepened insight leads to new possi-bilities and changes in my way of being, feeling, and acting. My questions will take more than my lifetime to answer. I am reminded of a vivid memory from a few years ago. I was in the midst of a crisis at Jubilee West, and I went to walk around the 496 Review for Religious lake to try to think of what to do. As I walked, I would come up with an idea about a next step, bu~ a voice in me kept asking, "What if you can't solve the problem?" I would be with that ques-tion for a few minutes and then start again to plan strategies. But the voice was persistent: "What if you can't solve the problem?" I have been brought up to believe that, ifI have a problem or see a problem, I should try to solve it. In fact, I very frequently have been able to find solutions to problems, to achieve what-ever I put my mind to achieve. Similarly, in World as Love~; World as Self, Joanna Macy quotes Lyndon B. Johnson as saying during the Vietnam War: "Don't come to me with a problem unless you have a solution." She tells of some colleagues in France who, ridi-culing our American culture for demanding instant solutions to problems, said we should "let the difficulties reveal themselves first before rushing for a ready-made solution, or else you will not understand them.''4 And so, as I walked around the lake struggling with the com-plexities of my crisis, the persistent voice asking "What if you can't solve the problem?" was actually a blessing. It pushed me to experience that often I cannot solve the problem. What is needed then is not more strategies, but waiting in openness: openness to the unfathomable presence, power, energy, connectedness in the universe, in me, in other people, and in all situations--which I call God. What is needed is sitting with open hands and open heart in deep silence and solitude, or dancing with abandonment to powerful music, or walking on the beach feeling the immensity of the ocean, or remembering my redwood tree. What is needed is anything that brings home to me the sacredness of all beings. I am remembering also the poem by Wendell Berry that I first saw on the kitchen wall at Genesis Farm, the environmental study center where I spent six weeks in the spring of 1992. It moved me deeply then and still does, giving me a powerful image of commitment to the possible in the darkest of times: "In the dark of the moon, / In flying snow,/. / The world in danger. / I walk the rocky hillsides / Sowing clover." I wonder what forms my clover will take? In looking through my 1991-92 .journal, I rediscovered another powerful image, a dream I had on 1 February 1992 and had forgotten. The image of wholeness in my dream links with Joanna Macy's wisdom about the interconnected whole in Despair and Personal Power: "What is it that allows us to feel pain for our Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years world? And what do we discover as we move through it? What awaits us there on the other side of despair? To all these ques-tions there is one answer. It is interconnectedness with life and all other beings. It is the living web out of which our individual, sep-arate existences have risen, and in which we are interwoven."s Deep implications of this dream are gradually surfacing as I continue to reflect on it more than three years later: I am in a house with many people., much chaos., there is a cupboard with a lot of jigsaw puzzles., suddenly they all fall out and come crashing down . . . so there are hun-dreds of puzzle pieces all over the floor., all from differ-ent puzzles . . . instead of feeling hopeless, like I would never be able to sort out the pieces and put each puzzle together again . . . in the dream I feel hopeful . . . like what was individual puzzles is now one big whole . . . and the challenge is to make a new picture in a new way. Soon after I wrote the pages above, my friend Sister Pat, cofounder of Jubilee West, died unexpectedly while we were vaca-tioning in Vermont. We had worked, argued, dreamed, planned, and enjoyed life together in West Oakland for nineteen years of a longer close friendship. Pat was "home" to me; now I feel like a homeless person. In my grief I have felt that God is burning himself into my soul, in intense pain and intense beauty. Was it in another lifetime that I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much per-sonal pain"? I am amazed that "Feel your pain" was one of my "exploratory answers." It has helped me take time for the sadness of my loss. I am hopeful that my pain will give me strength and wisdom to respond to the world's pain in new ways. My under-standing of my own "answers" is deeper than when I wrote them. Hopefully, I am more ready to keep working to create a new pic-ture, a new wholeness. Notes ~ Michael Lerner, Surplus Powerlessness (Oakland: Institute for Labor and Mental Health, 1986). These and other quotations from Lerner are a combination of a variety of pages in this book. 2 Joanna Macy, Despair and Personal Power in the Nuclear Age (Baltimore: New Society Publishers, 1983). These quotations are a com-bination of a variety of pages in chapters 1 and 2. 3 Macy, Despair, p. 32. 4 Joanna Macy, World as Love~; World as Self(Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1991), p. 18. s Macy, Despair, p. 24. 498 Review for Religious MARGARET MARY KNITTEL Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor I alternate between thinking of the planet as home--dear and familiar stone hearth and garden--and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners. --Annie Dillard, "Sojourner" Mey mother had lived in this home, built by her father, ver since she was eighteen, and now sixty years later she was selling the stained-glass windows, the hardwood floors, everything. All went well but for that last moment holding all the pain. We walked away bearing the image of strangers in that beloved doorway, frame of four generations. Doorways of insti-tutions, too, owned and operated by generations of women reli-gious, hold countless emotionally freighted moments, and near the close of the 20th century the terms "corporate sponsorship" and "fruits of our labor" have become and remain inextricably bound. In one ethical frame come three questions that are relevant to these two realities, corporate sponsorship and fruits of our labor. The three questions suggest a fluidity of vision, a loo'sening of ties. The questions are: Who are we? Who are we becoming? Who are we called to be? Who Are We? Over successive generations the corporately sponsored institutional ministry increasingly became for Catholic women religious in the United States their "hearth and garden," Margaret Mary Knittel RSM served as director of personnel services at Saint Xavier University in Chicago from 1981 to 1987. Presently, as a consultant for nonprofit organizations, she writes to us from I 1 Simpson, H; Geneva, Illinois 60134. ~uly-Aug~st 1995 499 Knittel ¯ Corporate Sponsorship the consummate fruits of their labor, our labor. Hospitals, nurs-ing homes, orphanages, .high schools, and colleges together form a litany of dedicated achievement, of the brick-by-brick accom-plishments of many dedicated women. Annie Dillard's feelings about this planet as hearth and garden and land of exile help identify three groups or generations of women religious who for a hundred years have owned and operated those institutions.1 These generations we shall call the exiles, the arrived, and the The first generation, the exiles, traveled from countries like Ireland, Germany, and Italy to North American mission lands. The second generation, the arrived (or arriv&s), lived in an at-homeness within their institutions in the burgeoning years. Now, in these closing years of the 20th century, we have a third gen-eration, the sojourners, seeking a new way to live their profes-sional commitments and their personal lives as vowed women religious upon finding themselves living in smaller and smaller groupings on a planet presenting challenges and opportunities their pioneering sisters in exile--their grandsisters--would not recognize. For the exiles--pioneers, all of them--the missions of the late 19th and early 20th century meant lives of physical sacrifice and economic deprivation well beyond the virtue or vow of poverty. Those women pieced together budgets, scraping their ingenuity for survival. Having come intent upon working hard, they strove to build hearths and gardens and kept striving and struggling, remaining and reminding themselves to be exiles at heart, women in a foreign land. Echoing the economy at large, the institutional ministries they had founded and maintained boomed after the lean years of the Great Depression. The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up edu-cational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. With increased settling in, this hearth of the religious women's profes-sional lives, this sponsored work, began for some to take on near-salvific powers. This hospital, this academy, began to hold terrestrial hopes and dreams, promised a salvation, and hinted of a this-side immortality. Plaudits, awards, and status were afforded to this generation of women who had arrived, who in some cases had left a humble family circle for what was increasingly becom- 500 Review for Religious ing an educated, secure middle-class community. They, we, by one definition indeed had arrived. For the arrived, their hospital or academy chapel began to localize the garden of the spirit. Here each morning and evening, all, regardless of professional status, gathered together at prayer. Here the contemplative "side" sought nourishment as the apostolic "side" waited just outside the chapel door. Hearth of work and garden of spirit, these became fix-tures within the corporate institu-tions cared for by the members of this second generation. Who Are We Becoming? In the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" the central figure, an exceedingly obese mother of four, says to her teenage son in a moment of reconciliation, "I never wanted to be like this." She had eaten her way to virtual immobility after her husband walked away from her and their children. Do we women religious, as this 20th cen-tury of ours draws to a close, gaze at our corporate body and say to ot~rselves, "We never wanted to be like this"? The founders of mis-sions here in the United States began on an inspiration to do good The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up educational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. in the sight of the God, and now, one or two hundred years later, their legatee corporate body has perhaps come to he something overly substantial: substantial hearth and garden, substantial fruits of our labor. These places, these institutions, became the symbolic body of our corporate identity within the church and the symbolic immortality within our destinies. Boards, philanthropic individ-uals, committees, friendships have been cultivated in the name of a hospital, an orphanage, or a school, and individual women's identities have been formed by and dedicated to bricks and steam pipes and windows. And then, as a distant window opened in the early 1960s and Vatican Council II convened, the corporate body ~ly-August 1995 501 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship began to be looked at and came into question: "Is this who we are becoming?" For some women and men, in and out of religious life, the signs of the times appealed to in the council documents began to replace the signs of success. The prophet Jeremiah's call to voca- Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. tion describes a people God observes burning incense to strange gods and "adoring their own hand-iwork" (Jr 1:16). The prophetic began to ease itself forward. The work of our hands, the fruits of our labor, came into question. Now, in these late days of the 20th century, the hearth lies gray with embers and the garden shows signs of late-summer exhaustion. Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. Worse, we know in our aging the lists of needs more acute, more violent, than our grandsisters might have dared imagine. With abuses crowding our culture into corners that seem to offer no choice, we acknowl-edge there has to be more to this journey. Who Are We Called to Be? Our third generation, the would-be sojourners, wonder at this late-20th-century hour: "Is this our time of exile? Shall we be graced to select to become sojourners. Selecting to be sojourners, to move from being securely settled to securely unsettled, recalls the, sweep of the Hebrew Scriptures showing us a people finding centers other than God. The king-dom, the temple, the land--here was the answer. No, not here, there. No, not there, here. Efforts to restore the earthly kingdom kept centering on realities other than God. But Yahweh contin-ued to insist. 502 Review for Religious Selecting to be sojourners calls us to know how to go into exile, how to travel. Traveling, what shall we pack? Timing, how to schedule transportation, stopovers? And we cannot forget those allowances of minutes and hours, those sponges of time, to absorb this unfamiliar territory, this plan, these new connections. We will not know the language, but will need to interact and relate with others in order to continue on the journey and will have to search our imaginations for ways to communicate constructively. Life will move more slowly even as we continually need to cope with myriad details. Knowing exile, we will know ourselves anew. A clock continues to tick, and while many individual women religious hear it, the instinct to muffle its sound remains. "Enough!" we hear. Our alternative thoughts drift to sojourning, but graying embers say "Enough." We lived through the changes of the 1960s and '70s immediately after the council. No more traveling, turning, leaving, remembering, forgetting, previsioning, refashioning, or paradigm shifting for us! Just leave me alone. Enough. Give me the basics for survival and let me live out my life, here. Give me my job, my position, my power. Give me space. But a clock continues to tick. Learning to Mourn Henri Nouwen has said, "Yes, we must mourn our losses. We cannot talk or act them away, but we can shed tears over them and allow ourselves to grieve deeply. To grieve is to allow our losses to tear apart feelings of security and safety and lead us to the painful truth of our brokenness. Our grief makes us experience the abyss of our own life in which nothing is settled, clear, or obvious, but everything constantly shifting and changing.''2 At issue here is whether or not women religious have the energy to mourn. There have been deaths--countless funerals, remembered rejec-tions, and downright hostilities and hatreds. Yes, death seems to have been an integral part of this life once so much idealized--the youth and the joy! But, through all of these deaths, have we short-circuited a certain human pathos, admixing theologies and spiri-tualities, being at times more stoic than Christian? Several weeks after the death of my mother, an acquaintance asked, "How are you doing?" An incident, fresh that day, helped me to describe a way of being that I would later learn is common to us and may be where the corporate person of religious life .~ly-Auguyt 1995 503 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship finds itself today. I told him of my standing in the middle of a room that morning, about to clean, but not knowing what to do next. My emotional energy was somehow separated from me as a person. As women religious, do we stand in the middle of a room and not know how to clean it, with our individual and corpgrate emo-tional energy elsewhere? Solneone has said, "Leaders are people who do the right thing; managers are people who do things right.''3 Is there a sense that somehow our corporate energy has separated itself from the corporate body so that with our corpo-rate leadership we continue doing things right rather than doing the right thing? Walter Brueggemann has observed that "reli-gious practitioners are often easy and unwitting conspirators with such denial. We become the good-humor men and women, for who among us does not want to rush in and smooth things out, to reassure, to cover grief?.''4 Rush in, smooth out, reassure--sounds familiar. What and where are the deep-down places in which we will individually and corporately rejoin our emotional energies, find ourselves? While sometimes we feel sublimely practiced in the various forms of grief, having experienced death in many forms, have we mourned? Have we cared enough about ourselves individually and corporately to let in the slow, mysterious loneliness, the ever changing healing of life after a death, a shocking, numbing death, has occurred? This work of mourning looks not only to the past but also to the future, fully realizing that new steps must be taken. The ability to bear wholesome and healing grief is every bit as much a fruit of our labor as the most imposing achievement of our corporate endeavors. Who are we called to be in this late 20th century, and is God directly and immediately in charge? Given our status and our connections, have we--women religious who have arrived--cor-porately capitulated to others' being in charge, someone else's agenda. "The task of the prophetic imagination is to cut through the numbness, to penetrate the self-deception, so that the God of endings is confessed as Lord.''s We come through the numbing to learn from a God in charge that the fruit of our labor may be "only" to know Jesus the Christ once again as way, as truth, as life. In this late 20th century, the fruits of our having arrived carry the exotically sweet flavor of success taken for granted and of 504 Review for Religious controlling power. In some instances we think it necessary to cling to these fruits with an even tighter grip. What sadder use of our time than participating in meetings with unseen forces with a view to reconstituting yesteryear rather than working with hope for tomorrow! Is there true conversation within our communi-ties, or merely some talk while waiting for followers to follow? Whether we would speak with Brueggemann's "prophetic imagination" or Philip Keane's "moral imagination," can we imag-ine imagining? Keane has said, "Communities as well as persons need t6 develop moral character and exercise moral imagination as they seek to address the great issues of our times.''6 When a loved one dies, a significant part of our grieving may involve imagining the future without them. We have known and loved them, but deep down we grieve for ourselves in an unknown future--a birthday or a Christmas--without their presence. We deeply miss this lost past. The exile has begun, with or without us. We need to acknowl-edge it, learning more and imagining more about what it means to mourn. We will be sojourners, like our grandsisters before us, leaving the comforts of home, however we currently define and hold on to them. "A number of factors can hinder persons from being genuinely reflective and playful in their moral thinking," says Keane; "power or force is one such factor.''7 Shall we become more reflective, more playful, and imagine leaving our present "homes" of wrongfully constructed political power, of oppressive behaviors? What prevents us from asking: Who are we? Who are we becoming? and Who are we called to be? The answer from some, if not all, may lie in these processes of the prophetic, these questions. Land of Exile: Corporate Sojournership "Fairly often," says Keane, "I run into persons whose image of God is that God is out to get us. Such persons want to be told what to do, and they are afraid of using their moral imaginations. Their religious or prayer lives will often be quite limited because their fear keeps them from really being open to the power of the Gospel stories.''8 As women religious we seek the courage to imag-ine and do corporately what many individual women and men have already wrestled with in their lives. We need, corporately, to turn in the keys, have a good cry, and move on. 3~uly-Al¢g'ust 199Y 505 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship Turning in the keys does not necessarily mean a wholesale closing of eacli and every institution. Some would like that, but it could indeed prove shortsighted and definitely unimaginative, even though some say the community's need for money is a good reason for selling this hospital or that academy and others say, "If we sell, we would be doing something holy." Abandoning an inner-city hospital without recourse to imaginative possibilities of how this long-cared-for space--the land's square feet and the buildings' cubic feet--could now serve the poor better might well become a new urban tragedy. We will need to go after anew, with all the civic clout that our years of being respectable arrivges can muster, the neighborhood's endemic and systemic problems. The friends of our institutions of the past may not choose to be the companions of our sojourning in the years ahead. But, together with those who would stay with us, we n~ed to find out who we are called to be. In any new land such as the future, there will be questions, then some answers, and then new questions. Our bequest, the fruits of our labor--whether embodied in our present corporate buildings and our present apostolic endeavors or not--must always be directed towards common goods that our corporate resources and corporate energies can hope to accomplish. People reflecting on the conversion to which all of us are called expect that the hearth and garden that halve come down to tis from a former time, these substantial signs of our having arrived, will increasingly suggest to us new common and corpo-rate lives of sojourning exile. These and similar questions will keep occurring to us: How will we use the power and influence we have? What could the prayer of our community be like? How will we imagine and live appropriate ways of coming together and being together--or of being together and going out together? What can we do most effectively for the coming of the kingdom? Shall we be women of vision, corporately attending to the good? Shall we corporately prepare in earnest to live in exile, to be sojourners, persons consciously and deliberately ready for the journey that begins and ends in God? Notes l Annie Dillard, "Sojourner," in Teaching a Stone to Talk (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1988), p. 150. 506 Review for Religious 2 Henri J.M. Nouwen, With Hearts Burning (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 27. 3 Warren Bennis, Why Leaders Can't Lead (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1989), p. 18. 4 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic hnagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 49. s Brueggemann, p. 49. 6 Philip S. Keane, Christian Ethics and Imagination (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 104. 7 Keane, p. 107. 8 Keane, p. 107. Tourist Your T-shirt's stamped in letters large across your chest: KATMANDU. Your bike is labeled with a hundred road resorts. Your car is dotted round with all your touring triumphs . So, why not take another route today? A low-cost tour to that other inner world inside. Stay quiet by that vast unbounded inner ocean in your mind. Dive, swim and surf. Fly free. Ride high the inner waves of thought and feeling endlessly exhilarated, or delve into the dark and secret untrod cavern of your soul. Discover now the mystery of creation; confront the abyss unending of your own nothing-self becoming. And meet in that remote mysterious empty temple, far inside, your God. Cothrai Gogan CSSP .y~uly-August 199Y 507 CATHERINE M. HARMER Retirement's Wisdom Years One of the recurring discussions at assemblies and chap-ters of religious revolves around the rising median age, the need to care for our elderly, and more subtly the growing costs of such caring. The issue is an important one in that most United States congregations have median ages over sixty. An examination of congregational budgets shows that increasingly large amounts of money are dedicated to the care of the elderly. The National Conference of Catholic Bishops has been sponsor-ing a special collection for aging religious that people contribute to with great generosity, but it covers only a small part of the actual costs. A visit to the motherhouse of almost any group of sisters will show that a large part of what was housing for novices in the past is now dedicated to the aging members. Some motherhouses have very fine infirmaries for the sick elderly. There is no question that religious leaders are making great efforts to provide the best they can for their members through all stages of life. I would like, however, to examine two aspects of that effort. The first has to do with the nursing-home care that many of the sick elderly need. The second has to do with the concept of retirement for religious and the way it has been handled over the last twenty years or so. The Sick Elderly The first topic is the simpler one and will get less treatment in this article. In the care of our sick elderly, the emphasis has Catherine M. Harmer MMS wrote "Election: A Call to Service" for our September-October 1994 issue. Her address is Medical Mission Sisters; 300 W. Wellens Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19120. 508 Review for Religious been changed from the simple caring for them "at home" that was possible when the median age was much lower and the num-ber of elderly religious was either smaller or relatively smaller. When that was the case, at the motherhouse a small staff assisted by novices and postulants could care for them in much the same way that a family could take care of any sick or elderly member of it. Gradually, as the numbers increased and the sick elderly lived longer, a more professional model, that of the nursing home, became more common. As this was happen-ing, the percentage of vigorously active members was decreasing. At present, in most of the retirement facilities I have visited over the years, the staff is largely lay with very few religious among them. In some very large congrega-tions, with several hundred sick elderly members, the facilities com-pare well with any licensed nursing home, often providing much better care and definitely offering more loving care than in the average nurs-ing home for the laity. In smaller congregations the attempt to pro-vide quality nursing care results in Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercon gregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their members in general nursing homes in their area. small facilities that are as expensive to maintain as considerably larger ones would be. In some cases a nursing staff (composed mainly of nurse aides) that could care for thirty patients is taking care of ten or fifteen, sometimes fewer. As congregations face the heavy financial drain, there is a movement toward collaboration among the congregations in a geographic area. This is a positive development that could lead to good care for the religious and lower financial costs. Some groups that have larger facilities are opening them to other congrega-tions. Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercongregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their mem-bers in general nursing homes in their area. All of these steps are difficult. Often the members of a con-gregation are very unwilling to have their elderly cared for away .~dy-August 199Y 509 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years from their own motherhouse. At times the elderly themselves feel that they are being mistreated by being separated from their tra-ditional homes. Only a few consider it a good thing to be in a nursing home of mixed patients, men and women, religious and lay, in spite of the pastoral potential of such a model. The efforts of leaders and the combined efforts of congrega-tions to deal with both the physical realities and the psychologi-cal and religious values are important ones. Key for the leaders will be understanding, patience, and collaborative stances. For the members, those who are elderly and those who are not, it is important to develop an acceptance of the reality they face and a willingness to keep their last days congruent with what has gone before. I suggest that this requires ongoing education for every-one and a spirituality that looks at one's last days as continuous with the dedication of earlier days. Religious Retirement In our efforts to prepare one another for "retirement," we may have bought into a model that was emerging after World War II and continues to develop in terms of what aging and retir-ing are all about. This brings me to the second topic, the one which will constitute the major portion of this article. It is all the more important because it bears upon the first as well. It has to do with how we are viewing retirement. I believe that we have accepted a way of looking at retirement which is increasingly being challenged in the population at large and that we need to study it in the light of what our entire religious life is about. Several aspects of this model of retirement raise new questions. The current model in the United States assumes that people will retire at sixty-five if not earlier. When Social Security became a reality in the 1930s, life expectancy was lower, many people did hard physical labor and had relatively poor nutritional histories, and their hope was simply that at retirement they could stop working without worry about becoming dependent on their chil-dren or "ending up in the poorhouse." Today life expectancy is much higher, and the reality is that many people stay active, healthy, and alert for twenty years and longer after they retire. A second aspect, then, is that retirement is a time of not work-ing and, instead, spending one's time and energy at play of one sort or another. (Married women often have less of the play since 510 Review for Religious they are still expected to do the work of keeping up the home.) A problem here is that many retired people soon become bored with the play aspect. Some move toward part-time jobs or vol-unteer work, while others become captives of the television or the endless bingo games of our less creative senior centers. A third aspect of the current model that deserves examina-tion is the tendency to move away from the place where most of life was spent. This sometimes has to do with seeking a warmer climate or more economical housing. The result is that, as peo-ple age, they are out of regular con-tact with their family and must develop new friends. Even the elderly who manage well on their own in their original home are often under pressure from relatives and friends to find a smaller place-- which often takes them away from the community in which they have close ties and away from some sig-nificant activities that they could otherwise keep up. People are living longer while remaining physically and mentally vigorous, and yet the model of retirement continues to treat them as if they cannot do anything but play. What is being lost is the opportunity for them to contribute to family, to friends, to com-munity, in a different way than during their working years, but a way that is significant and needed. What is being lost to society at large is the accumulated wisdom of the elderly, a loss our soci-ety cannot afford. It would be a shame for religious congregations to follow the national model for retirement too closely. While few if any con-gregations have fixed ages of retirement from major involvement in ministries, there has been a subtle movement over the last few decades to start "thinking about retirement" while the religious are in their fifties. Without necessarily meaning to do so, this has too frequently led to a mentality that places retiring somewhere in the sixties, even if there is no real reason to do so. I have vis-ited motherhouses where some of the sisters appear to have retired Although the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. J-uly-dugust 199Y 511 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years far too soon and are desperate for some way to be involved in ministry. Mthough the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. Especially in motherhouses, which tend to be out in the country or relatively isolated, this leads to a combination of small tasks around the motherhouse, activities that mimic the senior citizens' centers, and some increased emphasis on the spiritual life without much attention to how that might be different at this stage of life. Often when I talk with the retired themselves I find a deep longing for two things: to find some meaningful part-time min-istry and to explore what spiritual life means at this latter stage of life. When retirement takes place at a motherhouse, you find the same isolation from community that the lay elderly experience who move to Florida. While most religious have lived and worked in a number of places, there was always the parish, the school or hospital, sometimes the neighborhood, as a framework for involve-ment and support. This is now gone, and the beautiful grounds of the motherhouse, the special facilities, and sometimes the large numbers (for those, notably, who were used to smaller groups) are no substitute for what has been lost. Religious do not, on the whole, do a lot of complaining, but the sense of loss is often heard in the undertones of a conversation. We hear ". everything is so nice here., everyone is so kind . . . but."--and the long-ing is very real. I am increasingly convinced that elderly religious should, whenever possible, have the same choices as the younger members. This stage of life is important, and it needs to be rec-ognized as such. In the remainder of this article, I want to address two impor-tant things about aging and retirement for religious: (1) the sec-ond half of life as a time of deepening wisdom and individuation, a time for a greater spirituality to emerge, and (2) the role of elderly religious in continuing the mission of Jesus. For many ideas here, it will be evident that I am indebted to Carl Jung, but also to a fascinating book by Jane R. Pr~tat on the croning years (1994). As I read her book, I found myself dwelling on several ideas: that our society wastes the wisdom of the elderly at a time when we need it most; that aging is not just something that hap-pens, but a part of the whole picture of life; and that much of 512 Review for Religious what is wrong in contemporary ways of looking at and dealing with aging in general are found also in regard to aging among religious, especially in how we treat the reality we call "retire-ment." The Second Half of Life Some years ago a large number of articles, workshops, and counseling programs focused on a particular transition seen as noteworthy, the "mid-life crisis." This concept seems, from a Jungian point of view, relevant to the developmental model's tran-sition from the first to the second half of life. This division into two halves does not have a chronological point, just ~s mid-life cannot be tied to a specific number of years of life. The first half of life is devoted to infancy, childhood, and young adulthood inso-far as these parts of life have to do with coming to know the world around ourselves, coming to an understanding of who we are as separate from our parents, learning, developing a working career, and moving to success within that career. At the midpoint, we might wake up in the morning and ask: Is this all there is to life? How we answer that question may indicate if the second half of life is about to begin. If the answer is "Yes, this is it!" we could spend the rest of our life simply as a continuation of the first half until death. If the answer is "No, there is something more!" we could enter into the second half of life. In the second half of life, the tasks shift to integration of the parts that have been separated during the first half, the move-ment toward individuation, coming to know ourselves in a dif-ferent way, and the decision to move toward wisdom. The "wise old man" and "wise old woman" archetypes begin to emerge dur-ing the early part of this second half of life. I believe that many people make the shift to the second half of life without ever hear-ing about Jung or his developmental theories. They recognize that something is changing in themselves, and they move with those changes. Some of the "play" elements of retirement--the programs for senior citizens that involve bingo, excursions, and hobbies--could be considered a return to an early part of the first half of lifel Now that we have done our work, earned our pension, we can again become the children whose task is play. For people with a limited field of interests, this may mean watching television for ffuly-August 1995 513 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years As we age; there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. long hours of the day and night. This is to remain in the first half of life, possibly until death, without ever taking the step into the second half. For other people, the leisure activities are part of their under-standing of where they are in terms of age, but other aspects also begin to emerge. Spending time with their children and grand-children can be a way of being the elder who is communicating the lore and the wisdom of life. This is a second-half activity and one much needed in today's culture, in which single-parent families and families with both parents working are becoming the norm. Contact with the older generation, with grandparents, . uncles, and aunts, which for long years was the norm, now is the excep-tion in many families. Wisdom also has to do with com-ing to a deeper knowledge of God, a greater and deeper integration of the spiritual life. For many people, life has been so busy, so full of duties, that the spiritual life was relegated to a set of rituals honored on a daily, weekly, or yearly basis. As we age, there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. In some cases it is connected with daily Mass for people who during their working years were quite con-tent with the Sunday Mass; it may mean a return to some of the religious practices of childhood; sometimes it is :a search for deeper intimacy with God. This longing belongs to the wisdom quest of this second stage. Religious, hopefully, have not stinted on their attention to the spiritual and to God's presence all through the active first half of their life. Yet the sense that the latter half of life has some-thing special to offer is found among them as well. One cannot deny, though, that some religious at this stage seem to put i:he haain emphasis on play. Their way of playing may be different, but it is still play and may involve television, novel reading, trips to the casino with the senior citizens' group, and considerable family visiting. 514 Review for Religious As a country we have to explore how to make the wisdom of the elders available to our children and to our busy adults. In the extended family of the past, this happened very simply. At one time in my childhood, I went every Friday after school to my grandparents' home so that on Saturday morning I could help .my grandmother with some of the cleaning she found difficult to do. What I remember most is conversations after supper on Friday with my grandfather, who told me the stories of his youth when he was an organizer of the unions in the steel mills of Pittsburgh. I also remember listening to music on the radio, and all three of us reading our separate books or magazines. Elderly religious off in motherhouses and retirement centers lose their easy contact with yoilnger religious, lose casual opportunities to share their wisdom with them, just as grandparents nowadays are often in other states where spending time with their grandchildren is no longer 'possible. In some motherhouses there are now prayer centers and renewal centers that give workshops and courses for sisters and lay people who are interested. At one point I had a constant flow of their catalogues coming across my desk. Fine as many of these centers are, I rarely saw anything that addressed the need for exploring the spirituality of the latter half of life, of the retirement years. Yet in those same houses I often met older sisters who longed for scripture study, for prayer assistance, for some way of understanding and developing the spirit life for this special part of their earthly sojourn. Some Strategies for the Second Half of Life It seems to me, then, that there are two things leadership would do well to do~ (1)to make it possible for elderly religious (granted their varying degrees of diminished energy) to continue to be involved in meaningful ministries that connect with the congregation's charism and mission and (2) to make conscious efforts to help the elderly religious move through the integrative work of the second half of their life in a way that is just as appro-priate as the novitiate training was for the first half. ., I live in a parish at present where more than half of the sis-ters in the local convent are well into the second half of their life and thus are no longer able to be involved full-time in the min-istries of their congregation. The congregation is a teaching one, jg~uly-August 1995 515 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years staffing many parish and,diocesan schools. A few of the sisters teach in the parish school, others commute to diocesan high schools, and the older sisters are engaged in time,limited but very vital ministries, These include teaching and tutoring in the adult literacy center, tutoring children from the grade school, and vis-iting elderly shut-ins 'in the neighborhood. None of these are full-time involvements. In some cases the sisters go to the school, in others the students come to them in the convent. Whenever I meet with these women, I am struck by the joy and peace that are obvious in them. Not everyone can be placed in a parish convent. Some of our elderly need to be in places like motherhouses where their greater physical needs can be provided for. It is sometimes possible to bring ministries to these motherhouses and at the same time pro-vide a wonderful service to others. I have been to motherhouses where there was day care for children in some parts of the build-ing and day care for ~he elderly in other parts. Two wonderful things happened there daily. The children and the elderly spent some time together every day, and both benefited by the experi-ence. The staff of both facilities had "assistants" from among the retired sisters who, like the women in my parish, could not work full-time, but could be counted on for blocks of time on .a regu-lar basis to help with both groups of day-care clients. o To keep our religious involved as long as possible has another imp.ortant benefit. Most o£ the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. We have wonderful examples of very elderly people maintaining their mental and physical capacities long past the expected time and making contributions to art, 'literature,. and the commonweal. Even more important, this is a time when .religious can begin to share the wisdom that has come to them with age, experience, and deep reflection on the meaning of life. This is a wisdom that is very much needed in our culture, a wisdom that too often the children and young peo-ple do.not find around them. Religious can become, in~ a very real way, the grandparent figures ifi their parishes, neighborhoods, and institutions. This is the wisdom of experience joined with reflec-tion upon that experience. 0 The second thing needing attention from leadership is the effort to help religious .use their latter years creatively in order to move toward the union with God that has been such a part of our 516 Review for Religious thinking throughout life. Many of the forms of prayer and spiri-tuality that are helpful to members of active religious congrega-tions during their early and middle years are apostolically oriented. Appropriately, the religious appreciate seeing a close connection between their ministry and their spirituality. The inner life and the outer life are integrated, ideally, in a rich and vibrant way. Changes take place as religious move through the early years of the second half of life. Spending less time and energy in direct apostolic efforts, they have more time for more leisurely ways of praying. They are ready for the next stage of devel-opment of their inner life. Their focus at this stage is somewhat different from that of their early and middle years. It has within it many of the same elements, but also some new ones. In this stage the elderly may desire to recall or renew some of the things they learned in earlier years, but did not have time to savor and assim-ilate. Frequently they speak of their desire for scripture classes, for prayer workshops. These can be useful, but they need to be focused clearly and carefully on the latter years. Now the emphasis is not on quantities of information, but rather on depth, on quiet composure and integration within each individual's inner reality. The wisdom years are the time when the. "wise old woman" and "wise old man" archetypes come to the fore. While the wis-dom can be for oneself, it is even more for others. At this stage there is not likely to be any necessity to go out and preach or teach, but there should be a simple and peaceful realization that the wisdom being garnered is also for others. This is why it is important during these years: for religious to have two areas of concern: one for the continuing development of the wisdom that has been growing in them over the years, and the other for shar-ing that wisdom, very simply and directly, with others. As religious move along through this final stage of life, it is essential that they have the assistance they need to foster the growth of their inner life, to be more open to wisdom, and that they have opportunity to share it with others. Thus, the ending of Most of the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. ~uly-August 199Y 517 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years life can be as full and as rich spiritually as any of the earlier stages, and it can be lived out in a truly mission-centered way. This will enrich the lives of the elderly religious themselves, but also of those who are yearning for that wisdom and do not yet know where to find it. It will bring a fullness to the lives of the "retired" and of those around them. It will be a far happier period than one given to play, television, and various excursions. Religious have frequently been the pacesetters in ministry. Perhaps it is time for the "retired" religious to begin to model to other retirees a richer, fuller, and more outwardly directed wisdom retirement. References Johnston, Charles M. Necessary Wisdom: Meeting the Challenge of a New Cultural Maturity. Seattle: ICD Press, 1991. Pr~tat, Jane R. Coming to Age: The Croning Years and Late-Life Transformations. Toronto: Inner City Books, 1994. Exposition Bless you, caress you~ enfold and possess you. Blessed by you, caressed by you, enfolded within you. Possessed. Chris Mannion FMS 518 Review for Religious TAD DUNNE The Enneagram Since the. early 1970s, religious educators, spiritual men-tors, retreat directors, and, most recently, management trainers have been talking about the "enneagram." 1 The theory proposes that each person is hooked by one of nine psychological compulsions--similar to the seven "capital" sins in classical Christian literature? Dozens of authors. and lecturers nowadays are teaching the theory to help people discover which of the nine compulsions is theirs and bow to accomplish their psychological liberation from it. The nine types are often referred to in caricatures: the Perfectionist, the Helper, ~he Status Seeker, the Sensitive Artist, the Observer, the Accuser, the Planner, the Bully, and the Slug.3 To edch of these descriptions, enneagram teachers attach longer descriptions of phobias, ambitions, expectations, learning style, sexual dynamics, management style, virtues, prides, blind spots, fixations, senses of time, and so on. The r~lations among the com-pulsions are represented by a circle whose circumference is numbered, at nine equidistant points. Within the circle is a triangle drawn from points three to six to nine. Also within the circle is a folded hexagon drawn through the Tad Dunne is an adjunct professor of medical ethics at Marygrove College, Detroit, and a management consultant for Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Michigan. He has published Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco) and Lonergan and Spirituality (Loyola University Press). He may be addressed at 2923 Woodslee; Royal Oak, Michigan 48073. guidance July-August 199Y 519 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram cycle 1-4-2-8-5-7-1. This strange figure has become the logo of the enneagram system. Enneagram and Myers-Briggs People often compare the enneagram to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which classifies sixteen personality types accord-ing to one's preference for ways of noticing experience and mak-ing decisions. The chief difference between them is that the Myers-Briggs instrument indicates personal preferences, all of which are psychologically normal, while the enneagram indicates pathologies. That is, in the Myers-Briggs'all the types are healthy, while in the enneagram all the types are sick. So the Myers-Briggs is useful for accommodating one's own thinking style with col-laborators'; it helps groups identify the preferences for ways of learning and evaluating that exist,among their members and to deploy their relative .strengths accordingly. The enneagram, in contrast, is useful for identifying neuroses, mostly in oneself. The Myers-Briggs indicator, rooted in Jungian psychology, carries a positive attitude toward human consciousness, whereas the ennea-gram, rooted partly in Freudian psychology, takes a more suspi-cious stand. Few psyqhologists, however, rely on either tool for diagnostic purposes, because of an absence of empirical studies that correlate with validated' tests. Among other helping professionals, the Myers-Briggs indi-cator enjoys a wider and less controversial reputation than the enneagram. The sixteen preferences are easily understood; one can readily find Jung's comments on people's preferences between extraversion and introversion, between sensate observation and intuition, and between thinking and feeling.4 The enneagram, in contrast, has sources shrouded in arcane knowledge from a cor-ner of the Sufi tradition unknown to most Sufis and from George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, a self-styled visionary from Russia with dubi-ous credentials. The many enneagram books and tapes that have been published in the last decade tend to describe each of the nine compialsions in dogmatic terms--a style of presentation that allures some but alienates others,s 520 Some Positive Aspects of the Enneagram One of the most disturbing claims made by enneagram devo- Review for Religious tees is that these nine types cover the total human range of com-pulsions. Not ten, not eight.6 There are subsets among the nine, but these supposedly cover all possibilities. Devotees base this claim on an unfamiliar model of personality and on the ennea-gram logo, whose origins are untraceable.7 But what is really dis-turbing is that, despite the dogmatic claims of the theory and an absence of experiment-based research, it is difficult to find any-one who fails to fit one of the types. Enneagram fans in the help-ing professions, after years of working with the tool, feel that these nine are just about right. And individuals claim that the enneagram has helped them to reach a deeper understanding of their personal compulsions than any other self-help system has, In other words, this weird, unempirical, upsetting, gnostic, and mys-tifying map of the psyche seems to work. In 1990 Claudio Naranjo MD published Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker. Enneagram students were eager to read what he had to say, since he led the development o_f the the-ory among English-speaking publics. His book, the smallest I know of on the subject, builds the theory on much more solid ground. That book is now out of print, but has been incorpo-rated in Naranjo's new and expanded volume, Character and Neurosis, published in 1994. Naranjo lends legitimacy to the theory in several ways. Unlike most other enneag.ram authors, who tend to pile adjective upon adjective and style upon style to cover the many variations possi-ble within each compulsion, Naranjo,keeps the set of descriptors limited. He wants these descriptors to function the way they func-tion in clinical manuals such as the DSM tli, namely, as a list of discreet phenomena sufficient to distinguish one type from another? By describing diseases with as little overlap as possible, he enables therapists to spot the core problem more quickly and waste less time on manifestations of the problem shared with other compulsions. Naranjo also takes pains to make a distinction between pas-sions (anger, envy, gluttony, and so forth) and the cognitive errors that underlie each passion. These errors amount to uncrit-ical assumptions about what life is like--the kind of oversimpli-fied worldview (and subsequent inappropriate adaptive routines) that Ellis deals with in his rational-emotive therapy.9 By pin-pointing cognitive errors, Naranjo believes, a person can iden-tify and dissolve his or her pet myths in order to rob the j~uly-August 199~ 521 Dunne * The Enneagram corresponding passion of its rationale and thereby weaken its grip on the psyche. Another contribution Naranjo makes to the theory is that he consistently explains the psychological dynamics at work in each compulsion, rather than just stating them. By appealing to his readers' understanding rather than their memory, he invites them to consult the workings of their own psyches to verify the pres-ence of certain subconscious routines. This is no small achievement. The mind is easily content with a notional familiarity with terms. Only under the whip of intel-lectual desire will we push forward to uncover for ourselves some of our psychic gremlins that have never seen the light of con-sciousness. Likewise the heart is easily comforted with comfort-able feelings; it takes an inner discipline, responsible to no one but oneself, to face up to the discomforts of acting responsibly. In my limited experience of teaching the theory, I found that many students find it too difficult to allow the teaching to break through their automatic defenses and deal with their hidden fears and cravings. The enneagram doctrine just feeds a ravenous compul-sion. So the Status Seeker uses the enneagram to advance her own reputation. The Observer uses it to gather yet further infor-mation before he ventiares out into the world. And so on. Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learn-ing. The work, however, is for people on a personal mission-- those who possess enough self-knowledge to know they are learners in the school of self-knowledge. Much of Naranjo's prose envisions a therapeutic setting in which a seeker looks to a men-tor for guidance. The aim of the therapy is not to settle what our basic compulsion is, as if from that point on we know what box we are in. The therapeutic outcome is not to identify a conceptual scheme that sometimes describes our behavior. The desired out-come is to understand specific experiences of being not our best selves, using conceptual schemes as initial indicators of what may be causing the trouble. This is why it is important to hold the enneagram types at arm's length. Although some people seem to fit a single type per-fectly, others seem to fit several types. Are these latter persons-- whose self-deceit eludes everyone's analysis--all the while being victims of only a single compulsion? Or have they really developed several distinct alternatives to authentic living? Practically speak- 522 Review for Religious ing, it makes no difference so long as users rely on the ennea-gram as nothing more than clusters of fixations and behaviors that logically hang together. Their conceptual consistency is merely a model to help people raise relevant questions about the inner events that possess a slippery logic of their own. Besides his economy of description and his reliance on per-sonal understanding, a further significant contribution Naranjo makes to the theory lies in how he has analyzed the connection between psychological difficulties and exis-tential decisions about being human. Going beyond Oscar Ichazo, from whom he first learned the theory, as well as beyond the people who had already published his enneagram material, Naranjo bases each psychological dynamic in a fundamental spiritual crisis he calls "ontic obscuration," which is a kind of a deafness to our inner drives to be authentic persons. He proposes that, just as certain cognitive errors under' lie each passion, so certain existential fail-ures underlie each cognitive error. This is significant because it puts the focus directly on the inner work of being fully human. Other authors settle for cate-gorizing people by behavior patterns or look to childhood trau-mas to explain present weirdness--the kinds of analyses commonly found in popular psychology. Indeed, popular psychology usually lacks the words and ideas with which to reflect on that innermost work of authenticity. But, by paying direct attention to "ontic obscuration," individuals can discover that a major driver behind their compulsive responses lies in how seriously they take those quiet impulses to be fully human or else how consistently they have avoided the inner work involved in staying human. This "ontic obscuration" underlies each compulsion in its own manner. The Slug stands at the center, having thoroughly obscured inner voices about how to be one's truest self. The Bully and the Perfectionist hear the voices dimly, but respond through a focus on externals, especially through various forms of anger they feel because things are not what they should be. The Helper, the Status Seeker, and the Sensitive Artist hear the voices, but they divert their desire to become fully human persons into Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learning. ~uly-Augtwt 199Y 523 Dunne ¯ The Enneag'ram becoming just persons whose image carries clout in the lives of o.thers. The Planner, the Accuser, and the Observer also hear the voiceS, but they divert a fear of not becoming fully human into strategies designed to protect the little bits of personhood they believe they possess.l° ¯ Naranjo refers to this approach as his "Nasruddin" theory. The story goes that this mullah was crawling around in an alley near a marketplace, searching for the key to his house. A friend joined in the search and, after finding nothing, asked the mul-lah, "Are you sure you lost the key around here?" The mullah responded, "No, I lost it at home." The friend naturally asked, "Then why are you looking for the key here?" The mullah replied, "The light is much better here." 1, The point is that we often look for the key to our house out under the sun, where everything seems clear. But the key is in the house, an~l the house is dark. The Existential Questign: How Should I Be? For all the benefits ofNaranjo's "ontic obscuration," he does not explain in precise terms what being human involves; he set-tles for a description of some effects of"obscuration." For exam-ple, "loss of a sense of I-am-ness" and "something missing inside.''12 At times he presumes that deep down people really know the experience of "ontic obscuration." At other times he claims that the obscuration itself prevents people from realizing that any kind of obscuration has occurred. So, while it is appro-priate for him to recommend that the seeker find a mentor to help recognize a compulsion, the theory would benefit also from a positive understanding of just what it is that "ontic obscura-tion" obscures. To uncover this prize, we need to reflect on how being human happens to be obscured ifi the first place. Most psychologists agree that the intellect of children develops not only in the amount of information they learn but, more significantly, in whether or not they learn certain higher-level intellectual skills for understanding their experiences. So Naranjo's "ontic obscura-tion'? indicates, not a breakdown in mental development, but rather an unfinished development. It is not a matter of having obscured what once was clear; it is a matter of having been born blind and gradually learning how to see. 524 Review for Religious The developmental problem is how to move from a world of images, behaviors, symbols, and external sensations to the larger world of meaning and values. As children we were able to pose questions about being human only by using images. Should I be pushy? Compliant? Generous? Teacherly? Observant? Like a lion? A turtle? A bird? A monkey? Early successful functioning of one of these styles sets up a habit and provides evidence that the world around us must be of such and such a nature--the one that matches our chosen strategy. To the Bully, then, the world is dog-eat- dog; to the Accuser, the world is ridden with crooks. We build up a behavioral style and support it with a cognitive belief in a par-ticular strategy like one of those described in .the enneagram: being correct, being related, being impressive, being the victim, being retentive, being wary, being pleasing, being pugnacious, or being deaf. We become capable of noticing our compulsions as such only later, when we learn that proper use of our minds and hearts is more important than proper behavior and that intelligent analy-sis and reasonable judgment put us in touch with the real world far better than myths and symbols can. Only p~ople who have learned to think about inner acts of meaning can make a statement such as "There I go again" as they catch on to unreal thinking and feeling. ~ .~ This learning represents a major jump in thinking skills. A person discovers that the world is not just "already out there.''Is The real world is also the invisible world made up of the acts of meaning that occur in people's minds and hearts: the agreements, the plans, the guiding ideas, the reigning values, the loyalties, the spites, the memories, the laws, and the internalized language of the place. Former precepts such as Be corre'ct~ Be connected, Be suc-cessful, and Be the martyr were established in the mind of a~child who had no alternative but to think with pictures and symbols. Bht, in the world of meaning and values, learning how to be human ought to transcend these image-based precepts and adopt precepts based on the functions of the mind and heart. Bernard Lonergan, the late Canadian philosopher whose Insight and Method in Theology have influenced many practitioners in the human and natural sciences, has identified five such func-tion- based precepts. They are: Be attentive, Be intelligent, Be reasonable, Be responsible, Be in love.'4 These voices are in all of us. They are active long before we notice them as distinct July-August 199Y 525 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram impuls.es. Although they still escape the notice of many psychol-ogists as being the most fundamental impulses that make us fully human, they are the living source of our ability to notice, under-stand, realize, take responsibility, and love, For Lonergan, these five precepts support a highly-structured method for the human sciences. But, for people seeking to under-stand their inner compulsions, they can also provide a normal way of referring to the task of being fully human. They can rep-resent the very operations that "ontic obscuration" obscures. These are the events that promise to bring a person to what Naranjo, in a more descriptive and less precise mode, calls "the integrated wholeness of one's experience"; "true aliveness, a sense of existing, a plenitude"; "finding value in the present and the actual.''ts These function-based ~precepts not only transcend image-based precepts; they also enable people to transcend who they are and to rise toward being who they are to be. Lonergan refers to these precepts as "the transcendental precepts." A Therapy of Love The question of how we should be does not end there. While people might rely on a diagnostic tool such as the enneagram to recognize self-defeating thoughts before they become actions, they also need a therapy to help recognize self-transcending thoughts and feelings. This means learning firsthand the differ-ence between the transcendental precepts and their opposites: between being attentive and being oblivious, being intelligent and being stupid, being reasonable and being silly, being respon-sible and being irresponsible, and being loving and being hateful. While anyone can recognize abstractly the contrast between these words, the right-hand members of the pairs conspire quite suc-cessfully to obscure their own functioning right behind our eyes. Fortunately, this conspiracy can be caught in the act. By know-ingly paying attention to the transcendental precepts, we can be more attentive to inner experience. We can be more intelligent about how certain cognitive errors and existential decisions sup-port our compulsions. We can be more reasonable as we admit the truth of how thoroughly our fixation may have dominated our psyches. We can be more responsible in accepting guilt that belongs to us, in shunning guilt that is unreasonable, and in sup-pressing what compulsions we can as they arise. Most wisely, we 526 Review for Religious can let our love for others take the lead more often, including and especially our love for God. When a person falls in love, he or she suddenly sees the exter-nal world as more beautiful, more full of potential, more worthy of respect and care. What has occurred, though, is not a change in the external world one views; it is a self-transcending change in the viewer. Being in love heals much of ~' what was crippled in the other four levels of the person's self-transcendence. That is, being in love gives courage to respon-sibility, realism to reason, insight to intel-ligence, and acumen to attention. The person has risen above the imprisoned self and realized something of the profound marvels of life, nature, and the friendly character of the universe. Love's healing power is evident in the love between friends, within a family, and among fellow citizens and members of a group. It is also evident in the love of God. People who have undergone a religious conversion, whether in a sudden inner revolution or a gradual takeover, experience three new powers. The~y see goodness where the unconverted see only evil. They feel a power to reach out to others at a higher risk to themselves than self-protecting reason would allow. And, after the worst setbacks, they find themselves soon on their feet, mys-teriously alive and submissive to the impulse to love again26 More can be said about the healing effects of religious love, but this milch illustrates how an analysis of our self-transcending acts clar-ifibs'what "being human" means and reveals the available powers that "o'ntic obscuration" obscures. Further analysis along these lines would complement any instance of healing with a thera-peutic theory consistent with religious love. Notice especially how the addition of this account of self-transcendence avoids the typi~cal trap of self-help psychologies. It makes clear that people do not help themselves all by them-selves. When i't is the self that needs help, "self-help" is a con-tradiction in terms. Genuine help must be imported. We rely on each other and we rely on God. In order to let go of our worries that our failures will be someh6w held against us, we rely on the fact that we are loved. Being in love gives courage to responsibility, realism to reason, insight to intelligence, and acumen to attention. Ju~-August199y 527 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram The work of making all this real for oneself is long and hard. It might go something like this: Suppose I typically play the Sensitive Artist, envious of the personas of others and absorbing my injuries in quiet melancholy. I should first keep a diary to log the times I notice my compulsion at work, in order to grow in the habit of noticing, t~nderstanding~ and gradually realizing how precisely my frustrated desire to be a notable person works. (Naranjo suggests that this work on autobiography may take three or four months.) ~7 At the same time, as I grow in self-realization, I should grow in self-responsibility. When I hear the inner voice saying "Be sensitive, be like so-and-so," I should say "Shut up!" and then bend an ear to the quieter voices of authenticity whis-pering, "Just be attentive, intelligent, reasonable, responsible, and in love. Being that is a quite good enough way to be your best." Then, alongside the inner work of self-reflection, I should let myself connect with others. Although Naranjo believes that his book can help a person avoid high-minded and patronizing therapists, I find it hard to imagine people really benefiting from it unless they talk about this inner work with others. Being con-nected to others means obeying the transcendental precept to Be in love. That means letting my love for others be the light that revdals what is truly worth doing, rather than mere consistency or some private ethical principle. Because genuine love heals irre-sponsibility, silliness, stupidity, and inattention, the test of genuine love will be just that: Does it make me more responsible, more ready to face truth, more functionally intelligent, more on the lookout for what really counts? If it does not, it is not love. The inner work also means letting myself be loved. For most of us, with our distorted self-images, this means facing the fact that despite our faults, despite the injuries we have caused others, the person who claims to love us is telling the truth. It means dropping the flimsy defense that "you don't really know me" and admitting that the point is not whether we are fully known, but whether we are appreciated and valued for ourselves. It means realizing that we will never be perfect, that we do not need to expend that much energy defending ourselves, that we do not even need to "fix" ourselves through diligent self-therapy. Unless we rely on God and other people for forgiveness, tolerance, and patience, no pathology or self-help therapy will work. This is only an example of finding our way home. Different people will find different paths. But at least knowing what being 528 Review.for Religious human is about shows us what our home looks like. Gradually-- never fully being, but always becoming, human--we will have returned. We can come in and go out as we please. We will have found our home's key: the house is no longer dark. Notes ~ Enneagram, coined from Greek, means "ninefold marking." 2 Capital means that the sins are principal or "head" (capita) sins from which people's other sins flow. Althofigh the enneagram seems to have arisen independently of the Christian tradition, seven of its compulsions match the seven capital sins. The remaining two are bogus morality (Accuser) and bogus success (Status Seeker). 3 No two authors agree on these generic names, but there is general agreement about the descriptions of each type~ Devotees often refer just to the number, as in "She's a raving Two!" (a Helper). 4 See C.G. Jung, Paychological Types (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1926), chap. 10. Isabel Briggs Myers and her mother, Katharine C. Briggs, developed the fourth pair of preferences, judging and perceiv-ing, based on further observations made byJung. Note that they realize that its usefulness applies mainly to the young. See Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type (Gainesville, Florida: Center for Publications' of Psychological Types, 1962), p. 8. s The works on which I have based my remarks are: Maria Beesing et al., The Enneagram: A Journey of Self Discovery (Denville: Dimension Books, 1984); Kathleen Hurley and Theodore Dobson, What's My Type? Use the Enneagram and My Best Self (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991 and 1993); Claudio Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker and Character and Neurosis: An Integrative View (Nevada City: Gateways, 1990 and 1994); Helen Pahner, The Enneagram (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988); Don Richard Riso, Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987). I have also relied on various notes taken by students participating in workshops given by Naranjo and others who derive the substance of their doctrine from him. 6 An exception'is Hurley and Dobson, My Best Self, identifying two distinct compulsions in both the Status Seeker and the Accuser, making a total of eleven compulsions. In .any case, there are no enneagram the-orists I know of who have dealt with the fundamental problem of how to set a limit to types. If there is such a limit, then the types will have to be defined by a set of psychological conditions that are limited and verifiable. For example, Karen Horney's division of three reactions to conflict (against people, toward people, away from people) might be matched against three I-world comparisons (bigger than, equal to, smaller than) to generate exactly nine types. Or against the trio Denial, Overconfidence, Underconfidence. The trio Ignorance, Craving, and Fear seems to under-lie Naranjo's thinking. There are many possibilities. This kind of work will 3~ly-August 1995 529 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram be necessary if the professional psychological community is ever to give credence to the theory and, more to the point, if the theory is ever to be shown to explain the actual range of human compulsions. 7 Gurdjieff, the teacher of this model of personality, claims to have discovered the enneagram in the Sufi tradition, but there is little evi-dence in Sufism of any of the heavy interpretative overlay that it now carries. Gurdjieff's confidence in the diagram seems based on numerol-ogy rather than experiment, and he expected that the diagram could rep-resent any human or natural process. 8 Diagnostic and Stat#tical Manual of Mental Disorders III (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 1987). 0 9 See Albert Ellis, Reason and Emotion in Psychotherapy (New York: Lyle Stuart, 1963), chap. 3, "Irrational Ideas Which Cause and Sustain Emotional Disturbances," pp, 60-88. l0 The reader should note inconsistencies in the enneagram designs. In Naranjo's Character and Neurosis, pp. 199 and 245, and throughout his Ennea-Type Structures, the triangle arrows run clockwise. Everywhere else in Character and Neurosis, they run counterclockwise. tt Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures, pp. xix-xx, and Character and Neurosis, p 36. Hereafter page references will be to Ennea-Type Structures, with corresponding references to Character and Neurosis in italics. ~2 See pp. 30/61 and 63/219. He also describes ontic obscuration as: "obscuration . . . of the natural, original, and truest support for one's sense of personal value" (45/196); "the universal pain of fallen con-sciousness, beyond type-bound characteristics" (45/196); "lack of ground-ingin being" (107/197); and "loss of wholeness and sense of being" (138/150). o 13 Walter Burghardt SJ notes that John Courtney Murray relies on this distinction to clarify how weak the old Catholic reliance on dogma-tism really was. See "The Richness of a Resource," in A Spirituality for Contemporary Life, ed. David L. Fleming SJ (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1991). Murray may well have relied on Lonergan's Insight (New York: Philosophical Library, 1958) for this notion (for which, see real in its index). 14 See Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 53, 55, and passim. I have developed these notions more at length in Lonergan and Spirituality (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1985) and Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco, 199 I). Is Naranjo, pp. 47/197, 92/94, and 125/173. 16 These powers are traditionally called faith, charity, and hope. I have avoided the traditional terms in an effort to avoid conceptualism and to make clear how religious love heals the injured psyche. 17 Naranjo, p. 158/275. 530 Review for Religious MARY WINIFRED Imaging Spiritual Direction Ipn spite of a plethora of spiritual direction programs pur-orting to train those who would be spirithal directors, it remains a fact that gifts of direction are just that--gifts, not learned skills. Spiritual direction involves listening and hearing, discernment, clarity of vision, and assistance in the development of a relationship between an 'individual and God. While learned skills may assist a spiritual director, it is only deep sensitivity devel-oped through years of personal prayer that enables true spiritual direction. It is often easier to say what spiritual direction is not, than to describe what it is. For example, spiritual direction is not psychotherapy; it is not life skills taught by a social worker; it is not catechistic training for specific church membership. " In a pamphlet entitled Spiritual Direction, Henri Nouwen says: "It is of great value to submit our prayer life from time to time to the supervision of a spiritual guide. A spiritual director in this strict sense is not a counselor, a therapist, or an analyst, but a mature fellow Christian to whom we choose to be accountable for our spiritual life and from whom we can expect prayerful guid-ance in our constant struggle to discern God's active presence in our lives, A spiritual director can be called 'soul friend' (Kenneth I2eech) or a" 'spiritual friend' (Tilden Edwards). It is important that he or she practice the disciplines of the Church and the Book and thus become familiar with.the space in which we try to listen to God's voice. The way we relate to our spiritual director depends very much on our needs, our personalities, and external circum-stances. Some people may want to see their spiritual director Mary Winifred CtlS is the Sister-in-Charge of St. Cuthbert's Retreat House; Federal Hill Road; Brewster, New York 10509. ¯ July-August 199Y S31 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction biweekly or monthly, others will find it sufficient to be in touch only when the occasion asks for it. Some people may feel the need for a more extensive sharing with their spiritual director, while others will find seeing him or her once in a while for a few short moments to be sufficient. It is essential that one Christian helps another Christian to enter without fear into the presence of God and there to discern God's call" (8-9). Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. While training in prayer and meditation may certainly make one a more articulate spiritual director, neverthe-less spiritual direction remains a vocation unfettered by rules and regulations, by industry standards, or by a financial fee scale. Most spiritual directees practice St. Paul's suggestion in the Letter to the Galatians, "Those who are taught the word must share in all good things with their teacher" (6:6), by making some gift to their directors: homemade bread, flowers from the garden, a book or tape, or some other item; money does not usually enter into a spiritual direction agreement, nor should it. Unlike therapy or counseling, which are professional relationships between a ther-apist or counselor and a client, spiritual direction is a relation-ship of charity and generosity between fellow Christians. Spiritual gifts cannot be purchased; they are not for sale. Three images of the spiritual life may help to indicate ways in which the presence of a director (or mentor or soul friend) may effectively aid us in our growth Godwards. The first image, offered by Thomas H. Green, is :that of a marketplace. The marketplace--or, as Green also labels it, the ldtchen!--is the part of our lives that encompasses a multitude of small, necessary, sometimes tedious tasks which can seem to draw us away from the richness and quiet of our interior lives. "Frequently," Green says, "the demands and frustrations of the apostolate, or of raising a family and earning a living, seem to be merely obstacles to a genuine and deep prayer life. But if I am right in explaining the way the Lord works through these exter-nal activities and events, then we should see them quite differ-ently. Far from being obstacles to our interior growth, they become for us the very sandpaper of our sanctification, at least as important to our growth as what happens in the solitude of for-mal prayer" (121). 532 Review for Religious These are not particularly comfortable thoughts, especially for those of~us who would like to discover a large block of unin-terrupted quiet. Often it is only with the help of a wise spiritual director that we can begin to uncover and acknowledge the wealth of spiritual graces hidden in our routine daily tasks and to see opportunities in what have earlier appeared to be only obstacles. Another, who listens with detached concern, will not only listen to the occasional frustration, tiredness, or boredom in our every-day tasks, but will also hear the voice of God calling to us from what may, on the surface, seem to be 'merely dull routine. As surely as God works in this world, God is also available to us in our work, however .tedious and distracting our marketplace--or kitchen--may feel at times. Another ancient and popular image for the spiritual life is that of a journey or pilgrimage. John Gorsuch describes such a spiri-tual journey as a moving out from a place of assumed comfort, beckoned on by God into the unknown. The image of a journey is particularly apt if considered in its various stages: there is a beginning, with its preparations and planning; the travel itself; and the goal of the journey. In the early stages of beginning a journey, there may be excitement and feverish planning--a guide is helpful here in focusing our attention and helping us to leave behind our unnecessary baggage. I once watched my sister prepar-ing for a backpacking trip: with the advice of an experienced back-packer friend, she was encouraged to take only the essential objects, leaving her backpack light enough to carry and yet stocked with exactly what she would need. But traveling, no matter how well it is planned and prepared, is nevertheless an adventure into the unknown. Often we must stop to ask for directions or other help. In traveling this may be as simple as "Yes, you're on the right road" or "Two more blocks Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. July-August 199Y 533 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction and then turn left"; on a spiritual journey, as simple as "Keep lis-tening in your prayer" or "Look in the mirror every morning: you will see a person God loves profoundly." If we are fortunate enough to have a good and reliable guide or director, we are soon back on track. At times, too, the journey's route may seem long and wearisome--turning aside or even giving up altogether may look like the most positive option. Then a wise mentor's word of encouragement may challenge and enliven us to continue with new energy and zeal. And then there is the goal to our journey. Sometimes we are so caught up in the travel itself that we lose sight of the goal. A friend and I once planned to spend a restful week together; iron-ically, we also planned too many sight-seeing activities, with the result that the true goals of the week--to ,rest and enjoy each other's company--were lost. So, on a spiritual journey, it is easy to be distracted by circumstances and surroundings from our true goal of knowing God. We need a wise and discerning director to help us in maintaining a clarity of vision about our goal. A third image is that of epiphany. Adrian van Kaam, from whom I have borrowed this image, describes an epiphany as the "shining forth of eternity in daily people, in often unnoticed events and things" (8). It is an epiphany that comes through in the openness and vulnerability of spiritual direction. Van Kaam goes on to say: "The risen Lord is our life now. Our life must become a hymn of praise to Jesus rising in us . Jesus tells us that the kingdom of God is at hand in each of us. It is already here and now, for we are called to share his resurrection in humanity and history" (65). And surely this is the heart of spiritual direction, that one Christian shares freely with another a word of help, a message of encouragement, a glimpse of eternity. Bibliography Gorsuch, John R An Invitation to the Spiritual Journey. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990. Green, Thomas H. Darkness in the Marketplace. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1981. Nouwen, Henri. Spiritual Direction. Cincinnati: Forward Movement Publications, 1981. Van Kaam, Adrian. The Music of Eternity. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1990, 534 Review for Religious MARY C. SULLIVAN The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs It is 2 June 1577. Teresa of Avila is, in effect, under house arrest in the convent of the Discalced Carmelites in Toledo, Spain--a community she founded in 1569.1 She has been on the road for almost ten years, establishing reformed monasteries of Carmelite women and even of Carmelite men committed to the poverty, silence, soli-tude, penance, prayer, and detachment she believes are envisioned in the primitive Rule. But now for the last year she has been ordered to remain in one of her convents (she chooses Toledo) because of political tensions between the Calced and Discalced Carmelites. She is regarded by the Calced as a ringleader who must be kept out of cir-culation. To add to her isolation, on 18 June 1577 the papal nuncio Nicol~is Ormaneto, who has been friendly to the reform, will die, and his successor, Felipe Sega, will come to Spain in August already prejudiced against Teresa and her work. He will later call her "a. restless gadabout woman, disobedient and stubborn, who under the cloak of devotion invented wicked opinions, going about breaking enclosure, contrary to the decree of the Council of Trent and the orders of her superiors, teaching as if she were a doctor, in contempt of the teaching of St. Paul, who com-manded women not to teach."2 Mary C. Sullivan RSM works in the College of Liberal Arts of Rochester Institute of Technology. She may be addressed at Sisters of Mercy; 18 Upton Park; Rochester, New York 14607. heritage j~uly-August 1995 535 Sullivan ¯ The Brazier That Is My God Prologue But now, in early June 1577, during her enforced reclusion, Teresa is in Toledo, writing a book on prayer at the request of her confessor, Jer6nimo Gracifin, a Discalced priest. By the end of July, after one month of work on Las Moradas (The Interior Castle, or The Dwelling Places3), she will be recalled to Avila, where against her own desire she has again been elected prioress of Incarnation, the Carmelite convent she entered as a young woman and from which in 1562 she will found San Jos4, the first convent of the Reform, across town in Avila. But the Carmelite authorities do not want Teresa to be the prioress of Incarnation. They will call for a second vote, and when fifty-four sisters at Incarnation persist in electing Teresa, these sisters will be ex-communicated and denied the sacraments. On 3 December of this same year, John of the Cross, the confessor and spiritual director at Incarnation, will be abducted from Avila at night by Calced friars and taken to the windowless closet cell in the Toledo monastery of the Calced Carmelites where he will remain impris-oned for six months. Simultaneous with all this, the modern form of the Spanish Inquisition is in full swing in Seville, having been operating as a powerful ecclesiastical tribunal for almost a hundred years. The manuscript of Teresa's Life has been in the Inquisition's possession for two years, after being denounced to it by the dis-appointed and vindictive Princess of Eboli.4 In the midst of all this difficulty, most of which deeply dis-tressed her, in the six-month period from 2 June to 29 November 1577 (which will actually amount to only two months of writing time), Teresa will start and complete her masterwork, The Dwelling Places, the treatise on prayer and virtue which more than any other of her writings led Pope Paul VI in 1970 to declare her a doctor of the universal church. Not once in this volume does Teresa refer explicitly to the external affairs which weigh so heavily on her mind and heart, though her letters of this period amply demon-strate her concern, and dismay. Rather, in this magnificent book about a human person's gradually increasing communion with the God dwelling within her, Teresa speaks about the prayer of per-sonal conversion, the prayer of reordering and reordered charity within the human heart. And so The Dwelling Places is a book which may contribute immeasurably to the present-day conversion of the church, of religious life, and of the hearts of individual Christian women and men. 536 Review for Reli

Issue 49.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1990. ; R[ vl~ w ~-OR R~-t ~G~OUS (ISSN 0034-639X) ~,, pubhshed b~-monthly at St Louis Unlver,,~ty by the M~s-soun Prov~nce Educational Institute ol the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office; 3601 Lmdell Blvd. Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United States $15.00 for one year; $28.00 for two years. Other countries: US $20.00 for one year: if airmail. US $35.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address. write: R~vtEw FOR R~-:~.w, ous: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes tu R~:vw~:w vor Rv:~.~aot~s; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. ~1990 Rv:vt~.:w vor Rl.:Li~;~ot~s. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David J. Hassel, S.J. Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. September/October 1990 Volume 49 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:\'~:w v'o~ Rv:w.uaot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. I~mis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Eliza-beth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues and reprints should be urdered from Rr:\'~:w roa Rr:~.~;m~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. IA~uis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion uf each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Suciety for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York. NY 10010. PRISMS. At the May meeting of the Advisory Board for REvIEw FOR RELIGtOUS, the members became engrossed in a discussion of the heritages-- Benedictine, Dominican, Salesian, and many others--that consecrated life fosters and should foster in the Church. Sometimes women and men religious forget their special call to be channels of their own spiritual tra-dition and practice. Religious life, signalized in Vatican II documents as belonging to the charismatic structure of the Church, continues to give birth anew to its members by the overshadowing of the Spirit. The particular spiritual in-sights and practices which establish each religious community become permanent gifts not only to the vowed members but also to the whole Church. The Church's recognition and approval is based on this prem-ise. Religious life plays a critical role in carrying forward the Christian spiritual-life traditions in the Church community. The Church expects in-dividual religious and religious families to give witness to their spiritual traditions. It is no surprise, then, that books and journals dealing with the spiritual life (such as REv=Ew FOR REUCtOUS) are so often the product of people living in this consecrated lifeform. In our times we are being made far more aware of the tradition of the Pauline Body of Christ, with the differing gifts of its members. One of the gifts specially present in religious life is its responsibility to hand on the spiritual-life traditions within the Christian community. Obviously God's gifts are never merely self-enhancing, and so religious life was never meant to be a caste apart or its own separate church. The gift of religious life within the Church only heightens the ways that Christians feel called to live out their following of Jesus in their own day--not only the members with a particular religious calling,.but also friends, cowork-ers, students, parishioners---in a word, all who are touched in some way by members of a religious community. This journal's very title could seem to restrict its reading audience to people following a certain consecrated lifeform recognized in the Church. But, as a matter of fact, from its beginnings almost fifty years ago, REvmw FOR REL~CIOUS has invited diocesan priests, bishops, and lay people to find in its pages the roots of our Christian spiritual heritage which nourish us all. The number of subscribers other than religious was small in the beginning, but has grown steadily, especially with the bur- 641 642 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 geoning of ministries and prayer groups in the Church after Vatican II. Articles in REvmw FOR RELm~OtJS will continue to focus on various Christian heritages which religious life helps keep alive in the Church. We hope thereby to provide for all our readers access to roots as well as to budding developments in the living of the Christ-life. The authors in this issue again are representative of our reading audi-ence. For example, Barbara Dent, well-known for her spiritual writings, continues her own experiential reflections on a prayer tradition deep in the Carmelite religious family. Father Richard Lamoureux, a.a., takes an "American" approach to an age-old Augustinian tradition of prayer. The diocesan priest Father Clyde Bonar uses the experiences of St. Fran-cis of Assisi to suffuse with faith the human experience of shame. Dr. James Magee, professor of gerontology, in his article "Planning an In-tercommunity Skilled Nursing Facility," tries to facilitate the working together of religious groups coming from various religious traditions. Perhaps at this time in history we especially need to grow in our ap-preciation of religious life as the purveyor of the Christian spirituality heritage. If we do grow in this way, the Church worldwide will become all the richer in its own life and mission. David L. Fleming, S.J. Moral Issues in Spiritual Direction Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father Shaun McCarty, S.T., teaches in the Washington Theological Union and is a staff member of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. His address is Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. My gracefully aging mother has acquired a certain Wisdom from the ex-perience of her years, yet she still seeks confirmation from her clerical eldest in matters of faith and morals! Vatican II suited her just fine be-cause, she says, "It said a lot of things I always thought!" On my weekly visits, she will often begin with, "Now tell me if I'm to think this way, but . " And then she will go on to comment on some issue she has been thinking about in the quiet of her "digs" in a condomin-ium for the elderly (which she sometimes thinks may be the only heaven she will get to!). On the issue of Church: "I go to church because I like to, not because I have to. But I can't see running in and out all the time. Especially when people need you. What good is it to go to church if it does not help you be a better person outside?" On prayer: "God's not just in church. He is (she is not fully feminist yet!) in my apartment too. And I do not think ! have to say a lot of prayers; God and I just have these talks when I say what is on my mind and he talks to me." On sev-eral occasions she has raised this moral issue: "Now tell me if I am wrong to think this way, but I think a lot of these rules that come from the Church are not God's. Most are man-made. Now I think God gave us heads to think ourselves. Not just run off and ask the priest what is right or wrong or wait for the Pope to tell us what to do or not do. If you ask me, I just think the reason people do that is because they are too damn lazy to think for themselves! Now is it wrong for me to be think-ing this way?" I ask her: "Now, Morn, don't you think the Church has 643 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 anything to say about what is right or wrong?" She answers: "Of course, but I'm choosy about whom I listen to!" I just smile, shake my head and assure her that she will probably escape ecclesiastical censure! Actually, she gives new meaning, life, and hope for the terms spiritual and moral life! 'Moral is one of those words laden for many with negative undertones ~uch as repressive, punishing, puritan, pharisaical, and the like. Spiri-tual often connotes an a_nemic and pious evasion of down,t0-earth~ d~ ~o-day living. Until we encounter both embodi_e_d_and~i0tegr_~t_ed_i_n~--~l ,rpeople like Mom ,hose lives and choices validate t~]~ch~i'~hg0i~nd prayer! rYOften, too, moral life and spiritual life are separated: the former re- .ferring to what is right and wrong; the latter, to what is good and beetler. 19 the ministry of spiritual direction, which aims primarily-at-'spiri~ual ~rowth, moral issues frequently arise and discrepancies become appa~ ~.nt either within the value system of the dii'ectee, between the dire~tee an~ Church teaching, or between the value systems of the d~rector and the~ dtrectee. What follows wall be an attempt to provide a frame.w~o_rk m which spiritual gu~des~can-tleal'w~th~moral-~ssues'and'grapple with such ~liscrepancies. ~I will first explore the meaning and relationships of some key terms ip.cluding moral and spiritual life, conscience and discernment. Then, I will consider the role of Church as teacher and the role of the spiritual director as guide in the formation of conscience, including some specific ~reas in which the director can be helpful. Finally, I will raise some dif-ficulties that can occur in dealing with moral issues in the ministry of s~iritual direction. ~Moral and Spiritual Life I.n the context of this article, spiritual life means graced growth in the~spirit, that is, in that dimension of human existence by which we are ~.open t~___.transcendent_ rove and drawn by the Spirit into intimate union ~.with God and communion with each other through, with, and in Christ. ~lokalli~ refers t0-th-~t ~i~e~ct of life that has to~do with. human C~h~0~ic~-s ~fi~eely~made~and~lowngl6ehav~ors~freely:embraced~that;-:under:grace, en- ~able one to pursue good, avoid evil, and~ herice, grow hurria-~ly. ,~ As moral theologians point out, unfortunately in the past, there tii~S ~.been and continues to be a split between moral and spiritual theology. Respected Redemptorist theologian, Bernard Haring says: Moral theology for the use of confessors and penitents was almost un- Moral Issues / 645 avoidably guided by the knowledge of dominion and control. Since such a theology, written mostly for controllers, could threaten the freedom of believers in the realm of things solicited by grace, it seemed best to leave out or bypass spirituality . ~ This resulted in a dual track for Christians: one for an elite who wanted to strive for maximum ideals in "seeking perfection" and the other for those who were satisfied to meet minimum expectations in "sav-ing their souls." Beatitudes were for the former; commandments for the latter. Not only was there a split between classes of Christians, but indi-vidual conscience also was divided into two compartments: one for moral norms, the other for "works of supererogation" (those above and be-yond the call of duty!). ~e dichotomies_are unfortunate. Moral and spiritual life are warp and w~i'~?oi;~ameTf:~l~i-U.~'~'~]i~fiaor~a~:~on focuses on an~ai-ea key to human, and therefore, spiritual growth--namely, that of choices that define a person more-thah anything else and behaviors that promot~ ~0~ih~. ;there is a universal call to holiness. To love God with all our hearts and to love others as Christ loves us is a normative ideal for every Christian. The choice is not between a "spiritual" life or a "moral" life. Whether intentional or not, every Christian is on a spiritual journey and summoned to be challenged by the beatitudes as well as by the com-mandments. Again, B. Haring: It is detrimental to the very fundamental norms of Christian ethics, but especially to the formation of a distinctively Christian consciousness, if the law of growth and the criteria for a deeper understanding of Chris-tian love are relegated to another discipline . But it should be equally clear that a distinctively Christian formation of conscience does not belong to those who specialize in "knowledge of control"! For it is at the very heart of salvation.2 The bottom line is that love is the highest common denominator of every moral act as well as the source and goal of all spiritual growth. ~Con~_s_cience ~I~n general, as a faculty of moral lif~-,-~ohscience is concerned with .~ ~ . ~.-:~ ~. . - ~ . .~- ,h~urfian cbOic6s of good or ewl. An ~nformed conscience is the final ar-biter of moral choice. It refers to that element in the experience of free-dom that makes one aware of responsibility and accountability for one's decisions and actions. The biblical term for conscience is "heart" in which God's will is written (Rm 2:15). Theologically speaking, it is "self-consciousness passing moral judgment.' ,3 In speaking of the dig- 646 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 nity of moral conscience, the Fathers of Vatican II described conscience as ". the most secret core and sanctuary of a man (sic). There he is alone with God, whose voice echoes in his depths."4 Conscience may be said to operate at three levels: ~(1) Fundamental level: This refers to th~ hiJFria--ff-~apacity freely t6 ~hoose a life-orientation towards God (the Choi~ce); _tp. p~_rsue .good(the Wight) and to avoid evil (the Darkness) with an awareness of respp.n__s_i~ ~ility and accountabilii'~At this level, one may be said to have a ge~n- ~ral sense of value.' A fundamental choice for the Light assumes that to be human is to have basic freedom and to have a radical openness to the mystery of God which, again, defines a person more than anything else. To take this option is to experience metanoia (change of heart) which af-fects the whole person (body, mind, and spirit). It is an invitation to turn over all of one's energies to God, to put one's life at the disposal of God, to be a disciple in loving service of others as Christ did and to live under the guidance of the Spirit in subsequent day-to-day decisions. It is in the light of this fundamental level of conscience that important life-decisions such as marriage, priesthood, and vowed life should be made. (2) Reflection/assessment level (individual choices): This level con-cerns day-to-_day choices of varying degrees of importance requiring a process of moral reasoning related to concrete situations.~It calls for re-flection, discussion, and analysis. I think it is what my mother means I~y "using the head that God gave us." Here one is concerned with spe-cific perception of value. At this level, there is room for difference, dis-agreement, error, blindness, distortion, rationalization, confusion, and cultural blindness. Consequently, it is primarily at this level that a per-son needs assistance from more objective sources including Sacred Scrip-ture, one's faith community, friends, confessor, and spiritual director. It is precisely at this level that conscience needs continually to be formed and informed. For that to happen effectively, a person needs humility so that conscience can "kneel at the altar of truth" to which conscience is always subject. It is at this level that the teaching Church as reposi-tory of the values of a faith-community, has an important but limited role as moral teacher and one distinct from that of spiritual director. More about this later. ~,~.(3)~Action level: This refers.to.the_moral judgment or choice of wh~t one believes to be right that brings with it a moral imperative to act. At C~his lev~e_l, a person exercises responsibility and accountability for actions ~and for the consequences of actions that conscience commands. A sign of responsible moral choice is growth in willing, compassionate concern/ Moral Issues / 647 action as opposed to willful, selfish action/inaction. In other words, genu-ine moral judgments and decisions find their completion and become enfleshed in moral deeds. pis:ernn~en~t i Discernment refers to the prayerful sorting out of interior movements ~expenenCe~d ~n-theprocess of tnakmg judgments and deos~ons to deter-m~ ne'wh~ch are of the Spent consequently resonant w~th the fundamen-taVl level-of c-~fiscie0.~e.-It presupposes a quest Of interior freedom as w~ll ~.ffs-careful attent~0n to the concrete particulars of a situation taking into i~onsideration subjective feelings as well as objective facts. It is possible to speak also of levels of discernment that bear some correlation with the levels of conscience occurring at: (1) the fundamen-tal (or core) level of faith, where a person becomes aware of God-experience in light of which one perceives that way of life where she or he can best express and pursue a fundamental choice of God and the good; (2) the reflection/assessment level of day-to-day choices of vary-ing degrees of significance and permanence made with a sufficient de-gree of interior freedom and in resonance with one's fundamental expe-rience of God; (3) the action level whereby a discerned judgment or de-cision is brought to completion by translating it into a concrete behavior that, if it is truly discerned, will bear the fruits of the Spirit. Relationship of DiScernment and Conscience Discernment is critical in the process of what lawyer-priest, R.P. Stake, calls the "evangelization of conscience" which entails the power of the Gospel to reveal to an individual the fact and the seriousness of one's sins.5 What discernment brings to the evangelization of conscience in:~ cludes: (l) a sharper focus on the subjective and unique factors at work,] for this person in this .situation (especially important at a time of accel-erating moral complexity and waning adequacy of objective moral norms and extrinsic moral authority); (2) a situating of decision-making within ff ~?a biblical tradition of both Old and New Testaments, especially in the letters of John and Paul;~(3) a rooting and contextualizing of the decision-r~ aklng process in a person's prayer and experience of Go~l; (4) a more ihtentional attempt to examine motivations to see from where they are ~commg and to where they are 'l~ading so as to create the conditions for greater interior freedom in making choices;~(-5) a nuancing of choicest-- not just of the good over the bad, the genuinely good over the supposed good, but also choices among goods; ~(6) in contrast to an excessive de- 6411 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 pendence on laws and authority as sources of moral judgment, discern-ment is conducive to ~clearEr focusing of responsibility four,the decision ~. 3. -- a~nd its cons~equ_e_n-ces on_ the pers_on making the de_.c~!s~on; (~7) ~n contrast to an individualistic and isolated process, a situating of the decision~ making process within the context of a person's faith commUfiity; (,8)~ contrast to a more exclusively rational and deductive approach (~s is often the case in the exercise of prudence ), ] serious~consideration of human affectivit~ as an important locus of grace~in human choice. , In testing the spirits oy measunng them against one s tunoamen-tal God-experience, moral judgments are more likely to be integrated with conscience as well as reinforcing of conscience at the level of one's fundamental choice¯ In short, discernment makes for a more prayerful, thorough, personalized, interiorized, and human process of conscience formation¯ Hopefully the discussion thus far makes clear that discernment is not dispensation from moral law, but rather an invaluable help in observing it. Rather than an "occasional exercise," discernment presupposes the cultivation of a "prayerful mode" and commitment to contemplative practice that can clarify one's vision and solidify one's dedication to truth¯ It is interesting to note that moral theologians today are showing a marked interest in a discernment approach to moral choice.6 ~,Role of the Church in Formation of Conscience ~The Church (understood as the e~n~ir'~Z~P~'o~le~f~G~d)~ qt preserves and hands down a faith-community's values, is an impor-tant, but limited agent in the evangelization of conscience¯ The teaching ~'Church is not a substitute for conscience; nor is its proper role one o~ ~Grand Inquisitor"; nor yet is it the ultimate arbiter of morality¯ Con-science is. But the Church is a privileged moral teacher and recognized ~leader that plays a significant role in thg~ilJp_mination of conscience. It d~es not create morality. Rather it helps people to discover God's de-sires for humankind which are written on the "fleshy tablets" of the hu- ~man heart¯ Not only does the Church embrace historically and cross-culturally an experience far wider than that of a single individual or cul-ture, but believers hold that the Church has special guidance from the Holy Spirit. Though the Church cannot be expected to address all the val-ues in every moral situation, it can provide norms against which people can measure their own moral judgment. Such norms protect values. Val-ues may be protected in different ways in different eras and/or cultures. Above all, the Church is eminently equipped to help form mature Chris-tian consciences that will enable people to accept responsibility for "us- Moral Issues / 6t19 ing the heads God gave them" in arriving at sound moral decisions. ~Role of-Sp~tual Director in Formation of Conscience ¯ ,Since:mOraVand~spiritual~life:should not'be d~vided~ the~d~rector ob7- ~o~s.~y ~ concerned w~th the moral choices of the directee. In the pro-cess of disce~ment, choices should be consonant with a fundamental choice of the Light and with the person's value system. Though neithe~ ~a represeatative 6fthe-teaching Church as such nor a moral judge of oth- .ers -Consc~ence~ ~n the role of spiritual dire&or, nevertheless ihe-dir~' t~r dbe~ have a responsibility to assist in the ongoing evangelization of conscience by way of enabling individuals to find their own way.- The director also needs to pay attention to his or her own blocks, biases, and unfreedoms that can arise from conflicts between the director's value sys-tem and that of the directee. The director's moral code is not normative ,for the directee. ~ spiritual director acts best as moral guide by being a witness to ~,(trut~hd pers0ndleXample Of integrity~- In addition, the director can help form consciences by appropriate interventions, pat~'e nt wa~t~ng," " compas-sionate understanding, and by maintaining a non-judgmental attitude, -~hde at the same t~me offering honest challenge. The most helpful in-tervention is attentive listening. All spiritual growth, including the evangelization of conscience, happens incrementally. This calls for pa-tience and attentiveness to the readiness of the directee in a~iving at her or his own judgments. It should be noted that self-denigration is one of the most basic moral issues with which many in direction need to deal~ Real or supposed moral lapse especially can deepen it, and this calls for compassionate understanding. Yet, good people are prone to subtle ways of rationalizing and, at times, need honest challenge. It is one thing to experience ambiguity in moral issues; it is another to refuse to wrestle with it] It is comfo~ing to remember that when difficulties arise, the same Holy Spirit who illumines discerning hea~s is also leading persons to moral integrity~ What specifically can a spiritual guide do to enable the formation of conscience? At the fundamental level of conscience, it can be assumed that the person coming for direction has made a fundamental choice of God and the pursuit of good. It would be important in making discerned moral choices that persons continue to refer back to the deepest level of their God-experience. In reference to a major life-decision affecting a per-son's deepest commitments (for example, to enter or to leave marriage, priesthood, vowed life), a director might ask: Has the directee spent shf-ficient time in serious prayer? Made a careful examen of motives? Asked 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 others for feedback? It is at the reflection/assessment level of conscience that most guid-ance is sought. :S~6'~ " a "ec o be ~i~fulz ~ (1 ) In assessing moral maturity: What is the quality of the moral rea-soning process of the directee in reference to this choice? Does the per-son have a sufficiently informed conscience? Where are the blind spots? To what extent is the directee open to outside input? Is she or he making efforts to inform conscience by some reference to moral norms? (for ex-ample, Scripture, norms of his or her faith community?) Has the directee already made up his or her mind and now is unwilling to be "confused with the facts"? Does the directee rely on authority and law for some directives she or he likes, but on a subjective process of "discernment" for others she or he does not? Who will be affected and how by this moral choice? (2) In clarifying values: What values seem important to the directee (as they become visible in choices acted upon as well as spoken of!) and in what priority are they held? Does the person have sufficient clarity con-cerning these priorities? What values does the directee perceive in refer-ence to the specific moral issue with which she or he is now struggling? Is there any struggle? In "grey" areas is the directee willing to strug-gle? Has the director grappled with the same issue and know where she or he stands at present? Is the director clear about his or her own value system? What unfreedoms in the director might significantly hinder fa-cilitating the directee's discernment? (3) In establishing a prayerful mode: Is the directee bringing the is-sue to prayer/discernment: sufficiently in touch with her or his experi-ence of God? seeking inner freedom? gathering sufficient data? attentive to affective responses as options are explored and data gathered? In re-flecting on and in assessing options, does the directee feel any incongru-ence or resistance within towards one or the other option? In deciding on the action level of conscience: Does the directee trans-late moral judgments into deeds? Is she or he open to accountability? Will-ing to take responsibility for his or her actions? What are the conse-quences of the directee's moral decision for others? For self? ~Difficulties Facing Directors in Dealing with Conscience ,Since consciences differ as people do, it .is tO be expe~.cot_eod_~that diffi- ~'ulties can arise indealing with moral issues. These include: ~(1) Difference in moral conviction: When there is a difference of moral conviction on an issue with a directee (for example, divorce, Moral Issues / 651 greed, tax fraud, contraception, sexual activity, and so forth), what is the moral responsibility of the spiritual director? Although a guide in the process of moral choice rather than a teacher of morality, a spiritual di-rector must make a judgment as to whether she or he feels so strongly about an issue as to be unable to help the person deal with it. The direc-tor might pose the question: Will my own strong conviction constitute a major interference in the direction process? What would be appropri-ate to share with the directees at this time concerning my difference of conviction? (For example, a director might be absolutely unwilling to help a person "discern" an abortion.) ~(2) Inadequate social moral consciousness of the directee: What can a director do to help a person broaden the horizons of a conscience lack-ing in social consciousness or with little sense of social sin? On the one hand, the director needs to respect the value system of the directee and to respect readiness for change. On the other hand, the working alliance between the two should also have provided for appropriate challenge as a help to growth. If social consciousness seems to need broadening, a director might: (a) suggest readings to provoke thought; (b) be attentive to possible points of entry for discussion arising from life experience re-ported by a directee that can be occasions of broadening social aware-ness-- for example, a chance brush with a beggar or a personal experi-ence of discrimination; (c) suggest firsthand exposure to situations of so-cial concern--for example, volunteering time at a shelter for the home-less; (d) at times of periodic assessment (for which a good working alli-ance will also make provision), an honest and direct, yet gentle challenge may be in order. ~)(3) Distress after moral lapse: Without unduly mitigating a healthy sense of guilt that helps a person to recognize culpability and move to repentance, a compassionate director can help minimize the debilitating preoccupation that often accompanies guilt. If a person is overly dis-traught over a moral lapse, a director can help by getting the directee to contextualize it, that is, to see it in relationship to his other fundamental option and to the rest of his or her moral life. Does it reverse the funda-mental optioh? Erode it? Not substantially affect it? In addition to sin, where has grace been experienced? How might the experience of moral lapse and its aftermath (for example, a lessening of spiritual pride) been an occasion of grace? Conclusion In dealing with moral issues in spiritual direction, we have explored the meaning and relationship of moral and spiritual life and seen that the 652 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 two should not be divided. Moral life has as one of its concerns a key aspect of spiritual life--namely, decision-making and its relationship to character formation. Discernment is not an alternative to, but an enrich-ment of moral decision-making. Both Church as moral teacher and spiri-tual director as moral guide play significant, but different and limited roles in the formation of conscience--the final arbiter of moral judgment which, in turn, must always remain open to ongoing formation. Finally, we considered some ways for a spiritual director to deal with difficulties that arise in dealing with moral issues. Hvopefully, both Church and spiritual director will provide teachi~g~ find guidance that will enable folks, as-Mom says, "to use the heads God !~ga,~ethem to think for themselves!" That might give both the terms moral and spiritual life better press! You know, as I think of it, my mother was and continues to be my first (and probably my best!) profes-sor of moral and spiritual theology! Exercise Can you think of a situation in which your moral judgment differed from that of a directee? One in which the directee's was in conflict with Church teaching? What did you judge as your own moral responsibility towards the di-rectee? How did this affect your ability to discern as spiritual director? How did you try to discern what you should share with the directee? What aided your discernment? NOTES ~ See B. Haring, Free and Faithful in Christ, Vol. I (New York: Seabury, 1978), pp. 2-3. 2 Ibid, p. 253. 3 K. Rahner & H. Vorgrimler, Theological Dictionary (Herder & Herder, 1968), p. 95. 4 "Gaudium et spes," (n. 16) The Documents of Vatican II, W.M. Abbott, ed. (New York: Guild Press), p. 213. 5 R.P. Stake, "Grounding the 'Priest-Penitent Privilege' in American Law," Con-fidentiality in the United States (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1988), p. 151. 6 For example, see Tracing the Spirit, J.E. Hug, ed. (New York: Paul ist, 1983), pp. 379ff. Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? Timothy Brown, S.J. and Harriet A. Learson Father Timothy Brown, S.J., is assistant professor of law in the Sellinger School of Business and Management, Loyola College in Baltimore, Maryland. Harriet Lear-son, M.B.A., M.A., is a senior management consultant, Right Associates, in Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania, and is a practicing spiritual director. Correspondence may be addressed to Loyola College; 4501 North Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210- 2699. In today's service-oriented society, one can hardly avoid the media's al-most daily reports about the issue of malpractice. Doctors, lawyers, psy-chologists, psychiatrists, and human service professionals are becoming increasingly liable and vulnerable to public scrutiny regarding their prac-tices, philosophies, and ethics. In an editorial in the Jesuit publication Human Development Father James Gill, S.J., a Jesuit psychiatrist, raised the question of licensing spiritual directors. He comments: Haven't we reached a point in the Church's history when a group of well-trained and experienced spiritual directors can come together and deter-mine what type and amount of preparation would entitle a candidate to be licensed as a spiritual director? For the self-confidence of the direc-tors, no less than the well-being of their directees, a board of examiners and a certifying process comparable to those maintained by clinical psy-chologists, nurses, and physicians should be created. These profession-als have, in conscience, set high standards for their performance for the sake of their clients. We who are given access to the deepest recesses of souls should hardly be less conscientious. I There has been an outpouring of lawsuits against Churches and clergy as a result of alleged malpractice in recent years. The term that 653 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 has been coined is clergy malpractice which covers a wide variety of torts and crimes including child abuse, paternity suits, and intentional inflic-tion of emotional distress. The constitutional questions, under both state and federal Constitutions, oftentimes deny a cause of action because of the First Amendment issue of separation of Church and State. A number of cases have come to the attention of the media in the area of clergy mal-practice. One of the most noteworthy comes from California, Nally vs. Grace Community Church.2 In this case, parents whose son committed suicide brought an action against a church and church-related counselors, alleging negligent coun-seling and outrageous conduct which ultimately led to the death of their son.3 I. Constitutional Issues in Nally Vs. Grace Community Church Kenneth Nally committed suicide after having become part of a re-ligious organization that his parents alleged suggested to his son that, if you kill yourself, you will go to heaven. His parents brought suit against the Grace Community Church of the Valley, a fundamentalist sect, lo-cated in Southern California. The parents sued the church and four pas-tors for malpractice, negligence, and outrageous conduct. They con-tended that the church's evangelical fundamentalist teachings "in-culcated in their son the belief that he had betrayed Christ's love and trust, and otherwise exacerbated Ken's preexisting feelings of guilt, anxi-ety, and deep depression with the knowledge that these acts would in~ crease the tendencies of Ken to attempt to take his own life."4 The church countered that the young man had been examined by five physi-cians and a psychiatrist after an earlier suicide attempt and that the coun-selors had arranged or encouraged many of these visits. A trial judge dis-missed the case after the close of the plaintiff's case, 5 and the case was appealed. The appellate court reversed the trial court's nonsuit of the negli-gence and outrageous conduct allegations against the Grace Community Church and several of its pastoral counselors. They held that the Church's counselors negligently failed to refer this suicidal youth to those authorized and best suited to prevent his death.6 Associate Justice Johnson writing for the majority began the opinion by clearing up the confusion regarding the issue of clergy malpractice: The court., does not view the causes of action discussed in our opin-ion to involve 'clergy malpractice.' Instead, we see them more accu-rately characterized as 'negligent failure to prevent suicide,' and 'inten- Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? tional or reckless infliction of emotional injury causing suicide'- which negligence and intentional or reckless acts happens to have been committed by church-affiliated counselors. In our view this case has lit-tle or nothing to say about the liability of clergymen for the negligent performance of their ordinary ministerial duties or even their counsel-ing duties except when they enter into a counseling relationship with sui-cidal individuals.7 The church appealed the ruling by the California Court of Appeals for the Second District. After eight years of litigation after the suicide of Kenneth Nally, the Supreme Court of California in a 5-2 opinion held that the "legal duty of care" imposed by the State on licensed praction-ers did not apply to the clergy.8 Chief Justice Lucas writes: "Neither the legislature nor the courts have ever imposed a legal ob-ligation on persons to take affirmative steps to prevent the suicide of one who is not under the care of a physician in a hospital. Imposing such a duty on nontherapist counselors could have a deleterious effect on coun-seling in general and deter those most in need of help from seeking treat-ment out of fear that the private disclosures could subject them to invol-untary commitment to psychiatric facilities."9 The California court notes the California legislature's recognition that "access to the clergy for coun-seling should be free from state imposed counseling standards." to Two other Justices agreed that the case should be dismissed but said the defendants did have a legal duty of care but that the evidence showed the pastors never breached it or contributed to the man's death. The Court unanimously dismissed the case. II. Spiritual DirectionmA Definition Whether spiritual directors should be licensed to prevent the kind of tragedy described in the Nally case is a question that is presently being debated by many in the field. Spiritual direction has a very broad con-notation. It can be defined as an interpersonal situation in which one per-son assists another person to growth in the spirit, in the life of faith (prayer), hope (difficulties), sufferings (trials), and love (the person's life in the Christian community). 1~ Spiritual direction may better be defined by what it is not, rather than by what it is. Spiritual direction is not pri-marily information even though it may be the occasion for sharing ideas. It is not primarily therapeutic even though there are times when issues of mental and psychological need get discussed. It is not seen as primar-ily advisory although in many situations good advice is imparted. Spiri-tual direction is viewed as primarily the opportunity to get clarification and discernment. How this gets accomplished is by discussing the prayer 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 life and spiritual life of the directee so as to shed some light on what is happening in the life of faith, hope, and love in relation to God. In spiritual direction, the directee tries to describe to a spiritual di-rector his or her prayer experiences. The subject matter of that discus-sion constitutes such areas as when prayer happens, how often, how, what actually happens in the prayer period, other daily life issues such as anxiety over family, job, day-to-day depressions, joys, consolations and desolations, issues of tolerance, patience, and possible manipulation of others. The director's role is to help the person to objectify those per-sonal experiences, to assist by asking appropriate questions in order to gain some clarity on the directee's personal issues. The spiritual direc-tor is interested in helping the directee in the life of prayer so that the relationship with God and the men and women with whom they live and work can become strengthened and enhanced. III. Basic Skills Required of a Spiritual Director At the Jesuit Spiritual Center in Wernersville, Pennsylvania a com-petency profile was developed in an effort at concretizing and articulat-ing the requisite personal qualities, knowledge, skills, and graces to do spiritual direction. Here are some of the standards that were established in that study: 1. Personal Characteristics/Qualities A. Living a vital spiritual life B. Being a recipient oneself of spiritual direction C. Docility to the Spirit D. Kindness E. Gentleness F. Psychological Maturity G. Initiative H. Having a broadly lived human experience J. Stability K. Respect for confidentiality L. Sociability M. Detachment N. Productivity 2. Knowledge A. Lived experience in the Christian tradition B. Christian Doctrine/tradition C. Sacred Scripture D. Christian mystical/ascetical traditions E. The Spiritual Exercises Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 657 F. Ecclesiology G. Grace H. Christology J. Vatican II K. Justice L. A psychological matrix (theory & language) M. Jungian Psychology 3. Skills/Abilities A. Intrapersonal (affective awareness) B. Discernment C. Listening D. Clarifying E. Diagnosing F. Prescribing G. Judgment H. Common sense J. Interpersonal Skills K. One-on-one L. Group M. Trustworthiness 4. Graces A. Spiritual freedom B. An ongoing call to this work by others C. Called by grace to this work D. Seeing the Gospel happening~2 IV. Ministerial Malpractice Malpractice refers to professional misconduct or the failure of one rendering services in the practice of a profession to exercise the degree of skill and learning normally applied by members of that profession in similar circumstances.~3 The traditional elements necessary to state a cause of action in negligence have beenstated by Prosser as: 1) a duty, or obligation, recognized by the law, requir-ing the actor to conform to a certain standard of conduct for the protection of others against unreasonable risks; 2) a failure on his part to conform to the standard re-quired; 3) a reasonably close causal connection between the con-duct and the resulting injury; and 4) actual loss or damages resulting to the interests of an-other. 14 Review for Religious, September-October 1990 The problem that the courts would face in trying to construe a duty, and then defining that duty in the area of spiritual direction, is in attempt-ing to define what falls within the parameters of the spiritual as opposed to psychological counseling. How would a court make some kind of de-termination as to whether a directee's problem is, in fact, a spiritual or psychological one. The reason that distinction is so necessary is to safe-guard and protect members of the clergy involved in spiritual direction. Father John English, S.J. has written that the distinction between spiri: tual and psychological counseling is oftentimes a fine one. He comments that "although it may be helpful for the director to distinguish between psychological and spiritual counseling, these realities are not distinct within the person being counseled. And the concern is always with the total person." ~5 There are occasions when a director can see that the real need in direction is no longer to facilitate growth in relationship with God but instead to move the person into a psychological counseling setting so that other issues in the directee's life can better be addressed. What are some of the occasions when someone should be referred to therapy? One spiritual director, Mercy Sister Maureen Conroy, R.S.M. regards three situations as clearly signals to refer. They are: 1) when a person experiences serious psychological and emotional disorders, including depression, severe neuro-sis, suicidal tendencies, psychosis; 2) when more time needs to be spent exploring a present life issue, such as a marital problem; and 3) when specific therapeutic skills are needed to explore the conscious and unconscious effects of past life expe-riences, such as sexual abuse or emotional neglect in child-hood. 16 The Supreme Court of California in the Nally case addressed the is-sue of referral of seriously ill directees. Regarding the duty as to "whether the court should impose a duty on defendant and other 'nonth-erapist counselors' (that is, persons other than licensed psychotherapists who counsel others concerning their emotional and spiritual problems) to refer to licensed mental health professionals once suicide becomes a foreseeable risk," the court said no.~7 In determining the existence of a duty of care in any given case, a number of factors were considered, including: "the foreseeability of harm to the injured party, the degree of certainty that he suffered injury, the closeness of the connection be-tween defendants' conduct and the injury suffered, the moral blame at-tached to (defendants), the policy of preventing future harm, the extent Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 659 of the burden to the defendants and consequences to the community of imposing a duty to exercise care with resulting liability for breach, and the availability, cost, and prevalence of insurance for the risk in-volved. ' ' 18 The court cautiously noted the inappropriateness of imposing a duty to refer in areas involving spiritual counseling because of the very na-ture of the relationship. So many times those relationships are informal, spur of the moment, and gratuitous. The foreseeability of harm may not always be recognized in a one hour session with a disturbed directee. The court concluded by saying that "imposing a duty on defendants or other nontherapist counselors to. insure their counselees [are also] under the care of psychotherapists, psychiatric facilities, or others authorized and equipped to forestall imminent suicide could have a deleterious ef-fect on counseling in general." 19 The California legislature has exempted the clergy from any kind of licensing requirement applicable to "mar-riage, family, child and domestic counselors, and from the operation of statutes regulating psychologists.' ,20 The court took note that the reason why the legislature has exempted clergy from licensing is in order to ex-plicitly "recognize that access to the clergy for counseling should be free from state imposed counseling standards, and that the secular state is not equipped to ascertain the competence of counseling when performed by those affiliated with religious organizations.''2~ V. The Difficulty of Devising Workable Standards For Determining Negligence Along with the difficulty the court recognized with arriving at some kind of workable standard of competency to be established in religious counseling situations, the Nally court also noted the added problem of identifying to whom the duty of duc care should be applied. It would be an immense task to define what exactly constitutes a spiritual direction relationship. Who qualifies as aspiritual director (only the ordained? mem-bers of religious orders?) as well as trying to resolve the issue of relig-ious diversity demonstrates difficulty in determining in what context the interaction is framed. There are all kinds of First Amendment issues in-volved as well. The court expressed the dilemma writing: "Because of the differing theological views espoused by the myriad of religions in our state, and practiced by Church members, it would certainly be impracti-cal and quite possibly unconstitutional to impose a duty of care on pas-toral counselors. Such a duty would necessarily be intertwined with the religious philosophy of the particular denomination or ecclesiastical teach-ings of the religious entity.' ,22 66{I / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 Establishing some kind of criteria of competency that a court could apply would always involve a state intrusion into the realm of religious doctrine and practice. The state would be put in the position of asking whether a particular religious practice was indeed being employed, a par-ticular teachin~g applied correctly, a particular style of spirituality or dis-cernment used properly. All these determinations entail a great deal of state entanglement in sectarian matters. In 1971 the Supreme Court in Lemon vs. Kurtzman,23 adopted a three prong test to decide whether a government activity violates the Estab-lishment Clause of the First Amendment. The test requires that: 1) The purpose of the action be clearly secular; 2) The primary effect of the action must neither advance nor inhibit religion; and 3) the activity may not result in excessive government en-tanglement with the religion.2a Any kind of judicial enforcement of some kind of standard of com-petency for spiritual directors would fail the Lemon vs. Kurtzman test on all three points. The effect of the government overseeing the practices of spiritual directors would more than likely inhibit some of the freedom required to explore, discern, and clarify issues in spiritual direction. The potential for excessive church-state entanglement in the area of enforce-ment of guidelines for direction is limitless. Any standard of care applied in determining qualified licensed prac-tioners in the field of spiritual direction would involve some sort of check as to whether the practice was in step with the religious criteria set forth in the religious teachings of the sect. At best it could be argued that some minimum standard of.training and competence to protect the public from religious fanatics, charlatans, or frauds might be established, but any full-fledged licensing would stifle First Amendment freedom and inhibit re-ligious practice. VI. Difficulties in Establishing a Standard of Care for Spiritual Di-rectors Looking at the Competency Profile of the Jesuit Spiritual Center, one wonders how a court would be able to determine what constitutes com-petency when the spiritual qualification requirements of directors include such characteristics as: 1) Living a vital spiritual life--a life of charity; 2) Habitual experience of individual prayer; 3) A life of Charity .toward all peop!e coupled with an awareness of the w~der needs of the human family; Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 661 4) An evermore intense interior experience; 5) An ever-growing delicacy of conscience; 6) Kindness--having and showing a benevolent readi-ness to intend the good of others; 7) Giftedness--honoring another's perceptions, judg-ments, and person; a non-defensiveness of spirit, pa-tience, and sympathy; 8) Psychological maturity--free from crippling emo-tional, mental, or volitional habits of a neurotic nature; 9) Sociability--the ability to interact with a variety of per-sonalities; 10) Knowledge--lived experience in the Christian tradi-tion; 1 1) Skills and abilities--interpersonal awareness of one's interior mental and emotional states; 12) Discernment--the experiential knowledge of self in the congruence of the object of choice with one's funda-mental religious orientation; 13) Judgment--the ability to form wise opinions, esti-mates, and conclusions from circumstances presented to the director; 14) Graces-spiritual freedom --without undue influence of disordered affections and attachments; 15) An inner suppleness of character.25 Looking over this list of characteristics needed to be a competent spiri-tual director one could see the difficulty that a court of law would have in trying to render a determination of standards which would meet licens-ing requirements. Courts are not in any position to evaluate the content of the prescribed qualifications. Aside from the obvious First Amend-ment problems found in making judgments on what grace, kindness, char-ity, and other criteria operative within the practice of spiritual direction are, licensing could discourage and diminish the gifts of both the direc-tor and directee. It is the view of the authors that licensing, evolving in the current secula¢ context, goes against the very grain of what spiritual direction is all about and could do a real disservice to those who enter into a direction relationship fearing lawsuits. It could also have a chill-ing effect on directees as well. There is something unique, healing, and very human about spiritual direction as a growth process if we view it as art, science, and discipline. 662 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 VII. Some Final Observations In reviewing the current legal opinions regarding malpractice in the area of spiritual and pastoral counseling, the authors present several ob-servations. --Licensing spiritual directors is clearly a prophetic question as pro-posed by Gill and is coming increasingly into its own time. The issues surrounding licensing are complex, profound in their implications, dis-turbing, and hopeful as we look at the work of defining the criteria for training, developing, and evaluating competent directors. --Defining what competencies are needed in a spiritual director in different schools of spirituality, religious groups and sects, and what con-tent needs to be included in their training programs producing such pro-fessionals is a challenge that is only beginning to be publicly addressed, discussed, or attempted. --In light of the current legal findings and opinions, spiritual direc-tors need to demand and seek training that is concerned with addressing issues of competency as defined by the required knowledges, skills/ abilities, and personal characteristics/qualities reflecting their spiritual tra-dition towards achieving competency in the training of spiritual direc-tors. --First steps would be for practitioners in the field to come together in a spirit of open inquiry, genuine unselfish concern, and humble aware-ness of the enormity of the task to be accomplished. Developing semi-nars and forming associations or professional forums could provide prac-titioners the milieu to discuss, study, and outline priorities and action steps towards the establishment of professional criteria and guidelines for training, developing, and evaluating spiritual directors. NOTES Gill, "License Spiritual Directors?" 6 Human Development 2 (Summer, 1985). Nally vs. Grace Community Church, 204 Cal. Rptr. 303 (Cal. App. 3 Dist. 1984). Ibid, at p. 303. 4 Ibid, at p. 303. 5 Ibid, at p. 303. Nally vs. Grace Community Church, 253 Cal. Rptr. 97, 1988. lbid, at p. 219. 8 lbid, at p. 105. 9 Ibid, at p. 105. ¯~o Ibid, at p. 105. Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth, Competency Profile. ~2 Restatement (Second) of Torts 299A (1977). t3 Ibid. ~4 W. Prosser, Law of Torts (1966). 15 j. English, Spiritual Freedom (1975). 16 M. Conroy, Growth in Love and Freedom (1987). 17 Nally vs. Grace Community Church, 253 Cal. Rptr. 97 at p. 106. Should Spiritual Directors Be Licensed? / 663 18 Ibid, at p. 106. 19 Ibid, at p. 103. 20 Ibid, at p. 108. 21 Ibid, at p. 108. 22 Ibid, at p. 109. 23 Lemon vs. Kurtzman, 403 U.S. 602. 24Ibid, at p. 60. 25Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth, Competency. The Risk You take a risk when you invite the Lord Whether to dine or talk the afternoon Away, for always the unexpected soon Turns up: a woman breaks her precious nard, A sinner does the task you should assume, A leper who is cleansed must show his proof: Suddenly you see a hole in your roof And a cripple clutters up your living room. There's no telling what to expect when He Walks in your door. The table set for tea Must often be enlarged and decorum Thrown to the wind. It's His voice that calls them And it's no use to bolt and bar the door: His kingdom knows no bounds-~of roof, or wall, or floor. Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6321 Clemens Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63130 Prayer as Desire: An American ViewI Richard E. Lamoureux, a.a. Father Richard E. Lamoureux, a.a., has been provincial for the Augustinians of the Assumption. His address is Assumptionist Center; 330 Market Street; Brighton, Mas-sachusetts 02135. The contemporary American artist Andrew Wyeth teaches us a good deal about prayer. Many of his paintings, depicting everyday objects--a bowl of fruit, a cookie jar, a cooling blueberry pie--invite a quiet, simple gaze. But it is not just Wyeth's spare, silent scenes that lead us in the direction of prayer. So many of his portraits are unconventional inas-much as they present the subject turning away from the viewer, appar-ently looking for something in the distance. Forrest Wall, shown in the Man from Maine (1951), turns his back to us and peers out a window partially visible on the right. Elizabeth James, in Chambered Nautilus (1956), does the same from her sick bed. What may be Wyeth's most famous painting depicts Christina Olsen (Christina's WorM, 1948) sit-ting in the field below her home, straining with all her might in the di-rection of the house as if she might return there on the strength of her desire despite the palsied legs that restrict her to the ground. Two of his most beautiful paintings are portraits of Jimmy Lynch. One (The Swinger, 1969) shows him on a porch swing looking off into the dis-tance; the other (Afternoon Flight, 1970) catches him similarly absorbed. What is it on the horizon that draws his gaze?2 This most American artist explores a dimension of our existence that I would consider to be a central ingredient in prayer. In what follows, I want to explain how longing or desire is at the heart of prayer and how desire has fared in our recent American experience. Finally, I will sug-gest a way to address the particular challenge that faces us as American 664 Prayer as Desire / 665 women and men of prayer. No one has explained better than Saint Augustine how desire is re-lated to prayer. Sometime at the beginning of the fifth century, Augustine received a letter from Proba, a Roman woman whose husband had just died.3 Her purpose in writing was to ask a simple question: can you tell me something about prayer that would be helpful? In his response, Augustine writes unexpectedly at great length about widowhood and then tries to explain how it relates to prayer. For example, he says to Proba: What characteristic of widows is singled out if not their poverty and deso-lation? Therefore, insofar as every soul understands that it is poor and desolate in this world, as long as it is absent from the Lord, it surely commends its widowhood, so to speak, to God its defender, with con-tinual and most earnest prayer (p. 400). Augustine very simply reminds Proba that her widowhood, that is, her experience of loss and especially her desire for presence once again, is a precious opportunity to learn about prayer. If you would want to pray, Augustine seems to be saying, begin with the experience of desire or longing. Augustine, then, defines prayer primarily as desire. Words and pi-ous activities, which we normally think of as prayer, are useful only to the extent that they intensify our desire for God. They are necessary, he writes, so that we may be roused and may take note of what we are asking, but we are not to believe that the Lord has need of them . Therefore, when we say "Hallowed be thy name," we rouse ourselves to desire that his name, which is always holy, should be held holy among men and women also . . . (p. 391). Desire then is synonymous with prayer. In relating the two in that way, Augustine teaches us three very important lessons about prayer. First, prayer is really very simple. It is as natural for human beings as desire is. And desire, as we all know, is a universal human experience. It is as natural for a person to pray as it is for a person to desire. And a person who desires is a person who can pray. Second, by defining prayer in terms of desire rather than in terms of methods or formulas or actions, Augustine more clearly situates it as a function of the human heart. There is little that is more personal to us or that we are more hesitant to divulge than our desires. And Augustine would have us understand that it is precisely in that most intimate and personal place that prayer is born and grows. 666 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 Finally, by relating prayer to desire, Augustine helps us to under-stand that we can grow in prayer, for taking our desires seriously is a stimulus to such growth. He develops this idea in his letter to Proba and most especially in the Confessions. To Proba he writes: God wishes our desire to be exercised in prayer that we may be able to receive what he is preparing to give (1 Co 2:9) . Therefore, it is said to us: "Be enlarged, bear not the yoke with unbelievers" (2Co 6:13, 14), (p. 389). Desire helps to enlarge the heart. Augustine would claim that by fan-ning the flame of desire, we will become more able to recognize God's gift when it is offered and to appreciate it to the extent that it deserves. In the Confessions Augustine explains even more clearly how tak-ing our desires seriously is a stimulus to growth in prayer and can lead to deeper faith and intimacy with God. These desires are a complex re-ality ["Who can unravel that complex twistedness?" (II, 10)4] But rather than shy away from the complexity, Augustine sets out on a long journey precisely to get to the bottom of those desires. He goes all the way back to his earliest desire for the milk from his mother's breast, then recalls the games of his youth, and also the longing for wisdom when he read Cicero. With anguish, he remembers the burning desires that char-acterized his early relations and the resistance he put up to other desires lurking in his heart. "My soul turned and turned again, on back and sides and belly, and the bed was always hard" (VI,16). Augustine's long journey through the labyrinth of his soul was marked by a painful experience of desires at war with each other, but even more so by a confidence that the battle waged in all honesty and with his friends would lead to a liberation of his deepest desire, one that he came to understand could only be satisfied by God. "Behold thou art close at hand to deliver us from the wretchedness, of error and estab-lish us in thy way, and console us with thy word: 'Run, I shall bear you up and bring you and carry you to the end' " (VI, 16). Augustine took all of his desires seriously, even those that troubled him and brought him to tears, because he believed that all of them were in some way, at times in some distorted ways, a path to the deepest craving of the human heart. He seemed sure of God's love and also confident that deep within his own heart was an enormous love for God: "Thou hast made us for thy-self." (Confessions I, 1). Those are convictions we all find hard to come by, but they are crucial for growth along the way of prayer. To summarize then and to make the point clearly: for Augustine prayer is not more complicated than giving free rein and full expression Prayer as Desire / 66"/ to the sometimes confused desire for God that God has placed in our hearts. As he writes in his commentary' on the first letter of St. John: "Love and do what you will." Or perhaps I can say: "Desire and do what you will." Now, that may sound simple, but there are a few complicating fac-tors, some of which Augustine was aware of. Many of the complicating factors, however, are particular to our own time and culture; they are the shadow side of the cultural qualities we cultivate in the United States. One of the recent most popular movies, Dead Poets Society, is a se-rious indictment of American culture. It tells the story of a private pre-paratory school in the United States in 1959, where faculty and student body alike hold in highest esteem the pursuit of successful careers and high social status. Along comes an eccentric poetry teacher, effectively portrayed by Robin Williams. He succeeds in opening a few sleepy, even blind eyes, urges his students to ("carpe diem") "seize the moment," and awakens them to the excitement of poetry. Dull, distracted boys be-come spirited young men full of powerful desires. They found their own secret society where dead poets--and dead students-~come back to life. The movie was successful, I suppose, because it touched a sensitive chord in our American hearts. Though we are reluctant to admit this, the movie helped us see that we might be dull people, men and women with-out longing, without desire. But you might object: "Doesn't every human being desire some-thing?" As I reflected on the movie, I came to understand that for a va-riety of reasons and in different ways desire has been drained from our hearts. I could see it happening in four or five different ways. At other times and in other contexts, I might present the following items in a much more positive vein, as qualities that are proper to us as Americans. But in the context of this discussion on desire, what might be consid-ered the merits of our particular American way of living and looking at things becomes a liability. 1) In our day, in this country, by hard work, ingenuity, abundant natu-ral resources and a little bit of luck, we have attained a level of material satisfaction that enables us to meet most of our needs. We acknowledge that there are unsatisfied needs in us, but we are also confident that the only kinds of needs we have are needs that we can eventually satisfy our-selves. And if it takes too long to satisfy them, we energetically look for and usually find other remedies; there are many "quick fixes" we can turn to. But then if all the needs are satisfied, what is there left to de-sire? I am not simply condemning American materialism, nor am I re- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 ferring here to the unrestrained pursuit of pleasure and sensual satisfac-tion. Instead, I am suggesting 'that the level of material security we en-joy may be having a subtle, debilitating effect on our capacity to long for less material goods. When the Israelites complained to Jeremiah that it would be preferable to return to Egypt rather than remain in exile, he urged them to stay where they were for Yahweh was with them. Instead, however, they returned to Egypt "where at least they would not hun-ger" (Jr 42:1~4). It is not pleasant to be hungry, but can we live without desire? We can call this sort of person "the comfortable self," and the "comfortable sell'' has few desires. 2) Today especially we seek to be creative and responsible members of the human race. We are inclined to set aside as somewhat irrelevant and escapist distractions those vague interior Iongings that apparently can never be satisfied: there is too much in the world to do and no time to lose. We tend to set aside the simple and less gifted i~mong us and have little patience for wasted time and effort. In Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Wolfe would say that our ambition is to be a "Master of the Universe," and we are convinced we just might succeed. The "creative, functional sell''has little time or. need for vague longings and can realize his desires by rolling up his sleeves. 3) Psychology has helped us uncover, identify, and explain many of our desires. But Freud would also have us demystify these desires, re-duce them to understandable drives, and either "manage" them so they do not interfere or banish them completely. The "psychological sell" runs the risk of reducing desires to insignificance by denying them the possibility of any transcendent origin, significance, or purpose. 4) Dead Poets Society points an accusing finger at a society drained of desire and life. But I think the movie suffers from the sickness it is trying to identify. Note the poets that are quoted in the movie: they are almost exclusively what we call the romantic poets. Other sections of the poetry anthology used by the students are ripped out. No mention of Shakespeare or Homer, Milton or Hopkins. Why should we read poetry, according to this movie? For the excitement of it, I gather. The movie seems to say: it does not really matter what you give your life to as long as you feel passionately enough to give your life. I admire the passion, but it is a self-destructive passion, self-preoccupied, narcissistic. Really, in the end, no passion at all. The desires of the "romantic sell'' self-destruct in a beautiful, but tragically brief burst of flame. 5) Finally, a word about the "tolerant sell'' and what that, in its most recent form, has done to desire. In many ways I consider this to Prayer as Desire / 669 be the most serious attack on desire in our day, and I will discuss it at greater length.5 The founders of our country, acutely aware of the reasons for which Europeans came to these shores and the political struggle that led to in-dependence, enshrined the principles of freedom and equality at the heart of our Constitution. They did so in revolt against oppression in the coun-tries they came from, to assure that in this new regime each person would be free to profess and practice the religion of one's choosing or none at all. In order to assure that no one religion would be given ascendancy and that all religions would be considered equally valid. Such liberty and equality imply a prior commitment to tolerance. As Locke had earlier suggested,6 not only does tolerance forestall religious wars and oppression, it would seem to be synonymous with Christian char-ity. We should hesitate to tamper with a doctrine such as that of toler-ance, which has brought us many blessings, but there may be some side effects that need to be taken into account. If tolerance leads us to assert that all religions are equally valid, then it seems inevitable that at some point one will begin to wonder whether it is worth embracing this par-ticular religion rather than another., or any at all. Tolerance as the paradigmatic American virtue in religious matters erodes conviction and desire; it all too often leads to indifference and loss of confidence.7 Let me explain with a non-religious example. For one person, work-ing hard to provide housing for the homeless is an important "value"-- to use that word as we are accustomed to using it today. For another per-son, earning a million dollars a year and dining at a 4-star restaurant five nights a week is a "value" she or he would hold to with as much, per-haps even more vigor. In a society where tolerance is the paramount vir-tue and where there can be no criteria for ranking so-called "values," our social worker has no right to consider his "value" more important than that of the millionaire. I think that is the conclusion we have to draw, and my guess is that our "tolerant" selves would be reluctant to draw any other. In that case, I could easily imagine the social worker, returning home after a frustrating fifteen-hour day, and exclaiming in quiet desperation: "why bother?" If all "values" are equal, our social worker will begin to doubt the real worth of what she or he is doing and be drained of passion or desire for the cause being promoted. Tolerance is a great American virtue. It protects us from oppression and even allows us to be critical of the regime. But the brand of toler-ance practiced today also exacts a high price. It can drain our soul of all 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 passion. Without passion or desire, the "tolerant self' will find it very difficult to pray. The comfortable self, the creative self, the psychological self, the ro-mantic self, the tolerant self--so many ways in which desire has been disarmed. It has been disarmed or short-circuited. What keeps desire alive has been eliminated. Etymologically, the word "desire" with its reference to "sidera," the stars, suggests that without an object that tran-scends the self, desire that is not created by the self, or under its con-trol, or in any way dependent upon the self, desire quickly evaporates. I think the social and political consequences of diluted or disarmed de-sire have been considerable, but in the context of this discussion I want to draw attention to the consequences for our faith and our prayer as well. So, how do we recover desire? The question is an old one. It already appears in the Gospel. But, as I have tried to explain above, our American context leads us to pose it in a particularly acute way. It should not come as a surprise that since we Americans are closest to the problem that it is we Americans who have also hit upon a solution. I think that Alcoholics Anonymous and its 12-step program, begun in this country some fifty years ago, may be helping us rediscover desire and could be more helpful to those wanting to pray than any crash course on meditation.8 This may come as a surprising suggestion. But consider some of the more traditional methods used to foster growth in prayer. Among the early desert fathers and mothers, one popular and effective method (known in the Russian Orthodox tradition today as "starchestvo") is a practice whereby the novice reveals to his spiritual master all of his in-terior thoughts and feelings and humbly seeks help in discerning what God calls him to through these apparently confused experiences.9 Augustine himself sought to grow in prayer by telling story after story of how he pursued one way then another in search of happiness and peace. Ignatius of Loyola in the sixteenth century devised a system of spiritual exercises, whereby the one seeking to grow spiritually reveals the promptings of his heart to a spiritual guide who helps him interpret and discern the desires that will lead to growth. Ignatius even urged that his followers, members of his Society, regularly "manifest their con-science" to their superiors, much like the monks in the desert, in order to gain enlightenment. Those are the traditional methods of spiritual growth, but for some reason today for many they are not working, or we are not inclined to take them seriously. But many are taking the 12 steps seriously. One of Prayer as Desire / 671 the insights on which the 12-step method is based is the importance of recounting, at a meeting or to a sponsor, the story of one's desires-- desires for alcohol, for sex, for food, desires that have run out of con-trol, but also a desire, perhaps only a small spark at the outset, but a de-sire for sobriety. It is in the telling and the retelling of the story that the desires are sorted out, that the healthiest sparks are fanned into stronger flames, and that one begins to come to deeper serenity and happiness. Why does the 12-step program work? Because I begin to name desires rather than blindly accede to them, proudly condemn them, or run from them in fear. Because I acknowl-edge that a power greater than I alone guides human affairs, inspires hu-man desires, and fulfills the deepest among these: the desires I can sat-isfy will not bring peace to a restless heart. Because I acknowledge that in addition to that power other people are necessary to test my desires and help me keep the best alive. Because I know that helping others will intensify my own desire at the same time as it helps another. I cannot explain adequately in this context the effectiveness of the 12-step program. I am grateful to those friends and confreres who have given me some understanding of the 12 steps and for their own witness to the program's power. They could better make the point I want to make. Beneath the program is an understanding of life deeply consonant with the Gospel and, I would maintain, profoundly nourishing for one's life of prayer. Remember Augustine's words to Proba: Insofar as every soul understands that it is poor and desolate in this world as long as it is absent from the Lord, it surely commends its wid-owhood, so to speak, to God its defender, with continual and most ear-nest prayer (p. 400). Prayer is impossible if you start from a distorted understanding of the Gospel. As Americans, our comfortable self may be too sated to seek a Savior, our creative self may lead us to think we can save ourselves, our psychological self may convince us that the desire for a Savior is escapism, our romantic self may consider the desire an end in itself, our tolerant self may think open-ness and tolerance are identical with love. The Gospel, the writings of Augustine, and the 12-step program re-flect both more skepticism and more confidence about human nature than any of these false selves. They are not so afraid or angry with their hu-manness that they deny or disregard their desires, but they do not accept 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 that responding to the most pressing desires will necessarily lead to the greatest happiness. They are deeply confident that their deepest desires can be satisfied, but have surrendered the illusion that they can or must explain or satisfy those desires on their own. They, like St. Paul, refuse to judge and condemn themselves, and certainly not others, but they cou-rageously and unambiguously name the desire that has led them to dis-aster and they can say: "My name is Richard or John or Dorothy, and I am an alcoholic!" Many are seeking new ways to pray, and a 12-step meeting is hardly an ancient method. But if I were to suggest the practices of sacramental confession or spiritual direction as ways to grow in prayer, many would not take note. Something has happened to our traditional practices or our use of them that has made them seemingly ineffective. What I am sug-gesting is that the 12-step program with its emphasis on confession/ story telling, community, and commitment to service--is a contempo-rary method that I feel convinced can teach us how to pray. I cannot help but believe that God is attentive to the simple prayer of a recovering al-coholic, a wounded person full of desire, who speaks with the words of the psalmist: God, you are my God, for you I long. For you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a dry, weary land without water. So I gaze on you in the sanctuary to see your strength and your glory, for your love is better than life. My lips will speak your praise, so I will bless you all my life. NOTES ~ A first version of this paper was presented as the keynote address for a Conference at Assumption College, Worcester, Massachusetts, entitled "Prayer--A Psychologi-cal Perspective." I am grateful to the organizers of the Conference, Dr. George Scar-lett and Rev. Edgar Bourque, A.A., for their invitation to address the Conference. 2 These paintings are reproduced in Davis McCord and Frederick A. Sweet, Andrew Wyeth (Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1970). 3 Quotations from Augustine's letter are taken from The Fathers of the Church-- Saint Augustine: Letters Vol. II (New York: Fathers of the Church, Inc. 1953). 4 Quotations from the Confessions are taken from the translation by Frank J. Sheed in The Confessions of St. Augustine (London: Sheed & Ward, 1984, original edition 1944). 5 Although many have discussed this notion, the most thorough and cogent discus-sion recently is in the book by Allen Bloom, The Closing of the American Mind (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987). 6 See John Locke, A Letter Concerning Toleration, ed, by James H. Tully (Indian- Prayer as Desire / 1573 apolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1983). 7 In J. Hector St. John Crevecoeur, Letters from an American Farmer, (New York: Fox, Duffiealad and Company, 1904, reprinted from the original 1782 edition), pp. 64-65, we read an eighteenth-century account of religion in America. After describ-ing in letter no. 3 the variety of creeds cultivated in the country, the author contin-ues: "Each of these people instruct their children as well as they can, but these in-structions are feeble compared to those which are given to the youth of the poorest class in Europe. Their children will therefore grow up less zealous and more indif-ferent in matters of religion than their parents. The foolish vanity, or rather the fury of making Proselytes, is unknown here; they have no time, the seasons call for all their attention, and thus in a few years, this mixed neighborhood will exhibit a strange religious medley, that will be neither pure Catholicism nor pure Calvinism. A very perceptible indifference even in the first generation will become apparent." 8 A good deal of Alcoholics Anonymous literature deals with prayer and spiritual-ity. The eleventh step explicitly encourages the practice of prayer and meditation ("We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us, and the power to carry that out.") But the program can have even broader implications for the spiritual life. See "Origins of A.A. Spirituality" by Dr. Ernie Kurtz, The Blue Book, Vol. XXXVIII, Proceedings from the 38th Annual Symposium-June 16- 20, 1986 (January, 1987). Catholic writers and lecturers are beginning to discuss the spiritual potential of the program. See, for example, the recently released confer-ences of Father Richard Rohr, "Breathing under Water: Spirituality and the 12 Steps" (Saint Anthony Messenger Press Audiocassettes, 1989). 9 See B, Pennington, O.C.S.O., O Holy Mountain.t (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1984), p. 92. The Emptiness Within Barbara Dent Barbara Dent, mother and grandmother, has been for eighteen years a Secular Carmelite. One of her most recent books has been The Gifts of Lay Ministry (Ave Maria Press, 1989). Her address is Postinia: 7A Cromwell Place; Pukekohe, New Zealand. Ours is an age of space-consciousness and space exploration. These have induced an awareness of a limitless beyond that can be terrifying. We know that in space universe extends beyond universe in an infinitude of expanding galaxies. The immensity is beyond our comprehension. Ours is also an age of inner exploration of our own human psyche. Depth psychology probes level on level of inner awareness, submerged awareness, and non-awareness. These probings link up with that aspect of spirituality which mystically intuits the indwelling of the Trinity, the homeliness of God in us that Jesus spoke of and promised to his faithful followers the night before he died. Just as there is endless mystery in the outer universe, so there is also in the inner one. God dwells in us--if we long for him and prepare our spiritual house to receive him. Not only that, but he permeates our inner being further and further as we open ourselves to receive him. "How rich are the depths of God!" exclaimed St. Paul. And it is these very depths that merge with our own through the divine penetra-tion and the graces it brings. This is by no means always a consoling experience. On the contrary it can seem to hurl us into an abyss of unmeaning which is caused by our incapacity to understand divine meaning and purpose in all their in-finite inclusiveness. Only faith can cope with the apparent absurdity, and too often in this state we experience ourselves as lamentably lacking in faith. 674 The Emptiness Within / 675 In this article I examine and comment on this negative aspect of di-vine and human intermingling by using the concept of "the inner Void." Normally, we human beings fill our days and nights with the busi-ness of living, working, playing, and social interchange. This is the way it has to be if society is to continue and be dynamic. For committed Chris-tians this day-to-day living and doing is permeated with another dimen-sion- that of being-in-Christ. The more fully they relate mundane ac-tivities to loving and serving the Lord, the more Christocentric their lives become. The more they cleave to him, the more the Trinity enters into their inner selves through the purity of their intentions, so that they truly become temples of the Holy Spirit. A pure intention is one that is centered on what Jesus stressed must be our fundamental option--"God's will, not mine, because I love him with my whole being." Strangely, the intensity of such a single-minded love can lead not to a blissful sense of fulfillment, but to its opposite-- an experience of crucifying inner emptiness, a void of unappeasable long-ing crying out for a God who appears not to care or even answer. How much longer will you forget me, Yahweh? Forever? How much longer will you hide your face from me? How much longer must I en-dure grief in my soul, and sorrow in my heart by day and by night? (Ps 13:1-2). The ache for God, disguised as it may be in a multitude of ways, yet seems to be endemic to the human heart. In Christ's followers it can be-come so insistent that it rules their lives. After many years of loving, faith-ful service to this object of their desire, a paradoxical inner state is likely to develop. The searcher for the pearl of great price and the glorious lib-erty of the sons and daughters of God, though consumed with an intol-erable yearning for God, now experiences him as absent just when he is loved and longed for most. This is usually a sign of the call to a much deeper relationship with him, one that has a different quality from any that preceded it. We are drawn by the Spirit into this state of being when all created things have lost their power to compel or fulfill us. We have learned, often in bitterness and pain, that none of them can supply anything but a temporary and partial satisfaction. Behind and through them we have kept glimpsing their Creator, and now he fills our vision and summons us to come closer. We have begun floating in our inner Void, sure at last that only his love can fill it. 676 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 Aware that he is calling and drawing us, we want with all our will to respond, yet we remain thwarted. Yearn and strive as we may, we can neither reach nor receive him. Empty and grieving, we experience him as the absentee God, yet we have never in our lives been more free of sin and fuller of love than we now are. Why has this Void opened at the very time when we are possessed by love-longing for God? To anyone familiar with the inner depth reality of the subconscious and unconscious, the answer will make sense. The roots of our attachments to what God has created, and the causes of our persistence in letting them come between us and him, are still bur-ied deep within us. They fasten us down to where we are so that we are unable to soar in freedom to him. Though we have done all in our power, with the help of grace, to love and serve him, and though deliberate sin of any kind has long been eliminated from our living, the roots of sinful tendencies remain there hidden away, so that we are not even conscious of them. We cannot locate or name them, let alone wrench them out or dissolve them away. In our impotence and humiliation we gradually re-alize only God can do this through his own mighty love and the grace he pours into us through his Spirit. Only his action can gradually dilate our hearts so that they are able to receive more and more of what he offers. Only his grace can pene-trate into our subconscious to reveal what is concealed there. Only it can in various ways impel upwards into consciousness what is hidden. Only his Spirit of Wisdom knows and can reveal to us in ways we can accept what must be made conscious and purified if we are to enter into full un-ion with the Trinity. By invading our depths, the Spirit is not violating our free will, for God knows our longing for him is such that at last we are prepared to let him have his way with us, no matter how much it hurts. "Oh God, my God, for you my heart yearns, like a dry, weary land without water" (Ps 63:1 ). God's answer to our yearnings is to fill our Void with himself. This process is purgatorial. After death we pass outside time and space into eternity and infinity. If at this transition we are not already filled with God, our Void goes with us. No one has returned to tell us how God deals with it then, but traditionally the Church has taught the doctrines of purgatory (a cleansing process through which grace fits us to receive and behold God), and hell, where our Void remains just that forever. All those, known and unknown, who have become saints before they died, The Emptiness Within / 677 have had their Voids filled with God in this life. Some have left records of what their experience was like, and these indicate something at least of what they endured under the Spirit's ruthless but perfectly loving ac-tion. St. John of the Cross's testimony is probably the most authoritative, instructive, and detailed, After stressing that this state of purification is one of darkness and pure faith, he elaborates as below. "The Divine assails the soul in order to renew it and thus to make it Divine; and, stripping it of the habitual affections and attachments of the old man, to which it is very closely united, knit together and con-formed, destroys and consumes its spiritual substance, and absorbs it in deep and profound darkness. As a result of this, the soul feels itself to be perishing and melting away, in the presence and sight of its miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it had been swallowed by a beast (as Jonas was). (and) in this sepulcher of dark death it must needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for. ". But what the sorrowful soul feels most in this condition is its clear perception, as it thinks, that God has abandoned it, and, in his ab-horrence of it, has flung it into darkness. It is a grave and piteous grief for it to believe that God has forsaken it . For indeed when this pur-gative contemplation is most severe, the soul feels very keenly the shadow of death and the lamentations of death and the pains of hell, which consist in its feeling itself to be without God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of him; and it feels that he is wroth with it" (Dark Night II, Ch. VI, 1 & 2). The intensity and pain of this inner experience of the Void will vary according to the strength and depths of our sin-roots, the greatness of our love and longing for God, our perseverance and abandonment during the process, the degree of holiness (or wedding garment splendor and soar-ing freedom) God intends for each sufferer. This purpose of his is, of course, hidden in the mystery of his endless love, of which the Void it-self is but one aspect. If the Void is endured until the process of cleansing and freeing is completed, we have been through and emerged from our own personal purgatory. We are united with the Trinity in what has been called "trans-forming union" ("I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me") or "the spiritual marriage." "Alleluia! The reign of the Lord our God the Almighty has begun. Let us be glad and joyful and give praise to God, because this is the time for the marriage of the Lamb. His bride is ready, and she has been able Review for Religious, September-October 1990 to dress herself in dazzling white linen, because her linen is made of the good deeds of the saints" (Rv 19:7-8). Our Void has been emptied of self and filled with Christ. What are some of the hallmarks of this emptying and filling of the Void, in the here and now? Here is a commentary on a few of the main ones. 1. Helpless Waiting In the Void we have no alternative but to wait. I think of Mary be-tween the annunciation and the birth of Jesus. She knew she had con-ceived and that the Christ of God was growing and developing within her, but the process was and had to remain hidden and secret. What she did not know was exactly what and who the child would prove to be. God was at work in her, and she was co-operating pas-sively, through her fiat, by letting it happen and trusting him about the outcome of his labors. She was "full of grace" and so the whole pro-cess was under the Spirit's complete control. Her personal contribution was to stay still and see what eventuated. Once the Void opens in us, we too, must wait while Christ is formed in us in his fullness. We continue to live and love as Christians, to serve God and neighbor in our work, personal relationships, duties and offer-ings, all aimed at renewing the temporal order and purifying our lives from self-love and self-seeking. We have been doing these things for a long time and had assumed we would be persevering in them in much the same way till death. We do persevere, but not "in the same way." For now the Void is there, and we begin to enter a new dimension and level of being. Gradually grace enlightens us so that we understand something of what still needs to be done in our inner depths to open us to God so he can penetrate further. At the same time we are shown how it is beyond our own capacity and resources to bring about such a self-exposure. A chasm of helplessness and poverty gapes within us. We realize that in our frozen immobility we are still able to act in one specific way. We can let God act, and stay passive ourselves. We can let him do the un-veiling and the choosing, for us and in us in his own way and time. Our role is to surrender and wait. And wait. And wait . Waiting is a difficult art to learn and practice in our frenetically ac-tive and materialistic age. Neither our environment, education nor life aims and circumstances have prepared us for it. Though we try, we go The Emptiness Within on failing, because we cannot help interfering with God in spite of our best intentions. Humbled, we learn that only grace can enable us to learn this painful art. Under its influence, we slowly begin to relax and be still, and our Void gently opens wider in faith, trust, and hope. We realize how im-portant patience is, how lost we are if God does not help us, how he does not and cannot do so unless we deliberately exercise our free will and let him. Here the active and the passive merge. As we go on waiting, our helplessness deepens into a sense of im-potence. We are rather like quadriplegics who must depend on others for most of their needs. If they are not to be consumed with self-pity and rage, they must turn the necessary waiting that forms an indelible part of their lives into an art. We ourselves are not waiting for other people to help us, but for God. "I waited and waited for Yahweh. Now at last he has stooped to me and heard my cry for help" (Ps 40:1). 2. Longing for God Thirst for God consumes us in this state. "As a doe longs for run-ning streams, so longs my soul for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, the God of my life" (Ps 42:1-2). We are like "a dry, weary land without water" (Ps 63:1). When two lovers are parted, they long ardently and painfully for each other's presence. In the Void we experience God as an absentee God, even as one who spurns us. We are hopelessly in love with him-- we would not have been invited by the Spirit into this level of being were it not so--yet he seems to be denying himself to us, to be teasing us cru-elly on purpose. We know he is there, believethis is so, and in some indescribable, formless way even experience him as indeed with us, enfolding us, and yet we never seem to reach or catch sight of him. In his absence we have faith he is present, but this is no comfort. It is like being alone in a completely dark room, yet having an intui-tive awareness of another Presence with us in the same enclosed space. We cannot see or touch him or even hear his breathing. Yet, shiveringly, we are completely certain Someone is with us. Perhaps because of this strange certainty, our longing that is never appeased intensifies until it possesses us. This absentee yet ever-present God and Lover we experience as capricious, so that our longing is a form of bitter suffering, and often we have to struggle against feelings of re- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 sentment and hopelessness. We challenge him, "It is you, God, who are my shelter. Why do you abandon me?" (Ps 43:2). There is no answer, no comfort. The silence is absolute, our hunger unappeased. In the end, we become dumb. Our patience in waiting has deepened as our longing intensified. We understand the time for consum-mation is not. yet, for we are not ready. We see that our longing is a grace, given to us so we will more readily submit to an even more radi-cal emptying out. We have not yet reached that total nakedness o.f un-selfed love which will indicate our readiness to be clothed in Christ. We have yet to long for this for his sake, his honor and glory, the fulfilling of his incarnational aims, instead of for our own self-gratifica-tion, and our pleasure in our own "holiness." At last we understand that our motives need radical purification, for they are laced together every-where by tenuous, yet tough strands of self-love and self-will. All holiness is God's. Of ourselves we have none until we have put on Christ and can glory in his glory, and love with his love. Our longing is being purified till this is what we truly want above all else. 3. Loss of Meaning and Purpose Whether it is a cause or a result of the Void is hard to say, but one of the hallmarks of this state is loss of meaning and purpose on one level, and final regaining of it on another. The loss shows itself in our life situ-ation in doubts and disillusionments about our personal relationships, and our aims, activities, and ambitions to do with worldly matters. What preoccupied us and fed our drive in our work now seems taw-dry and not worth all this effort. We question its reality and its right to absorb so much of our energy, to demand and receive our concentrated attention. Has it the right to fasten us so securely to the daily grind when God's insistent call to another level of being is there in the background all the time, distracting us? Of what use is "getting to the top"? Winning that big increase in salary? Being treated with respect and deference as the one who "has it all at her fingertips," the indispensable manager and organizer? There are times when we ardently want to "throw it all away" be-cause it seems so fatuous. Yet we know we cannot opt out, for we have a spouse to be faithful to, offspring to put through university, the mort-gage to pay off, obligations to associates to fulfill, our own lifelong am-bition to bring to its triumphant peak, a whole life pattern to round off harmoniously. Somehow we have to learn to live with our growing awareness of it all as a mindless treadmill "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." The Emptiness Within In the face of the Void, it lacks reality, but, nonetheless, must be at-tended to. The true reality is an indefinable something located in our inner emp-tiness. It is drawing us till we want to let go of everything else and reck-lessly jump into that abyss to meet its embrace. At this point some people have a breakdown so that circumstances force them to take a long rest from their life-in-the world obligations and ambitions. Others keep on mechanically, but their heart is no longer in it, and they feel nothing but relief when someone else replaces them or the time comes for them to retire. This disillusionment and lack of drive registers as a humiliating disaster, yet it may well be a special grace open-ing the way for us to concentrate on "the one thing necessary." Alarmingly, the problem increases, rather than diminishes, once we free ourselves enough for such concentration. It is like a slap in the face to discover that we cannot find "mean-ing" in the things of God either, though we dumbly and idiotically know the meaning is there somewhere, expressed in ancient Babylonian hiero-glyphics no doubt! (And no one taught us at school or in the boardroom how to interpret these!) Faced with the Void and its implications, we find ourselves unable to understand God's meaning and purpose in our own lives or those of others. His actions seem arbitrary and often absurd. In fact, a general senselessness defying the rational mind pervades the whole Void. We slither aimlessly about, till we remember the lesson about staying still and waiting. When we apply this perseveringly, we are able to accept that it is no wonder we cannot understand the divine meaning and purpose when it is infinite and eternal while we ourselves remain time and space im-prisoned. It is also perfect love and omniscient wisdom, while we are full of "lacklove" and distorted vision. During the years spent in the Void we slowly learn to rest in peace in God's incomprehensible will, to trust its apparent irrationality, to have faith in its aim to express his beneficent care of us in and through our life circumstances even when they appear to be nothing but "a tale told by an idiot," to hope doggedly in a future blessed by fulfillment in bliss-ful union with him. Our concept of life's meaning and purpose has changed radically as grace permeated those levels where our basic semi- and unconscious re-bellion and misapplied self-will lay hidden but potent. 4. The Darkness of Entombment Review for Religious, September-October 1990 In the Void we are in the process of dying with Christ and being bur-ied with him so that our life may be his life and we be hidden with him in God, our glory part of his (see Col 2:12, 3:2-4). When Jesus hung upon the cross, he was in a kind of void between earth and heaven: the vacant space left by total immolation for the sake of others; the blank of utmost loneliness and dereliction expressed through his cry of abandonment and desolation; the kenosis of the God- Man brought about by the complete surrender of his awareness of his God-ness, coupled with his immersion in his representative Man-ness--his slav-ery as sin-taker for us when he himself was sinless. In various degrees and ways we, his lovers and beloveds, are invited by him to enter into his crucifixion and kenosis with him so we may even-tually share his resurrection glory. We have to die to self by hanging there with and in him through the sufferings--physical, mental, psycho-logical, emotional, and spiritual that God permits to come to us, and that our own and others' sins and sinfulness bring upon us. After the crucifixion comes the interlude of the entombment before the resurrection can occur. The sense of entombment is an essential as-pect of the Void. If we think of Jesus' corpse lying still,, cold, and alone on the stone slab, we shall understand some of the basic elements of the spiritual state of those called to die with him in order to rise with him. There is the darkness of this stone cavern behind its stone door. No chink of light anywhere. It makes us feel our intellect has been blinded and we shall never understand anything about God again. Though we carry on with our daily lives more or less satisfactorily, we suffer a kind of sense-deprivation of the spirit, (Only those who have experienced this state of being will find meaning in this paradox.) One form of torture of prisoners is to lock them into a pitch dark cell where there is complete sense deprivation so that time ceases to have meaning, as does everything else. Entombed with Jesus, we are in a similar state because all the satis-factions and enjoyments that come to a human being through his senses of hearing, sight, smell, touch, and taste no longer have power either to distract or fulfill us. We have become one-purposed in our longing for God, and the senses cannot tempt us away from it with their promise of surface, ephemeral delights. Since we have renounced the lesser good for the greater, the Spirit obliges by paradoxically taking away their irrelevant enticements--in a spiritual sense. To express it otherwise, our senses and our bodies and The Emptiness Within/ all our material being continue to function adequately for the purposes of everyday life. However, in relation to the spiritual life, we have be-come numb and dumb to their joys, attractions and any urge to seek deep meaning and fulfillment through them. We have been brought to that State where we float in the Void of blind faith that none of our senses can affirm as a reality. We gaze upon God without seeing him. We hear his Word without understanding it. We taste his supportive love without any sweetness or consolation--as if our taste buds had been anesthetized. He is weaning us from all such reassurances by imprisoning us in this Void of sense deprivation. He means us to learn how to enter, unencum-bered, into the central mystery of his Being, spirit to Spirit. He has led us into the depths of the Night of Faith. In it, usually for years after painful years, we learn to lie down with the dead Jesus in the tomb. We learn to lie there patiently and wait in our nakedness. We learn what being still really means as we contemplate the Savior's unbreathing body--not with bodily eyes, but with spiritual ones of unquestioning faith and a love stripped of self-seeking. We are seeds fallen into the ground and undergoing the hidden meta-morphosis from which we shall at last emerge, essentially changed per-sons, into spiritual resurrection. 5. Loneliness The inner Void is a crucifyingly lonely space of nothingness. We shall probably find there is no one who can understand our state, except one who is also in it, or one who has endured it and emerged. The one in it may be able to offer sympathy and sharing. The one emerged can give reassurance, understanding, encouragement, guidance, support, and hope for the future. This is so only if she or he has some understanding of what the lonely one is passing through or has emerged from. Such un-derstanding is rare. The Void can have many guises, including those of mental, emo-tional, or physical breakdown. It is often mingled with factors associ-ated with these. It adapts itself to whatever needs to be purified in the particular sufferer, since it is always under the control of the Spirit. It is not easy, and almost impossible, to discover a fellow sufferer who is enduring the same searching trial in the same ways. A qualified, learned, compassionate spiritual guide who has had both personal experience of the Void and of supporting others immersed in it is a very special blessing from God--one that is seldom given. An es-sential part of learning to live at peace in the Void's faith dimension is Review for Religious, September-October 1990 that of being able to trust oneself blindly to the hidden guidance and con-trol of the Spirit coming directly instead of through an intermediary. The purification process includes enduring it alone with God--and an absen-tee God at that. The only sure and never-failing companion is Jesus in his passion, especially in Gethsemane and in his cry of dereliction on the cross. We can find here, in union with him, the strength and purpose to endure, to hang helpless and in agony in absurdity, giving oneself up out of love for his redemptive work, staying with, and in him gladly, for love of him, sharing his loneliness and comforting his desolation. This is anything but mere sentimentality, as anyone who has really done it knows. It is a genuine, self-obliterating response of "Yes" to his questions, "Will you drink of the cup I must drink of? . . . Will you watch one hour with me? . . . Will you take up your cross and follow ¯ me? . . . Will you give yourself with me for others? . . . Will you love my Father's will wholeheartedly as I do to the end? . . . Will you fol-low me wherever I lead? . . . Will you go down into the darkness and die with me and then wait with me in my tomb till resurrection morning comes? . . . Will you dare Sheol with me? o . ." If we agree to share his loneliness, we shall indeed be lonely, and in that desolation share the essential loneliness of all abandoned, help-less, despised, outcast, comfortless human beings whom he represented on the cross, as well as those lost in the black loneliness of habitual, sev-ering sin, or those immured in purgatory in this life or the next. We may have friends who love and try to comfort us, but this will do little to ease what is a loneliness of our very essence crying out for God. Only if they have been through it themselves will they be able to apply balm. In the ultimate there is only one who can fill the Void of loneliness with genuine fulfillment and it is God himself. He is busy preparing in us a place fit to receive him. All we can do is wait in faith, hope, and love that feel like unbelief, despair, and a numb indifference that will never be able to love again. "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!" 6. Awareness of Sin The Void strips away inessentials, leaving the emptiness of nothing to cling to but God--and in.bare, stubborn faith. Because the motes in our own eyes (our absorption in the secondar-ies of created things instead of the one primary necessity of God) have The Emptiness Within now been removed, at least partly, by grace, we see much better. One of the things we see with our new sight and in startling clarity is the re-ality of sin. Not so much actual sins--these are fairly obvious to discern and we have long ago trained ourselves to watch and guard against them in our own lives. No--what we now see with the eyes of our spirit enlightened by the Spirit is innate sinfulness. We become aware of its substratum in ourselves (those tangled "roots" I mentioned earlier), and in other hu-man beings we have to do with. We helplessly observe it issuing from us and them in all kinds of meannesses, envies, prevarications, self-delusions, self-loves, rationalizations. Squirming and humiliated, we face, with the help of grace, that, "This is me . . . that is the person I loved and revered so much . " If we do not take care, this pitiless insight will cause discouragement and fear in ourselves, and a judg-mental, condemnatory, disillusioned attitude towards others--even cyni-cism. The taste of this racial and personal basic sinfulness is bitter indeed. We want to spit it out and rush to grab something, sweet to gourmandize on and hide that vile flavor. We have been living all the time with a des-picable traitor within us, and till now we have never even glimpsed him. His cronies are present in all other members of the human race, and from them emanate the sorrows, sins, evils and disasters of living on this planet that has been tipped off its axis. Some of the penitential psalms now have for us as never before a co-gent, humbling, and intensely personal message. Paraphrasing a little, we cry with St. Paul, "Who will rescue me from this enemy within?" and reply with him, "Nothing else but the grace of God, through Jesus Christ, our Lord." We know now that we really do need a personal Savior, that we would be lost without Jesus, that an essential part of our Void experi-ence is acknowledging our personal, basic sinfulness for which the only cure is the grace that Jesus gives. We cry, "Lord, you came to save me-- because I needed you so much. I need you even more now you have shown me the truth about myself. Only show me what you want of me, and I will do it. I will do anything at all for you, my Lord and my Sav-ior, because you have rescued me in my great need." This time we really mean it, because we are so much closer to Truth itself. We have been given the grace of a genuine horror of sin because of what it did to Jesus, and still does to him suffering in his members. We long to help heal the wound of sin in his Body. We offer our per- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 sonal wound of sin to him, humbly pleading for the grace of healing. As never before we understand the cleansing power and action of grace, sac-ramentally and otherwise. We hunger for it, seek it, open ourselves wide to receive it. We become beggars for it. We learn what spiritual poverty really means, and again lie down with Jesus in the tomb, content to be naked, trusting in his Body and Blood to heal us of our grievous wound. We are learning what it means to be dead to self and alive to Christ and his members. In the inner Void the self becomes so tiny in the Allness of God. We do not lose our individuality, but we long for it to be absorbed in Christ, so that we become exactly that aspect of his extended incarnation and continuous passion destined for us by the Father. We pray for deliverance from all evil--for ourselves, and for every other human being. We pray fervently, for at last we have "seen" what naked sin and evil are, and what they bring about--the death of the Loved One. 7. We enter a state of Heroic Abandonment and Endurance. Our Void has opened up enough for us to receive the grace we must have to enable us to lie down in the Lord in a state of advanced inner stillness, trust, and hope. The Void's darkness begins to take on the faint glow of incipient dawn, the intense silence is broken by the first tenta-tive twitterings of birds as something soundlessly rolls away our tomb's stone door. The sense of being stifled eases and we draw deep breaths of sweet, cold, dew-drenched air. There is deep within us an awareness of wounds having been healed, of a terrifying emptiness having been filled with Someone, of Love himself annihilating loneliness forever, of a still, si-lent, crystalline joy, and blessedness welling up from deep, deep down, crying in exultation, "Abba! Alleluia! Amen!" Then we see a Person is walking like a king towards the light grow-ing and glowing every second in the tomb's open doorway. It is as if the light emanates from him, as if he is The Light. Wondering and worship-ping, we rise from our stone slab, gather about us the new white gar-ment we find there and follow the Light into the new day. There is no void of inner emptiness anymore. Christ risen and triumphant fills it with himself. Shame: A Barometer of Faith Clyde A. Bonar Father Clyde A. Bonar is a priest of the diocese of Orlando, Florida. He holds ad-vanced degrees in formative spirituality from Duquesne University and in political science from George Washington University. He has served as parochial vicar and administrator of various parishes. His address is St. Joseph of the Forest Catholic Church; 1764 S.E. 169th Avenue Road; Silver Springs, Florida 32688. Aristotle called shame "a feeling or emotion . a kind of fear of dis-grace."~ Interestingly, what one values and what one distains can pro-vide a source for these feelings of disgrace. This allows shame to become a barometer of faith. For the faithfilled person, lapses in living one's faith, for example, can be causes for shame. Conversely, one who scorns religion may find shameful any personal exhibition of faith in an Eter-nal Being. In this paper I shall examine the generic core of "shame" and re-late the experiences of shame in the life of Francis of Assisi (ca. 1182- 1226). Francis' well-known incidents with the lepers caused that saint feelings of shame. Notably, why Francis felt shame about the lepers dif-fered in the earlier and the later parts of his life. Because of that, Fran-cis becomes illustrative of how shame can be a barometer of one's faith. On Shame The Generic Core The core of the shame experience is a sense of exposure and visibil-ity. 2 First, shame is intimately linked to the need to cover that which might unwantedly be exposed. Experiences of shame involve the expo-sure of the peculiarly sensitive, intimate, and vulnerable aspects of the self.3 Something is to be hidden, dodged, or covered up; even, or per- 687 61~1~ / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 haps especially, from oneself. Feelings of shame included "I am weak" and "I am inadequate." The particularities of what must be covered to prevent exposure may vary widely and are individually determinate. For example, while a physical deformity caused Philip in Of Human Bondage4 to feel shame when his clubfoot was exposed, a deeper shame burned "in secret" as Dimmes-dale in Scarlet Letter saw Hester Prynne bear in public the blame for their joint carnal indiscretion .5 Socrates warns of the disgraceful shame of ap-pearing inept in the presence "of some really wise man.' ,6 Personally, for example, I have felt shame for the way I treated a traveling compan-ion during a three-day trip. Second, there is an intimate connection between shame and visibil-ity. 7 When Yahweh called to Adam after he and Eve had eaten the for-bidden fruit, Adam said: "Because I was naked . . . I hid" (Gn 3:11). In his phenomenology of shame, Jean-Paul Sartre claims that shame arises from the look of the Other. "Shame. is the recognition of the fact that I am indeed that object which the Other is looking at and judg-ing." 8 When another looks at him, Sartre comments: What I apprehend immediately., is that I am vulnerable, that I have a body which can be hurt, that I occupy a place and that I cannot in any case escape from the space in which I am without defense--in short, that I am seen.9 Everyday expressions repeat this connection between visibility and shame. We speak of being "shamefaced" or "hiding my face in shame" when others know our failures, inadequacies, or losses of con-trol. A Happy Blush Two other aspects of shame need to be kept in mind as we proceed: that the feeling of shame comes unexpected. That first and physiologi-cal manifestation of shame, the blush, highlights the involuntary and sud-den characteristic of shame. Helen Lynd is perceptive on this aspect of shame: Shame interrupts any unquestioning, unaware sense of oneself . More than other emotions, shame involves a quality of the unexpected: if in any way we feel it coming we are powerless to avert it . What-ever part voluntary action may have in the experience of shame is swal-lowed up in the sense of something that overwhelms us . We are taken by surprise, caught off guard, or off base, caught unawares, made a fool of. ~0 Shame / 689 In his illustration of the voyeur at the keyhole, Jean-Paul Sartre confirms the "immediate shudder" of being unexpectedly caught: "All of a sud-den I hear footsteps in the hall. Someone is looking at me!''~ Importantly, this self-consciousness contains a revealing capacity. Again, it is Sartre who captures this: "Shame is by nature recognition. I recognize that I am as the Other sees me." ~2 Shame carries the weight of "I cannot have done this. But I have done it and cannot undo it, be-cause this is 1.''13 The thing that is exposed is what I am. To "recognize" one's self is to be open to reformation, and there is the delight. Adrian van Kaam writes that "reformation implies a re-appraisal of formative and deformative dispositions, judgments, memo-ries, imaginations, and anticipations." ~4 If experiences of shame can be fully faced, if we allow ourselves to realize their import, they can inform the self and become a revelation of one's self. The question is exactly what personal disposition is revealed by the quick reddening of the blush, the sudden feeling of shame, this which involuntarily and unexpectedly just happens. Writing back in 1839 on The Physiology or Mechanism of Blushing, Thomas Burgess reported that the blush reflects "the various internal emotions of the moral feel-ings [so that one could] know whenever we transgressed or violated those rules which should be held sacred." He continued to point out that, given this "spiritual" nature of the "blush," it is "solely a moral stimulus that will excite a true blush.''15 That is~ it is our value system that is re-vealed by shame. For example, if I hold dispositions mostly congenial with the particular individual God designed me to be, a blush will reveal that there are also some uncongenial and not-reformed dispositions. Or, by contrast, if my fundamental orientation is that talk of God is mean-ingless I may blush at some scruples within my disposition constellation that would be more in agreement with faith in an Eternal Being. Among The Lepers The immediate question is what should not be exposed, what should be covered from visibility. Francis' experience with the lepers proves in-structive. In his "Testament" he wrote: The Lord granted to me, Brother Francis, to begin to do penance in this way: While I was in sin, it seemed very bitter to me to see lepers. And the Lord Himself led me among them and I had mercy upon them. And when I left them that which seemed bitter to me was changed into sweet-ness of soul and body.~6 This too brief statement includes all the elements of experiences of 690 / Review for Religious, September-October 1990 shame. Fallen Nature of Humanity By his words "While I was in sin" Francis refers to his youthful years. In his parents' home he enjoyed the easy life his successful father could provide. He was a most likable lad, clever, charming, smooth-talking, and insanely generous. Francis had a gift for business and seemed born to be a merchant like his father. The son enjoyed dressing with a studied elegance and entertaining at a good inn with the best of everything. Friends flocked around Francis when he appeared and played the troubadour with his Provencal songs. 17 One would say that Francis was reflecting the fallen nature of hu-manity common since the first sin of Adam, living in ignorance of the true transcendent nature of humanity. ~8 Caught in the competitive trade of the cloth merchant, his father taught Francis to live by that competi-tion. Escape in the exigencies and the excitement of being the business-man became a way of life, with questions of transcendence relegated to minor, occasional thoughts. Responsibility for being a faithfilled Chris-tian example for others was evaded, for the other was also typically the customer, who was to be sold something even if that meant a little de-ception and an excess of charm. Immersion in the sensual joys of life was a natural corollary in a society of, according to Pope Innocent III, "obscene songs, dances, and fornications." 19 Still, why was Francis affected by the lepers as he was? Other youths, his peers in cultural refinement and the easy life, would merely hold their noses when they smelled the horrible stench of the lazaretto where the lepers were confined, and unashamedly turn their horses a dif-ferent direction. But for Francis the human misery breathing death right into his face was incredibly disagreeable. And, the young clothier would experience shame when a wretched beggar would intrude.2° A clue to Francis at this early point in his life, while he was still "in sin," lies, I opine, in the phenomenology of shame. As we saw above, shame is an experience of the whole self: in moments of shameful expo-sure it is the self that stands revealed.2~ Existentialists state this force-fully: in the consciousness of shame, there is "a shameful apprehension of something and this something is me. I am ashamed of what I am . Through shame I have discovered an aspect of my being."22 The self that was standing revealed for Francis'was, in the terms of Adrian van Kaam, his foundational life form. The image of God deep within Francis was being exposed. Thomas Burgess, cited above, might say it was the internal moral feelings of Francis which were being ex- posed. As early as twelve years old Francis was struck in some special way by the elevation of the consecrated host during Mass. In the mud-dle of being dominated by his sensual and functional dimensions and his sociohistorical situations, the inchoate thunderbolt of the transcendent was there. But within the flamboyance and egotism of the sensuous and romantic party giver he appeared to be, Francis would feel shame when his more basic faith in God would protrude. His lifestyle hid from visi-bility the transcendent, as he took greater pleasure in identifying him-self as a prince of the world and knight of Assisi. As God's chosen who would become God's anointed, the young Francis would feel shame where others had no such self-consciousness. According to our paradigm of shame, what Francis's apparent life form, or way of being in his environment, sought to cover during these early years of his life was his foundational life form. When his "vul-nerability" or "inadequacy" was exposed, that is, his sensitivity to the sufferings of lepers and beggars, he felt shame at the "flaw," which was his deeper felt love of God, becoming visible through the cover of how he presented himself to others. Attuned to His God Francis was twenty-four when he stood in front of the episcopal pal-ace at Santa Maria Maggiore and stripped off his clothes in hot haste and threw them at his father's feet. God had seized him: the sinner faded to give way to the saint. But watching his second naked birth, the crowd fell silent, for this "erstwhile dandy" was seen to be wearing a hair shirt. "It was a hideous penitential device of horsehair for killing the instinct of sensuality and chastising the flesh day and night."23 The peni-tential hair shirt was a symbol for what had been happening for some time in Francis--the transformation from dissonance to consonance with the Eternal, a change from running away from God to running toward God. For our present emphasis, we might remember the words of Francis: "Bernardone is no longer my father," but Our Father who art in heaven. The words indicated his change. For Francis, shame is no longer from having love of God exposed within a life lived as a merchant, but henceforth the shame was in having any failure to love God exposed within a life of excited faith. Now, when Francis embraced the leper, as we quoted above in the words of Francis, "that which seemed bitter to me was changed into sweetness of soul." The contrast is sharp between the experiences of shame for Francis before and after his transformation. Upon encountering the so distaste- Review for Religious, September-October 1990 ful leper, "He slipped off his horse and ran to kiss the man . Filled with wonder and joy, he began devoutly to sing God's praises." He be-gan to render humble service to the lepers and "with great compassion kissed their hands and their mouths." Further, the lover of complete humility went to the lepers and lived with them. He washed their feet, bandaged their ulcers, drew the pus from their wounds and washed out the diseased matter; he even kissed their ulcer-ous wounds out of his remarkable devotion.24 Francis took the bold step of overcoming the conventional perception of what is attractive and what is repulsive by reaching out to love what re-pelled him. And the change in the source of shame was seen in other aspects of his life. When his pre-transformation apparent life form had dominated, Francis's selfish pride would tell him to feel deep humiliat

Issue 45.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1986. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REview ~oR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by R~v~w ~oR RELiGiOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U,S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVtEW FOIt RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1986 Volume 46 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW I~UGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J,S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW Folt RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Our Lady of Wisdom Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. ,, Father Macdonald's "The Price of Poverty" appeared in this year's January/February issue. Last May/June saw another Marian article by Father Macdonald entitled "Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ." Father's address rdmains: St. Joseph's: Welling-ton Road: Todmorden: Lancashire OLI4 5HP: England. ~ recall being kindl~, received in a convent, but the longer I stayed there the more uncomfortable I felt, because for apparently aesthetic and liturgical reasons ~there was no room in the chapel for a statue or picttire of Our Lady. It was frankly embarrassing to pass Our Lady presiding over a hymn-board ~n the corridor outside while i was free to go into the chapel without a blush. It°made no sense. One should not exaggerate the place of Our .Lady but neither should she be underrated. So, in a generally compli-mentary book-review, the reviewer remarked that while the author rightly spol~e of devotion to Our "Lady as inseparably part of Christian life he "rather overstresses the idea of Marian m'~sticism." One wonders how he knows that, since mysticism touches levels of e~perience much of which must be left unsaid. Can anyone throw a tight ring around personal expe-rience particularly at those depths? On the day his engagement was announced, G. K. Chesterton wrote the woman he was to marry that "I think it is no exaggeration to say that I never s~iw you in my life without thinking that I underrated you the time before." t This is a superb compliment for anyone to receive, especially from a mindsas rich as Chesterton's. Clearly he saw depths in the girl 321 ~122 / Review for ReligiouMs, ~Iiy-June, 1986 unseen by her butcher or dressmaker. Lo~,e, presumably,' gave him the necessary insight: Such God-gi~en insight is needed to understand anything of Our Lady in the providen.~e of God, particularly if we accept that "insight is an attempt to think in the present a. .breakthrough requiring much intellectual d~smanthng a, nd dislocationa .c.c.ompanied by a sense of surprise., genuine perception . He who thinks that we can see the same object twice has never seen. Paradoxically, insight is knowledge at first sight." 2 This is surely borne out by experience. Father Peyramale, the parish priest of Lourdes, knew more ,of the faith than Bernadette Soub~rous, just ¯ as the superiors of the novice Catherine Labour+ had a wider experience of religiouslife than did she. NO ldoubt, too, biblical scholars in the time of Th~r'ese Martin knew more al6out Scripture than she did, but who today among the contemporaries of!those three girls could claim to approach their insights into the ways of God? Can anyone quantify their subsequent influence for God and for g~od? One spoke patois, another not 9t all publicly .u.ntil shortly before she died; while the third wrote of what she knew in three note-books onl~ because she was as.ked to. Eacti of these women's lives was illumined by a vision of Our Lady who left her distinctive mark on all three, not least in their wholly sane, understated, selfless lives. What Bernadettelsaid of herself could be said of all of them including Our Lady "When 3~ou have finished with the brush you put it behind the door"--except th~at God has other plans. Their influence widens. The risk for thee c,ontempor~ry religious might be in leaving "the brush behind the door." What has been called "chronological snobbery" can obtain here to3. The insights of the latter part of the twentieth century are assumed to be superior to thos~ of peasant, country or middle-class ,y, oung women in nineteenth~entury France. Following the sam~ ~qogic, Our Lady can be dismissed as possil inevitably~limited by her lack today, and by her geographical God is present in each life. It is tliese women are to be conside ~ly a Galilean peasant girl whose insight was of formal ~ducation,~as this is understood locafion~ That assumption should be tested. this that makes the difference and by which red. Of each of the four women it could be said: "She was a woman uprig, ht, outright." "Her will was bent at God'](G. M. Hopkins, "Margaret Clither'ow" an unfinished poeo). The strengthl,.vulnerability and powerful pulse httracting them can be felt in that last monosyllabic line. There is no need of any Cultural baggage in order to sl~are what they see. Neither the water-tables feeding the wells of Nazareth n~or the politics of nineteenth-century France m.atter. Anyone in the company of these~ women may.be drawn by what Our-l_ady of Wisdom / 323 they see, glimpsing in each cage~perhaps "the Christ-ed :beauty of her mind" (G. M. Hopkins op. cir.). They travel light. The will of God is the point: "Let it be done to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38). Perhaps we cannow consider Our Lady as a reflection of the presence of God. The Gift of Wisdom It has always been difficult to speak of the presence of God not least because a finite mind is trying to express an awareness of transcendence. One biblical, tradition which attempted this was the ~Wisdom literature (includihg Job, Proverbs, Qoheleth, Ben Sira, Wisdom and some Psalms), Beginning in cultures outside Israel as basically advice to the young man Who would make his way in the world (a "Young, Upward Mobile Man's Guide to the Galaxy" perhaps), when taken into Israel it was inevitably recast through belief in the underlying presence of God as the basis of reality. So "the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom" (Ws 9:10), that is putting God first as against the practical atheism .of the person for whom '~'there is no fear of God before his eyes" (Ps 36). From this standpoint, God's presence was seen in creation, the history of Israel and in individual lives under the guise of wisdom, latterly personified'in a. female figure. God's presence as expressed in Wisdomwas to be seen everywhere:' "She herself walks about looking for those who are worthy of.her . in every thought of theirs coming to meet the~m" (Ws,6:16-17). "Wisdom is quicker to move than any motion; she is so pure, shepervades and.perrfieates_all things. She is a breath of the power of'God . untarnished mirror of God's power, image of his goodness . Herself unchanging, she makes all things new" (Ws 7:24-27). "l resolved to have her as my bride, I fell in love with her beauty" (Ws 8:2). "My counselor in prosperity, my comfort in care and sorrow. I love those who love me; those who seek me,eagerly shall find me" (Ws~9:17). Slowly to reflect on those lines is to glimpse the intimacy and reality of God's presence in a sacramental world. Such insight is a personal possession. They know of whatthey speak. So in the creation of the universe by God: "I was by his side, a master ~craftsman delighting him day by day, ever at play in his presence, at play everywhere in his world, delighting to be with the sons of men" (Ws 8:30-31). Such a universe, then, is no alien, monolithic force hostile to mankind but a place in which God is present, delighting to be with his creation. Experiencing life in this way, God's presence is seen as delightful, as life now obviously has meaning since it is underwritten by God. "I came forth from the mouth of the Most .High and I covered the earth like mist . Then the creator of all things instructed me . He said, 'Pitch your tent in Jacob'. I have breathed out a scent like choice myrrh. I am like a 324 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 vine putting out graceful shoots. ApprOach me you who desire me, and take your fill of my fruits, for memories of me are sweeter than honey, inheriting me is sweeter than the honeycomb. They who eat me will hunger for more., they who drink me will thirst for more. Whoever listens to me will never have to blush, whoever acts as I dictate will never sin" (Si 24:38, 13, :17, 19-30). Again, such reflection on life in the light of faith findsGod's presence everywhere awesome and mysterious, yet beautifully attractive. As the figure of Wisdom is now personified it might be dismissed as yet another imperfect image, a crutch to lean on when looking for God's presence in the mystifying world. But surely there is no need nor is it intended to imagine anything at all. This is no television commercial with a female figure ,cavorting across the screen advertising some product. The insight given by Wisdom and remember, following Abraham Heschel, that insight is to see for the first time--is so much richer and nuanced and is to be understood on another plane: Insight not eyesight, and imagination is wanted now, to see beyond and above the imagery. The gift of Wisdom is meant to give just this taste for and insight into the presence of God in every aspect of reality. God is there in every moment eager to make his presence known. Having "pitched" his tent among us, his presence is such that once tasted one can only "hunger for more." Obviously:for the Christian this. speaks of Christ in every line, particu. larly as Paul and John present him, but, traditionally this was seen too in the person of Our Lady of Wisdom. Such Wisdom writings were to be found in the liturgy of her feasts. The personified figure of Wisdom was seen in'her, and as expressed in the liturgy, the faithful were invited to delight in her as a. supreme expression of God's presence among us. Cen-turies of meditation on the Wisdom writings instinctively suggested Our Lady. It was a delightful, pleasant, accessible world combining the world of transcendence with the encouraging familiarity of a faithful mother. God's presence as reflected in her indicated that potentially there were no heights we could not scale even though our insight was at best imperfect. It was a lovely atmosphere she brought with her as she was seen among us as one of us, rejoicing in God her Savior (Lk 1:47), and we with her. Few would deny that that is less so now. The atmosphere has changed. In Catholic liturgical, literary and devotional life the lovely, wondering, ever reiidy to be surprised insight of an earlier time seems to have been replaced by the prim, puritan regimentation of an old-fashioned school-room. Instead of an ever-deepening insight needing all the resources of Wisdom literature to try and express what was felt and experienced, today one has the impression that not afew of our pastors, teachers and cate- Our Lady of Wisdom / 325 chists who occupy the commanding heights and lower slopes of everyday teaching in the Church, have seen Mary once--and seen her "plain." They might have come ashore from The Mayflower yesterday. The approach to Our Lady today reeks of the catechical-center and schoolroom. It is all reminiscent of a certain type of teacher so accurately sketched by Charles Dickens, who asked a girl who had spent her young life with horses and knew and loved them, to describe one. She was incapable of coming up with the only answer he would accept: "Quadruped. Gramini-vorous. Forty teeth~ namely twenty-four grinders, four eyeteeth, and twelve incisive. Sheds coat in the spring . Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age known by marks' in mouth. Thus (and much more).''~ How many of those who flock each year to the Kentucky Derby would recog-nize that either? Though the teacher is perhaps overdrawn, it does not mean that the point is overplayed. The issue was real and perhaps still is. To present Our Lady chiefly in terms of Model Christian or Model of Believers is not wrong but deadens a relationship. To speak of anyone in such categories isolates them from the rest' of us. Models automatically distance themselves. They are to be looked up to, rarely made part of oneself. To speak principally of Our Lady in such terms is to put her on a pedestal in a most damaging way: apart from, static, of yesterday rather than today; whereas traditionally within the Catholic community she was of God and of us, truly a present inspiration as we delighted in her com-pany. So Mary, Model of the Church, while true, is of the classroom not of life. It is, too, not unfair to remark that when she is spoken of as "Woman of~Faith" or "Model of Believers," this carries strong overtones of the contemporary defeatism wherein faith, before it can~be reckoned as authentic, is laced with a strong solution of doubt. None really sees, so the best that can be done is to pool. insecurities, as even the best of us are in the dark. Our Lady, by association, is correspondingly diminished. Yet faith in biblical terms was never the vague hope that Someone might be there to make sense of life in an at times frighteningly puzzling world. Rather was it the bedrock assurance that God is there and we are real to him, even though often unfelt and unknown by us. Trust, therefore, is at the heart of the biblical reality, and on this the Jewish and Christian communities were built. The best of both communities enfleshed it. Our Lady too embodied the prophetic vocation, helping us in the task .of realizing that ~we live in the universe of His [God's] knowing, in the glory of attachment" (Jr 1:5).~ So the community enjoyed her company, welcomed her and delighted to hear anyone speak well of her. She could appeal to anyone, whether from the cachot of Bernadette, the countryside ~126 / ReviewJ'or Religious, May-June, 1986 of Catherine, :or the middle-class household of Th6r~se. Today the colors are subdued, a pale reflection of what they once were. The use of the 'W, isdom writings to express what was felt about her has given way to such warmth as there is to a winter's sunlight. Now she is almost exclusively spoken of as "Mary," and one cannot help feeling that much has been lost in the contemporary would-be organized Church that was freely available to everyone in an earlier, possibly more untidy home. The wonder of insight is missing. ~.It is, of course, explained that one owes it to non,Catholics to be careful in the way we speak of/to her. This is true. Yet it should be recognized that there are real differences between .us both in faith and atmosphere, stemming from faith as a way of life not an academic code. The ethos of the evangelical Protestant, for example, is not easily expressed in terms of Greek Orthodoxy's devotional life. Both are valid traditions, but they are undeniably different. Yet if one has the good fortune of belonging to The Ecumenical Society of.the Blessed Virgin Mary it may prove a revelation to see and hear how easily Christians of every denomi-nation speak of her. I, too, very much value the invitation given me some years ago to belong to the Methodist Preachers' Fellowship, and find within its integrity, respect and support that it is possible to speak of Our Lady. (The Methodist Neville Ward, it will be remembered, wrote in Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy, a very fine book on the rosary). It is "megaphor~e diplomacy"---publicly shouting at one another--tliat is to be feared, not in expressing how one genuinely bdieves and lives within a context of respect and understanding: I wasat a Protestant school until I was twelve and have,the highest regard .for what I was taught there, The local minister would drive us in his car to Mass, unasked, on really_wet wintry Sundays--and he later became moderator of the Church of Scot-land. So perhaps I may claim first-hand experience of the Protestant ethos and .am far from unsympathetic to it. It is a strange paradox.that while the eighth chapter of Lumen Gentium and the later Marialis Cultus, to say nothing of the present Holy Father, express a recognizably Catholic feeling and continuity, so unlike much of current teaching and. devotional life, somehow there has been a break from what once was, and the person of Our Lady has been almost lost in the concept. To see Our Lady then reflected in the feminine figure of Wisdom is to see in her a transparent reflection of the transcendence and immanence of God's presence, She is n6where and she is everywhere. This may puzzle some who consider in so broadening her significance that it may somehow Our Lady of Wisdom / 327 lessen her value in the'community. This might be so if she is seen as just. one specific piece on the chessboard, somehow .to be welded into aft'overall strategy. But the reality of theoChurch, of course, is of a community created and indwelt by the Spirit of the living God. It is a living organism in which we each relate to'one another in 12hrist through grace-enlightened knowl-edge and love. Our Lady; supremely orie with the will of God, is therefore an influential channel of ttiat life: "And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the babe leaped .in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy. Spirit" (Ek 1:41). Seen in this light; therefore, coming from the heart of the Christian community, she is never an inquisitive aunt, obtrusive neighbor nor cling-ing friend. Nor is she a static figure with. her own particular niche in the wall, to be referred to now and agai'n. As th6 lovely feminine figure of Wisdom Owing more to insight than eyesight or imagination is lost in the wonder of what she suggests, so too Our Lady. Sowhen G. M. Hopkins in a well-known poem comparing her to the air we breathe, spoke to her as, World-mothering air. a'ir wild . Fold home. fast hold th3~i'child. he is talking of life and limitless freedor~ not limitation. He is not-advocat-ing a stranglehold distancing one from God, caught up in Mary's apron strings in'a state of permanent adolescence. Rather does she, as ~lid Wis-dom, mediate the presence of God that perhaps has to be experienced to be understood. The traditional prayer, "Virgo respice, Mater, adspice, audi nos, O Maria. " perhaps.puts it at its simplest. One scarcely needs a translation to feel that prayer convincingly suggesting on her part atten-tion, anticipation, concern, fellow feeling, x+hich, while relishing her company, is at the same time an act of faiih in the underlying reality that "He who is mighty has done great things for me. and holy is his name"(Lk 1:49). Gift of The Spirit Perhaps the °point may~be further underlined by considering God's presence as expressed in the experience of Spirit,, A thesaurus could find many words to 'express it life, breath, wind describing an intangible reaiity. As an expression-of God's presence it indicates that it can be experienced everywhere but never held. The Spirit of God brought this universe into being, and the: same creative Spirit was responsible for the existence of the community of Israel, inspiring within it particular individ-uals to, perceive the presence and guidance of God~ So "God would speak with Moses face to face, as a man ~peaks to his 'friend" (Ex 33:11). As a result of this intimacy he was instrumental in helping to build the commun- ~121~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 ity. Similarly, on receiving the prophetic spirit, "Elijah arose like a fire his word flaming like a torch" (Si.48:1), empowering.,him almost single-handed to hold ca'fly Israel together against colossal! odds. This influence of the Spirit of God suggests that a man is taken out of himself, often despite himself. As Amos, probably the first of the writing prophets, put it: "The lion roars: who can help feeling afraid? The Lord God, speaks: who can refuse to prophesy?" (Am 3:8). Enlightened by the Spirit of God .withinthe community of Israel, such people were given such insightSnto their own age that in the name of God they felt compelled to speak and act. The eyesight of most of their contemporaries was blind to what their God-given insight enabled them to see in a world illumined by~ God's spirit. As the Spirit of God dwelt within the heart-,of Israel so no less emphati-cally says St.~-Paul. was the Spirit present within the Christian cgmmunity. As God was present in the Holy of Holies of the Jerusalem temple so Paul tried to open the eyes of the Corinthians to the° wonder of his presence among .them: "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you. God's temple is holy, and that temple you are" (1 Co 3:16-17). God present among s~uch people individually and collectively points the wonder of it all in view of who they we?e: "not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful., of noble birth" (I Co 1:26). Nondescript, marginal people for ~he most part--as was said of the unfortunate boxer. '~not even a household name in his own house'--God evidently "chose what is foolish . . . weak . . . low and despised" (I Co 27-28). Enlightened by the wisdom and Spirit of God as a member of that community, Paul does not apologize for its surface crudi-ties as his insight enables him to see within to the Spirit's indwelling presence. It is a creation of God, and like all his gifts "can only be under-stood by means of the Spirit" (1 Co 2:14). Reflecting long and often as he must have done on what was being created in and around himself, Paul comes to see that "the Spirit reaches the depths of everything, even the depths of God . . . Now. " . fie have received the Spirit that comes from God, to teach us to understand the gifts that he has given us" (1 Co 2:10-12). This is a phenomenal insight as Paul wrestles with the almost inexplicable to aid the Corinthians' self-under-standing. Their lives are radically touched and empowered by God, mo~Jing from the depths of his Spirit to theirs. Meaning little to others in view of their lack of status, they mean everything to God. And it was this same Spirit. which enabled Paul never to be quite beaten by the constant bread and butter inconsistencies, and. to see the reality beneath._ It is all, Paul reflects,, ~eminiscent of the wisdom of God which so often seems to stand logic on its head. lts linchpin is the crucified and risen Christ "whom God Our Lady of Wisdom / 329 made our wisdom" (1 Co 1:30) in the face of a disbelieving world. Such insight~does not come from the schoolroom or marketplace. It is a gift from God enabling "those'who are called. [to see] Christ thepbwer of God and the~visdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men" (I Co 1:24-25). This same pattern is true of Our Lady. She is to be understood ihen from within the community. An ostensibly nondescript person from unre-markable Nazareth if one considers the circumstances of her calling, yet the inner reality can only be gauged insofar as one is given to see what is meant when "The Holy Spirit will come upon 'you, and the power of the Most Highs:will 6ve'rshadow you" (Lk 1:35-36). The creative spirit of God which once brought this universe'into existence, now through her willing co6per-ation (see Lk'l:38), brings to birth a new creation in her Son. Such is the effect of the Spirit's power and presence that "the child to b~ born will be called holy, the Son of God" (Lk 1:35). This is the defining feature of her life: Mother and Son are inseparably linked. One with him at birth, home and crucifixion, she is found within the early Christian community pray-ing. So it has been for centuries as she ~is seen among us preeminently lovable and faithful, empowered by wisdom and the Spirit. The Christian community has responded accordingly, as in every nation under heaven all generations have called her blessed (see Lk 1:48). Today in much contemporary .teaching and practice, the brush appears to have been put back behind the door. It is not without significance that this has happened at a time when the values of the numinous, transcend-ence, silence and worship are under severe pressure. Mainstream liturgy, teaching and devotion have virtually nothing to say of the contemplative. Such a need is fostered from the edge, not the center. When influential numbers of our pastors, teachers and opinion-formers generally, seem to lack any obvious feeling for the contemplative, it may beno surprise that they display or encourage little warmth for Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom. ~Vhen meaning has to be on the surface and immediately comprehended, it is perhaps inevitable that so rich and varied traditions of the Church, not least as regards Our Lady, have given way to a subdued monochrome world. : Let Your Gaze Become My Prayer Perhaps all of this may be finally summarized in a few lines from a prayer of St. Anselmto St. John the Evangelist, asking for the love of God: "Ifthen, sir, your gaze has more good in it than my prayer has devotion, let your gaze become my prayer."5 This is a very fine expression of the role of Our Lady, the saints and our fellow-Christians in the Church, one person 331~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 in Christ. with ourselves (see Ga. 3:25-28). The individual Anselm asks the aid of the evangelist .John, whom he sees in faith to be now wholly caught up in G6d:.So he asks th~it his own self in his prayer be taken up into sharing what St, John sees. °He speaks to John but looks beyond him following the evangelist's gaze. Love has been described as two people looking in the same direction. What they see draws them togetherenabling them to live as one in a new reality. This we have here. Anselm's prayer is felt to be inferior to John's vision so he asks that "your gaze become my prayer." This, inthe main, is what is meant by Our Lady's patronage. Filled from her conception with the ~,isdom and Spirit of God in vieW of her voc~ition as Mother of God, her whole being reflects the Orie who has mad~ her who she is as she rejoices in God her Savior (see Lk 1:47)i One person in Christ with her, the Christian; and anyone genuinely.asking her he!.p._;'_w.a.n._t.s_t_.o~be taken into her being and held by what she sees "Let your gaze become my prayer." So easy to relate to, inviting, the individual to come in his or her own way, her life is givenomeaning by her Unflinching attachment to the will of God in good days and bad. Such a person is no obstacle between us and God if her gaze becomes our prayer, as the words and images drop away before the holiness of God. One can, of course, with the apophatic tradition, which maintains that it is impossible to say anything of God other than that he is, try to put everything that is not God into a "cloud .of forgetting" leaving only a naked intent for God. So our Lord, sacraments, Our Lady, Scripture, saints--:-~ everything must go. "If you see the Buddha kill him." Well yes, but even the Engiish mystic who expressed this so supremely well, giving as the bottom line between oneself and God, "Worship God with all you have got. All-that- you-are-as,you-are worshipping ail-that-he-is-as-he-is," has his reality first defined in Christ, and must recognize therefore that "it is God for his own loving purpose who puts both. the will and the action into you" (Ph 2:13):6 Whether he adverts to it or not, the ontological reality underpinning his:every movement and prayer is Christ in whom "all things were created. :. He isb(fore all things and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the Church,' (Col. 1:16-18). Reality is thus held in the overarching Christ who reconciled us to God by "making peace by the blood of his cross., by his death" (Col 1:20-22): Blood and death together are irrevocable, costly and messy (so much so that the sensitivities of the Jerusalem Bible translators cause them to omit "blobd"), ~butit was precisely in Christ's crucifixion and resurrection that he can now "present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him [God]"(Col 1:22)? We are unforgettably marked with the sign of the cross, In Christ, therefore, is found 'the very oxygen enabling us to breathe the air Our Lady of Wisdom/~ 331 of God. One admires the climber attempting Everest, but one knows that he could not set foot on the lower slopes, far less reach the summit without-oxygen. It is never seen but it is always there, and in Christ we are sup-ported by a whole ~loud of ~vitnesses, prophets, apostles, saints among whom is preeminently the Mother of God. They interact with us in Christ in every moment of every day whether we are conscious of it or not. There is no need of mental images of Paul, Our Lady, or even Christ himself. Attachment to Our Lady in this context should not be seefi as a limiting form of prayer. To see her so is possibly to have a fixed, static view of Christian reality not unlike the wooden, materialist outlook of popular nineteenth-century science. The truth of science as glimpsed today is so wonderful and mobil~ that much of it cannot even be imagined, yet its beauty clearly enthralls many, light years away from the earlier approach. Immaturity ~s the problem. We are, for the most part, too pedestrian. But in this lies our salvation. Everyone in Christ is for us. It may be a sign of the times that in an .age full of self-assertion we find it hard to believe that anyone can be self-effacing. But the GOspel reality is just that, "For all things are yours." whether Paul, Bernadette, Catherine, Th~rEse or Mary, "or the world or life or death or the present or the future, all are yours; and you are Christ's; and Christ is God's" (1 Co 3:21-23). We are, perhaps most of us, infants in Christ, with at best an.imperfect, grasp of God loving us i.n Christ, unable without wisdom and the Spirit to see the simplicity of ,Paul's insight, holding all of reality in the present moment in-Christ. But we know the claim that the child has on Christ. And in this above all, surely he is at one with his mother. NOTES tMaisie Ward, Return to Chesterton, Sheed and Ward, 1952, p. 34. 2A. Heschel, The Prophets Vol. 1, Harper and Row, 1971, p.x6. 3C. Dickens, Hard Times, Chap. 2. 4A. Heschel, op. cit. Vol. 2, p. 267. 5B. Ward, The Prayqrs and Meditations of St. Anselrn--Pfayer to St. John the Evan- 'gelist (2), Penguin, 1975. ~ 6C. Woltors, The Cloud of Unknowing and Other Works and The Epistle of Privy Counsel, chap. 4, Penguin, 1978 . 7C. A. Anderson Scott's plausible observation with regard to St. Paul in general is instructive: "The allusion to the blood of Christ, here (Rm 3:25) as in other passages~in Paul, is probably connected with.the overwhelming impression which Paul had received as a spectator of the Crucifixion." Footnotes to St'. Paul (CUP, 1935): Personality, and Religious Adjustments in Older Candidates Matthias Neuman, OS.B. Father Neuman, well known to our readers, whose latest contribution, "The Holiness of Saint Francis: Spiritual Vision and' Lived Suffering,, ~appeared in the issue of September/October, 1985, contin'u6s to teach at Saint Meinrad Seminary; Saint Mein-rad, lndiana :47577. For the past four years my primary occupation has involved directing the pre,theology program in our s.,eminary. This special year-long program ffims to prepare a certai:n group of young men for entrance into a regular course of theological studies for priesthood. These are candidates who already possess their college degrees but who have had no course work in philosophy or theology--or any exposure to a regular spiritual formation program, The very existence of college-graduate or pre-theology years in seminaries bears witness to a significant shift in recent vocational patterns. Fifteen years ago my first-year theology course would have had one or two "older" individuals; they were routinely mixed in with the students who had graduated from various college seminaries. In a decade and a half those one or two have swollen to better than half the first-year classes in many theologates around the United States. This means that a significant portion of today's priesthood candidates are waiting to "test" their possible ~voca-tions until after the college years and after some significant work and societal experience, A similar phenomenon appears among applicants for religious orders of women and men. Almost any meeting of formation personnel deals with some issue or problem concerning "older vocations." Indeed it is not uncommon for a formatiOn directress to be younger than several, of her charges. 332 Adjustments in Older Candidales / 333 While many observers applaud this shift in vocational process, and both priestly and religious recruiters have begun to plot ways of casting their nets in these newly-discover6d waters, the formidable challenges of providing a solid and effective regimen of formation should not be glosse~l over quickly. These men and women come to seminaries and religious houses at a considerably different stage in life than do graduates right out of high school or college. It will not suffice to merel~ ~transfer previous spiritual, academic and social formational methods to ~this new wave, for they bring quite different problematics for spiritual formation, academic programs and general adjustment to religious institutional life. The first year of formation in particular needs to pay.close attention to: l) the backgrounds of these people, 2) the life transitions they are experiencing, and 3) the adjustment problems they will most likely encounter. The first three sections of this article ~ill address these topics in more detail,~and the concluding section will offer some suggestions for helping the candidates themselves to manage this initial transition period more effectively. Backgrounds The ages of these older vocations may range from the mid-twenties to the mid-seventies. (Several were even ordained irf their 80s!) However the bulk of such callings has been in the 25-45 age bracket and I will focus most of my comments on that group. *~- ' 0 Perhaps the first major item format.ion personnel should~-~recognize is that these people-~'even at age twenty-five generally possess a somewhat. solidified personality structure. This doesn't necessarily imply that their personality structures are well-shaped oreven healthy, but simply that they have been hardened to an extent by the pressures of work, societal survival and recreational interactions. Educational research has tended to show that the first two years after college exert, a significant hardening, and even. a temporary halt, to attitudinal and conceptual growth. This can be seen as a natural result of mov~ngfrom the more fluid world of college into a societal context where work-pressures demand a~more fixed cast to one's goals, plans and attitudes. Thus, these individuals differ from the far more malleable candidates trained in the seminary or academy systems of years past. Even though they are obviously considering a major career shift by investigating a priest-ly or religious calling, they usually retain a good deal of .their solidified personality structure. They may not-even be aware of how habitual they have become in. patterns 9f relationship, daily routines and general atti-tudes. Those who have lived alone for even two or three years have devel-oped private habits of socializing and personal recreation which mayclash 3~14 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 strongly with the regular demands of community living. These st~rongly formed !ife-patterns also emerge in the realm of spiritu-ality,. It is not unusual for these men and women to have already expe-rienced in a variety of ways a verY powerful presence of Godin their lives, a Eresence that has been both sustaining and nourishing, a divine presence that has been greatly responsible for calling them to a switch of life-tasks. Many older candidates attest to some kind of "conversion experience" that brought them to this new way .of life even if they had been "possibly considering it." for years. This conversion experience and presen~c.e of God usually has shaped.their personal .spiritualities to a great extent. In particu-lar, the styl~es o.f prayer they favor are generally associated.with the qualities of that particular presence of God, e.g., God in nature~and an individual mystical prayer, God° in a conversion from sinfulness and a prayer of penance, God in~ .familial tradition and a structured devotional prayer. Without. being reflectively aware of it,osuch reasong have usually con-jured up an image of either priesthood or religious life that is primarily an intensification of their personal spirituality. (For example, one young man, age 30, who was converted by his reading of the New Testament~defined the primary task of the priest as teaching the Bible to people.) A formation direct_or may find these candidates to have imperceptibly meshed together~a particular style of prayer, a favored presence of God, and an implicit image of priesthood or religious life. The tight interweaving, of these factors .can cause average to severe problems in the adjustment to a formation pro-gram; the tampering with one item (e.g., teaching different prayer styles or a v.ariant image of religious life) may be perceived by candidates as a threat to the spiritual background and religious experience that gave them their new spiritual impulse. Perhaps the most-common example of the above dynamic occurs in trying to instill a sense of the value and importance of common prayer. Few of my priesthood candidates come with much appreciation or experience of the Liturgy of the Hours. Living as individuals in society, they have usually forged strong patterns of private prayer. Introducing them into the common morning and evening prayer of the semin.a.ry occasions a crisis for some each year. Common prayer does not,meet their "personal needS"; it co~mpetes with private prayer; their former sense of closeness to God gets worn away. Some begin to feel very hostile toward the seminary for ruining their intimacy ,with God:and thus threatening their vocation. It will have to be a sensitive formation program that can "deconstruct" a. person's reli-gious background, i.e. break it into its compon.ent parts, so that the indi-vidual may assimilate'in a healthy~way.the spiritual components of a sound priestly, or religious-order spirituality. Adjustments in Older Candidates 335 People who have worked for even a few years at a competitive job in the societal labor force will accumulate some, highly fixed patterns of routine daily life. The schedule of most jobs mandates some regularity. Daily and weekly habits of work, r~creation and friendships give rise to a network of personal supports that soften the challenges of life. These supports, or "strokes" in the recent psychological lingo~ help to carry a person°through ~the down times of regtilar living. Similarly persons who in an-intefise occupational setting, such as a social case worker, personnel rfianag~r or teacher, may have silently linked part of their adult identity to these supports. - One of the standard planks for a personal identity is the positive affir-mation we receive from the,. significant individuals in our lives (family, friends, mrntors, students).We call on this affirmation regularly~if the pressures ~of our job consistently erode bur well-being and identity. The entranize into a seminary or religious house removes persons from both the comforts of their habitual routines and the necessary strokes of signifi-cant others. This abse~ce may give rise'to a profound gense of loneliness or even abandonment. Perirds of confusion and depression soon compliote matters even more. An insightful formation program needs to be con-stantly alert to these possibilities, and d~velop ways of ?egularly informing and assisting candidates to understand and' process these and similar experiences. A report from a meeting of Midwest seminary rectors in 1981 summa~i"- ized nicely a g,bbd numbef of additional background issues which these priestly candidates bring to the seminary (and religious life). ,. Experience indicates that the can~didate who has made applicatipn for theology school without previous seminary experience possesses all or some of tile following characteristics: he has little or~' no experiefice, in community living; he has not had or.has had little experience of spiritual direction and is concerned about his ability to use the direction offered him; he perceives' himself as very much an outsider in the seminary com-munity; he is unfamiliar with the special language employed both in the professional life of the seminary, e.g., academics and liturgical practice, as well as commufiity living experiences; often he is a man of practical expe-rience. with varying ability to deal with issues on a speculative level; if he is older, he might well have an exaggerated sense of his age; he is more conservative in his spirituality particularly if a recent "conversion expe-rience" has led him to ~hear the call to priesthood; he has high anxiety conceriaing the de~cision which he has recently made to enter the seminary.1 Although much more could be said about background, I will limit my observations to the preceding comments. Formation personnel should 356 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 remember that these older candidates may be more mature and worldly-wise than ~th0se fresh .o~ut of college: but they bring their ~unique bevy of problems with them. Many of these difficulties are frequently connected to a hardened personal and religi6us identity and the unconscious manner in which various factors get meshed (e.g., prayer style, validity of conversion, and expectations). Frequently these problems boil to the surface when candidates get fitted into the regulated worlds of the ~eminary or religious community. (NB. Seminaries and religious houses may ~be psychologically highly regulated even without minute daily schedules. Long periods of the day may be free and unstructured, but those hours are also 7"filled" .with pow.erful academic, ministerial and spiritual expectations. Such a day is regulat.ed not by schedule but by official expectation.) None of the above.problems should be considered insoluble. In my experience the great majority of candidates can successfully negotiate these personal and religious challenges. But the formation program as such needs to positively assist.,these men and women to identify accurately what is happening in their lives. These transitional adjustments are not usually vocational crises, and sudden hostility toward the seminary, religious community or individual superior is not always a problem with authority. To understand what is happening emotionally a clear presentation to them of the range of personal transition going on needs to be conveyed. Multiple Transitions As the previous section mentioned, a young man or woman coming to seminary or religious community after several years of work and societal experience will confront a variety of transitions. Usually the candidates are somewhat aware and a bit apprehensive about the challenges ahead and they are ~bgnizant Of what they have "given up." Howeverl up6~ arrival at their new place of r~sidence they can be overwhelmed with the thrill of a new religious start.Having left the world where one struggled to survive religiously in a secular and cynical culture, they begome exhilarated in the environment of a supportive, like-minded community. Even the most dis, tant hopes of spirituality and ministry suddenly seem possible. (Every year each new group ,of candidates within .the first two weeks wants to add even ¯ more prayer services to the school's. Eucharist, morning rand evening prayer.) Thus the man~, transitions of life get forgotten ina tidal wave of religious fervor, but the transitions are still going on silently and relent-lessly. In time they frequently turn that tidal wave into a scorched desert of barren feeling. The transitions' are frequently more complicated and subtle than the Candidate realizes. The first transition is the move from a secular world Adjustments in Older Candidates / 337 with its pockets of popular religiosity into an encompassing ecclesiastical religious world. In the former situation faith and religious practice have served as powerful, value-laden forces ttiat supported, protected and nour-ished the individual; in the latter situation religious practice is :a constant, pervading element of almost every waking activity. An ecclesiastical reli-gious world often fails to separate the trivial and the important, the special and the ordinary, the cynical and the solemn. It's religion twenty'four hours a day! One ~young man said, "I've talked more God-talk in the last six months than in my previous twenty~six years combined. It's blowing my mind!" This religious overload takes its toll on the psychic system: the young man or woman may begin to feel he or she has lost that "something special" which faith provided. When all'is religious, nothing is religious! They may become distressed by their first in-close dealings with religious practices that are, routine, cynical and sometimes blatantly hypocritical. Their inexperience at differentiating motives and practices within a total ecclesiastical world can make them feel that the only way out is global rejection. The formation program needs to regularly help the candidates express and process their feelings towards the total religious community. Individuals obviously vary, but my students generally show signs in three weeks to a month of inner turmoil over their newfound ecclesiastical world. ,The transition to an ecclesiastical world will slowly induce other nega-tive ramifications. Young ,adult candidates begin the initial year with an amount of confidence they have built up in maintaining their faith com-mitment against diverse social presst]res. It is not unusual for some to have had to justify their vocational change to family, friends and coworkers; repeated justifications build in them a certain sense of well-being about their commitment. Other people publicly acknowledge them to be more religiously oriented for going to a seminary or convent. But upon entering the total ecclesiastical world, they soon perceive themselves as complete novices in more.ways than~one, They listen to conversations or classes filled with" church jargon and they soon judge themselves to know practically nothing about faith or religion. Liturgical customs befuddle them and they are embarrassed to ask names of objects, vestments or devotions that ¯ everyone else seems to know"intimately. Three months ago they were explaining many aspects of the Catholic faith to' coworkers; now they can easily perceive themselves as religiously dumb or incompetent. This partic-ular transition may contribute to their conservative stance, which is really a means of salvaging some vestige of religious dignity from their past. This transition, likeo all of them, can be jolting, but it can also be worked through. ~i31~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 Another key transition is the movement from one fixed social setting to another. Seminaries and religious communities tend to be enclosed, regu-lated societies (by laws or general expectations or both). Daily schedules and societal routines, such as meals, common prayers and social relation-ships can be vastly different from the social style that older candidates have become accustomed to. The-predominance,of same-sex relationships causes real hardships to some; the absence of children or family settings may be bothersome; the lack of free, unstructured evenings or weekends or the lack of a car and its freedom disrupt.the previous.ways that individuals had dissipated tension. That tension now accumulates and begins to boil within. ¯ I have found that on6 of the largest and most troubling transitions for young adults is the entrance into a trainin.g'program where theend is preparation for a. public role, along with the public evaluation that role requires. The priesthood as public leadership in the Chtirch and the eccle-sial witness of a religious community both demand evaluations of, persons seeking to enter those positions. Many older candidates have never thought of their religious pursuit through this lens,~-having confined their religious practice to a predominantly interior, individual and privatized realm (as is the fashion ofmost religious practice in the United States).2 The communal environment of seminaries and religious communities is saturated by the air of evaluation. Evaluation procedures are everywhere in current practice: academic, personal, spiritual, and so forth. All individuals must evaluate themselves (and others).on an annual basis. Each priesthood candidate will undergo an overall evaluation by faculty, and formation personnel on such matters as intellectual competence, social skills, pastoral abilities and spiritual growth. Externalization of what has often been a highly privatized religious realm can be terribly upsetting for the young adult. Some simply cannot see that,such matters should be evaluated publicly; the intense individualism of their religious background and expe-riences reacts strongly. Others become oversensitized, fearful. They worry about expulsion for unknown: reasons or accusation .by some Grand Inquisitor. Still others .may become hesitant because they°'fail to separate the realm of public behavior and standards from interior faith and direc-tion. A criticism about their lack of social abilities~can be "understood" as a criticism about °the integrity of theif~faith. A good. formation program should work with candidates to help them both understand and interiorize the meaning and demands of assuming a public leadership role, or the public demands of community~belonging. One young man said, "I just don't ~want to. be ste.reotyped~." I responded. "Sorry, it comes with the job." Many of these young adults who grew up in Adjustments in Older Candidates / 339 the age when traditional Catholic distinctions had slipped into shadows do not know the distinctions between "internal" and "external" forum. This must be carefully spelled out, and repeated from time to time. Even with all this, the appreciation of what a public religious leadership role demands does not occur without prayer, struggle and guidance through spiritual direction. The appreciation and interiorization of a public religious respon-sibility (beyond that of a private, personal spirituality) possesses all the elements of a significant conversion experience in life.~ To truly recognize the priestly ministry or the vowed religious life as constituting an ecclesial figureis also to accept thgse lifestyles as embodying~a responsibility to the whole Catholic world and Catholic tradition; this reaches considerably beyond a personal arid private" religious obligation. It requires an accep-tance and interiorization of public behavior, skills and attitudes which relate as much to the community of the Church as to my personal relatiom ship with God. Life transitions do pile up on the young adult who arrives at a seminary or religious community and seeks to discern a prssible calling to priest-hood or vowed life. We have considered several of the major ones: into an encompassing ecclesiastical world, from one fixed social setting into a quite different one, arid into a ~climate of higlfiaiablic evaluation. The anxieties generated by these transitioris can become severe, as the rii~xt section will show. For the l~resent fie simply need to note them and recognize that a Victic of directly addressing these transitions needs ~to be a constant com-ponent of both the formational and spiritual-direction program for these young adults. The Trauma of Transition For more than a decade the Alban Institute in Washington, D.C.I has studied the dynamics of "transition technology" in ministerial situations (e.g. from seminary to par!sh; from associate to pastor,,from one parish to another)) Leaders of the°institute recognized that those occasions when a person moves from one "known" social setting into a new and relatively unknown social setting constitute some of the most ~vulnerable periods in an individual's life. Although many organized-church traditions have fre-q uently moved, individuals from place to place as a matter of policy, little has been.done to help them make effective transitions to their new ministry or enable them to manage the sometimes severe traumas which may occur. (Th'e "grace of obedience"~was thought to effect the desired rebalancing:) The research of the Alban Institute has shown tl~at beginmngs in a pastoral situation are important; that the first months of adjustment frequently determine one's long-range adaptation and effectiveness in a new setting. 340/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 (In fact, more and more dioceses and religious houses are coming, to recognize the incredible influence of the first full-time placement.) Much of this research on transition technology becomes extremely relevant to young adults entering seminaries and religious communities for the first time. My particular seminary program deals with about thirty youngmen a year. l.would say it is.common for better than half of each group to feel some uncomfortableness over the transitions the$, experience. Their dis-comfiture may range from mild annoyance to severe personal upheaval. It is not unusual for an enthusiasm of the first weeks to slowly diminish and give wayto a growing diso'rientation. Some begin to.worry that they made a mistake, and the seminary .becomes a fearsome, t~rapping situation because their previous job has.been discontinued and their housing sold or leased. Others just ask over and over, "Why am 1 here?" and can't seem to find a satigfactory answer. A few may worry that their entire faith is crumbling; they can't explain sudden doubts which appeared where only months before there was absolute conviction. This time of doubt and dejection is frequently accompanied~by physical symptoms. Nagging illnesses like colds or upset stomachs pop up; physical weariness becomes the order of the day. Changes in bowel habits or sleep-lessness can increase anxiety. A transition experience cuts across all dimen-sions of life: physical, psychological, social and spiritual. We must understand the effects of social transitions on all these human areas,,and be ready to help people negotiate them. Psychologically, in a period of transition, by definition a young adult coming from secular societal life to the seminary or religious community, his or her daily patterns of life have all been removed, and new patterns do not immediately emerge. In certain aspects these individuals are like.immi-grants, slowly searching and experimenting for new roots. This time change may cause strong internal feelings to erupt. Some individuals Who previously held positions of authority and responsibility in the societal work force now feel the disorientation and worthlessness that lack of authority and status may bring. And there is no work or service in their new life to compensate. The sudden displacement of responsibilit.y may spark feelings of worthlessness or humiliation. (~Karl Marx had a valid insight in saying that a good deal of our personal identity comes from the socially significant work we do.) Lastly, the h~avy outpouring of psychic energy that goes with meeting new people, places and routines day after day leaves everyone tired and feeling a bit drained, and that weariness usually compounds the other negative feelings. This trauma of transition is not unusual, neither is it .a test that will, Adjustments in Older Candidates / 341 necessarily overwhelm a certain percentage of candidates. If these persons understand the probability of its occurrence at some time ~n their first year, do some preparation, and know some techniques of personal management, they are~able to handle it with a modicum of discomfort. One last point.should be watched: there it a quite normal dynamism of expectation which may w6rk havoc in situations of transitions, and I have frequently noticed it in pre-theology candidates. These young men often come from societal settings where they have been able to exercise some Christian service and engage in personal spirituality projects on a limited scale (perhaps in a parish volunteer setting or a Christian social-action group). When they enter the seminary and begin formal preparation for priesthood, their expectations escalate and they "assume" an immediate increase in Christian serviceand spirituality practices. But with full-time classes and school activities they are soon doing less actual ministry than before, and their personal prayer gets mixed up by the communal obliga-tions mentioned before.4 Psychologically their expectations are "gunning" the spiritual motor, so to speak, but socially they are in Park, and they find that they are grinding themselves down. This dynamic needs to be watched and worked with by formation personnel and spiritual directors. Older candidates need to formulate sl6~vly and patiently a "plan of identification" just as the Alban lfistitute counsels new ministers to work gradually towards formulating a plan of ministry for their new pastoral assignment.5 Just as six months is a recommended period of grace bef6re initiating parish changes, it is p]-obably a reasonable time-allotment for new-candi-dates before they attempt to assess (and escalate) any personal expectations they place o'n themselves. Suggestions for Personal and Spiritual Management The perception that older priesthood and religious candidates require qualitatively different kinds of formation programs is an ,idea that has already taken deep root among vocation and formation personnel. Signifi-cant strides have been made in many areas like course instruction and communityqiviiag requirements. I fiaerely hope to add a bit to this growing body of knowledge b~ suggesting some tactics and strategies to assist these individuals working through their initial adjustment or transition phase. These comments are more often applicable within the first six months of entry into seminary or religious community. The first strategy, in the line of preventive medicine, is quite simply knowledge, an awareness that some transition-anxiety will probably occur no matter how fine and enthusiastic the first weeks may be. There will undoubtedly be a great diversity in how individuals manage transitions; for ~149 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 some the adjustments may be slight, but few will have no problems what-ever. Simply to have in one's awareness a basic grasp of the multiple transitions, and how these transitions produce p~rsonal stress will provide guidelines for interpretation and action. To diagnose a difficulty ~icc.urately. is the first essential task in any kind of counseling. In this instance it may offset the further anxiety that can result if the young persgn feel.s that his or her vocation or faith is disintegrating. A second level o.f strategy would articulate a set of tactics that °might assist the young adult inthe midst of transition stresses to cope with these pressures. These tactics are similar to managing any "survival situation.TM They can be briefly summarized: 1) Lowe.rpqrsonal expectations. Instead of escalating their demands upon themselves to pray more fervently, work harder and do more service to others,, efforts should be made to cut back on these eoxpectations temporarily. The key here is to conserve physical and psychological energy for the tasks of psychic self-preservation. These indi-viduals are already operating at a reduced, energy level (due to the drain that social transitions exert), and there is no way they can successfully meet escalatedexpectations. Repeated failures merely compound guilt and nega-tive feelings, 2) Increased rest. The bodily systems are the foundation for psychological and emotional health as well as for making accurate judg- ¯ ments. When emotions are depleted, the body needs rest to coalesce strength and rebuild proper balance. For a time one may have to sacrifice other elements in the daily schedule in order, to get some additional rest time. 3) Pay attention to building daily routines. One of the reasons for high energy drain in transition times is that ever~h.ing is. ne,.w (people, places, schedule, social expectations). An inordinate amount of attentive awareness goes into "meeting" new people and performing even simple daily tasks. Habit or routine is Of value precisely to relieve that constant outpouring. Seek to regularize daily work-times, eating .and rest habits, companions, and so forth. 4) Spiritual direction and counseling. It always helps to talk tlirough problems, especially with a person who can provide a wider frame ~of reference. It does take some humility to asks. for help, particularly when one wanted so much to get off to a fabulous start in a new career. 5) Remind yourself that perserveranc.e is a Christian virtue. The young adult might remember that he or she has ~already made a very significdnt personal decision (to seek a testing of priesthood or religious life) and that decision should be stuck to "in good times and in bad," as any promise ought to be. A third, strategy would be to:recognize that a dynamic similar to the grieving process needs to tran_spire in the person. For many of these older candid~ites there is a break and removal,from friends, supports and joys of Adjustments in Older Candidates living. A sense of loss may strike them~ sharply as the first bloom of seminary or religious-community life wears off. The classic stages of the grieving process denial, anger, bargaining,,depression, acceptance cab find analogues in this context: fighting the onset of discouraging feelings, anger at the institution or superiors, bargaining to find some accomodating way, and so forth. Formation personnel should help candidates to realize that such feelings may be part of the natural adaptive process and not simply a rejection or d~nial of their vocations to priesthood or religious life. At particular moments it helps to say clearly ~hat one must give oneself permission to be discouraged or angry or depressed. That~acceptance may be necessary if an individual is to work the grieving process to a resolution and a newfound balance. Finally, a major theme of the pre-theology or novitiate year, which can be successfully introduced when the candidates are a couple of months into the program, is that of Christian conversion. A goodly number of older candidates arrive at their respective ecclesia~stical institutions as the result of some form of conversion experience, and so they often feel that the major part of the conversion process is behind them. The theological understand-ing of conversion as lifelong, process, with the tougher steps still ahead, becomes more graspable as the first sheen of the year wears off and people settle into the long haul Of personal and ministerial formation, lndeed conversion becomes more challenging the deeper it penetrates into our hearts and souls. Later people may look back and realize-that the expe-rience which brought them to seminary or religious community only cracked the surface. The more difficult and richer stages lie yet in the future. The preceding strategies are some helps I have found in aiding candi-dates to grapple with and conquer the onset of transition anxieties in their first year of seminary or religious community. By no means are they meant to be complete and exclusive. The formation literature that deals with this new form of religious and ministerial candidate grows steadily in breadth and depth; these reflections are intended to be one voice in that continuing conversation. NOTES ~"Candidates Entering Schools of Theology Without Prior Seminary Experie.nce," Report of Midwest Catholic Seminary Rectors (Duplicated Copy-1981), pp. 2-3. 344 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 2John Coleman "The Situation for Modern Faith," Theological Studies 39 (1978), pp. 601-632. 3AIban Institute materials 'include a series of pamphlets and workbooks by Roy M. Oswald: Crossing the Boundary Between Seminary and Parish; The Pastor as New-comer; New Beginn(ngs: Pastorate Start-Up Workbook. 4A similar process can transpire in religious community candidates even though they experience common prayer as a part of their ideal. This happens when an individual has so meshed his or her religious self-identity with a particular form of private prayer, that they are perceived as inseparable. It can be more difficult to unravel these situa-tions in religious community settings because of the difficulty of finding some "sabbati-cal time" to do the rettiinking and revaluing. 5Ro3/M. Oswald, New Beginnings: Pastorate Start-Up Workbook (Washington, D.C.: Alban Institute Publications, 1977), pp: 33-65. 61 have dealt with these dynamics further in " 'I'm Just Making It': Survival as a .Spiritual Value," REVlEW FOR R E~.~G~OUS 37 (1978), pp. 277-278. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions land II Address: by Patricia Spillane, M. S~ C. Price: 151.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. SL Louis, Missouri 63108 Extremism in Ignatius of Loyola Tad Dunne, S.J. Father Dunne, who previously taught systematic theology at Toronto's Regis College, is now Director of Novices for the Detroit Province. He may be addressed at Loyola House: 2599 Harvard Road: Berkley. Michigan 48072. Retreats can be deceptive. Wewithdraw from our daily0meanderings and ascend to some lofty point from which we can see, from a spiritual perspec-tive, where our journey has taken us and where it is going. We may feel a need for an outlook quite opposite to oar culture's, even extremely so in some sense, if we are to live a vibrant spirituality in the midst of the world. From that vantage point, we search the gospels for some absolute ideal against which to test our everyday activities. And usually we come away with a vision simple and uncompromising. Then we come down from the heights, and before long we start work-ing on a balance between these opposites: not too talkative, but not too silent; not a workaholic, but not lazy; don't jump to conclusions, but don't accept everything mindlessly either. We look back on our retreat from quite a different perspective than we had while we were in it. Then we saw ourselves as refusing to com, promise with the world; but now we feel maybe just a little more faithful or a little more loving, and we count that small gain as our humble best. IS this retreat desire for some spiritual extreme an illusion we amuse ourselves with while p.erc.hed far above the harsh realities of the city? Or is the opposite true: that our adaptations to everyday realities compromise something in us that is precious in the sight of God? Ignatius of Loyola was one person, among many others in our history, who pushed for the no-compromise attitude: ~6 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 Just as people of the world who follow the world love and seek with such great diligence honors, fame, and esteem for a great name on earth, as the world teaches (hem, so those who are progressing i9 the spiritual life and truly following Christ our Lord love and intensely desire everything oppo-site (GE 101).~ This sounds impressive, but many doubt that we can make such a ¯ black/white distinction today. Unlike Ignatius in his day, we perceive a certain continuity between religious values and secular values. Our society's hospitals, its welfare systems, our efforts to eliminate poverty and to estab-lish political grounds for world peace all point to a growing convergence of what "the world" and what Christians intensely desire. Indeed, a case could be made that it is chiefly because of Christian values that the Secular City is gradually taking on humane, even spiritual goals for the human race. So should we regard Ig.natius' contentious approach to life as just a temporary stance made necessary by the chaos of the Church and of society in his time? I would like to argue a strong "No!" Strong, because unless we see some practical usefulness to an "everything opposite,, attitude, we would lose our sense of what is radidal about being Christian. We would gradually grow accustomed to "the world" as it is, and lose our critical 'sense. We w6uld have no razor-edged criterion for weighing practical alter-natiVes in ourapostolates. But what exactly does Ignatius mean by "everything opposite?"Para-doxically, he also counseled balance in many areas of life. So we can legitimately ask in what sense ought we be spiritual extremists, and in what sense men and women of prudent balance? Although I focus m~inly on Ignatius, I have no doubt that most°of the spiritual giants in human history would know what Ignatius was talking about. A Dialectic of Desires First of all, this "everything opposite" attitude does not refer to external social or cultural realities. It does not mCan that we should be opposed to all modern institutions just because they are "of the world." In any cage, these are always a mixed product of intelligence and ~aliqe, of good will and stupidity, and so in their regard we try not to throw out the baby with the bath. What Ignatius is talking about is rather ~ithe inner realities of consciousness. The "everything" which ought to 15e opposite to the "world" means inner desires. The disciple's desires ought to be completely opposite to the worldly penchant in us to "love and seek with such great diligence honors, fame, and esteem for a great name bn earth,~as the world teaches." Let me explain this more .fully. On the one hand, we revel in praise, we take pains to protect our Extremism ih Ignatius of Loyola/347 reputations, and we easily pour our energies into making a name for ourselves. On the other hand, rebukes chasten us, insults sting us, and injuries humble us. However, even when these humiliations are unjustified, we do have to admit that the shock to our pride does have a therapeutic element in it. In some small way, we need a come-uppance now and then. To be "put in one's pldce" can shatter self-defeating illusions we cherish about ourselves. What is very important to notice here is thatwhat honors do to ore: sense of ourselves, and what put-downs do, "are completely opposite. It is these opposing senses of'ourselves, I believe, that Ignatius means°by "everything opposite." Wl~at Ignatius gives in the General Examen, he expands upon in the meditation on the Two Standards (SE 136-148).2 There he shows how different acquired tastes about lifestyle usually lead to quite deep and quite opposite longings abo~t one's self-awareness. On the one hand. the taste for m0ney'leads to a desire for a great name. On the other, the taste for poverty usually leads to a longing for a certain anonymity the kind that frees a person to live without crippling self-concern. And beyond the great name anti th~ little name lie the r~al objects of one's deepest love what Ignatius calls either a.life of pride or a life of humility. Learning the Dialectic of Desires ~ Now few people recognize that, in faCt, they long either for pride or for humility. In"one's everyday choices,, most things seem morally gray, with-out serious consequefices., And yet they do add up to a direction in one's life, a direction that sooner or later reveals whether a person is self-centered or not. So it takes some reI:le~tion to real'ize for oneself that underneath a great number of apparently harmless concerns there lurks one's fundamen-tal inclination to pride. Likewise it takes some measure of self-reflection to notice the interior movements that in fact are a person's desire for humility. Once both these movements are recognized,° we can see that they are entirely opposite pulls in consciousness. Moreover, we can then begin to recognize that this dialectic of desires fihderlies our every activity, and see how it profoundly determines the person we become and the stamp we leave on our world. Given the'importance of this self-education in inner movements, it is no wonder that Ignatius prescribes more meditations on the Two Standards than on any other in the Exercises. ~ Still, we must admit, despite repeated meditations on the Two Stan-dards and nur~erous exhortations on the value of resisting the pull to ownership and to be held in high esteem, even the spiritually mature do not easily maintain.such a dialectical attitu.de toward their inner movements. And so we must ask why an "everything opposite" attitude is so difficult to 348 / Review.['or ReliL, ious~ May-June, 1986 live out. One reason is that we have failed to see the point of the Two Standards meditation. We may shave "done it" during a retreat and felt we got the point. Perhaps we understood Ignatius' view of the spiritual struggle very well and saw its connection toomaking choices in life. So we act as though it is enough to grasp the concept of spiritual struggle; we sincerely hope to bring the concept to bear in our everyday situations. What we forget is that life is concrete, not abstract. The people and the situations around us are a profoundly mysterious jumble of grace and malice, requiring in-depth reflection every day. Mediiation is .not analysis. Nor is =t simply ar~ appreciation of an abstract vision. Rather, meditation should be an ongoing and strenuous exerc=se in understanding the interac-tion between our concrete surroundings and our inner struggles. Ignatius, in fact, appeals very little to the concept of struggle. By that I mean that he does not analyze the meaning of "acting a, gainst" considered as a principle from which actions can be determined. It is one thing to acknowledge that life is a struggle, but quite another to name exactly what we are struggling with each day. In his practice and teaching of discernment Ignatius seldom appeals to an abstract rule of life. Instead, he appeals to imagination and to history to show that life is essentially a dialectic of desires, because he wants us to realize it in our own lives. For example, in the General Examen, he asks that the candidate for the Society of Jesus "ponder" how helpful it is to imitate the humiliated Christ. Does "ponder" mean conceptualize and ar~.lyze here? Not at all. The candidate is asked to imagine spiritually advanced men and womer~ and to notice how in fact they "intensely desire" to be clothed exactly as Christ, because of the love they bear him. lgnatius does not tell the candidate to imitate Christ humiliated and poor. He directs him only t,~ im.agine what the loyal disciple desires. Likewise in the Two Standards, the retreatant imagines the "servants and friends" of Christ, how they are naturally attracted in the direction opposite to pride, and how they attract others in the direction of h~mility.' I believe that ~Igriatius is trying to help the retreatant distinguis~h between several otherwise nameless, interior experiences. By focusing on the disciple instead of the Master, Ignatius clearly means to have us consider which Of our inner experiences, among the many that occur, corresponds to that particular attraction to Christ which the true disciple experiences. In other words, he wants us to discriminate among inner desires, not apply some facile, clean-cut rules about behavior. I said that Ignatius appeals also to history to teach us about these two pulls in consciousness. He does this in two ways. First, he directs a~tention Extremism in Ignatius of Loyola to the purposes which motivated Jesus in his work on earth so that we might better imitate him. True disciples "desire to resemble and imitate our Creator and Lord Jesus Christ. since it was for our spiritual profit that he clothed himself as he did" (GE.101 ). Notice that lgnatius calls Jesus "our Creator." This makes the choices of Jesus for poverty and humiliations a deliberate revelation of how we can best fulfill the purpose of our creation. Our Creator, Jesus Christ, came with this express purpose--to "give us an example that in all things possible we"might seek., to imitate and follow him, since he is the way that leads us to life" (GE 101). For Ignatius, God desired to enter human history in person, taking on the only condition that truly gives life, a condition of poverty and humility. If there was any doubt which inner desire one can depend on, now we see clearly that Jesus Christ freely and wisely chose .poverty and humiliations. History now has a model-member to guide it~ Jesus Christ, not just Lord but Creator as well, in imitation of whose interior .desires we find real life. Ignatius appeals to history in another manner which;although it is less obvious in the texts, underlies everything in the General Examen and the Exercises. Like St. Paul, he boldly sets his own historical experience and that of his first companions as the measure of what abnegation means in the concrete. In Chapter. Four of the General Examen, which Ignatius wrote with the overall intention that novices accept the idea of abnegation,3 we find this reason given: "For where the Society's first members have passed through these necessities and greater bodily wants, the others who come to it should endeavi~r, as far as they can, to reachthe same point as the.earlier ones, or to go farther in our Lord" (GE 81). In other words, the candidate is told that he is entering a community which is not leading itself; it is being led by God. Like Israel, the Society's founding historical expe-rience is normative for the Society's continuing style.Therefore for the simple reason that God moved the early companions to love poverty and humiliations in order to achieve the humility of Jesus, so too shOuld the later companions, because this is not just human work but the very labor of God nbt only in our psyches but in our history too. Isee two kinds of meditations which these reflections should prompt. First, we should learn for ourselves how to recognize when ~we are pulled toward humility and when towards pride. To do this, it may help to compare our~own inner experience to that of deeply spiritual persons. Their outwardly simple and self-effacing lifestyle is a manifestation of a militant obedience, to a deep and steady love within. Authentic people avoid applause, not because they are shy but because they are courageously maintaining a spirit which is very precious to them. Second, we should meditate on the various stories in which God acted ~ / Review for Religious, Ma.v-June, 1986 for the Church through Ignatius, or through any of the men and women who understood the struggle within. Their story is part of our history, and our story draws its meaning from that shared history. God indeed has entered history permanently, not only in the person of Christ Jesus but also in the hearts of our spiritual ancestors. Ignatius and his companions, in particular, recognized that their experience of begging and mockery gave them great joy. And why? Because they felt a concrete share in the expe-rience of their~Creat0r and Lord. Once they decided to form a community, they wrote constitutions with the purpose of structuring, as far as possible. a continual reenactment by its members of their'often difficult yet greatly joyful desires. We can read Scripture in the same way. By attending to the inner experiences which lay behind the texts of Scripture, we can recognize the two pulls of consciousness and the meamng of each, For example, when Jesus heard the woman cry out, "Happy is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursedyou!" he replied, "Not as happy as those who hear the Word of God and keep it!" (Lk 11:27-28). As I read it, this text says that the ~hief concern of a happy consciousness is inner obedience, not family loyalty nor pride in the fruits of one's labor.- For another example, we hear the reading from Wisdom, "I esteemed her [wisdom] more than scepters and thrones:. I loved her more than health or beauty" (7:8-10). What else is this wisdom but, the constant desire to live with ,the regular humiliations that come with living in the truth? Once we understand that what we call "salvation" is in fact the outcome of a tension in consciousness, we can read any scriptural stories and recognize familiar inner movements in ourselves. In this fashion, by seeing our pres-ent experience in the light of the gospels, we can grow to love the humble, self-transcending path. An Empirical View of the Dialectic Having said all that, there .still remains a nagging question. Many deeply spiritual men and women in fact have meditated in this way, have lived in actual poverty, have been stung by the insults, and know the joy that can accompany these experiences, but they regard this as a persono! asceticism only. They possess only vague notions of what the humble way has to do with peace in the world and the ongoing struggle of cultural and political leaders, to achieve it. Perhaps they believe in the~principle that pride pulls down nations, but they have no mental frameworkfor under-standing how it does so. Nor do they perceive how anyone~'s humility might everbuild up a nation. As a result, while they may live out a dialectical attitude ih their personal.lives, they can make no connections between it Ertremism in Ignatius of" Loyola / 351 and contemporary political science, psychology, sociology and economics. And so they seem to ache for the world but know nothing about how to improve it. Our world, after all, is thoroughly empirical, unlike Ignatius' world. which it seems, doted more on eternal verities. Were Ignatius alive today, 1 believe that besides appealing to imagination and to history, he would add a functional explanation of how the dialectic of desires underlies social progress and decline. That is, he would seek to explain how an inner penchant for doing without funds or fame works to bring about a redemp-tion in Christ Jesus that would mean something to this world. Or. to use his terms, he would explain what role ',discernment of spirits" plays in "redeeming" the world: To work out that functional explanation of how discernment of spirits facilitates redemption, we have to express the movements of the good and bad angels in terms that the average person can find in experience; °There are two experi.ences in particular which we must point out. each repr_esent-ing a pull or drawing in consciousness on the side of Christ's standard. First- is the experience of intending the truth. This experience relates to an extremely broad range of objects, and yet, as experience, it is quite distinct from many other kinds of inner experience. To "intend the truth" means to want to know reality, to search for answers to questions, and to respect the truth when we find it. This intending, this search, this respect, pulls against a counter-drift in us which settles for simple answers, for impressive words, for tricky, solutions, and for comforting illusions. Second is the experience of intending the good. This too relates to a ¯ broad range~ of objects and yet is quite a distinct feeling in consciousness. We ;'intend the good" when we weigh options for the sake of discovering what is objectively the best choice. In doing so, .we pull against ~ counter-tendency which seeks the merely satisfying, the subjectively comfortable. To want the truly good often means to choose a more painful path, but a better .one. And the criterion we use .to tell which is better is not only an examination of pros and cons.but also and chiefly, I believean expe-rience of fulfilled,or frustrated desire in our hearts. With these two experiences in mind--the intention of truth and the intention of good we can analyze how an "everything opposite" attitude works redemption in concrete situations, and how a failure to be strongly contentious prevents redemption from taking over. Let me illustrate this in several different areas of life. Some Illustrations To a great extent we all have difficulty with our feelings. Speaking for 352 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 myself, whenever I meet a stranger at a party, I seem to listen to our conversation with one ear and to my inner apprehensions with the other. It doesn't work very well because I often say things I immediately feel foolish about. Just when I hope to make a good impression, 1 feel I make a bad one. This happens because my mind was not fully on what we were talking about. I was also thinking about how to feel accepted, and so I blurted out things unrelated tothe topic of our conversation. Things are not much better with friends either, particularly when it comes to dealing with anger. When a friend gets angry with 'me, I want to strike back or at least defend myself. But neither reaction helps me under- 'stand what has gone wrong, and this failure to understand only makes it that much harder to work out an amicable solution. The ideal, of course, is to be able to acknowledge the truth of my own feelings and the feelings of others. This means workifig both to name the feelings and to pinpoint what the feelings are focused on--not an easy task for anybody. Negative feelings in particular are often repressed, and yet they are our best indicators that something of value is going ~ wrong. Because they are meant to alert us to harm, we should take them seriously, making every attempt first to acknowledge them and then to understand what they are all about. But this requires a no-compror~ise attitude towards those, pulls inside us which spring to "defend our poor egos. Those pulls create illusions which seduce us and cushion us against taking the sometimes painful responsibility~of facing the truth and doing our real best. For another illustraton of how dedication to reality and to objective worth helps bring order and sense into an ot.herwise ch~aotic situation, consider how communities tend by nature to be self-centered. As a com-munity we may be very realistic and quite responsible where each other are concerned, but this does nothing to prevent us from being aloof and oblivious to outsiders. Every community tends to reinforce its owri biases, to congratulate itself on its victories, and to speak a language full of value judgments 'that no one questions. Members seldom wonder whence its resources come and where its garbage goes. They seldom question whether or not its enjoyments are paid for by the sweat and malnutrition of foreigners. Unfortunately, for all the values inherent in community, there is very little in community itself that directs it beyond itself. These powerful gravi-tational forces toward self-centeredness can be found in communities of all sizes: couples in love, large families, ethnic groups, labor unions, nations-- and even religions. But all such communities live among other communi-ties. They contain subgroups, and they belong to larger groups. Wittiout some cultural commitment to the larger, more common good, subgroups Extremism in Ignatius of Loyola / 353 cut back their good will and limit their creativity to what benefits them-selves alone. So the normal demand for large-scale cooperationis regularly sacrificed for some small-scale gain: first for this and then for that faction. Sadly and ironically, once this game of competition between groups begins, none of the groups benefits as much as each of them might have, had they all shared their wits and their good will with one another. Historically, self-centered communities have enlarged their vision and commitments only when they have been provoked from within by a prophet. Usually.the prophet gathers a select community of like-minded people together to become the leaven in the dough. But before the prophet speaks a single word or calls a single disciple, he or she bbeysan inner pull toward truths and values that run counter to the prevailing attitudes. Prophets have reputations for being contentious. They get that way because they already fight an interior battle between illusions that are familiar and truths that are strange, between old, accepted ways of treating people and new, more dignified ways. So they cry out to the people they love, calling them to realize that they are playing a no-win game with other groups. When prophets are successful, a reform movement will get under, way only insofar as it deals with the community's concrete relations to other groups. The measure of its success will be the degree to which it demolishes any self-centered myths which its own authorities may propagate in the name of community strength or unity. But its members have to wake up intellectually. Only when they recognize these myths in themselves and wage an interior war against them will this peaceful revolution be~in. For my final illustration, I want to highlight the inner struggle that takes place in what we call the deep thinkers--scientists, historians, philo-sophers, and theologians, both the professional and the amateur. Contrary to popular opinion, deep thinkers often do not have an astronomically high I.Q. They work slowly but steadily. Nor are they born "bright;" they become aware of long-range implications and complex problems only by a steady fight against their minds' drift toward the easy answers. Again, you can see my point. On the one hand, we all experience a pull " toward a bogus form of knowing; the kind that relies on memory, rhetoric and bluffing. On the other, we also experience an "entirely opposite" pull towards asking honest questions, and searching for the best explanations, fighting against any worry that someone else .might beat us to a solution. We all have felt the desire to belittle intellectual inquiry and to disregard journals of opinion; even as we secretly wish we had the staying power to work for a more than surface understanding of the world around us. We cannot excuse our anti-intellectualism on the grounds of mental 3~4 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 dullness. The so-called "dull" can be extremely bright when it comes to practical and immediate concerns, Here lies the road to pride again. On its own power alone; our intelligence would n~ver stop asking questions about anything, no matter how remote. But when, the fruits of our reflections are not immediate and palpable, then a prideful concern for our own welfare forces its way in and compels our intelligence to surrender. We yield to the forces in our consciousness that move us toward easy answers, silly responses, and. make-believe solutions. While we all recognize these pulls in ourselves, we should notice what happens when psychologists, histbriians, political scientists, economists and the like give in to them. Their shortsighted solutions to human crises 'make life more miserable not just for themselves but for countless other human beings. Yet no jury indicts them for malpractice. No preacher denounces them from the pulpit. Instead, we give them the benefit of the doubt that ~'they did their best." But upon their interior obedience to the canons of truth--an obedience monitored by themselves alone--hangs the future of anyone whom their theories, and policies' touch. From this large-scale perspective, we can see better that every time someone settles for'merely partial answers to problems, he or she usually introduces a solution which itself needs fixing by someone else. Of course, this is only a general explanation of how bad situations get worse, but it does explain how a contentious spirituality can work to better the world we live in. Only an "everything opposite" attitude towards this downhill intel-lectual slide will regularly bring about .intelligent and long-range solutions to the problems that beset God's people. Conversion to the Dialectical Attitude "Everything opposite" means a conversion--one that requires some-times anger but often gentleness to maintain. It means recognizing that oners interior is a battleground of two opposing kinds of movements, whose :outcome has direct manifestations in one's psychic health, one's prophetic spirit, and one's intellectual freedom. These, in turn~, have a direct .effect on:family harmony, social justice and on the broad philosophies and theories that shape out: human institutions. The conversion ought to be total,.because there is no event in our everyday lives which does not derive its meaning from how we responded to it. As Christians, we stand in a peculiar relationship to.~this conversion to a dialectical .attitude. The functional explanation givrn above, of how dis-cernment of spirits works to create a better world, could stand on its own without any~reference to Christ Jesus. This is an asset insofar as Christians can share a vision, a language, and a praxis with non-Christians--which Extremism in Ignatius of, Loyola we must certainly do if we are to tackle issues of social justice with any seriousness. Such cooperation can even be the beginning of a dialogue about ultimates in truth and goodness leading to the Good News of Christ Jesus. But a functional explanation by itself is also a liability insofar as Christians might forget to name just who it is who moves the soul to face the truth and do one's true best. So it seems incumbent upon theologians and catechists to express the age-old doctrine of redemption in Christ Jesus and the Spirit in functional categories drawn from the dynamic~ of con-sciousness and the workings of history. This is a large order, but fortu-nately one already, being taken up by many today. A final word of caution: Such an "everything opposite" attitude is not learned overnight. It takes time to name which inner experiences corres-pond to "intending the truth" and which to wishful thinking; which to "inte,,nding the good" and which to securing the merely comfortable for ourselves. And we learn by our mistakes. But Without the slightest exag-geration we can say that in this matter there should be no compromise. Only an extremism about our inner movements can give us the day-to-day balanced judgment and love that redeem the world. ~ NO~ES ~ General Examen. This document was written by Ignatius for the purpose of teaching candidates for the Society, of Jesus what Jesuit life Would require. It was meant to be given:in a retreat setting, requiring some serious meditation. See George E. Ganss, ed., The Constitutions of the ~Society of Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970) pp. 75-118. My references above refer to paragraph numbers. 2Spiritual Exercises. See Louis 3. Puhl, ed., The Spiritual~Exercises of St. Ignatius (Wes.tminister, MD: The Newman Press, 1959), References are to paragraph numbers. 3Joseph de Guibert, The Jesuits: Their St~iritual Doctrine and Practice (Chicago: Loyola UniverSity Press; St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1964) p. 141. The Spirit of Holiness Living in Us E. A. Ruch, 0 M.L Father Ruch teaches philosophy, at the National University of Lesotho (P.O. Roma 180; Southern Africa). He has just completed a study leave in France. Spiritual theology distinguishes three stages in our progress towards holiness: The purgative (cleaning) stage which consists essentially in a breaking-away from sin, not merely out of fear of divine punish-ment, but out of a God-given awareness of God's love for us; The illuminative stage in which we grow in a personal understanding of who God is, an awareness which always culminates in the realiza-tion that "God is love"; The unitivestage which is a personal love-response to God's love for us and thus a gradual transformation of ourselves into true children of God sharing in his divine nature. Holiness is infinitely more than just being a good man, someone who meticulously obeys the law of God. We live in a redeemed world, a world already reconciled with God, but in which we are called to "become the goodness of God" (2 Co 5:21). This is why the standards of holiness which Christ sets us are much higher than those of "the Scribes and the Pharisees" (see Mt 5:20-47). Jesu~ has come to complete the law, to raise it io a level which we cannot attain by our human strength. Indeed, he expects us to be "perfect as (our) heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48). He wants us to become "fully developed, complete, with nothing missing" (Jm 1:4). He wants us to "be holy in all [we] do, since it is the Holy One who has called [us], and Scripture says: be holy, for I am holy" (I P 1:IS). We must not, therefore, confuse a high standard of moral purity with holiness. Moral purity is only the starting poittl on our way to holiness. The Spirit of Holiness / 357 Beyond our human struggle for justice and goodness, there is a gift from God which transcends all human limits. Let me try to exploin this by means of a parable. Let us suppose a diver who, having stripped off his everyday clothing, is preparing tb plunge into the pool. Undressing does not make a diver. It is only when he has left terra firma and confided himself tothe new element, viz. water, that his life as a diver begins; for it is only a beginning. Let us now follow the diver's experience under water. He begins to discover the marvels of the underwater flora and fauna: a truly new world opens: to him. True, he also begins to discover the dangers of this life, but the beauties he discovers are more than a match for the risks incurred. More and more he finds pleasure in diving and in exploring this new world. And yet, every once in a while he has to return to dry land to refill his compressed air cylinders and to take a rest in his own, more familiar world. Let us now imagine such a diver being gradually transformed into an "aquatic animal," i,e, into a kind of new man, capable of living, breathing and working under water in perfect ease, not even wishing to return to his formerly familiar, yet highly toxic atmosphere of nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide. Life under water has become a "second nature": it is now his "real" life and his original one would be considered as "abnormal." He is now a new creature "fully developed, complete, with nothing missing" who no longer wants to leave his newly acquired mode of existence, and who finds "life outside" meaningless, boring, heavy and poisonous. He now "lives and moves and has his being" in God. He has "become like him, because he sees him as he really is" (1 Jn 3:2). We have here a neat image of growth in holiness. First of all, God, through his Spirit living in me, prompts me, urges me to "take the plunge" and to be '~baptized in the Spirit." He then begins the long process of revealing the beauties and risks of life in and with God. Finally he initiates that transformation into his own life which will only be completed in eternal beatitude, but which is already partially shared through faith in the joy of discovering the life of God in us. I would now like to show the role of the Holy Spirit in these three stages. The Purification When John the Baptist preached the metanoia; q.e. the "turning-around," the "about-face" which is required in our sinful life, he strength-ened his preaching with the effective symbol of immersion into the water of the Jordan as a sign of personal cleansing. But John also knows that he cannot achieve more than mere moral purity. He is still a man of the Old ~1511/ Review for Religious; May-June, 1986 Testament ("The least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is" (Mt 11:11))~ We are called to much more than moral purity and John proclaims his role as Precursor of the one who will baptize "with the Holy~Spirit and withfire" (Mt 3:11). The symbol of fire a~ an element of purification is well known throughout the Scriptures: More effectively than water, because it goes to the hearvof the matter and not only to its surface, fire cleanses from within. It burns away the impurities as one,burns the chaff after winnowing (Mt 3:11-12).~ .~ Fire as a ~ymbol of the Holy Spirit is, of course, well known from the Pentecost event and the "tongues of fire." Another purifying force in spiritual life is the loneline.ss, suffering and silence of,the "desert experience." Like the people of Israel who have to be purified of their Egyptian habits through their forty years of wandering through the desert, so also Jesus himself was "led by the Spirit out into the wilderness to-be tempted by the devil" (Mr 4::1; Mk 1:12 and ~Lk 4:1). The Spirit will invite us too from time to time to retire into solitude and silence, because this is the precondition for hearing the voice of God which would become inaudible in. the hustle and bustle of our daily, life in our,~nervous and tension-filled world. And just as fire is painful when it burns away impurities, so ~the solitude of the desert is frightening. St. Teresa of Avila insists very strongly on the importance of "the grace of quiet" for spiritual life (Way of Perfection, ch. 33). St.John also points at another necessary purification: to bring the desires of the flesh under th~ control of the spirit: Unless ~ man is borfi through water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. What is born of the flesh is flesh; what is born of the ,.Spirit is spirit (Jn 3:5-6). Thus purification is part of a p(~ocess of acq~iiring a new life (see v. 3). "l:he real life is not the one given by the flesh; only'"the Spirit. gives life" (J~n 6:63). Above all, purification from sin is a condition for receiving the gift of ¯ theo~Holy Spirit. Therefore Peter announces to the people at Pentecost: You must repent .and everyone of you must be baptized in the name of Jesus 'Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit (Ac 2:38). In reverse, the Holy Spirit is specifically given to the Apostles to,enable them to forgive sins: Receive~the Holy Spirit. For those whose sins you forgive they are for-given; ofor those whose sins you retain, they are retained (Jn 20:22). ~' We are fighting a running battle against the forces of evil. We are the The Spirit of Holiness / 359 accused in an endless courtcase in which Satan is "the accuser of'our brethren., who accuses them day and night before God"(Rv 12:10). But this a~:cuser has been "thrown down" (ibid) by the Holy Spirit who is our Advocate. Because the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth while the devil is the "spirit of disorder" ( I Jn 4:6) and of "falsehooi:l ~ind murder" (Jn 8:44).~ In our fight with the spirit of evil who tries to turn us away from God. the Advocate "will be with you forever, he will be continually at your. side. he will be m you" (Jn 14:17). ~hus the Holy Spirit appears also as the one who sustains us in our temptations, who provides us with arguments to beat the devil. Even when we fire facing evil earthly powers, we need have no worry, because "ttib Spirit of your Father will be speakir~g in you" (Mt 10:!8-20). Like a good advocate he will prove the "opposition" wrong(see Jn 1~:9-11), by convict-ing the world ofits sinfulness and consequently of the fact that without Christ's victory the world is meaningless and lacks all ultimate purpose. In his epistle to the Romans St. Paulexplains this purifyi~ng role of the Holy Spirit by stating that the Hrly Spirit takes people who are living by "the law of sin and death" which is characterized by "the misdeeds of the body" (Rm 8:1, 13)and he makes them "spiritual": Your ~nterests. however, are not in the unspiritual, but in the spiritual. since the Spirit of God has made his home in you. In 'fact. unless you possessed the Spirit of Christ you would not belong to hire. Tl~ough your ¯ body may be dead it is because of sin; but if Christ is in you, then your spirit is life itself because you have been justified: and if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, then he who raised Jesus from the dead will give life to your own mortal bodies through his Spirit living in you (Rm 8:9-10). The Spirit does not only transform our soul and cleanse our mental habits our thoughts, our feelings, our emotions he also "spiritualizes" our bodies to prepare them for the resurrection. Our bodies became mortal "because of sin"; the cleansing from sin through Christ's "Spirit living in us" is the cause of our immortality.~ What are the spiritual transformations which the Spirit operates in our souls? St. Paul opposes the spirituality and holiness of the Old Testament and that brought about by Christ's Spirit living in us. The Spirit transforms our "spirit of slaves" livingin fear, into a "spirit of.sons" who have been "set free"(Rm 8:14-23; see 1 Jn 4:17-18). It is a new attitude with regard to the law that takes hold of us: we do right not because_ we are afraid, but because we love. On the other hand, and for the same reason, i.e. love, this freedom is never licentiousness, because we are living in the Spirit: If you are guided by the Spirit you will be in no danger of yielding to 360 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 self-indulgence, since self-indulgence is the opposite of the Spirit . . (Ga 5:16). In other words: the presence of the Spirit in us does not justify bad behav-ior, but should enable us to avoid bad behavior. Hence also Paul's claim to the Corinthians that no on~ can curse Jesus and be in the Spirit of Jesus (1 Co 12:3). Paul's whole apostolic life was dominated by his struggle to make the new converts realize this new dimension brought about by faith in Christ: an externally imposed Law is replaced by the promptings of the Spirit from within (see Ezk 36:26-27; Jr 31:33). The true Christian is doing good because the Spirit moves him from within his very freedom. Even our faith in the Gospel is the work of the Spirit and it is this faith, rather than outward observances that justify us (Ga 3:2). It is a pagan (or an Old Testament) attitude to do good or to refrain from doing evil out of fear of hell, or in order to curry God's "favors," rather than out of inner convic-tions growihg out of love. A Christian attitude stems from the Spirit within us and from our readiness to let the Spirit become active and effective in us and through us. Since the Spirit is our life. let us be directed by the Spirit. We must stop being conceited,, provocative and envious. (Ga 5:25). The Spirit which he sent to live in us wants us for himself alone (Jm 4:5); (literally: 'The Spirit. yearns, earnestly for our love'). No one who has been begotten by God sins: because God's seed remains inside him. he cannot sin when he has been begotten by God (1 Jn 3:9).2 But God will not sanctify us without us. It is from within our freedom that God acts and lives in us. We must collaborate with his promptings, for God has an infinite respect for our free will. Nor is it sufficient to have received, the Holy Spirit once and for all, like some kind of seal, medal or honorific title. He has to live in us. We have to grow in him by letting his influence in our lives become more and more continuous and pervasive. It is precisely this growth which supposes an inner cleansing. We cannot serve two master~; at the same time: one must diminish if the other is to grow. As long as our life is cluttered with worries, with sins, with ourselves, with the world, with pleasures and so forth, there is little room for God to grow in us. He is not going to sneak into our life, as we gradually clean out the house just ahead of him. We have to make a clean sweep before God arrives. But we are afraid of the apparent spiritual poverty, of the empti-ness, of the echoing hollowness within us. The Spirit gives us the courage to empty ourselves (see Ph 2:7) so.that we might experience God making irruption into our life. The blood of Christ, who offered himself as the perfect sacrifice to God The. Spirit of Holiness / 361 through the eternal Spirit, can purify our inner self from dead actions so that we do our service to the living God (Heb 9:14). In short: the first level of the Spirit's action demands, but also produ-ces an inner cleansing, a reorientation of our lives, an openness to the guidance of the Spirit and a readiness to be transformed. Without this there simply cannot be any.growth in spiritual life, because without it we are not capable of putting ourselves into a listening attitude towards God, and without_ this listening attitude there will not be that inner enlighten-. ment whereby God wants to make' himself personallY known to us. Enlightenment and Learning Si. John presents us the Holy Spirit as the'Spirit of truth: "I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate3 to be with you forever, the Spirit of truth whom the world cannot receive since it neither sees nor knows him; but you know him, becauSe he is with yo.u, he is in you. [he] will teach you everything and remind you of all 1 have said to you" (Jn 14:15-16, 26). This theme of the "world" which cannot see God ,recurs often in John. The world is blind to God because it is too much concerned with other, rela, tively unimportant things. The Word of God is the true light which many people refused to receive (Jn 1:9-13). But there are also those whb, throughout the history of salvation, have let themselves be enlightened by the Spirit of God. The Holy Spirit inspired the prophets (see Lk 1:67; Ac 21:4; 28:25;.) and the writers of Scripture. He guides the lives of those he inhabits (see Lk 2:25-26) and he leads Jesus himself through his ministry (Lk 4:14, 18)oand makes him,utter prophetic words (Lk 10:21). Indeed it is the Spirit who, in the form of a dove, points at the Messiah as the voice of the Father is heard at.Jesus' baptism (Mt 3:16-17; Mk 2:10; Lk 3:21-22i Jn 1:32-34; ~1 Tm 3:16). It is by the Holy Spirit that Jesus performs his m.iracles (Mt 12:28). In short: the Holy Spirit makes us become aware of Jesus,as the Messiah and of his redemptive role. This is why the Gospels are so 6utspoken against those who "sin against the Holy Spirit" (Mt 12:32; Mk 3:28; Lk 12:10) because this sin blinds us to the revealing and illuminating role of the Holy Spirit without which we cannot reach God nor pr.ogress in holiness. ("No one can say 'Jesus is Lord' except by the Holy Spirit" 1 Co 12:3). In other words, the sin against the Holy Spirit makes God's essential work in our life, viz. our sanctification, impotent. Jesus has proclaimed the Good News to us: he is the Good News, but we are incapable of fully grasping what this means unless the .Spirit opens our eyes: It is for your own good that I am going, because unless I go, the Advocate 369/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 will not come t6 you; l~tit if I do go, I will send him to you . I still have many things to say to you, but they would be too' mucfi for you now. But " when'~the Spirit of trt~th comes he will leadyou to the complete truth, since he will not be speaking as from himselfbut will only say what he has learnt . Jn 16:7-15 (passim). ~ " ~- We clearly see the effect of the Spirit on the apostles at the moment of the Pentecost event!~ Now, the coming of the Holy Spiritdoes not imply the revelation of neff doctrines, but the creation of an inner receptivity and capacity for underst~hding the Good N~ws of Christ in a more personal way:. You have been anointed by the Holy One, and have all recei'bed the knowledge'., you do not need anyone to teach you; the anoiming he gave you teaches you everything; you are anointed with truth, not with a lie. (1 Jn 2:20, 27). Thus the Holy Spirit generates faith, the ability to listen and to hear, in us and she convicts the "world" of its basicsin of unbelief (see Jn 8:21, 24, 26; 15:22). In reverse he convinces the believers of Christ's divinity (see Jn 10:33; 19:7) because l~y returning to the Father in his human bo.dy, Jesus shows that his true home is in heaven (see .In 13~ 1; 20:17). Finally the Spirit gives to the believer the unshakable confidence in the power of God who has overcome the empire 6f evil. Thus, by revealing the glory of Christ and enabliiig us to b~elieve in Christ, he makes us listen to him who reveals to us the glory of the Father. The Acts of the Apostles have been called the "Gospel of the Holy spirit." They are full of incidents in which the Spirit illuminates the minds and heart~of~the apostles and of the believers. Let us me~'ely'mention a few of them almost at random. He gives to the believers the gift of speech in foreign tohgues (Ac 2:4), he inspires the words of the apostles (Ac 4:8.31), he gives Stephen an, irresistible power of argumentation against his detrac-tors (Ac 6:10) as Jesus himself had predicted (Mk 13:11; Lk 12:H-12). On several occasions the Spirit gives people the ability of predicting the future (Ac 21i,~; 11:28); he guides the decisions of the Church in admitting pagans (Ac-8:29, 40; ~10:19, 44-47; 11:12-16; 15:8),'in limiting the relevance of the Jewish laff (Ac 15:28) and in determining the mission of Paul to the pagans (Ac 13:2 sq; 16:6-7; 19:1). Occasionally he gives very precise g~uidelines for th~ apostolate (Ac 8:28). But ~bove all the Holy Spirit reveals himself internally to those who receive him, usually in baptism, by giving them the power of praising God in words-inspired by God himself [the gift of tongues](see Rm 8:26-27; Ac 9:31; 10:44; 19:1-7.). Indeed one could say that the Holy Spirit was clearly the power behind the expansion of the ~early Church. The Spirit of Holiness / 363 This power is usually revealed and released in a prayerful atmosphere. Throughout Acts, one gets the impression of a people moving about in an inner spiritual dynamism, open to God, ready to expect any kind of mira-cles. Of course they are_ ordinary human beings like you and me. They sometimes become almost obsessively enthusiastic (like the Corinthians), while others (like the Gala~tians) remain fearfully attached to traditions. In this they do not differ all that much from the Churchof today! But there does seem to be a genuine desire throughout the early Church to let the Spirit rule the life of the faithful. St. Paul himself tells us that he is not bothered by his weakness, precisely because he" knows that he can always let ttie Spirit and the power of God Speak and pray in and through him (Rm 8:26-27). He knows that he is not preaching his own ideas nor by his own power, but by the power of God (1 CO 2:3) and that "the Spirit reaches the' depth of evet:ything, even the depth of God" (1 Co 2:10). This is why he chides Timothy for his timidity: God's gilt was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love. and self-control (2 Tm 1:7).~ And~just as the Spirit give~'to the preacher the words to preach, to the prophet the message to proclaim and to the teacher the doctrine to teach, so also he gives to the listeners the inner .power to understand with heart and mind, and the wisdom to apply what has been taught in their personal life: May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of ~lory, g~ve you a spirit of wisdom and perception of what is revealed, to bring you to full knowledge of him (Ep 1:17,). Out of his infinite glory, may he give'you the power through his Spii'it for your hidden self to grow strong, so that Christ .may live in you through faith, and then, planted in love and built on love. you will with all the saints have strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth . (Ep 3:16-19). By thus gradually growing, in God's wisdom, we will be filled with the '~utter fullness of Ggd" (ibid v. l~J). ,, But God ca~ only fill us with his wisdom, !f we have let ourselves be emptied of the wisdom of the "~orld." Hence,the purification stage.must precede and will itself grow in _proportion to the gradual~growth in "enlightenment." We can only grow "little by little" (Ws 12: !-2). Secondly we mus~ play our fa,irt by taking a humble, listening and receptive attitude in sile~ace ~nd. patience. And thirdly, the Holy Spir!t comes to each one of us personally, but always within the context of and for the sake of the whole Church, the Body of Christ (see 1 Co 14), because "God is Love" and v~hatever he does in us and through us,~in on13~ take place within a 364 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 love-relationship, This is why love is the greatest commandment, but also the greatest of all gifts of the Spirit: the gift which not only includes all others, but also the only one which is to remain forever (1 Co 13). We 'do not receive the Holy Spirit for our exclusive personal enjoyment, but for sharing him with others through apostolic action. As Jesus says to his apostles: You will r~ceive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and t~en you will be my'witnesses (Ac 1:8). More than half the passages in the Acts which speak about the Holy Spirit mention him in a directly apostolic context. This is also why the Holy Spirit is presented in such an intimate relationship with the Church that Peter can say: "It has been decided by the Holy Spirit and by ourselves." (Ac 13:28), while the Book of Revelation affirms: "The Spirit and the Bride [= the Church] say: 'Come'"-(Rv 22:17). A final point worth mentioning in the present context: If it is true that the illumination by the Spirit is proportional to our emptying ourselves of our own ideas, then it is easily understandable why the poor in spii-it are given preference in the kingdom of heaven (Mt 5:3),~ why "these things" have been hidden frrm the worldly wise and revealed to children (Mt 11:25) and why only children can enter the kingdom of heaven (Mt 18: !-4). Union in Love The Christian religion is not merely an ethics, i.e. a list of actions to be done or avoided. Jesus' struggle with the Pharisees (see Mt 5:17 sq and 23:13-32), as well as St. Paul's arguments to show the powerlessness of the Law to save us (e:g. Rm I-7) are proof enough of this. Nor is Christianity merely a beautiful doctrine dogmatically proclaimed a~d faithfully but blindly accepted: If I knew all the mysteries and all science, and if I had the fullness of faith. but without love, lam nothing (! Co 13:2). God wants to call us to a new life. I~e wants to change our identity from within, not merely our mode of external behavior. He wants us to be reborn "through water and the'Spirit'' (Jn 3:5) so as to enable us to enter into the kingdom of heaven. It is through the Spirit of Goal that this "rebirth" as children of God takes place: The Spirit himself and our spirit bear united witness that we are children of God. And if we are children we are heirs as well: heirs of God and coheirs with Christ, sharing his 'suffering so as to share in his glory (Rm 8:!4-17; see Ga 4:6~7). The Spirit is our passport for our new. "ciiizenship," because we have been The Spirit of Holiness / 365 stamped with the seal of the Holy Spirit of the promise, the pledge of our inheritance which brings freedom to those whom God has taken for his own to make his glory praised (Ep 1:13-14). Of course in this life we still know God only "dimly, as in a mirror" (1 Co 13:12), and yet e~,en in this limited way, God already reveals himself to us from within, from his presence in us through the Spirit: We know that he lives in us by the Spirit that he has given us (! Jn 3:24). We can know that we are li~ing in him and he is living in us, because he lets us share his Spirit (! .In 4:13). The Spirit is .an" experienced reality. Even the places and buildings where the early Church was gathering "were shaken" when they were "filled with the Holy Spirit" (Ac 4:3 I) and the Holy Spirit is often described as "falling on" people (Ac 10:44; 11:15). It is like falling in love: it is an experience difficult to explain to someone who has never experienced it. The kingdom of God is therefore not merely something to be expected in the life to come. We are already living in this kingdom, which can be identified with equal right with the Holy Spirit and with the Church, provided the Church is not merely seen as an administrative structure. St. Paul refers to our transformation into children of God as something already realized: We were buried with [Christ] in baptism [and we]'have been raised up with him" (Col 2:12-13). However, this new reality demands, right here and now, a new mode of life: Put off your old nature which belongs to your former manner of life. and be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and put on the new nature, created after the likeness of God iri true righteousness and holiness (Ep 4:22-24). We are incorporated into the Spirit (Rm 8:1, 9. We are "temples of God"( 1 Co 3:16; 6:19). We have been 'Zraised up with Christ" (Col 3:1). It is for this reason that all "Paul's moral instructions are so severe. Moral instructions and calls to holiness are one and the same for Paul, and they center, as .one can expect, on the two commandments of love of God and~ love of neighbor. Because of the Spirit dwelling in us, we are able to love God and to love our neighbor with the same kind of love with which God himself loves us: The love of God is poured out into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who is given to us (Rm 5:5). The first thing that changes in our new, Spirit-filled life, is our relation- ~166 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 ship with God in prayer: The book of Genesis tells u.s .of Enoch~ who was livinga life of such 'intimacy with God that he was absorbed into God, that he vanished in him (Gn 5:24). The original familiarity with God as des-cribed in paradise is re,stored. We learn to relate to God truly a~ our Father because ,"God has Se.nt the Spirit of hi~ Son into our hearts crying 'A~bba! Father!'" (Ga 4:6; .see Rm 8:26). Our ~vorship is no longer tied to places, times, rituals, and'words, but becomes "worship in0 spirit a.n~d in truth (b~ecause) God is °soirit" (Jn 4:24). Above' all, our worship ~s no longer dominated by fear because ° love will come ~o perfection in us when we can face the day of judgment without fear; because eVen in this worm we have 'become as he is. In love ~there is no fear', but fear is driven out by perfect love" (1 J'n 4:17-18; she "~ Rm 8~21~29)~ So to pray in the Spirit of God (see Ep 6:18) means to pray in an attitude of fearless love: God is love and anyone who lives in love lives in God and God lives in him (l Jn 4:16).~ This means thaLGod lives in us-and we live in him, but also that as a result weare transformed into God's essentially loving nature. This transforma, tion will not only reveal itself in our relationship with God, but also in our relationship with our fellowman. We are living a lie if we claim to love God, to be a child of God, while not loving our neighbor: We can ,be sure that we are in God only when the one who claims to be living in him is living the same kind of life as Christ lived (1 Jn 2:5-6). Now God's love for us was revealed when God sent into ,the world his' only Son so that we could have life through him . Since God loved us' so much~ we, too should love one another . As long as we love one another, God will live in us ~'nd h~s love will be complete in us. (I Jn 4:10-12). This whole,newdoving relationship is planted inu~ by the Holy Spirit living in us and e.nabling us to grow in him and thus to become more and more ,like Christ whose .Spirii he is. ¯ If we live by the truth .and in love, we shall "grow in all ways into- Christ ~, who is the head by whom:the whole body is fitted and joined together. "~ So the body grows until it has built itself up in love (Ep 4:15-16):~ . This body,,building itself up and. growing in love, is the Church. This is also why the gifts and charisms are to be used for "the common good" (see 1 Co 12:7; 14:3r4, 26) and are of no account without the cha,rity which~gives The Spirit of Holiness / 367 them meaning (1 Co 13). Jesus wanted us to be perfect "as our heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48) and he summarizes the whole Law and the Prophets in the commandments of love (Mt 22:40). Our growth in perfec, tion can therefore only be a growth in this twofold, love and this growth is essentially God's work because we have been chosen by the prox)ident purpose of God the Father to be made holy by the Spirit, obedient to Jesus Christ and sprinkled by his blood (I P 1:2). The lives of the Saints are beautiful illustrations of this powerful and effective dwelling of the Holy Spirit in the soul. In all their differences, they have struggled through these three stages of growth in holiness. Some have put more emphasis, on their sinfulness and on the need for inner purifica-tion; others have spent most of their life trying to penetrate deeper and deeper into the knowledge of the mysteries of God, not only with their intellect but with their heart and their whole being: All have been led towards a life of intimate

Issue 42.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1983. ; Trends and Issues in Spirituality, 1983 The Service of Religious Authority Negative Feelings--Positive Growth Volume 42 Number 2 March/April, ~983 R~v~J~w t:OR Rt~l.~(;~otJs I ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. RJ~v~!v,' t:o~ R~qt.~(;IotJs is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. I.ouis. MO. © 1983 by R~v~t~w FOR Rt-zl.~t;Iot~s. 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 Ipostage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rl.:v~l.:w ~'oR R~:u(;tot~s: 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 March/April, 1983 Volume 42 Number 2 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REv~v:w I,oR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl Io Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; Cily Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW I-'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 Arbur, MI 48106. Priorities for Religious Pio Laghi Archbishop Laghi is Apostolic Delegate to t~ae United States. His delegation is located at 3339 Massachusetts Ave., N.W.: Washington, DC 20008. This article is the text of his homily at the joint meeting of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, held last August in San Francisco. With great personal interest I have been looking forward to this opportun-ity to lead you in eucharistic prayer and to reflect upon priorities for specially consecrated members of the Christian community. Today's readings provide an indispensable framework for this reflection. While they speak of priorities essential to any form of Christian life, they tell us in.a special way of the priorities of religious life: to respond wholeheartedly to God's call; and to respond by word and witness, equally without reservation, to the pressing hunger--the "famine"---for God's word which is as real today as in the time of Amos. Total Includes Permanent Religious !ife is essentially a total gift of self to the plan of God and to the service of his love, so that it is properly called a total "consecration." You know this well, but you know also that your commitment is renewed and strengthened by reflecting constantly on its meaning. What, then, do we mean by this total consecration which is sealed by religious vows? Everything great is final. All life-determining commitments are irrevocable. Not because they cannot be taken back (plainly they can) but because, making such commitments, we define ourselves as persons and so establish the parameters of success and failure, of generosity and selfishness, not merely for our lives but for our very selves. One of the worst aberrations of our times is the idea that one can be a religious--or a priest or a spouse--for a time. This is the very denial of the gift. 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 Those who adopt this attitude lend themselves but they do not give themselves. "What is essential in the religious vow," says Father Danielou, "is precisely that, by a definitive commitment, you are expressing this profound desire of being totally in the service of God in regard to all the eventualities of radical doubt, of questioning, and of temptation." One might say that in totally handing over his or her life to God, the religious makes with him a permanent bridge, a stable pact, a perpetual alliance. Total Includes Detachment and Attachment The words of Jesus make it clear that this total gift of self involves a two-fold movement: first, setting aside--detaching oneself from--whatever is an obstacle to the girl; second, a continuing act of positive response to the invitation--"Come back and follow me." The rich young man balked at the first step; many do. But it is possible to take this step, yet hang back from the second--"Come back and follow me." It is a permanent challenge for each religious, as for each priest and each Christian, always to renew in the context of daily life this determination to entrust one's destiny and one's self totally to God. Pride hinders us, but there is a more subtle hindrance than pride: the belief, of which we may not b'e fully conscious, that our own insight and discernment are superior--because seemingly more efficacious or even more virtuous--to the imperatives of Christ's summons as mediated to us through the particular way of life to which he has called us. Beyond detachment, one might say, lies abandonment. To take the first step but not the second is to travel only part of the way God wishes us to go. Religious Life as Witness Another fundamental point:the first function of religious life is to wit-ness- Znot to what men and women are capable of, but to what God is capable of. There are many ways of expressing this. Pope Paul Vl, in Evangelii Nunti-andi, put it with special beauty: All evangelizers--and therefore all religious-- he says, are called to be servants of the truth, not merely by speaking of abstract intellectual truth, but.by living and witnessing to God and the things of God "as if they could see the invisible" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 76). How else, in times of spiritual famine, shall we respond to that hunger of which Amos speaks, the "famine. for hearing the word of the Lord"?. One cannot give what one does not have. "At the deepest level of their being," Pope Paul tells us, "[religious] are caught up in the dynamism of the Church's life, which is ~'hirsty for the divine Absolute and called to holiness. It is to this holiness that they bear witness" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 69). Men and women are capable of much that is admirable: of courage and generosity, for example. But what is unique to sanctitY--and to religious life in its role of giving witness--is that it is not the work of men and women, but of the Spirit of God. Sanctity is not humanity at a high level of excellence. It is a radical leap, nothing less than our participation in divine life. Because it is not Priorities for Religious / 163 humanly ostentatious, it speaks all the more powerfully. "Being a challenge to the world and to the Church herself," Pope Paul remarks, "this silent witness of poverty and abnegation, of purity and sincerity, of self-sacrifice in obe-dience, can become an eloquent witness" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 69). Priorities for Religious It is a joy for me to verify the presence and the dynamic activity of so many religious, men and women, in this country--all together about 160,000. They dedicate their lives, not for a time but forever, to God and to the People of God. They are "authentic witnesses of the Gospel," irreplaceable "workers" of evangelization, the most powerful "sign of total availability to God, to the Church, and to the brethren" (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 69). Prayer Among the priorities that 1 see for religious in this country, then, is the effort to ensure that prayer is an attitude toward life, so that prayer and life mutually enrich each other. This implies that prayer will lead religious to involve themselves in real life, while real-life experiences call .for intense moments of prayer. Today, as we know, along with the necessary quest for personal prayer, there is a strong concern for community prayer, for sharing one's experience of the faith, growing in one's insight into the evangelical imperatives dictated by one's circumstances, applying the events of the history of salvation, as related in Scripture, to the events of today. How important, too, that religious remain faithful to the sacramental life in its totality. There is no religious life--as there is no sanctity--apart from the Eucharist. Religious life is the expan.sion, the living out, of those energies which the Eucharist develops and nourishes in us. Our prayer must further-more be, visible and a source of encouragement to others; and this is possible through the liturgy, well prepared, well conducted, and well shared. The Social Dimension Another priority arises from awareness that the message we profess and communicate has not only a theological dimension but a social dimension. We preach a Gospel which frees men and women from sin in its roots and manifes-tations. We therefore preach and promote the human dignity and divine filiation of every human being. Preferential Option for the Poor This points to still another priority: the preferential option for the poor. Today religious increasingly find themselves in difficult, marginalized situa-tions: caring for the sick, helping those in need, promoting the rights of victims of discrimination, carrying on humble and self-sacrificing labors of many kinds. This option does not imply thb exclusion of anyone--the spiritual 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 poverty of our contemporary counterparts of the rich young man makes that clear--but it does call for a preference for the oppressed and victimized, and a constant effort to draw closer to them. This preferential option has led religious, and not only religious, to reex-amine traditional works in order to respond better to the requirements of evangelization. It has also shed a clearer light on the relationship between religious life and the poverty of the dispossessed. Beyond interior detachment and community austerity, it implies solidarity with the poor, often expressed by sharing wi~h them their conditions of life. At the same time, while adhering to this option, it is necessary to avoid certain dangers--a lack of adequate preparation, a lack of personal maturity, or a lack of evangelical motivation. At the very least these can imperil the preferential option by causing it to be misinterpreted. Hispanic Involvement There is another priority about which I also feel strongly. It concerns the presence, already substantial and rapidly growing, of so many Hispanics in the United States--their large number (almost twenty-five percent of our Cathol-ics), their religious and human values, their need for full acceptance in the Church and society. In their recent joint pastoral letter, th~ Hispanic bishops of the United States spoke of the "constant rejection" which has been "part of [the] daily life" of their people. Nevertheless, they said, "our parents taught us to love the United ~tates, although the struggle has been difficult. Our people have always struggled to improve themselves. We love the peace founded on truth, justice, love and freedom . We have not taken up arms against our country but instead have defended it. We have fought to eliminate the injusti-ces that rule our lives. The road has been long and difficult, littered with many obstacles, but we have made progress and will continue ahead with firmness and determination" ( The Bishops Speak with the Virgin: A Pastoral Letter of the Hispanic Bishops of the U.S., 1982). Yet, in the words of a Spanish-speak-ing priest of Texas, "there is a certain tendency to look upon the Hispanics as an unavoidable problem. But rejoice and appreciate us. as God's life-bear-ing gift, not only for the enrichment but even for the salvation of our Church and of our world." I recall something T.S. Eliot once said: No one is truly educated unless he or she knows a second language. These are wise words. Only then can one know what it means to be laughed at as one gropes for the right word or stumbles over its pronunciation. Truly, to know another language--in this case, Spanish--is to work for the coming of the kingdom of God and for the service of our brothers and sisters. Integration of Religious into Local and Universal Church A final priority concerns the integration of religious into the life of the local churches and the universal Church. Here, of course, a balance is essential. It Priorities for Religious / 165 was once said that religious life "has no other end but to be at the service of the priest." Plainly, however, religious must defend the specific character of their vocation against attempts, however well intentioned, simply to use them for fulfilling the immediate needs of parishes and dioceses. At the same time, though, there is another side to this coin. Individual religious, as well as their communities, must take special care to be in deep and sincere unity with the Vicar of Christ and with the orientations he gives, especially those which concern religious life or interpret the charisms of the founders of any religious institute. The same applies to their relationship with bishops. As a matter of priority, the norms contained in the Holy See's document Mutuae Relationes should be implemented in order that religious life be fully integrated into the life of the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church. Conclusion Permit me, in concluding, to quote words of Pope John Paul II which draw together many of the themes upon which I have touched. Speaking last May to religious men and women of England and Wales, the Holy Father ob-served that although "to most people you are known for what you do," never-theless "your true greatness., comes from what you are," and that can only be understood "in the light of the 'newness of life' revealed by the Risen Lord." "At some time in your lives," he said, "the call of the Lord to a special intimacy and union with him in his redemptive mission became so clear that you overcame your hesitations. You put aside your doubts and difficulties and committed yourselves to a life of total fidelity to the highest ideals of the Gospel. Your free decision was sustained by grace, and your perseverance through the years is a magnificent testimony to the victory of grace over the forces that struggl~ to tarnish the newness of. your life in Christ . "'l~oday there exists a wid~pread~mptation to unbeliEfanddespair. You, on the other hand, are committed to being men and women of deep faith and unceasing prayer. To you in a particular way may be addressed Saint Paul's exhortation to Timothy: 'Fight the good fight of the faith: take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses' (1 Tm 6:12). "Believe in the Risen Lord. Believe in your own personal vocation. Believe that Christ called you because he loves you. In moments of darkness and pain, believe that he loves you all the more. Believe in your mission within the Church. Let your faith shine before the world, as a lamp in the darkness; let it shine as a beacon that will guide a confused society to the proper appreciation of essential values. May the spiritual joy of your personal lives, and your com-munal witness of authentic Christian love, be a source of inspiration and hope" (Address to Men and Women Religious of England and Wales, May 29, 1982). Religious Life in the Young Churches Jan Snijders, S.M. At the end of 1981, Fr. Snijders finished his term in the general administration of his congrega-tion and has enjoyed a sabbatical for the past year. Presently he is lecturing in philosophy at the interdiocesan seminary of Papua, wfiere his address is: Marist College, Bomana: P.O. Box 1101 ; Boroko; Papua, New Guinea. ~n a periodical that aims at providing a forum for theological and spiritual reflection on religious life one does not have to underline the importance of religious life, and the case of tile Young Churches is not so different as to warrant an exception. The entire Church has become missionary (or should have). The contribution of religious to the mission of the Church and espe-cially their religious consecration itself are to manifest in all churches, young and old, that "the kingdom of God is at hand" (AG, 18; LG, 44). While pontifical and conciliar documents are eloquent on the subject of fostering religious life in the Young Churches, they are prudently vague on how this should be done, on who should do so and on the forms that religious life should take. Religious superiors too are probably very wise to keep things out of the limelight. Growth and adaptation are processes of a delicate nature. Premature publicity and interventions could easily do more harm than good. All of this may explain why so little is being written by private observers or scholars on the~ founding of local re!igious institutes and on the spreading of international institutes in the Young Churches. Still these things are taking place everywhere and a few general remarks can be of use to people trying to make responsible decisions. Are Local Foundations Preferable? Among the many connected questions there is one that especially observers in the "old" churches often bring up: ls it not better to leave the field to local 166 Religious Life in the Young Churches / 167 foundations so that religious life from the beginning can be thoroughly Afri-can, Indian, or whatever the case may be? Before proposing elements of a possible answer we must note that, as a matter of fact, local sisterhoods have been founded nearly everywhere and many are flourishing. Local lay institutes of men are much less numerous, and rare are those that can be said to flourish; in fact, one does not have to be very widely informed to know of several that after the first generation of members have ceased to exist. Practically nonexistent are clerical institutes founded in the Young Churches, with a very few, but notable exceptions. If the long-distance observer's concern for the "contextualization" of reli-gious life is praiseworthy, the assumption that it has a better chance in local institutes is debatable. For every case that substantiates the assumption there may be one that disproves it! Admittedly, a local community is never under pressure from faraway higher superiors to conform to rules and customs that originated in different cultures. But, even so, their first models of religious life were necessarily expatriates and the spontaneous desire of local religious communities to imitate foreign patterns may be a more effective force against what outsiders might conceive of as "contextualization" than pressure of higher superiors possibly could be. Conversely, local members of an interna-tional group are just as likely to carve out an identity of their own by insisting on local adaptations. In any case, those distant higher superiors who sup-posedly insist on foreign rules will in many cases prove to be either mythical figures or memories of a past that has disappeared many years ago! There are good reasons for local institutes, but "contextualization" is a doubtful one. A recent Roman document extolled (and perhaps exaggerated) the value of international religious institutes.~ In any case their importance cannot be doubted: they are able to respond to needs and opportunities across the globe; they provide spiritual renewal where local means fail; they form a network of communion and unity where local Churches become excessively particular; they carry a rich spiritual heritage and have the resources to revitalize it. If in the older churches local communities successfully work alongside of local branches of international ones, it would seem a little patronizing to doubt that this could be so in the Young Churches. Moreover, international institutes allow the Young Churches to take part in fbreign missionary activity (AG, 38). ¯ Local communities have advantages that 1 shall mention further on, but they also have to cope with disadvantages. It is not fair to .demand that local ordinaries (such communities usually are of diocesan right) always manage to strike a perfect balance between rightful concern and respect for internal autonomy. But it means that especially small lay communities at times suffer under interference from one bishop, only to be neglected by his successor.2 Local communities often were founded by a missionary or a bishop to respond to immediate and urgent needs. One cannot expect all founding fathers or mothers to be saints or spiritual giants. With the passing of time needs change and the initial inspiration dries up. For institutes to be flexible 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 and to retain spiritual vigor they need somehow to stay in contact with one of the great spiritual traditions of the Church. For the large orders and congrega-tions it must therefore always be a sacred duty to assist small communities without infringing on their autonomy and identity. "Planning" For The Spirit Much more complicated are the questions that arise when we look at the implantation of international religious orders and congregations. Granting that, in principle, there is a place for them in the Young Churches, one still has to ask whether it is opportune to do so, and under what conditions. But before tackling those questions a more basic one must be answered, namely whether such,matters can and must be "planned" at all. Shouldn't one leave things entirely to the free movements of the Spirit who calls whom he chooses, where he chooses? The religious vocation is an indix~idual gift of God and the receiver has an inalienable right to follow the call of the Lord. The task of superiors, ecclesias-tical and religious, can only be to discern, to respect and to encourage the movements of the Spirit in the hearts of people who feel themselves called. Granted this point of departure, it still remains a fact that God's call usually leads the receiver to ask admission in a particular community, and then the superiors concerned have a right and a duty to decide whether it is for the good of the candidate and of the community to accept her or him. And, in a place where that particular community is not firmly established, that is bound to be a delicate question, especially if it concerns a single applicant, or a very small number. Unless a community is going to be firmly established among the people from whom the applicants come, accepting them carries the risk that they will pass their religious lives as strangers, either permanently in a foreign country or as the lonely locally-born among foreign fellow religious in their own country. Of course people may be called to do just that, but it demands a high measure of psychological balance, of personal maturity, and of spiritual depth. Unless these gifts are clearly present, superiors may have to conclude that the candidate is not called to such an exceptional life. The fact that candidates ask for admission may lead the community to attempt a permanent foundation in their country. Conversely, candidates can be accepted, and even sought, in view of a planned foundation. Whatever the case may be, the decision to establish the order or the congregation in a new country is distinct from the decision to accept a few individual candidates, even if one thing will eventually lead to the other. We have two separate decisions, each to be made on its own merits, and not necessarily by the same people. For one thing, accepting candidates is the responsibility of religious superiors only; starting a foundation needs the agreement of ecclesiastical superiors. My conclusion is that, while we must respectfully follow the movements of the Spirit, we cannot abandon prudent "planning," i.e., weighing changes and consequences whenever candidates are to be admitted and foundations in the Religious ~fe in the Young Churches / 169 Young Churches are considered. The Spirit also asks responsible decision making. Reasons to Hesitate I have started from the assumption that it is not self-evident that all religious orders and congregations should attempt to begin foundations every-where in the Young Churches. I have argued that the matter must not be confused with the question of eventually admitting a few individual candidates but also that, on the whole, there is a place for international institutes within the Young Churches. So why, the initial assumption? Foi several centuries missionary activity Was organized around the so-called ius commissionis whereby missionary territories were entrusted to a missionary or religious institute. This means that usually only one clerical institute was present in a given area and only a very few lay institutes, often in some way related to the ~lerical institute to which the mission was entrusted. Naturally, local candidates to the religious life would usually enter either a local community founded on the spot, or the international institute working there. Now, the former mission territories have gradually become dioceses in their own right, the ius commissionis has disappeared, and a healthy diversifi-cation of missionary and religious institutes has taken the place of the earlier "monopolies." It can now no longer be self-evident that a religious institute will found itself wherever it helps founding the Church. And there can be very good reasons why in certain cases it should not do so. The main reason for this view is the one discreetly hinted at by the Bishops' Conference of Senegal and Mauritania in a Declaration on the Vocational Apostolate of 1978.3 The bishops ask that "in a spirit of generosity, dispersion be avoided." Let us look at this idea of "dispersion." We must admit that life in an intercultural setting is demanding. Generally speaking, people can be expected to feel and to function better at home, and to show a healthier growth among people of their own culture (one advantage of local foundations!). The prob-lems of intercultural communities are still not rod difficult if the "mixture" of cultures is balanced but they become more serious for a small minority in a group that for the rest is solidly of one race, nationality or language. Especially for young people the problems this poses can be nearly insurmountable. The consequences are obvious wherever one is dealing with small Catholic populations. ! do not know of any study that has come to firm conclusions on the question of how many vocations can reasonably be expected to come from a given Catholic population. The variations according to country and period of history are considerable, but clearly there are limits. If the religious voca-tions of a small Catholic population are spread over a disproportionate number of religious institutes, then many of the locally-born religious will for-ever be minorities among the foreign missionaries. "171~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 Will those religious be able to cope with the stresses of this situation? Will, in the communities that have such minorities, the groups of local people ever grow large enough to reach what could be called "critical mass," i.e., a group large enough to spark creativity and lead to genuine indigenization of religious life? Finally, what happens if the international institute has to withdraw from the country, for lack of vocations at home, for political reasons, or whatever? Will the few locally-born members leave with the foreigners? Will they be left stranded by themselves? The situation is far from imaginary. One example may illustrate what dispersion can look like. Before the war eleven clerical religious orders and congregations entered Japan. In 1981.all but one had Japanese priests among their members. Between 1947 and 1958 sixteen other clerical institutes followed them into Japan and in 1981 twelve of those had Japanese priests among their members, in the following proportions and absolute members:4 Entered Before the War Entered After the War 87.5% = 21out of 24a 71.1% = 4 out of 7 84 %= 21 out of 25 31%=9out of 29 82.6% = 43 out of 52 28.5%=4out of 14 78.9%= 15 out of 19 25 %= 3outof12 50 %= 4out of g 21.4%= 3out of 14 44.8% = 78 out of 174 20.8% = 5 out of 24 43.3% = 39 out of 90 20 %=2outofl0 43.1%=41 out of 95 19 %=8out of 42 33.8% = 91 out of 277 17.3% = 4 out of 23 9.4%= 5outof 53 I1.1%= 1 outof 9 ai.e. 21 Japanese priests 6.6% = I out of 15 out of 24 priests in 3.1% = 2 out of 64 Japan In all but one of the pre-war set the Japanese priests are in the majority or form substantial and viable minorities. In the post-war set the Japanese members are, both proportionately and in absolute numbers, in far from promising situations. It cannot be without significance that.for the same year the institutes of the first set mention that they have together 83 members studying for the priestho6d, respectively (in the same order as above): 0, 1,9, I, 0, 8, 19, ! 1, 25, 9. The institutes of the second set register together eleven students, spread over four institutes. The other eight have none at all. It is not reasonable to expect the picture to change substantially. Already the vocation rate in Japan is "exceptionally high (but going down): more than 850 Japanese priests (diocesan and regular) in a Catholic population of about 400,000. The rate is still higher if we take into account the preponderance of Japanese women over men in the Church. Similar dispersion could probably be registered among lay religious in Japan. The clear division between pre-war and post-war entries is perhaps particu-lar to Japan but it must be far from the only place where serious dispersion is taking place. Unfortunately very few places have such splendid publications as Religious Life in the Young Churches / 171 the Japan Catholic Directory and reliable information is scarce. A Matter of Criteria If there is a place in the new churches for international religious institutes but not everywhere for all of them, choices must be made and criteria are needed: What factors constitute reasons for or against an eventual foundation? Firstly, we must take into account what has already been said about the danger of dispersion: What is the size of the Catholic population and how many institutes already exist among them? Is there room for more? Or is the area "saturated"?. One does not need hard and fast rules to make a prudent assessment. Secondly, an institute must take stock of its resources for the formation of eventual candidates. Wouldn't it be presumptuous to admit candidates if one does not have the personnel and the means to offer them a good spiritual and professional formation? And it cannot be assumed that a solid formation can ordinarily be given by sending young people to a foreign country, or by entrusting them to formators who are not familiar with the candidates' culture. The fact that this has been done in the past and that it has been known to succeed does not ~jusify doing it on a general scale: The failure of those experi-ments cannot be overlooked. Faced with the decision whether or not to seek and admit candidates, an-institute must honestly ask itself, especially today, if it has the personnel to maintain an adequate presence in the host country for a long enough period of time. A careful look at how long it has taken new provinces in the past to reach "cruising speed" and assure self-sustained growth can help to make an intelli-gent guess. By way of target figure l would propose that a clerical institute must reckon with a good twenty-five years before the local religious can reasonably be expected to carry on withou( substantial outside support. Lay institutes may not need that much time. The already mentioned Declaration of the Bishops of Senegal and Mauri-tania says that an institute should have a substantial presence in the country. But what is "substantial"?. I am inclined to think that their presence can just as easily be too big as too small. The founding community must of course be large enough to show diversity of talents and personalities. Each person's weaknesses must be balanced out by the strengths of others and candidates must be presented with an ample range of models. But if the founding com-munity gets a little too large then the chances are that it lacks buoyancy and that it has too many other interests besides founding. Especially important is the minoriO, effect. In a large group of expatriates the locally-born religious remain for too long a minority; the foreigners' ways remain normative; locals waste their energy fighting for room and their creativity is not given enough scope. The last point varies with the way the founding group is composed. If all are of the same home country, the minority effect on the locals is all the more stifling. Any group of people of the same background, living together in 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 a foreign country, tends to cultivate their common memories and cultural traits more than they ever would at home. In spite of the most noble intentions they often are, unwittingly, quite intolerant of local ways. An international group on the contrary that has proved to be able to function together has great advantages--the locals soon find their own niche. The minority effect is mini-mized: everyone is a minority, thus no one is. A religious community that believes in its spiritual heritage naturally seeks to expand. This general framework however can carry incidental traits that provide important indications as to the viability of an eventual "implantation" project. A missionary group actually engaged in one of the Young Churches, seeing that no replacements or reinforcements can be expected from the home province or the order as a whole, turns to local vocations in the hope of ensuring the continuity of its works. But this complex of attitudes must raise doubts about their ability to take in local vocations. Are they not too much preoccupied with their past achievements? Does the search for security not play too large a role? ls the specifically "religious" commitment central enough in their lives? Religious communities and superiors in the older churches that see the former flow of vocations dry up can be tempted by tales of plentiful vocations in some faraway place (even if true). Add a touch of cultural romanticism about our "decadent Western civilization" and about "the spiritual youth of unsophisticated people" and the scene is set for another unfortunate experi-ment. It may sound harsh but the general rule should be that religious who do not project their enthusiasm at home and who do not attract young people of their own culture to follow them, should not attempt to do so either among young people of another culture. This is not a matter of inviting negative comments on the motivations of religious either at home or in the foreign missions, but simply a matter of objective appraisal of their suitability to undertake a particularly demanding task. These criteria add up to a formidable list! No situation is ever going to be hundred-per-cent perfect. Still, the community that accepts young members in a new country takes on a grave responsibility. The picture as a whole must be fairly favorable to justify going ahead. It is not the kind of project that asks for bold ,risks: The generosity of young people and the future of religious life in the emerging churches is at stake. Conclusion Religious institutes belong to the life of the Church. They provide their members with ways to follow Christ. Religious discover in their own lives and show others that the kingdom of God is at work here and now. Every culture, like every individual, is in need of conversion.5 Therefore religious institutes should be present in all the churches in the diversity that is part of their charism (PC, 1; ND, I1, 12, 29). But unless this program is implemented with great care, we risk defeating our purpose and Religious ~fe in the Young Churches / "173 people of good will would suffer the consequences. This article does not pretend to have touched on all the aspects of religious life in the New Churches. It will have attained its goal if the problems involved receive a little more attention and, when choices are to be made, problems would be discussed in realistic and open exchange. NOTES ~ Directives for the Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious, 23rd of April 1978 signed by Paul VI. Quoted as "ND.". -'See REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. 1980, pp. 122-123. ~ Dbclaration des Evbques du Sbnbgal et de la Mauritanie sur la Pastorale des Vocations, Dakar, 13 July, 1978, p. 4. 4These figures are based on information contained in the Japan Catholic Director.v, 1981, with minor adjustments where different tables did not quite agree. 5Cardinal Pironio, Message aux Religieux et Religieuses d'Afrique, Informationes SCRIS, 1978, II, p. 279. NOW AVAILABLE From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions land II 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 Currents in Spirituality A God for a Dark Journey: Trends and Issues in Spirituality, 1983 George Aschenbrenner, S.J. This is Father Aschenbrenner's fourth annual survey of the field of spirituality. He now resides in St. Alphonsus House, a residence for Jesuits at St. Joseph's University. The address is 5800 Overbrook Ave.; Philadelphia, PA 1913 I. This is the fourth in a series of articles--appearing annually--which the editor asked for with a view to exploring and reflecting upon currents in American spirituality. Last year's articlO gave extensive space to a description of the larger context and environment within which, in my judgment, the spiritual trends an~d issues discussed were developing. That major influence and context, within which all American spiritual life is being lived, was seen to be secularization--rapid, continuing secularization. The lengthy first part of last year's article sought clearly to distinguish between what it viewed as a necessary and very healthy dynamic--seculariza-tion- from its pervasive and very destructive alternative--secularism. This present article is, fundamentally, a continuation of last year's perspective and approach. It directly assumes and builds further upon that reflection on secu-larization and secularism. I would suggest, then, that the reader may be helped to read the opening sections of last year's article. I take this approach because I remain persuaded that, from many different angles, there continues to be a concern and struggle in American spirituality to balance on the tightrope of this secularizing trend in our contemporary faith life while avoiding the easy missteps that lead, whether gradually or abruptly, into secularism. Besides the overarching theme of secularization, the concrete, specific trends and issues themselves which are reflected on here also relate this article 174 A God for a Dark Journey somewhat to last year's reflections. This is so--not surprisingly--because our important experiences, and what we manage to make of them with God's grace, are generally in continuity even while, at the same time, our spiritual life really grows and really changes. In some cases, therefore, trends and issues treated here are obviously direct developments of topics discussed before. In other cases, though the trend or issue 1 am writing about now may appear new, reader's closer reflection will show that, whether explicitly or implicitly, the matter actually relates to the same basic theme: our spiritual struggle as American Christians to incarnate the life and love of God in our rapidly secularizing world. 1. The God of Darkness and Suffering Our rapidly secularizing and highly technological world can be very decep-tive and misleading. In most of the world we have available light of whatever color and intensity we choose all through the day and night, No more dark-ness. Computers, cameras, radios and recorders seem to promise constant companionship and communication. No more isolation. And yet, together with all this garish light and constant talk, there is a lingering and growing sense of darkness, of alienation, impoverishment and loneliness. For a while this past year we could read of three actual wars in the papers each day: in the Falklands, in Iraq, and in Lebanon. Though the inevitable destruction and carnage of those wars was disguised and muted temporarily, gradually the terrible details came to be revealed. Slowly but stubbornly our troubled economy has been squeezing not only comfort and convenience, but hope and life out of many of the jobless poor in this country. Most of the world events and concerns mentioned in last year's article continue to be active among u's.2 This suffering and violence often visit a despairing darkness and sense of emptiness upon the human soul. To find God in this darkness and emptiness is a growing challenge. Because, for most of us, God is more obviously associated with light, fullness, wholeness, with the beautiful richness of being, people today have more of a sense of forsakenness and abandonment in their experience of the empty darkness. Nor will the immediate future, of our secular world bring a sudden evaporation of this darkness and alienation. Rather than attempting to escape the darkness, therefore, we must learn to look deeper into it, to find God present everywhere--and always a God of personal love and intimate care. The negative, or apophatic, element in our experience of God, then, may be taking on more practical importance today in spirituality. As David Rast has said: "Only if we can know the God whose transcendent greatness allows him to be 'no-where,' can we gradually experience our God as always 'now-here.'" This is the approach of Pseudo-Dionysius, of The Cloud of Unknow-ing, which leads beyond the surface light of God's love into the depths of a darkness of faith where the God of loreand light is experienced in a great 176 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 simplicity of presence and faith. The experience needed here is the one I described in last year's article as the protection against secularism. Now l~think we are facing some specific implications of this experience of God. If we do not settle for a God who is too small, then we can find a God of light, fullness, wholeness and beauty in the pervasive darkness, emptiness, fragmentation and horror of our world and of our hearts. A God whose greatness and majesty can make human hearts tremble in awesome wonder is also so inextricably involved in this world that the intimacy of love in Jesus can quiet human hearts even in the most fearsome and trying situations. As events in our world and in our personal lives shock and strip us to the very core of our being, we must, rather than despairing and falling into an unreal world either of denial or of naive optimism, learn to plumb the depths tofind the God who holds all being, and so each of us, in existence. In the depths of a heart experiencing pitch-darkness or crass evil or chilling emptiness, there is present a God without whom being and existence cannot be. And this God, our God, is always love. It is the God whose love and care were always present to Jesus on Calvary, even when he sensed a chilling absence. We are now struggling, and we will continue to struggle, to find what Louis Dupr6 calls The Deeper Life.3 We need to discover the God whose pervasive and intimate love is finally revealed more fully through the negations of an apophatic spirituality, that same love which, like a quiet flame at the center of all being, is sometimes experienced.like a torch for great zeal, at other times like a white heat apparently consuming while actually laying bare the divine center of our true identity. Dupr+ describes the attitude involved in this pro-found experience of God: "Unconditional trust without knowing what it is we trust, willingness to let go without knowing whether anyone will ever catch us, preparedness to wait without knowing whether we will be met.~Total looseness and unconditional trust are the virtues negative theology teaches us to culti-vate. There could be no more appropriate lesson in our time.TM 2. The Temple of the Human Heart In a rapidly secularizing world, public life provides less and less of the genuinely religious. Shrines and temples seem useless. The decay of their buildings speaks of a dead past. Christendom, it would seem, has long since died and does not offer even a desirable ideal any more. The world and society are no longer built or structured according to a Christian vision, nor, for that matter, according to any genuinely religious vision. For many people, this seems no great loss. But for the person of faith and religious sensitivity, the situation presents a great challenge. Realizing the futility of trying to turn back contemporary developments, to return to a past age's forms of public religious expression, we see that we are being invited instead to enter the temple of our own hearts. It is not enough, though, that the ontological reality of every human heart makes it actually a temple of God. We need consciously to app.reciate this, to cooperate actively A God for a Dark Journey / 177 with the adornment of this uniquely personal temple. Without a sense of itself as this personal religious temple, the heart's faith can die as it falls prey to secularism. This temple of the human heart, however, cannot be wholly an inward reality. It must find some appropriate externalization. The inner sanctuary, of course, mus~ be highly personal and intimately religious--a profound meeting of God and of our truest self. And yet, while profoundly personal and inti-mately unique, this inner temple ought not promote a closed individualism. The human heart where God lives and is adored and loved cannot become a church unto itself. The God who is known and reverenced in our own hearts is at once the source of, and the invitation to, community, the community of the human family and the community of the Church.This religious temple of the heart, if its air is to remain healthy and invigorating, will require, especially in a secularistic, religionless world, some appropriate external aids, like the desig-nated chapel of a religious community or a special place in one's own room, and a special time set aside for regular prayer. When the human heart has thus become a carefully provisioned temple of the Lord, the person has also become capable of an inner life of quiet intimacy and peace everywhere, whether it be in a bustling subway, or in the solitary confinement of a jail, or in the dangerous crowding of a refugee-boat or on the death-bed of a cancer patient. At times our hearts will be temples of bright light focusing on a God joyfully imaged and named in Jesus. At other, catas-trophic and confusing times, this temple will be darkened, housing a God temporarily nameless and unknown. In either atmosphere, this templeis a place where we bend low in quiet awe and in reverently trustful abandonment to a Love that fires ministry for God's justice in our world. This profound inner life o~ personal religious experience will be increas-ingly necessary as we move to the future. And it is always available, because of that God whom Jesus spoke of as seeing and rewarding all hidden gestures of love: "Let it be a secret between you and your Father. And your Father who knows all secrets will reward you.'~ Karl Rahner, in an article entitled "The Spirituality of the Church of the Future," sums up this trend and its issue: "It has already been pointed out that the Christian of the future will be a mystic or he will not exist at all. If by mysticism we mean., a genuine experience of God emerging from the very heart of our existence, this statement is very true and its truth and importance will become still clearer in the spirituality of the future.'~ 3. To lk Peoplg of the Church Many people continue to grapple with the role of the Church in their Christian identity. Whether these be earnest novices in a religious congrega-tion, serious students in a seminary or college, or young people just returned from some volunteer service and about to enter into a parish, the issue is always the same: in living a genuine and generous love for God, how much 171t / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 must one be a person of the Church? And the issue centers on the institutional Church. Can I stand for, and identify myself (maybe in some necessarily special way) with this international institution that is the Catholic Church? It is a matter of conscience for some whether they can identify with some of the practices and policies of the Church. Many, while believing in God and living generous lives of service, either explicitly reject membership in the Church or effectively live their religion without any real relationship to the Church. This is a complicated matter, but one that must be ~faced by the whole spectrum of Church membership, from pope and bishop to parishioner in the pew. A specific cause, or combination of different causes, can raise the issue critically for different persons: a domineering clerical attitude encountered; monotonous, uninformed preaching; a successful remarriage after divorce; the prohibition of women's ordination--or maybe even the prohibition of their service as lectors; and many other reasons. For an increasing number of people, practices within the institutional Church which they perceive to be unjust are making membership in the Church more and more painful and questionable. To the query as to how much one must identify with the institu-tional Church, answers would range far and wide. Some would almost identify the Church with the institution, while others would play down the institution to almost no significance--and thus would think the entire question otiose. A "sense of Church" must be reclaimed for many people. For the fully Christian mind and heart, the mystery of God in Christ Jesus, and therefore the mystery of the whole human family, is incarnational and communal--and universal. All this says community. And not just sect, either--but Church. But we must all be concerned that it be a Church that is attractive, inspiring, demanding, inviting. The development of such a Church that others can believe in will continue to be the task of us all. The Church on all levels of its membership must continue to struggle for a more genuine following of Jesus in our world. Some gather regularly into small groups to share life and faith and find support in community. This can begin to provide an experience of community which is at the core of Church. But it does not, in the long run, suffice. To see the glory of God in a weak, human Church, struggling in the Spirit,'is never easy. It requires a stubborn hope, the hope of a genuine love, sometimes, surely, critical, but always a lover of the Church.7 4. An Expansive Ministry Born in Forgiveness Especially iri religious life, but also throughout the whole Church, it is getting more and more difficult to find people competent and willing to under-take ministries of difficult responsibility. In religious life, some major superiors speak of a crisis of leadership. They speak of a lack of available and suitable men and women for the challenging roles of leadership either in the religious community itself or in the apostolic works of the community. It may be a formation director; the pastor of a new black or Hispanic parish, a third-world mission assignment or a superior in a larger community. But the issue is always A God for a Dark Journey the same: men and women to fulfill these challenging tasks. We have renewed our concept of the role-model for a religious superior and for the leader of our apostolic works. But it is difficult to find men and women suitable and willing to undertake such missions. Among the consequences of this leadership crisis, paramount is the inter-ference it is causing with the service that religious communities could otherwise render in the world. This leadership need is not to maintain past, outmoded structures, but rather to inspire and facilitate more unified and effective service in response to new, serious challenges facing the Church in today's world. Is this leadership failure a result of faulty formation? This is a question worthy'of reflection on the part of all of us. And it must be answered carefully. The profound renewal of contemporary religious formation has involved a necessary development in a direction quite different from the past. The stress on individual responsibility and careful respect for the gifts and talents of the individual has correctly tailored formation programs increasingly to the strengths and weaknesses of each individual. But while moving in this person-oriented direction, we have not, perhaps, maintained or developed as well as we might that healthy sense of self-abnegation which would allow an individ-ual to be truly available for more of the service-needs of the religious group. This is a necessary correction/refinement of contemporary formation that we now recognize and can implement. In an earlier article, I called this the devel-opment of a more refined Christian personalism which would help us recog-nize and transform the very real, though subtle, self-serving tendencies in all our hearts,s ° As we ponder the difficult ministries facing us now and in the future, we must remember that all genuine ministry is rooted in devotion. Ministry is neither something carelessly superimposed from above, nor somethifig nar-rowly limited to an individual's comfort and convenience.Devotion here is not some emotional pietism. Rather, it is the experiential capacity to find God-- something that runs much deeper than emotion and feeling. Formation pro-grams should provide a great diversity of experiences, in order to stretch the person's capacity for devotion far beyond what might have been originally expected. If an individual's ability to find God is too narrowly limited, that person's lack of availability for service can easily become a future liability. This trained, experiential ability to find God in various ministries and situations always involves a kind of self-transcendence. This transcendence is made possible thrbugh an abnegation of self which is motivated and inspired by an experience of the greatness of God's love for me, The goodness of God's love is exhilarating and expansive, attracting the human heart beyond nar-rowly self-centered concerns. Heroism for God is born here. But without a growing mortification, one that is not destructive but revelatory of our true self in God, the devotion of finding the expansive joy of God's love in many future ministries simply is not possible. Another aspect of this crisis of leadership for ministry is our ebbing expe- 1~10 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 rience of forgiveness. Forgiveness is meant to be the birthplace of great zeal for ministry. God's gratuitous forgiveness sets off a dynamic which turns the heart outward for service. To be forgiven beyond one's wildest dream is not some-thing to be kept to oneself, but becomes a life of service of others. The greater the sense of forgiveness, the greater and more expansive will be the zeal of devotion for finding God in ministry. But a trend I mentioned three years ago continues to haunt us in this whole matter of a vigorous availability for ministry which is essentially rooted in the religious experience of forgiveness? and it is this. We remain timid and con-fused in our admission of personal sin. As we continue to grow out of an unhealthy, Jansenistic, legalistic sense of sin (especially in the sexual realm), we are left with a vacuum, since we have not yet properly assimilated a healthy sense of social sin or personal sin (also in the sexual realm). Fears of self-hatred and unhealthy guilt still dull our sensitivity to the healthy guilt and shame that are always part of the grace of a forgiving God seeking out the sinner. But so long as our past leaves us confused and quite unresponsive to our present sinfulness, we cannot experience the full dynamic of God's forgiveness in our hearts. And it is only an acknowledged sinner, humbled in the truth of forgive-ness, who receives.from God an expansive zeal for ministry. The effect of a shallow experience of forgiveness finally registers in minis-try. If one is not driven to ministry through forgiveness, one can fabricate one's own ministry in too selfish a manner. Rather than receiving a ministry from God in the devotion of forgiveness, a person can cling to a ministry with an angry arrogance and impatience that often speaks of improving and aggrandiz-ing oneself rather .than serving the needs of others. Further, this experience of being humbled in the truth of one's sin and God's forgiveness is always an important sign distinguishing a true prophet from a false prophet. In these days when prophecy is a more noticed phenomenon among us than before, and when we are in need of the inspiration of true prophets, we cannot forget that the true prophet is forged in the zeal and humility of forgiveness. 5. A New Way of "Making" Catholics Any remedy for the deficient sense of personal sinfulness mentioned in the previous trend will require much more than our renewed rite for the reception of the sacrament of reconciliation. This renewed rite, in practice now for about eight years, though it is an improvement, has obviously not by itself renewed the experience many people have of God's forgiveness. What is needed is a whole catechesis to help people recognize in their own hearts the dynamic of receiving God's gift of forgiveness. This raises the issue of how Catholics are formed and trained, raised in the faith these days. It is a matter of how people over a lifetime continue to enter the Church. There seems to be a great change occurring here which will have tremendous implications for the future. Most of us were raised in a Catholic school system where we had drilled into us the essentials and practices of A God for a Dark Journey / 1111 Catholic life. But things have changed. There are not nearly as many religious serving as teachers as before. Many parish schools have closed. And besides, many of those simple, clear essentials of Catholic life are not so simple and clear any more. As formal Catholic schooling becomes less and less available, CCD and other methods of religious education take on greater importance. Often in the past CCD was not very effective. It was.perceived as a definite second-best to the parochial school. But that view is slowly changing, and it must continue to change. As the whole procedure and atmosphere of formal schooling become less and less the way of handing on faith, new replacements must be instituted. Genuinely Catholic believers will never sprout fully grown from the ground. Besides learning the doctrines of faith, young people must receive a feel for the faith life. They must be allowed to admire it as they see it lived and shared by others. As Michael Warren, an expert in youth ministry, claims: Young per-sons need the fidelity of adults who care for them.~° The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults has received very good press. Some have called it "a revolutionary document" as it ritualizes a process of initiation into the Church which "gives first priority to the mystery of God's love for us.TM It can also be used as a guide in the baptism of infants.12 While this document expresses a better view of Church and ritualizes much better the process of initiation into the Church, its effectiveness will very much depend on the proper attitudes of priests and laity, and the availability of enough competent, generous, committed adults. Only in this way will the words of the document come to life as an ongoing process of initiation, a real catechumenate, which can help transform both how we "make" Catholics and what genuine Catholic life will look like in the future. RCIA, then, over a period of years, can play a large role in the formation of Catholics, but it cannot dispense us from the serious experimentation needed to discover and develop other forms of religious education that will be effective formatively on persons through their young years and on into their adulthood. I do not want to be misunderstood. I am not calling for the abolition of all Catholic schools. 1 am, rather, reflecting in the context of the actual situation that faces us now. The cos( of private religious education continues to escalate even as we struggle for tax credits to cover some of the expense. And the number of parochial and private schools continues to decrease. In this situa-tion, we must find a viable replacement for handing on Catholic faith, for helping our young people to grow up in that faith. Both in the schools that remain and in new religious education programs, the role of competent, enthu-siastic lay people continues to grow in importance. And this brings us to our next trend. 6. The Growing Vocation of the Lay Person We need to broaden our understanding and usage of the word "vocation." 182/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 One Often hears the worried question: "Do you think we'll have enough voca-tions?" The question clearly limits the concern to priestly and religious voca-tions. In breaking out of this past narrow understanding, we need to help others to see that living a serious faith life involves for everyone a vocation to service in the Church. It is not only priests and religious who have a vocation. Again, the lay vocation itself can be viewed too narrowly, as Archbishop Bernardin has cautioned: "Sometimes the impression is given that if a lay person wishes to become involved in the Church's mission, he or she must always be specially trained to become, in effect, a kind of professional within the Church. This view of lay ministry, I believe, is too narrow.''~ As a broader sense of vocation develops and spreads, I think we will never know exactly how many vocations (in the narrower sense) are "enough." But we will cooperate much more in all sorts of Christian ministries--and so we will feel much less shorthanded. Attitudinal changes, however, among some clergy especially, and among some lay people, too, are needed before that older limited view of vocation is transformed into a vision of great collabora-tion on all levels of the Church. Both the need for and the supply of well-educated, committed lay men and women continue to grow. More and more lay men and women are needed both to share and to implement the religious vision that must shape the curriculum of our Catholic schools, as well as to exercise other ministries in parishes and dioceses. A growing number of competent people are available for all these posts. And, increasingly, they are men and women who are hungry for an adult, inspiring and integrating spirituality. If these people are not to be forced to search for this spirituality even outside the Church, we must find ways of responding to this hunger. And this assistance must be largely centered in the parish. In no way does this exclude the use of special spiritual centers, retreat houses, or programs that are outside the boundaries of the parish. But these mhst always be complemented by a lived sensE, within the parish, of the presence of spiritual growth and challenge manifested in things like the quality of homilies, small discussion groups and a strongly collaborative response to the missionary needs both within and beyond the parish. Dolores Leckey, executive director of the U.S. Bishops' Secretariat for the Laity, lists among the primary needs of the laity: "a place to tell the truth, the experience of being listened to with respect, a chance to minister in ecclesial or designated ministry, and affirmation of the secular lay vocation and support of that vocation through theological education and in-depth spiritual formation." She sees these needs calling forth three needed attitudes in the ordained priest: com-mitment and community, interdependence in ministry, and willingness as opposed to willfulness.~4 For many of these lay men and women, the fundamental vocation to which they are called is the noble and glorious one of raising a good Christian family. I have written before on the precarious state of the family and the challenges with which this situation confronts us.~ Without repeating all those A God for a Dark Journey / 11t3 points again, my concern here is simply to face and restate the need for holy, self-sacrificing men and women to give themselves to raising a family. In a culture tending more to self-centered comfort and convenience, this ideal of raising a family tends to lose some of its glow. In fact, how many young people, once they finally decide to marry, actually plan on having a family? It is hard, though, to know how pervasive this attitudinal-shift away from raising a family really is. The vocation of a mother and father, with its own unique suffering and sacrifice, ought never seem "ordinary." It is a great, glorious vocation, and one vitally essential to the future of the Church and of the human race. Talented and dedicated young men and women must be helped to see that raising a family is truly a "vocation" in the Church. A theology and spirituality of the family must continue to be developed for the contemporary world and Church. Only with continuing reflection and careful cooperation on the part of husband' and wife can their raising of a family become integrated with, and be a powerful, creative means for furthering, their own profession and sense of self-worth. And the legitimate, essential struggle for women's rights .must not be allowed to create a condescending scorn for the women whose life, for so many years, is spent at home raising a fa'mily. To co-create with God, and daily to reveal God's love to children, is an exalted vocation--one that gives profound joy and binds parents in deeper love through sacrifice. 7. Public Witness to a Gospel Spirituality Which Prescinds from All Political Ideology The Church has been taking more and more stands on social questions over the past three years. A quick review of the weekly issues of Origins would show how often the National Conference "of Catholic Bishops has testified before various congressional committees over this same period. Some names of church men and women have almost become household words on various social issues, in this country and beyond. Nuclear disarmament, international concern for human rights, aid to El Salvador, an anti-abortion amendment, ~nd the abolition of the death penalty are but a few of the issues that have drawn public statements from various bodies within the Church. I would guess that, as the Church's social consciousness continues to grow, there will be need in the future for even more public stands. There is a serious danger here, though, something that could corrupt the Church's whole approach to social issues, both in this country and throughout the world. Some of the stands that the Church is taking and will be called upon to take may well coincide with the stands of different political ideologies and parties, whether Marxist or capitalist, Democratic or Republican. But the Church's stands must always clearly be and be seen to be conclusions of a gospel spirituality which prescinds from any and all political ideologies as such. One can, these days, hear someone speak strongly for international human rights or for nuclear disarmament, or for any other social issue, but 184 ] Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 who does so in such a way as to become clearly involved with a specific political ideology. When people hear such talk, they often, and quite reason-ably, wonder how a speaker of another political view would address the same topic. When the speaker's viewpoints are given in such a partisan manner, any gospel vision, if expressed at all, simply has to lose much of its force. And so the gospel witness is blunted for the listener. A specific political orientation of the speaker can, therefore, distract from the power of a position which he or she sincerely intends to incarnate gospel spirituality. To be identified too closely with a political ideology, rather than to be and act as a person of the Gospel, distracts people from what can be the power of various public stands of the Church. To be ready to take such stands requires that the individuals involved in these issues continue to take the means necessary to grow in and live more profoundly a gospel spirituality. In its first version of the pastoral letter on peace and war, the National Conference of Catholic Bishops claimed that "war, especially the threat of nuclear war, may well be the central problem.of our age." Within the past two years much energy and effort has resulted in a gradual development of sensitiv-ity and consensus, not 0nly on the part of the bishops, but also, though more slowly and perhaps less perceptibly, on the part of the Catholic faithful. How extensive this consensus will become, and whether it will prevent a serious division among the faithful at the publication of the final version of the pastoral letter, perhaps this spring, are hard to predict. But the different titles of the first two versions of the pastoral letter do manifest some of this devel- ¯ opment: "God's Hope in a Time of Fear" becomes "The Challenge of Peace~ God's Promise and Our Response." Some commentators have seen the first version as inviting Catholic theologians to develop a true theology of peace, and the second version, in response to an avalanche of helpful criticism, as an actual contribution to such a theology. Joseph O'Hare's words seem very sound and sensible: "In the end, the process may prove more important than the document it produces."16 The dialogue, debate and honest confrontation of different positions, at times quite heated, seem a work of the Spirit painfully forming a clarity and consensus that can challenge not only the consciences of Catholics, but also the difficult decisions of those responsible for the peace policies of our country. This complicated issue of the use and even possession of nuclear weapons must be both carefully scrutinized and evaluated, ultimately, in terms of an explicitly gospel vision of reality. The bishops must speak, and must be seen to speak, from a different vision than those who simply work within "liberal" or "conservative" ideologies or categories. The seriousness of the issue, which may be honestly summarized as the very survival of the human race, deserves the most careful s~arching out and testing of consensus within the American Catholic community. It must be a consensus based on our richest moral consciousness. To settle for any minimal, least-common-denominator position would be to default on the spiritual leadership that is required of the bishops A God for a Dark Journey by their position in our faith community. In many different ways we can be instructed by this process. It can teach the bishops, and the rest of us as well, about appropriate ways of reading and facilitating the Spirit's formation of a faith-consensus within our community. It can instruct us about what shall have to go ihto the future meaning of an internationally accountable, authentic patriotism. It can help us learn expe-rientially about the essentially important matter of unity and division within the American Catholic Church in the face of a great public issue which is moral as well as utterly pOlitical. Religion, and not just moral perspectives, shall have to be part of what we are taught. A profound and comprehensive peace, which God's love as revealed in a crucified Son can bring to human hearts, is what alone makes possible genuine conversion and love within the whole human family. This peace of God is the heart of the matter. And Jesus is God's victorious promise of this peace. Iksides this crucial issue of peace and war, there are other aspects of our concern for justice to be mentioned here. As we continue to increase our concern for justice, there can be a tendency to become too narrow in vision and even to exaggerate the justice issue--even though it very rightly continues to grow in importance. And again, lest 1 be misunderstood here, let me reassert that I do realize how very far many of us have to go in developing a true sense of justice, letting it influence the dedication of our Christian lives,t7 However, as can happen with almost any issue, we can so stress orthopraxis that our concern becomes chiefly the need for immediate action on behalf of social justice rather than with developing a vision which can enlighten and invigorate all the works of the Church, and not simply her social works. For example, in the work of a professional in higher education, besides direct social service when this is possible, there are many other means for inculcating in students attitudes for service and long-range social change. Professors who do not manipulate or dominate, but who serve their students by staying alive to their subject, who keep their classes well prepared and challenging, are very directly promoting justice. A view which would suggest that direct social service is the best, if not the only way that higher education can serve God's justice in this world, would seem a far too narrow, and therefore false, position on what is involved in the "integral promotion of justice." A similar exaggeration of the justice issue can overlook the spirituality that is needed to give force to any social concern. Though most of us still have a long way to go. in sensitizing our hearts to God's call for justice, I wonder whether, for some who have decidedly moved their center of gravity in the direction of their own social involvement, the challenge now is to find and maintain a viable spirituality within the new central thrust of their lives. A flurry of social work is not enough. Christian commitment to the works of justice must spring from a profound sense of God's love always at work and most dramatically promised in Jesus' Calvary experience of dying into a full- 11~6 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 ness of life and love. Among religious, an extreme tendency can yield to the temptation of settling for what Johannes Metz has called the political dimension of each of the vows, without a struggle on the part of the religious to integrate the mystical with the political dimension so as to develop an organic life of con-cerned service.~s The struggle for justice can also become unfocused and lose its gospel foundation if it forgets the mutual interaction between those internal, individ-ual, more personal dimensions and the external, social dimensions in our human world. This struggle for justice must always involve the careful balance and interplay between the evangelization of individual hearts and the forma-tion of a just-world society. Concerns about stealing, cheating, abortion and sexual immorality must always be carefully related to concerns of international human rights, nuclear disarmament, politics and economic justice. Some indi-viduals, some religious communities and other Church groups who are labor-ing nationally and internationally for justice and liberation, must be careful lest they seem caught up in liberal causes for the day which claim to pursue a systemic social justice without enough concern for the conversion and sanctifi-cation of individual hearts. A just society will always require more than any mere political and economic system. The justice and liberation we are con-cerned with here is Of God. It is God's sanctification and liberation of human hearts in Jesus.~9 But this is a liberation that can only be incarnated in our world through humanly cooperative analysis, planning and action. The sense and grace of its being God's work through us can never become empty theory, but must always throb in the veins of the apostle for justice. Liberation ~heology must always be energized by a spirituality of liberation?° This difficulty of keeping the ihdividual and the social, the internal and the external in proper balance runs deep in the modern mind. The issue is too extensive to be treated here and will surely not be changed overnight. But it needs urgent, serious attention. In a world overly interpreted by scientism there is, of course, little or nothing beyond the physical. Metaphysics has fallen on tough times. What you see is not only what you get, but it is all there is, in this modern view. This development of modernity has a long philosophical history reaching back at least to the sixteenth century, and developing through the Enlightenment. It is an issue of huge proportions,.far beyond any possibility of more than mention here. But it should not surprise us that this issue insinuates its way into our struggle to understand and to integrate "that justice without which faith is incomplete," that justice which .demands not only social action but moral conversion of soul. 8. Brldgebuilders Besides a growing need for prophets in the Church today, there is an equally great need for bridgebuilders. The pioneering prophet always calls and A God for a Dark Journey / 187 leads a people into the future. The builder of bridges is needed to keep the body of the people together and not let them be separated. In many areas polariza-tion is not as severe, or at least it is not so obvious as it used to be. But on all levels of the Church there is need to bring people from different viewpoints together in a genuine unity beneath and in and through their differences. The work of the bridgebuilder is creatiVe, patient--and very difficult. It is creativity that prevents community from capitulating to the least common de-nominator. In the face of certain impasses the ingenuity of an engineering feat is called for to bridge the gulf. Bridgebuilding is also messy work: you have to be willing to get dirty. To dive underwater and survey the depths, to lay foun-dations in muddy ground and to set steel and cement are never easy. It is very patient work, work that stretches a person. One must be able to live on both shores, to recognize the gulf of difference and to have a genuine desire and hope for bridging that gulf of difference. The builder of bridges learns to listen compassionately, though not uncritically, to the good of both sides and doesn't become trapped on only one side. Bishop Cummins of Oakland, when talking about the changing relations between bishops and theologians, called his brother bishops to "be wise enough to consult not just those theologians with whom we are intellectually comfortable, but even a wider group so that we will have the sense of the broader reflection and experience of the community.TM Bridgebuilding is a priestly work in imitation of Jesus who is the great high priest, Pontifex (which means a bridgemaker). It is a priestly work we can all practice. Just as Jesus' priestly bridgebuilding is best revealed in his salvific suffering and dying on Calvary, so our own bridgebuilding ministry will involve a passion of patient suffering which will always be creative for unity. Today, we all need to develop some of this creative, paschal charism of bridge-building, if we are not to settle, on all levels of the world andthe Church, for a shallow, easily disrupted communion of minds and hearts. 9. Ongoing Monastic Renewal Three years ago, in surveying the decade of the seventies, I mentioned the matter of renewal in monasticism.22 During this past year, the issue has been brought home to me again with even an intensity. Some members of monastic communities obviously feel it is time for an honest, thorough evaluation of all the experimentation of the last fifteen years. They sense that communities too easily presume the validity of too much of that experimentation. Though this issue is somewhat removed from my personal experience, I sense in certain voices, not just a traditionalist tendency, but a healthy call for evaluation before monastic communities move on much further with planning for the future. In the midst of the worthwhile development which recent experimentation has brought, are there some changes that have weakened rather than strengthened the monastic experience of God in the Church? How, for example, do the sisters of a renewed contemplative community resolve their growing unease about whether they have lost too much of silence in their 11~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 life together? How does a monastic community recognize and reject the newer versions of a tendency to rigidity, legalism, boredom, self-satisfied compla-cency- signs always antithetical to the Gospel~3 These questions, and there are many others that monastic communities could formulate far better than I, are not easy questions. But they could provoke stimulating, life-giving evaluation. In the long history of monasticism, it has always been a complicated matter to determine the appropriate "works" of a community. Merton has reminded the monastic community that it "does not exist for the sake of any apostolic or educational work, even as a secondary end. The works of the monk are not justified by their external results but only by their relevance to his monastic life alone with God.TM Louis Dupr~, in a powerful chapter on "The Poverty of God," while commenting on the monastic life-style, says that "the monk avoids looking ridiculous by refusing to take himself or his work more seriously than they deserve. Measuring them against the backdrop of eternity he rightly judges human concerns to be less than all-significant."~5 The traditional "work" of hospitality continues to bring many people into touch with the powerful monastic witness and source of faith in God. Perhaps it can be an extension of hospitality today to be involved in explicitly spiritual ministries, such as direction, or other temporary services which can be ren-dered to tile local civic community--often right in the monastery. Of course the details of such determinations can only be known in the light of prayerfully careful study of the spirit and writings of the founder or foundress--and by planned, scheduled evaluation. It will always be a challenge for the community members themselves to believe in the monastically apostolic style of being and to resist any inappro-priately active style of doing. We speak here of more than a rearranging of schedule or works. It is a matter of renewing an attitude and a vocation of men and women called to witness to God, our eternally faithfiil Lover, called to do this through who they are and how they live together, rather than through what they "do" and "accomplish." As some monastic communities try to evaluate the developments of recent years, they may be helped by re-reading Thomas Merton's "Memorandum on Monastic Renewal'~6 and by looking at Louis Duprr's conferences to the monks at Gethsemani,27 and a hosi of other writings on the monastic life today. And if, as some suggest, this issue requires further attention, perhaps the Association of Contemplative Sisters in this country could facilitate a prayerful evaluation. Monastic life is at the very heart of Christian faith and justice. In a secularistic world so hyperactive and quick to identify and evaluate people according to what they do and have, the joyful witness of men and women whose basic identity is to be in apostolic contemplation before God, while always difficult to maintain, becomes ever more important. 10. Developments in Religious Life New religious groups continue to appear in the Church. One meets new A God for a Dark Journey / 189 religious communities that have broken off from older, better-known congre-gations; some impasse could not be resolved and a new group was born. There are other new groups that are not offshoots of any previous congregation. Some of these groups have canonical and ecclesiastical approval; others do not--and some are not interested in such approval. There is much vigor, value, variety and novelty in all of this. All these groups are responding to some need but often in quite different ways. Some are permanently formed groups, founded in the permanent covenant of final profession. Others are bound together much more temporarily. It is important to acknowledge the valuable service rendered by these groups, when they are not dominated by an ugly reaction to a past difficult situation. Can all such groups be classified as religious life? Are there new forms of religious life appearing in all of this? How far can the traditional understanding of religious life be stretched in new directions? It is still too early for this observer to be sure about any answers to these issues. My personal conviction is that we must be careful that religious life cannot come to mean almost anything. Otherwise words lose meaning. It would seem clear that the Spirit is breathing new types of groups into the Church at this time. And it is not necessary to force all of them into the framework of religious life. 1 myself incline to think that religious life will continue to be a life of total consecration to God, specified in terms of celibacy, poverty and obe-dience, lived in community,28 and with explicit ecclesiastical approval. In the light of this understanding, though there can be much renewal of forms of religious life, there probably are not any wholly new forms. But there are, and will continue to be, new forms of communities that are not formally part of religious life. And this, rather than being a problem, should be a welcome addition to ways of serving in the Church. To be mutually understanding and to serve together in building that Kingdom of Jesus' Father in human hearts, as it grew and was revealed in Jesus' own heart--this is the most important gift to receive from God and to share with each other until time and experience give us greater clarity about this issue.29 Another development in religious life, and for various reasons a cause of sadness and discouragement for some, is the continuing departure of men and women both before and after final profession. As I mentioned in my last article,30 evidence seems to support the belief that the number of departures which decreased in the end of the seventies is now picking up again in the eighties. Such a phenomenon needs to be pondered. It can contain a call to keep renewing the lived witness of religious life. But, it seems to me, here we have a phenomenon different from the sixties and early seventies. People realize more and more what the truth and demands are of a religious vocation ¯ in the world today. The immediate reason for many who leave seems to be related to celibacy. Fo~ them, celibacy does not seem right and good, if pos-sible at all. But to settle for this as a final, adequate explanation seems too simple. Investigation and reflection upon many of these cases reveal, for instance, that the observance of religious poverty had stopped and at least the "1911 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 attitude, if not the execution, of religious obedience of mission had also weak-ened or even stopped before celibacy also lost its gift quality and began to seem a burden too heavy to bear any more. Though celibacy may be the more immediate and obvious final crisis, it cannot be separated from religious pov-erty and obedience, both of which buttress and give expression to the interper-sonal, unique companionship with God which, at its core, is what celibacy is all about. 11. Openness to New Non-Western Ways of Seeing Reality Over this past year, missionaries have brought to my attention this final trend. As the Church continues to grow in Africa, Japan, India, and other parts of the Near and Far East, the faith of our universal or '~world" Church3~ can be enriched by openness to the very different ways of perceiving reality in these countries. But it wil! .~'¢quire a flexibility that is not always easy for us. My-own liinited experience and reading in this area prevent, me now from writing about the obviously vast and important implications of this openness for our Christian future. But I feel the truth of the witness of 0these missionaries at least to want to mention the matter here--with the hope that both reader and writer will ponder this further over the coming year. Conclusion As I conclude this fourth article on currents in American spirituality, two reflections come to mind. They may be stated very briefly. They are both, I think, very obvious. And very important. First, 1 think it is necessary, in a rapidly shifting, changing world and in a Church whose future we are called upon to choose in the Spirit, that an informed believer have a sense of con-temporary spiritual trends and issues. Second, it is necessary to recognize and to choose, again and again, precisely within these shifting, changing trends of our time, the one perennial truth and beauty of God's revelation in Jesus. This is the great and difficult, but exciting task of the believer. A God for a dark journey. The Letter to the Hebrews speaks to the stead-fast center of the enterprise: "Christ yesterday, today and the same forever.'~2 And Hopkins catches splendidly the variety and difference of that journey, common to us all, our journey into God: "Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his, to the Father, through the features of men's faces,m3 A God for a Dark Journey ] 191 NOTES WTrends and Issues in a Secularizing World," March/April 1982, pp. 186-206. 2Ibid., pp. 186-187. 3The Deeper Life, Louis Dupr6 (Crossroad: New York, 1981). 41bid., p. 46. 5Mt 6:18. 6Concern For the Church, Theological Investigations XX, Karl Rahner, tr. Edward Quinn (Crossroad: New York, 1981), p. 149. 7Avery Dulles, S.J. is always a helpful and carefully creative guide in this whole question of the Church. See his Models of the Church (Image: New York, 1978) and his most recent book, A Church to Believe In (Crossroad: New York, 1982). 8"Trends of 1980: Some Themes and a Few Specifics," Review for Religious, March 1981, pp. 238-239. 9"The Past Decade," Review for Religious, March 1980, pp. 200-201. ~°"The Dimensions of Care," Origins, Jan. 28, 1982, pp. 520-524. ~tTad Guzie, The Book of Sacramental Basics (Paulist: New York, 1981), p. 85. ~2Ibid., pp. 97-103. ~3"The Future of Church and Ministry," Origins. May 6, 1982, p. 750. ~4"What the Laity Need," Origins, May 20, 1982, pp. 9-16, esp. 14. ~See art. cir., Review for Religious, March/April, 1982. pp. 202-203. ~6America, November 13, 1982, p. 284. Since we are in the midst of a process with regard to the pastoral letter of the bishops on Peace and War, it may be helpful to the reader to know that these remarks of mine were written in December, 1982. ~TArt. cit., Review for Religious, March 1980, pp. 201-202. 18Johannes B. Metz, Followers of Christ (Paulist: New York, 1978) esp. pp. 41-44. ~gThe Social Teaching of John Paul II, No. 4 "The Theme of Liberation," presented by Rev. Roger Heckel, S.J:, Pontifical Commission on Justice and Peace, Vatican City, 1980, esp. pp. 16-17. Heckel shows that John Paul 11 does not use the word liberation very much, and when he does God and Christ are the subject and content of the liberation. ~°Art. cir., Review for Religious, March/April, 1982, pp. 193-194. 2~"The Chahging Relations Between Bishops and Theologians," Origins, June 17, 1982, p. 70. 2ZArt. cir., Review for Religious, March 1980, pp. 197-198. ~See John C. Futrell, S.J., "The Monk and the Apostle," Review for Religious, May/June, 1982, p. 409. 2~Thomas Merton, The Monastic Journey, ed. Br. Patrick Hart, (Image: New York, 1978), p. 213. ZSDupr~, op. cit., p. 43. 26Merton, op. tit., pp. 213-217. ~TDupr~, op. cir. ~sSee art. eit., Review for Religious, March/April 1982, pp. 199-201, and James T. Burtchaell, "The Future of Our Fellowship," Commonweal, June 18, 1982. pp. 364-368. ~See Richard A. Hill, S.J., "The Community and the Option of Non-Canonical Status," Review for Religious, July/August 1982, pp. 542-550. The author treats the issues involved in a congrega-tion's moving to non-canonical status. ~°Art. Cir., Review for Religious. March/April 1982, p. 200. 3~1bid., p. 195. ~Heb 13:8. ~From the sonnet, "As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame." Conversion and Conflict John Navone, S.J. Father Navone writes of the pres,~nt article that it "develops the idea of the previous article ['Conversion Expres~d in Dialogue and Story.' Sept/Oct, 1982] in terms of the Synoptics' conflict stories and their implicit meaning for Christian conversion." Father continues to teach at the Gregorian University, where he also resides: Piazza della Pilotta, 4:00187 Roma. Italy. The New Testament is an external expression of the internal reality of Christian conversion. It brings to expression the mystery of God as a history of transforming love in Jesus Christ and in his community of faith: "No one has ever seen God: it is the only Son, who is nearest to the Father's heart, who has made him known" (Jn 1:18). The "conflict stories" of the New Testament imply that God's word of love will encounter human resistance.~ The adversaries of Jesus give expression to the various forms that human resistance takes to the grace and demand of God for our truest and fullest life in his love. His adversaries represent the mind-sets and heart-sets that oppose the event and the process of Christian conversion-- the personal and social transformation that results from the surrender of oneself to the love that is God. The synoptic gospels contain a number of episodes prior to the passion narrative in which there is a verbal exchange between Jesus and his contem-poraries on some crucial issue, exchanges in which Jesus and the other parties are adversaries. In these episodes, the crucial issue generally arises because of some action of Jesus, or of his disciples, which is unacceptable to the other parties. Some-times they arise because Jesus (or someone else) asks a question which pro-vokes conflict? There are three parts to the formal structure of these "conflict stories": 1) an introductory narrative: 2) the opponent's question or attack; and 3) Jesus' reply--the so-called "dominical saying." 192 Conversion and Conflict / "19:3 These stories are always preceded by some narrative. This narrative func-tions not only as a transitional link with what has preceded~ but it also estab-lishes the setting in such a way that the reader is prepared for the inevitable conflict. Thus the narrative stages a polarity or tension, with speaking and acting persons as the poles of the tension. Except in Mk 3: I-5, the conflict stories begin with a question or accusation that is usually directed toward Jesus or his disciples. In two instances, however, the questions begin from Jesus himself (Mr 22:41-46 and Lk 14:1-6). At times the silence of Jesus' opponent (as in Mk 3:2) can have the significance of a statement in the ensuing dialogue of question and answer. All materials of the conflict story are organized to stress Jesus' reply--the dominical saying--which brings the dialogue to a close. This pronouncement of Jesus has some bearing on an aspect of Christian belief or conduct. It implies the need of understanding, and it explains both the grace and the demand of God's word of love in Jesus Christ that calls for human transforma-tion in the process of Christian conversion. These conflict stories were formulated at various stages in the process of formation of the gospels, and in diverse circumstances.3 Some were shaped within the living context of the early Church's apologetical concerns in response to Jewish criticism. Others were shaped in the context of the catechet-ical concerns of the Church in its response to the need of teaching converts and regulating" the life of the believing community. Central to all conflict stories, however, is their focus on the person of Jesus, on his words, attitudes and actions. Christian conversion always has as its object the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ: his relationships to God, and his relationships to fellow-humans--his relationships to divine and human per-sons. This interpersonal life of Christ is the prime analogate for the Christian community's experience, understanding and judgment of its own interpersonal relationships with divine and human persons. ThE object of Christian conversion, then, is not just a set of truths, nor an ethical code. It is participation in the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ as this is itself rooted in receiving and giving the Father's love, in knowing and being known. The gospels' conflict stories imply the difficulty with which the mystery of God becomes a history of love in the actual life-stories of Jesus and of his followers. These stories imply that Christian conversion, both as event and as process of maturation, must have a dimension of conflict at both the intra-and interpersonal levels. "Not my will but thine be done" itself tells of a conflict relationship with the self that is always to be transcended in the individual's response to the grace and demand of the serf-giving love that is God. God's coming into our lives creates the transforming tension between his grace and its demand for an ever-greater selflessness which brings about a lasting communion with God's own self--and thereby with one another among his followers. Jesus Christ's "way of the cross" represents the "costly 194 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 love" of divine and of human self-giving and self-investment. Christian conversion, then, is the new life which derives from our accepting for ourselves God's own life of boundless love for all. The Cross expresses the suffering, that the acceptance of boundless love must entail--even for the sinless Son of God. It makes manifest that our acceptance of this love will inevitably place us in a conflictual relationship with others: If the world hates you. remember that it hated me before you. If you belonged to the world. the world would love you as its own: but because you do not belong to the world. because my choice withdrew you from the world. therefore the world hates you. Remember the words I said to you: A servant is not greater than his master. if they persecuted me. they will persecute you too . . . (Jn 16:18-20). If the conflict stories of the gospels are an expression of the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ, of his receiving and giving his Father's love for the trans-formation of all, they imply also that Christian conversion, our participation in his life, must inevitably entail conflict at both the intra- and interpersonal levels. At both levels it must entail an ever deeper penetration into the mystery of that love which itself embraces our lives, and constitutes the term towards which our whole beings strive. The God whose word of love is addressed to us in the conflict stories gives us the ability to make that word our own by the process of Christian conver-sion. 4 Not only do we hear Jesus' story, but we tell the same story in our own lives, making his struggle to overcome the unlove of the human heart our own. The Church tells these conflict stories of its Lord as an expression of the life which derives from his love. His struggle reveals the way that God's ' kingdom comes to us. Consequently, we might well question our tendency to believe that conflict at the intra- and interpersonal levels of Christian life is always an indication that something is wrong. Rather, it would seem we might be more concerned about the authenticity of a Christian commitment which did not encounter resistance at both these levels. The way of the cross is the way of inexhaustible and unquenchable love. It enables us to live in the tension and conflict that this love demands if we are to attain to the fullness of life in the kingdom of God. These conflict stories must not be read outside the context of the Good News. This is what fills the heart with joy and enables self-sacrifice to be wholehearted. Even though these stories imply the demand of a God who challenges everything that is in us, they are expressions at the same time of the great Good News that God is Love and has given us his life and love in Jesus Christ and in his Spirit. Even though these stories imply all the conflict, tension, suffering and Conversion and Conflict / 195 renunciation that is inherent in living as Christians, they, too, belong to the Good News, because what is primary in them and in it is the joy taken in the goodness of the life and love that God has given us: "Jesus. who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame" (Heb 12:2).5 The conflict-dimension of Christian conversion and its way of the cross is founded on the joy that is taken in the Supreme Good, in the Boundless Love that we know and proclaim to be the Father of Jesus Christ. Through the gift of the Spirit. we are enabled to rejoice in this Love and its challenges. In this context we know that where there is love, there is also struggle. The crucified and risen One reveals that Love is not indifferenl to human unlove, but struggles to overcome it in the conflictual activity of Love's self-giving. NOTES ~Other terms have been used to designate the material which we have called here "conflict stories." The term Streitgesprhche (controversy dialogues) was used by Martin AIbertz and Rudolf Bultmann. Martin Dibelius used Paradigmen. Vincent Taylor used pronouncement stories. Sometimes controvers.v stories was used in English as a general designation. -'The following conflict stories are those designated by such as Arland J. Hultgren in Jesus and His Adversaries (Minneapoilis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1979), pp. 26-27: I. There are eleven conflict stories in Mark. usually with parallels in Matthew and Luke: 2: 1-12: The Healing of the Paralytic (Mr 9:1-8: Lk 5:17-26). 2:15-17: Eating with Tax Collectors and Sinners (Mr 9:10-13: Lk 5:29b-32). 2:18-22: The Question About Fasting (Mt 9:14-15: Lk 5:33-35). 2:23-28: Plucking Grain on the Sabbath (Mr 12:1-8: Lk 6:1-5). 3: I- 5: Healing on the Sabbath (Mt 12:9-13: Lk 6:6-10). 3:22-30: The Beelzebul Controversy (Mt 12:22~32: Lk 11:14-23). 7: I- 8: The Tradition of the Elders (Mt 15:1-9). 10: 2- 9: On Divorce IMt 19:3-9). 11:27-33: The Question About Authority (Mt 21:23-27: Lk 20:1-8). 12:13-17: Paying Taxes to Caesar (Mt 22:15-22: Lk 20:20-26). 12:18-27: On the Resurrection (Mr 22:23-33: Lk 20:27-40). 2. There are two conflict stories in the special Lucan material." 13:10-17: Healing the Crippled Woman on the Sabbath. 14: 1- 6: Healing the Man with Dropsy on the Sabbath. 3. There are three conflict stories in Matthew based in part on Marcan and Q materials: 12:38--42: The Refusal of a Sign (in part from Mk 8:11-12 and Q: Lk 11:29-32). 22:34-40: The Double Commandment of Love (in part from Mk 12:38-42 and Q: Lk 10:25-28), 22:41-46: The Question ,~bout David's Son (in part from Mk 12:35-37). 4. There is 1 co~Tflict story in Luke based in part on Marcan material." 7:36-50: The Sinful Woman at Simon's House (in part from Mk 14:3-9). 5. There is I conflict story in Q." Mt 12:22-32: Lk 11:14-23: The Beelzebul Controversy (see Mk 3:22-30). JConflict stories, obviously, are but one way for the evangelists to express Jesus' struggle. The story of the demoniac in the Capernaum synagogue, for example, expresses the demons' sense that in Jesus they have met the victor in the cosmic conflict between good and evil: "You have 196 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 come to destroy us, haven't you?" (Mk 1:24). '~See the treatment of Christian conversion in the eighth chapter of my book. co-authored with Thomas Cooper, Tellers qf the Word: Nine Moments in the Theology of Story (New York: I_e Jacq Publishers. 1981). SThe incapacity to enjoy seems to be connected wth the incapacity to love. Some do not enjoy anything enough to be able to forget about themselves. The first thing we read about God in the Bible is that he made something and thought it was good. St. Thomas writes of the love of benevolence or friendship that by it the person who loves desires for the person loved the same goods that he desires for himse~f"as for another se~f.'" And so the lover desires to give to the beloved the same things that have been the objects of his own love and enjoyment. See, e.g., ST. I-II, q. 27, a. 3. Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing One's Memories With Christ by David J. Hassel, S.J. Price: $.60 per copy, plus postage Add ress: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The Service of Religious Authority: Reflections on Government in the Revision of Constitutions Mary IJnscott, S.N.D. Sister Mary, formerly Superior General of the Sisters of Notre Dame of Namur (1969-1978), presently works at the Sacred Congregation for ReLigious and Secular Institutes in the area of constitutions and general chapters of sisters. She resides at her motherhouse: Suore di Nostra Signora di Namur: Largo Berchet, 4; 00152 Roma, Italy. Experience in recent years strongly suggests that religious authority, like most other kinds, is in a moment of crisis, A justifiable but over-vigorous reaction to some previous styles of operation has often been the immediate occasion of this. Other causes, however, have also contributed to the situation: the emergence of a strong culture-consciousness in certain areas; the introduc-tion of new processes and patterns whether offered postively, negatively, or simply as a change from what existed before; the need to make values and structures correspond more evidently; the evolution of ideas about religious life itself and about the Church; and even the very fact of having lived since the late 1960's in experimental conditions which often did not provide clearly for the exercise of authority. The crisis is something which ultimately affects fundamental values in religious life: identity, apostolic efficacy, the nature and importance of consecration, the future form of religious life as such. Because of its potentially serious consequences, the crisis cannot be ignored. In fact, many institutes are facing it very honestly. Responses vary. A few follow the ostrich in seeming to assume that if no attention is paid to it, the situation will disappear of its own accord. Some tend to extremes: a holding to the status quo as if nothing had happened, or a leap into a pattern which involves the virtual dissipation, or at least the non-exercise, of any real authority. Some 197 "19~1 / Review for Religious, .March-April, 1983 strive to keep the reality of ,authority but clothe it in a different language, often that of business management or politics. Some keep the concept in words but virtually shift the content to something else: usually participation, communica-tion, consensus or leadership. None of these responses meets the situation but each indicates the realization that there is a situation to be faced. More recent lines of development show a growing awareness of the need to relate religious authority to religious obedience, and both to the ecclesial dimension of consecrated life. Sisters are realizing that the authority question can only be handled adequately on the level of faith and of relation to the Church, and they are trying to find expressions which will simultaneously r~flect faith, foster life and values, meet present realities, and be in accord both with the Church's common law and with the best traditions of their institute. One such line of development is based on a better appreciation Of the service rendered by authority. Current attempts to express this are frequently contradictory because the service of authority is taken to mean either authority and service or authority as service and the conclusions drawn are not wholly consistent with either one or the other. But if authority of itself is service--that is, if by the fact of being itself it serves religious life necessarily and fruitfully-- we have a line with rich possibilities. It is some of these lines which 1 hope to explore. Before doing so, I think that a few clarifications are in order. First, I will not be speaking about authority in general but only about religious authority: the authority properly exercised in a religious congregation because of its recognition by the Church. Secondly, since without it the religious congregation would not exist as such, I will be assuming that the reality of religious authority itself is not in question but that much of the crisis lies in the evolution of structures and the search for suitable styles of exercise. Thirdly, I will restrict my reflection to the experience of congregations of sisters of apostolic life. This is partly because it is in them that questions regarding authority and government are sharply presented, and partly because my own experience is extensively with them and my reflections are largely conditioned by their sharing. The reflections fall into three main phases--a look at religious authority itself as it is seen in Jesus, in the Church and in religious institutes; then the service of authority in religious government; and finally some of the strengths, confusions and questions in the service of authority at present. I. The Service of Religious Authority 1.1 In Jesus Probably the most familiar scene associated with the authority of Jesus is the one at the end of St. Matthew's gospel (Mt 28:19-20).__.M_a.~y Of Magdala and the other Mary have been mandated, first by the angel at the tomb (28:7) and then by the risen Lord himself (28:10) to tell the disciples, "my brothers," to go to Galilee. It is a solemn convocation to the "mountain where Jesus arranged to meet them." There, before the adoration of some and the hesitation of others, Jesus makes his last, confident claim, gives his last The Service of Religious Authority / 199 command, and pledges his last promise in a setting which, for Matthew, recalls the old law of Sinai and the new law of the beatitudes. The claim is absolute-- "All authority in heaven and on earth is given to me" (Mt 28:19), and, to make this effective, he promises to be with them until the end of time (Mt 28:20). Therefore, in the work of evangelization--preaching, baptizing, teaching, carrying God's word everywhere and to all the ages--the inner strength, impulse and power are always that of Christ himself, to whom all authority is given. To the disciples, this can hardly have been surprising. Many knew Jesus as one who had authority and who exercised it. He spoke with authority and not as the scribes and pharisees (Mt 7:28-29): he interpreted the law on no authority but his own (Mt 5:21-22 ff.); he ordered evil spirits to go forth, and they went (Mt 8:32); he commanded the winds and the seas, and they obeyed him (Mt 9:27): he had authority over sickness (Mt 8:14-15); blindness (Mt 9:29); deafness (Mk 9:7-35); dumbness (Mt 9:32-33); lameness (Mt 15:30); paralysis (Mk 2:!1); sin (Mk 2:10): and death itself (Lk 7:15). The authority he exercised in regard to the disciples was unquestioned. So also was the fact that, when he chose, he could confer on others authority similar to his own. Sometimes the authority was for a short period, as when the apostles who had rejoiced exuberantly in it during their first mission (Mk 6:7, 30) found that they no longer had it when they tried to cure the boy possessed, at the foot of Tabor (Mk 9:18). Sometimes it was promised for a longer future, as to Peter after his confession of faith (Mr 16:18): and by the lake of Tiberias it was given in a definitive way (Jn 21:15-17). Jesus was Lord and Master, Shepherd and Teacher, King, though not of this world; Lord of the Sabbath, Messiah and Son of the living God. His authority was never in doubt. According to his own testimony, however, this authority was neither assumed nor taken by acclaim, but given. Like his priesthood, it was not something that Jesus conferred upon himself or took of his own initiative (see Heb 5:4), nor was it something that he Would accept from the acclamation of delighted followers who wanted to make him King (Jn 6:15). It was, as he himself said, "given" and given by the Father. For this reason, his authority was unlike any other. Intimately connected with his person as Son and with his mission as Redeemer, it served a purpose which was the Father's business (see Jn 14:31), the "will of him who sent me" (Jn 5:30). It extended to all things in heaven and on earth. It was clearly distinct in its exercise from the authority of "the rulers of this world who lord it over their subjects" (Jn 22:25) and it was used to give life (Jn 10:10) and to heal (Mr 8:16); to teach (Mr 5:14); to save (Jn 12:47); to forgive (Mr 9:6); to sanctify (Jn I: 12); to unite (Jn 17:21); to bind and loose in heaven (Mr 18:18); to send in evangelizing mission (Mk 16:16); to found the Church (Mr 16:!8). 1.2 In the Church It is this authority, exercised for the same purpose and in the same manner, that Christ continues in his Church by his presence to the end of time. Peter's 200 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 authority was something that was given as a matter of faith: it was Christ's authority invested in him. He knew it when he said to the man at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple: "In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk" (Ac 3:7). He knew it when he helped phrase the decision of the so-called Council of Jerusalem in the words: "It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us" (Ac 15:25). He experienced it in the inner changes of values that he had to make in order to welcome Cornelius (Ac 10:34, 42) and to break with the Judaizers at Antioch (Ga 2:i1-14). Exercising the authority of binding and loosing that Christ had uniquely given him (Mt 16:19) and confident in the Lord's prayer for him (Lk 22:32), Peter confirmed his brethren with a power which he knew was pure gift. It was at the service of Christ's mission. It depended for its efficacy on an intimate personal relation and loving obedience to the Master who had conferred it and it was exercised for Christ's purposes and in Christ's way even to union with him in martyrdom. The same characteristics marked Paul's exercise of authority. "Be imitators of me as I am of Christ" ( I Co 4:1) was his cryptic summary of his own place in relation to the Lord who was his life (Ph 1:20) and the new Christians who were his responsibility. He could appeal, and did, to the moral authority of example which can result from the quality of life, of work and of prayer in someone who is fully living his or her baptism. But he had another kind, too: a personal authority given him by God for his work among the gentiles whereby, in union with Peter, he could inspire, instruct, encourage, correct, judge, and organize the Churches he founded in order to lead them to the fullness of Christ. In using it, he made a careful distinction between what was common teaching "from the Lord," as he called it, and what was his own opinion (1 Co 7:10, 12). He was particular not to profit from it in any way personally (! Th 3:8-9 and 1 Co 9:15-18) and he was at pains to ensure that it was continued in his young Churches (2 Tm 1:6, 2:1-2). So we find him constantly instructing, correcting errors whether of doctrine in Galatia or of manner of life in Corinth, fostering order in the local Churches whether liturgical (1 Co !1) or organizational (Tt 1:15) or in the matter of interpersonal relations (Ph 4:2). When necessary, he appealed for material support from them ( I Co 16:I-4 and Rm 15:25). None of this was done without suffering, as the second letter to the Corintl~ians makes clear. The authority of Christ was only exercised in the way of Christ--through the passion and resurrection, and Paul's was a paschal experience. Religious authority in both Peter and Paul was the power of Christ given them and acting through them to fulfill the purposes for which the Church was founded. From their time onwards, the essential authority of the Church has been the same. Her task is to save, to sanctify, to unite, to r~concile to the Father, and to spread the good news of Jesus Christ concretely to all nations and to the end of time. She is, in Vatican ll's beautiful phrase, the sacrament of salvation. She therefore has to direct, judge and teach with an authority that cannot come from her members and which she cannot take upon herself but The Service of Religious Authority / 201 which is the authority of Christ whose presence she is. Her intimate union and identification with him ensure that his own authority is exercised in and through her. It does not, however, make her proof against human weakness in her style of exercising it, any more than it protected Peter from errors of judgment or Paul from the consequences of a volatile temperament. In the course of history much has occurred to condition the Church's structures in ways that needed later revision, and, on that level, she has been embroiled at times in uses and abuses of authority that had little to do with the authority of Christ. But the essential truth remains. The authority which is uniquely proper to the Church is a religious authority--that of Christ himself--to save, to make disciples, to preach the gospel, to bring all to the Father in every place and age. This is the authority which is exercised in the recognition of religious institutes by the Church as a microcosm of her own reality. It is to this authority that they relate; and it is this authority which gives them theirs. 1.3 In Religious Institutes There are several circumstances which require that the authority in a religious institute be an ecclesial or religious authority and not just one which meets functional or organizational needs. These circumstances touch the nature of religious life itself. Religious institutes do not originate of themselves nor do they continue entirely as a result of their own efforts and planning-- they are the result of a gift of God and they depend on him for both their origin and their continuance. Their basic reason for existence is the closer following of Jesus Christ from which, for them, everything else must flow and to which everything else must be related. Moreover, they are in a special way God's gift to the Church: their way of life makes good sense only on the level of faith; they witness to realities and absolutes that are neither tangible nor visible, and it is only in virtue of the Church's recognition and approval that they exist. Their purpose is that of Christ and of-the Church. Such institutes require an authority that operates on the level of faith, Christ and Church, and which corresponds to the obedience which the members have freely vowed as a value because of their closer following of the Christ whose love made him obedient even unto death. All religious foundresses have become aware of the need for this kind of authority as God continued to act in their lives. A variety of providential circumstances can bring Christians together to do good--Pax Christi, the Christian Social Volunteers, CAFOD, the Catholic Women's Guilds would be random samples, and the members of these groups need no more than the authority that results from their own self-organization in order to operate well and to achieve their purposes. Their members give to each other whatever authority is necessary for the organization to function. They are related to the Church~ not essentially or by nature of the authority which they exercise, but by the recognition of their common purpose and by the baptismal commitment 209/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1983 of the individual members. Some religious institutes have begun in this way. At some point in their development, however, came the realization that they were aspiring to something more than what a group of Christians, however well-intentioned, could give to itself. The desire for a total public commitment to God formally received, the need for perpetual vows, the call to follow Christ intimately and as community in his obedience, and the urge towards a particular insertion into his public mission, would be some of the reasons which would prompt a founder or foundress to ask the Church to exercise her proper authority and to recognize the institute as a religious family. The Church alone, in Christ's name, can establish a religious institute, can receive vows that are vows of religion, can give an ecclesial mission and can confer the specifically religious authority in virtue of which an institute can require its members so to live and to work as to attain the purpose for which the institute was erected. This authority, which I will call religious authority, relates particularly to consecration, vowed life, mission, formation and government. It is specific to religious institutes and it is not the same thing as organization, responsibility, power or leadership. Given by the Church, it always involves an ecclesial accountability. Moreover, religious authority is never absolute. It is invested in persons clearly designated but who for the most part may not operate alone, and it is mediated through structures, usually worked out by the foundress in dialogue with the Church, which express the charism, nature, spirit and purpose of the institute and which are approved in its constitutions. Such authority makes possible a life of vowed obedience. Moreover, it is necessary for it. It is true, of course, that the structures by which religious authority is mediated can become outdated. They can atrophy, be abused or manipulated, lose contact with reality, or fail to function. They can reach a stage when they no longer correspond to or express the values that they are meant to foster. They then need to be revised and renewed. For this process, it is of the utmost importance to bear in mind the nature, purpose and source of religious authority, since models that are suitable to other forms are not necessarily appropriate to the structures of authority in religious life. It is also necessary to remember and respect the strongly ecclesial dimension of religious authority since this makes renewal of authority structures always a matter of dialogue with the Holy See and not simply the unilateral initiative of an institute. We further need to keep clear the correlation of authority with charism and life as expressed in the institute's own sound traditions, since this gives the best practical guidance for structures which will reaffirm the institute's identity in creative fidelity, continuity and openness. Where structures are renewed in this way, authority is a fruitful reality serving the purposes for which religious life exists. It is a witness to him who came not to be served but to serve and who used fiis authority at the service of the kingdom. Where the renewal of structures somehow loses sight of the unique nature, ecclesial dimension, and The Service of Religious Authority / 203 charismatic continuity of religious authority on the level of faith, it can ultimately betray religious life itself by secularizing it, in the negative sense, in what is fundamental to it. The various crises of authority at present lie at various points between these two possibilities. II. The Service of Authority in Religious Government 2.1 The Model The model of the authority that serves is Christ, the Servant of Yahweh. He to whom all power is given in heaven and on earth is also, and without diminishing either aspect, the one who came to serve, who emptied himself, obeyed even to the cross, and gave his life as a ransom for many. Clearly in ,iesus authority and service are not in contradiction. One is not at the expense of the other and there is no tension of opposites having to be held in balance. He refers easily to both, as when he is washing Peter's feet (,in 13:14), and he never attempts to justify either. Being at once Son and Servant, he exercises both authority and service as one, and this is of the essence of his incarnation. As religious, the goal of our life is the closer following of Christ in all its fullness but there is no doubt that we have a certain difficulty with this aspect of his reality. This may be because we tend to separate the concepts of authority and service in a way which he does not. ,iesus is concerned with the reality of each; he never confuses them, but they are one in his person. We tend to oppose them and to get involved in words to describe them. For example, we often think or speak of authority as an abstraction. Its synonym is power, with connotations of lordship, mastery, might and force that move easily into oppression and violence. Its implications are efficiency and the carrying out of orders. Its contrary is subservience. We think of service as a function accom-plished or something done in view of helping another, whether this is a kindly individual act like giving a hand to an old person, or a public utility, like driving a bus, or the meeting of a national need like the operation of civil service. Its synonym is action in relation to something or action in view of something. It implies somehow being less or becoming less than another. Its contrary is command. We tend, therefore, to identify authority with the power and lordship which are the contrary of service and, because of the negative connotations which we attach to it, we try in fact to avoid its exercise in-common life, to reduce or even to eliminate it, and we forego, perhaps too simplistically, the potential which it has for holiness and for fruitfulness in the apostolate. Yet Christ had authority, used it, and did not hesitate to speak of it and to confer it. It enriched, and in no way d

Issue 38.3 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bl-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St Louis Umverslty The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 By REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070~ Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May, 1979 Volume 38 Number 3 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOtZ REL~C~OUS; 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 College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Principles of Prayer Robert F. Morneau On February 22, 1979, Bishop Morneau was consecrated to serve as auxiliary bishop of the Green Bay Diocese, His latest article for our pages, "Spiritual Staying Power," appeared beginning p. 664 of the September, 1979 issue. He wrote: "'As of December 19th my writing career has been threatened." On that date he was appointed bishop-designate. Growth in all forms of relationships, be they with God or with one another, calls for an ongoing communication process. Prayer is one such process involving dialogue between God and the human person. In order to be meaningful that process must be grounded on certain principles de-scriptive of universal conditions, consequences and causes of meaningful prayer. This paper culls out several principles of prayer as articulated by various spiritual authors. These authors, experiencing prayer at different levels according to the uniqueness of their personality structures, share in written form some truths that provide an explication of prayer experiences in general. These truths when understood in context may well enlighten our own experiences or at least cause us to desire them as we journey to the Father. In so doing we can grow in our dialogical relationship with God. A three-step method will be used: 1) a statement of a principle of prayer; 2) a series of quotations from which the principle was drawn, or of quo-tations used to demonstrate the validity of the principle; and 3) a com-mentary developing some implications buried within the principle and/or quotations. Though principles are significant and advantageous in providing a perspective and pointing out a direction, experience itself is the central concern. Hopefully, as the reader journeys beyond the principle into the 321 322 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 197913 experience which it ~luciidates, he will find deeper meaning in it and be able to come into contact with the principal Reality underlying all real princi-ples. Ten Principles of Prayer 1. Prayer is Essentially Loving Attention1 Thus the individual also should proceed only with a loving attention to God, without making specific acts. He should conduct himself passively, as we have said, without efforts of his own, but with the simple, loving awareness, as a person who opens his eyes with loving attention,z Attention animated by desire is the whole foundation of religious practices? shall not dwell upon this because I want to say something about the way in which think those of us who practice prayer may profit, though everything is profitable to soul that loves the Lord with fervent desire, since it instills into it courage and wonder.4 Two essential elements of authentic prayer are contained in the defini-tion of prayer as loving attention: awareness of the presence of the Other and a h.eartfelt, concerned response. Distraction within consciousness and indifference of the heart are obstacles to meaningful communication with God. If, on our part, we are called to love with attention, this is consequent upon God's loving attention toward us. God made us; he is attentive to the smallest detail of our lives; he loves us completely. An affirmative answer must be given to Blake's deeply religious question: ~'Did he smile his work to see?" The Father's loving attention has been revealed in Jesus, the Word incarnate. A coming-to-visit verifies God's love and awareness. Further verification is found in the sending of the Spirit into our lives, the Spirit of love and knowledge. Because of this personal Grace we are enabled to truly pray. The Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness. For when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit himself expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words, and God who knows everything in our hearts knows per-fectly well what he means, and that the pleas of the saints expressed by the Spirit are according to the mind of God.? Defining prayer in terms of loving attention is simple but not simplistic. Its simplicity lies in its directness and succinctness; it is not reductionistic ~SeeJo 17;Ro 11:33-36. ~The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, (Tr., Kavanaugh, and Rodriguez, Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1973), p. 622. 3Simone Weil, Waiting for God, introduction by Leslie Fiedler (New York: Harper Colophon Books, 1951), p. 197. 4The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E. Allison Peers (London: Sheed and Ward, 1944), Vol. I!, p. 363. ~Ro 8:26-27. Principles of Prayer / 323 because neither love nor attentiveness is easily attained. Prayer, like all great acts, defies full analysis because it contains too much mystery. Only knowledge of prayer from the inside, i.e., through experience, allows for even surface knowledge of such a powerful event. 2. Prayer is Proportionate to the Qualit~ of One's Love6 Farewell, farewell! but this I tell To thee, thou Wedding Guest! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who Ioveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who Ioveth us, He made and Ioveth all.7 He knew that without prayer true love was impossible, and he learned from living that without love prayer became self-centered and barren.8 I repeat that if you have this in view you must not build upon foundations of prayer and contemplation alone, for, unless you strive after the virtures and practice them, you will never grow to be more than dwarfs. God grant that nothing worse than this may happer~for, as you know, anyone who fails to go forward begins to go back, and love, I believe, can never be content to stay for long where it is.8 The spiritual life demands balance. How one relates to God in prayer is intimately related to how one encounters his neighl~or. Scripture is trans-parent on this point: he who says that he loves God and at the same time shows hatred to his neighboris a liar:1° The person who spends an hour in prayer while fi~glecting the obvious needs of people close at hand must seriously examine the authenticity of such prayer. Indeed, the reality check for one's prayer life is fraternal charity.~1 Prayer and love are ~ymbiotic. Since our God is Love, we must be in close contact with him if we are to share that gift with others to its fullest. The reverse is also true: unless we share the love given in prayer, the gift dries up or simply engenders pride. As in all provinces of life, the principle of interdependence applies directly to the spiritual life, too. Integration of prayer and' love, contemplation and virture, liturgy and the apostolate are called for. Isolation and fragmentation here create a false spirituality visible to everyone except their possessor. A vision of integrated spirituality and a discipline of courageous action is true imitation of Christ. 81Jo 2:9-11; Lk 4:42-44. 7Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.'" SMurray Bodo, Francis: The Journe~ and the Dream (Cincinnati: St, Anthony Messenger Press, 1972), p. 64. 8St. Teresa, II, p. 347. ~°1 Jo 2. ~Spiritual Renewal of the American Priesthood (Washington, D.C.: Publication Office United States Catholic Conference, 1973), p. 48. 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 3. Genuine Prayer Demands Some Self-Control of Body and Spiritt2 ¯. we shall not fail to observe the fasts, disciplines and periods of silence which the order commands: for, as you know, if prayer is to be genuine it must be reinforced with these things--prayer cannot be accompanied by self-indulgence?'~ Oh, who can tell how impossible it is for a man with appetites to judge the things of God as they are.j4 We shall have overcome a considerable obstacle when prayer and penance condition each other, for their unity will be able to become the guarantee of their orientation. If it is necessary to deprive oneself of food and sleep, it is not to establish a perform-ance or glorify oneself over an exploit, but to allow the spirit to give itself freely to prayer, since, if it is less strongly captivated by the things of earth, it will be able to give attention to what is above it.15 When the body or the spirit is not free but addicted to various sub-stances or objects, the process of prayer is threatened. A body satiated with food and drink becomes listless and weary; a mind constantly filled with the flood of stimuli is so preoccupied as not to be receptive to other realities. Prayer is premised upon the ability to say '~no" to one level of reality so as to be able to say "yes" to the workings of the Spirit. Asceticism is a condition which creates space and time for dialogue with God. Certain exercises, such as fasting, periods of extended silence, volun-tary mortification, are means by which that space and time become real. The "if-then" principle applies to spirituality as it does to all of life: if the farmer wants the fall harvest, then he must willingly do the spring plowing and planting; ira person wants to listen and respond to the Lord, then time and space must be created for the encounter to happen. Strong and deter-min~: d desire lies at the root of such discipline. Self-control extends one step beyond asceticism. Once the emptiness has been created through exercises done out of love, then the soul must wait on the Lord who will come in his time and in his manner. Waiting for God is at the heart of prayer and is already a deep form of prayer; self-control makes that waiting possible and grace makes it sacred. Although not speaking of prayer, C. S. Lewis describes well this aspect of what is, after all, part of the human condition: "Then came the worst part, the waiting." ~ 4. In Prayer, 1 Must Bring This Me to the Living and True God~7 I enter into the presence of God with all my load of misery and troubles. And he takes me just as I am and makes me to be alone with him?~ ~ZGa 5:16-26: Mt 4:1-17. ~3St. Teresa, I1, p. 16. ~4St. John of the Cross, p. 364. ~Fran~ois Roustang, S.J., Growth in the Spirit, (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966), p¯ 232. ~nC. S. Lewis, The Last Battle (New York: Collier Books, 1956). p. 13. ~rjg 6:13: Ro 7:14-25. This principle of prayer was presented in a gu.ided retreat by Fr. William A. M. Peters, S.J. ~SRaissa's Journal, presented by Jacques Maritain (Albany, N.Y.: Magi Books, 1974), p. 225. Principles of Prayer / 325 If you're approaching him not as the goal but as a road, not as the end but as a means, you're not really approaching him at all?9 I can testify that this is one of the most grievous kinds of life which I think can be imagined, for I had neither any joy in God nor any pleasure in the world. When i was in the midst of worldly pleasures, I was distressed by the remembrance of what I owed to God; when I was with God, I grew restless because of worldly ~iffections.z° Any genuine conversation requires that each participant have an ade-quate level of self-knowledge and is familiar with the content under discus-sion. Where either is wanting, communication breaks down. Prayer, which is essentially a form of communication, contains the same requirements: we must know our real self and have some notion of who God is as well as understand the experience that is being ~;hared. Because of a drive to come off 'qooking well," it is difficult to bring the true, real self to God without a kind of editing. Because God can be conceived in ways that are distor-tions of his true nature, it can easily happen that we attempt to pray to gods that do not exist. One of the greatest causes for sterility in prayer stems precisely from a misconception of God and a failure to be in touch with our true identity. Psychologists are helpful in depicting for us a variety of selves with which we must deal: Each of us seems to have three self-concepts. The personal self-image is how the individual pictures his most inner self ("how 1 really am"). The social self is how he thinks others see him, and the pattern of responses he learns in order to be a social being. The Meal self is made up of the goals set by parents, the culture, and other sources ("how I should be"). Often, these three conflict, creating problems for the individual trying to satisfy them all.z~ Each person must examine which of these selves is operative not only in the interactions of one's daily life but also as one comes before God. To play a role or function in the presence of the Lord prohibits encounter with our deepest self. To demand that the ideal self be actualized before its due season (perfectionism) leads only to a guilt trip every time we must turn to prayer. God says to us, "Come as you are"--no need for formal dress here. C. S. Lewis knew that God cannot be captured by our finite reason: "My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has .to be shattered time after time.''z2 Yet we can come to some knowledge of the living and true God. As Christians we attain to this through faith and the knowledge of Jesus Christ. In Jesus our God is made visible. Gifted with the Spirit, we make our journey to the Father in and through Jesus. His life, death and resurrec-tion is a summary statement of the Father's love and forgiveness. Thus all ~9C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World. 1955), p. 21. 2°St. Teresa, I, p. 48. 2~John H. Brennecke and Robert G. Amick; Psychology: Understanding Yourself(California: Benziger Bruce & Glencoe, 1975), p. 43. "~C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (New York: The Seabury Press, 1961), p. 52. 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 197913 of our prayer passes through and is enriched by the Lord as we speak to and listen to the Father. .Authentic prayer demands authentic, real persons. Our real self must be continually ferreted out; our real God must be longed for and awaited in silence and solitude. Only when real people meet can dialogue take place; the dialogue of prayer is no exception. 5. Prayer's Primary Focus Is on God, Not Self or Events2:~ I get nowhere by looking at myself; I merely get discouraged. So I am making the resolution to abandon myself entirely to God, to look only at him, to leave all the care of myself to him, to practice only one thing, confidence; my extreme wretchedness, my natural cowardice leaving me no other way to go to God and to advance in good .24 it is not my business to think about myself. My business is to think about God. It is for God to think about me.z~ You could, if you wished, deny that Mister God existed, but'then any denial didn't alter the fact that Mister God was. No, Mister God was; he was the kingpin, the center, the very heart of things; and this is where it got funny, You see, we had to recognize that he was all these things, and that meant that we were at our qenter, not God. God is our center, and yet it is we who acknowledge that he is the center. That makes us somehow internal to Mister God. This is the curious nature of Mister God: that even while he is at the center of all things, he waits outside us and knocks to come in. It is we who open the door. Mister God doesn't break it down and come in; no, he knocks and waits.2n Focusing and centering are concepts and experiences that are empha-sized in spirituality and psychology. Through this activity we realize that what is at the core of our consciousness radically affects our thoughts, feelings and actions. Often, a violent struggle takes place deep within our interior as various persons, forces, and things vie for centrality. Prayer deals directly with centering. Oi)r experience indicates how easily self-centeredness moves in or how daily anxieties and worries can become so strong as to exclude any awareness of a loving, caring God. Self-transcendence is no easy task; trust that the Lord will provide is more easily thought than experienced. Only in grace can the obstacles blocking encounter with God be removed. Jesus' prayer and life were centered on the Father and the doing of his will. Often in the early hours and before major events we see Jesus explicitly turning to the Father in deep, familiar communication. These explicit moments were indications of an implicit, hidden life of union. How else explain the intimacy of the last supper discourse? Yet Jesus, in his humanness, must have struggled at times to keep proper focus. We need but ponder the agony in the garden to realize that the struggle we have with ourselves and our fear of suffering were part ~aPs 23: Ga 2:17-21. Z4Raissa's Journal, p. 83. Z~Waiting for God, pp. 50-51. ~nFynn, Mister God, This is Anna (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1974), p. 174. Principles of Prayer / 327 of our Lord's experience as well. The lives of the saints are the records of people who struggled to center on God in spite of their own selfishness. Augustine's ongoing conversion, Teresa of Avila's admission that for years her prayer was superficial, John of the Cross' constant challenge to mortification lest the self dominate--all manifest the eternal conflict between the ego and divine love. Marvelously God has withheld rest so that we can never be at full peace unless we center on him. George Herbert saw this and recorded it magnificantly: When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, Let us (said he) pour on him all we can; Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure: When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay. For if I should (said he) Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature: So both should losers be. Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness; Let him be rich and weary, that at least, if goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast.~7 6. Silence, Solitude and Surrender are Conditions for Pra~er2s When it happens, therefore, that a person is conscious in this manner of being placed in solitude and in the state of listening, he should even forget the practice of loving attentiveness I mentioned so as to remain free for what the Lord then desires of him The beginning of integrity is not effort but surrender; it is simply the opening of the heart to receive that for which the heart is longing. The healing of mankind begins whenever any man ceases to resist the love of God.n° Good as is discourse, silence is better, and shames it. The length of the discourse indicates the distance of thought betwixt the speaker and the hearer, if they were at a perfect understanding in any part, no words would be necessary thereon. If at one in all parts, no words would be suffered,n~ ZrGeorge Herbert, "'The Pulley." 28Lk 22:39-46; Mt 6:5-6. ~°St. John of the Cross, p. 623. n°Caryll Houselander, quoted in Maisie Ward, Caryll Houselander: That Divine Eccentric (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1962), p. 279. n~"Circles," Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: The Book League of America, 1941), p. 106. 32~i / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 This SSS Principle (Silence, Solitude, Surrender) establishes the dis-positions allowing for union with God. Simply by looking at their opposites we realize how important they are. Constant chatter impedes prayer ("In your prayers do not babble as the pagans do." Mt. 6:5); crowding our lives with activities and people stifles the inner agenda; clutching desperately to our own wills thwarts the realization of the Father's will. In a culture that is activistic and grasping, the qualities of silence, solitude and surrender are not easy to come by. We must recognize the influence of the external environment on the internal milieu. Diligence and discipline are required if we are to grow in a rich, interior silence; courage and trust, if we are to dwell alone with the Other; love and generosity, if we are to accomplish the Lord's will freely. The attainment of a given end necessitates using an appropriate means. The house of the Lord is attained by traveling the path of silence, solitude and surrender. The path is narrow, perhaps peopled by few. Desire for union with God provides the enthusiasm to set out and continue on the journey. The greatest tragedy is to ignore the voices that call us to love, to dwell with many and not to have the One, to retain a false freedom at the cost of life. 7. The Tone of Prayer is One of Reverence and Awe:~" Then prayer is a witness that the soul wills as God wills, and it eases the conscience and fits man for grace. And so he teaches us to pray and to have firm trust that kve shall have it; for he beholds us in love, and wants to make us partners in his good will and work.3'~ Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes-- The rest sit round and pluck blackberries?4 First, therefore, I invite the reader to the groans of prayer through Christ crucified. through whose blood we are cleansed from the filth of vice-- so that he not believe that reading is sufficient without unction. speculation without devotion, investigation without wonder, observation without joy. work without piety, knowledge without love, understanding without humility '~21s6:1-9: Ps 118:5-7. :~Julian of Norwich: Showings. translated from the critical text with an introduction by Edmund Colledge. O.S.A. and James Walsh. S.J. (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 253. '~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Aurora Leigh.'" Principles of Prayer / 399 endeavor without divine grace, ¯ reflection as a mirror without divinely inspired wisdom?5 A personal attitude toward a particular person or object is known as tone. Hostility, lack of openness and prejudices are negative attitudes creating an atmosphere (tone) of fear and discomfort; gentleness, respect and affability are positive attitudes promoting a climate (tone) of warmth and joy. The interior manner by which we approach God is of great impor-tance in prayer. Julian of Norwich writes that, when one is comfortable in coming to the Lord, deeper experiences of prayer are possible: And so'prayer makes harmony between God and man's soul, because when man is at ease with God he does not need to pray, but to contemplate reverently what God says.3s Though our tone is important, of greater significance is the manner in which God comes to us in prayer. God's attitude flows from his nature, a nature which is summarized in the word love. And love's cousins are reverence and awe. What mystery here !--that our God is so gracious and courteous in his visitations to us. Julian of Norwich shares her experience of God's tonality: Of everything which I saw, this was the greatest comfort to me, that our Lord is so familiar and so courteous, and this most filled my soul with delight and surety?7 When entering into prayer it is of great profit to ask for the Spirit of reverence and awe, that same Spirit which empowered Jesus as he ad-dressed the Father in silence and solitude. Reverence and awe are essen-tially gifts and are to be asked for. When gifted with these gentle attitudes our prayer takes on an entirely different quality. Without these gifts our hearts are stifled and our service cool. The reverent feel deeply and serve generously; the awe-filled see with wonder and hear with trembling. 8. God's Activity in Prayor is Fat" More Important Than Out" Activity:~s ,, Prayer is a personal response to God's presence. It is more something that God does to us, rather than anything we do. This means that God first makes himself present to us. Prayer is our awareness of and then response to God?~ In this interior union God communicates himself to the soul with such genuine love that no mother's affection, in which she tenderly caresses her child, nor brother's love, nor friendship is comparable to it. The tenderness and truth of love by which the immense Father favors and exalts this humble and loving soul reaches such a de-gree-- O wonderful thing] worthy of all our awe and admiration--that the Father himself becomes subject to her for her exaltation, as though he were her servant and :~SBonaventure: The Soul's Journey into God, translation and introduction by Ewert Cousins (New York: Paulist Press. 1978), pp. 55-56. a~Showings, p. 159. arll?id., p. 136. asPs 138; Jo 6:44. a~Fr. Armand Nigro,-Prayer" (source unknown). 330 I Review for Religious, Volume 38, 197913 she his lord. And he is as solicitous in favoring her as he would be if he were her slave and she his god. So profound is the humility and sweetness of God!4° In the first place it should be known that if a person is seeking God, his Beloved is seeking him much more.4~ Self-sufficiency is a trait much admired by our culture. Nothing happens unless we make it happen; being responsible implies the to~al management of our lives, including the spiritual domain. Control is the goal. With such a mentality it is not surprising that God's invitations and graces fall on deaf ears and are unseen because of our blindness. We simply are not open to outside motivation; we are dancers who must always lead. The conse-quence of such a disposition is tragic: "A person extinguishes the spirit by wanting to conduct himself in a way different from that in which God is leading him.''42 While acknowledging both the necessity and health of self-reliance in its deepest meaning, complete self-motivation leads to stagnation and death~ Faith tells us that God always takes the initiative, that Christian life is a radical response to what God speaks and calls us to do. In no way does this deny the principle that we are challenged to make things happen, not just let them happen. But it affirms that our "making" is consequent upon the word of our Father. The Christian heart, in wisdom, seeks simply to please the Father, whatever is asked. Though the request may be sur-rounded by darkness, though his thoughts and ways differ from our own, the challenge will remain the same: "Our task is always the humble and courageous one of listening obediently and acting boldly.''4:~ Hopefully our activity flows from that deep listening to the word of God. The day begins with a listening disposition; it ends with a review of our response to the Father's word. Thus, prayer is dialogic. Aword is spoken in love and answered out of love; the answer itself becomes the substance for the next movement in the warm, mutual relationship between God and his creature. The familiarity here is profound; its absence creates an incredible loneliness and a haunting restlessness. o There is no One Way of Praying: Pluralism in Prayer Must Be Carefully Safeguarded44 If while the soul is meditating the Lord should suspend it, well and good; for in that case he will make it cease meditation even against its own will. I consider it quite certain that this method of procedure is no hindrance to the soul but a great help to it in everything that is good; whereas, if it labored hard at meditation in the way 4°Sl. John of the Cross, p. 517. 4tlbid., p. 620. 4Zlbid., p. 232. 4aRomano Guardini, The Life of Faith, translated by John Chapin (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1961), p. 106. 44Col 3:12-17; Lk 4:42-44. Principles of Prayer / 33"1 I have already described, this would indeed be a hindrance--in fact, I believe such labor is impossible for a'person who has attained greater heights. This may not be so with everyone, since God leads souls by many ways, but those who are unable to take this road should not be condemned or judged incapable of enjoying the great bless-ings contained in the mysteries of Jesus Christ our God.45 I do not say this without reason, for, as I have said, it is very important for us to realize that God does not lead us all by same road, and perhaps she who believes herself to be going along the lowest road is the highest in the Lord's eyes. So it does not follow that, because all of us in this house practice prayer, we are all perforce to be contem-platives. 46 God leads each one along different paths so that hardly one spirit will be found like another in even half its method of procedure.4~ Uniqueness of personality structure helps to specify what form and style of prayer is most appropriate for the individual. God works with and through our individuality. How dangerous, therefore, to simply adopt someone eise's manner of praying. Sheer imitation is not only foolish but can be injurious to one's spiritual life, leading to frustration and discourage-ment. A popul~tr expression states: "Different strokes for different folks!" So in the spiritual life: different prayers for different cares. Prayer is as varied as people with the commonality coming in the wor~d-.responsp pat-tern underl~,ing all communication between God and his pe6ple. Just as p.rayer varies from person to perso~n, prayer also varies within each person's life. During certain periods of faith developme'.~t'~, Vocal and formal pray.er may well be the best form of prayer for that time; at other stages, meditative or contemplative prayer may be in orde~r. Further, prayer styles may change within the course of a single week, even in the course of a single hour of prayer. Form and style is not the heart of the fiaatter; what is of essence is personal encounter with God. Once that experience hap-pens, we simply rest in his presence. "As soon as God's word makes its impact, we must leave all the rest and follow it."48 Prayer is a means to an end; the end is union with God. The paths to union are multiple. The necessary pluralism is threatened by stereotyping and rigid con-formity. Granting the validity, indeed the necessity, of a certain measure of uniformity in public prayer, the principle to be followed in personal, private prayer is that of freedom. Only the individual knows the context of his/her own life; it is the context that sets {he parameters for the form and style of prayer. Because our context is cbntinually changing, prayer forms must adapt themselves accordingly. Thus pluralism becomes a principle neces-sary for spiritual health and growth. ~sSt. Teresa, II, pp. 307-308. 46lbid., p. 69. 4TSt. John of the Cross, p. 633. 4~Hans Urs von Balthasar, Prayer, tr., A. V. Littledale (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1961), p. 108. ~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 10. Prayer Leads to Intimacy With God and to Solidarity With All Creation4~ It should be noted that until the soul reaches this state of union of love, she should practice love in both the active and contemplative life. Yet once she arrives, she should not become involved in other works and exterior exercises that might be of the slightest hindrance to the attentiveness of love toward God, even though the work be of great service to God. For a little of this pure love is more precious to God and the soul and more beneficial to the Church, even though it seems one is doing nothing, than all these other works put together.~ In prayer ! can enter into contact with the God who created me and all things out of love. In prayer I can find a new sense of belonging since it is there that I am most related We are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love:52 Activities find their meaning in terms of their goal. The end of the spiritual life is union with God and by means of this unity we are myste-riously united to all of creation. Oneness is attained by love; prayer is a central Iove-act'in our lives. Through the ongoing communication with God, we grow in mutual knowledge and respect until one day we awake to an intimacy incapable of description. The bonding here is subtle and myste-rious, powerfi)l and challenging. The Lord stands at the door knocking and a choice t]as to be made. Following our "Fiat," God comes to dwell with us and our homes are never the same. Prayer's unifying power does not terminate in intimacy with God alone. Authentic prayer necessitates ever deeper union with our brothers and sisters. To be united to the Father means to be united to his children, the entire family of God. The closer we are to the cross of Christ and the power of the Spirit, the closet" we are to all of life. By touching the fountain of life and holiness, we touch all creation. Thus, without prayer a sense of aliena-tion and isolation invades our hearts. Separated from the source we cannot come into vital contact with the created world. Prayer gives us entrance not only into the heart of our triune God but also into the mystery of his loving creation. Because prayer fosters intimacy it is not uncommon for fear to block our communication with God. Intimacy means to know and to be known whole; such radical sharing implies the possibility of radical rejection. Perhaps we are not sure that we are all that lovable. Thus it is in faith and trust that we approach our God, believing that he loves us unconditionally; it is with humility and courage that we approach our brothers and sisters knowing 49Ps 139: Jr 31:31-34. ~°St. John of the Cross, p. 523. ~Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Genesee Diary: Report from a Trappist Monastery (New York: Doubleday & Company. 1976), p. 51. ~2George Herbert, -The Little Black Boy." Principles of Prayer / 333 that through grace we can accept them and that they can accept us. Prayer involves revelation, acceptance and humility; it demands faith, trust and courage. Gifted by the Spirit, we enter the land of prayer and therein find our happiness. The Journey and the Map In discussing any one aspect of the spiritual life we must view it con-textually. This paper points out ten signs on the road to union: prayer as loving attention, prayer's relationship to love, prayer's need for discipline, prayer and proper identity, prayer's focus, the conditions for prayer, prayer's tonality, source of prayer, the principle of pluralism, and prayer's goal. A corresponding set of principles marking out other aspects of the terrain in the spiritual life could easily be worked out and these would provide meaning in such areas as ministry and asceticism. The map is large; we have considered but one aspect. Regardless of the principle and its specification, the destination is always the same: the experience of Love. That experience comes alive when we move from the map to the land it describes. Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called William Meninger, O.C.S.O. Father Meninger is a monk of St. Joseph's Abbey, Spencer, MA 01562. ~n the foreword to his beautiful treatise on contemplative prayer, the unknown author of the 14th century Cloud of Unknowing describes the kinds of persons who should, and those who should not read his little book. He swiftly eliminates: worldly gossips, flatterers, the scrupulous, busy-bodies, hypocrites, and those who are simply curious--whether they are educated or not. Then he goes on to describe those whom grace has pre-pared to grasp his message. These are people who, every now and then, taste something of contemplative love by way of the action of the Holy Spirit in the very center of their souls, exciting them to love. This ought to include, at some time or other of his or her life, every Christian. That is to say, contemplative prayer, in some form or other, really is for everyone. Instead of speaking of the "extra6rdinary" grace of contemplative prayer (the beginnings of which, at least, we are here equating with Centering Prayer), we should speak of the extraordinary grace of prayer itself. Given the great miracle of prayer itself, contemplative prayer, as well as every other degree or intensity of prayer, ought to follow naturally, as it were. Origen, one of the earliest of the fathers of the Church, in his com-mentary on the Our Father, says that the most marvelous thing about this prayer is not any particular phrase included in it, but the very fact that we can say it at all. The extraordinary grace lies in our God-given ability to bridge the infinite gap between God and man and to converse with him 334 Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called / 335 face to face, in a word, to pray. Once we understand this, the place con-templative prayer can and should have is no longer a problem. Prayer differs from prayer, not in essence, but merely in its degree of intensity. Basically the simplest recitation of the Our Father in faith, hope and love by .any child is the same as the most profound communion in a silence beyond words of the greatest mystic. The difference can be found in degree or intensity but not in the nature of prayer itself. In any prayer, of whatever type or intensity, the one praying so enters into the triune life of God that he becomes one with the Holy Spirit pre-cisely as the Spirit is the fullest expression of the love of the Father for the Son and of the Son for the Father. The one who prays becomes, as it were, the H01y Spirit, and ,this prayer activity becomes the trinitarian expression of God loving himself. What then is contemplative prayer? How does it differ in intensity from other degrees of prayer? To answer these questions we have to look at prayer as a human relationship. For this, indeed, it truly is: a relationship with God, of course;but because it is the relationship of a human person with God it must, as are ~ali his relationships, be a human relationship. A simple' understanding of this obvious fact will take us a long way in understanding prayer. The man-to-God relationship is human. Obviously it is a graced rela~ tionship, but, nonetheless, it is still human. A man-to-man relationship is also human, and it is by understanding this kind of relationship that we can come to a deeper understanding of the man,to-God, or prayer re]ationship. Let us take a concrete example of a human, man-to-woman relationship and see how it helps us to understand our prayer-,relationship with God, 'At some .social gathering, let us say, a party, John meets Mary. And, of course, Mary meets John. The hostess introduces them in typical fashion: "John, I would like you tomeet my good friend, Mary. Mary, I would like you to meet my cousin, John. John, you will be happy to know that Mary is also a rabid baseball fan!" The hostess then walks away, leaving them together. Now, if John and Mary simply stand there awkwardly staring at nothing and saying nothing, the relationship will end before it really begins. However, this is why the hostess, conscious of her role, has indicated their mutual interest in baseball. It provides them with enough background to pursue their acquaintanceship. And so, with so superficial and external a beginning, John and Mary enter that level of human relationship that we call acquaintance. It is not a deep relationship. Even so, should they find it difficult to continue the conversation, the ensuing silence would be uncomfortable, even embar-rassing. Still, at this level, such personal things as deeper aspirations, peak experiences, intimate feelings, or life goals are not shared. This, then, isa human relationship on the first, most primitive level that. of acquaintance. The couple meet, introduced by a third party who gives 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 them some mutual background, and they pursue the relationship from there--or allow it to die. Understanding that our prayer relationship is simply a human relationship with God,. it, too, must have an acquaintance level. And it does. This began for most of us in early childhood when a third party, perhaps our mother or father, introduced us to God, gave us some background (as the hostess did to John and Mary), and told us that God loved us and would answer prayers. "This is Jesus. He is God. He loves you and will answer your prayers." And so we began our first level of relationship with God, the level of acquaintance. This level expresses itself mostly in the simpler prayers requesting favors or in memorized prayers said without any profound comprehension. We have many relationships on this first level--we have many mere acquaintances. The tCagedy is that for some, the relationship with God never develops beyond this level. Their prayer life is limited to periodic appeals for divine help in times of trouble. But let us return to our example of John and Mary. As a result of the small talk characteristic of their acquaintance-relationship, each begins to recognize in the other certain qualities which make their relationship worth pursuing. Each desires to get to know the other better. In order to do this, they make a "date," they make arrangements to get together, just the two of them, so they can share and become further acquainted with those attractive qualities they are beginning to recognize in each other. Now they begin to reveal more and more of their personal feelings, experiences, ideas and goals in their conversation. Perhaps John tells Mary things about himself that he has never before revealed to anyone. And her response is more sympathetic than any he has ever found before. Some-times this response is merely a comfortable, accepting silence; for no longer is silence between them awkward and uncomfortable. It is no longer a negative thing but as they get to know each other better and better, what had been just a void becomes filled with one another. They have now entered, not into a different kind of human relationship, but into a deeper, more intense one. We will call this deeper level the relationship of friend-ship. Remembering that our prayer relationship with God is also a human relationship, we willexpect to find the same thing happening here. After we become acquainted with God, on the first level, we begin to recognize that He has qualities worth pursuing. And so we do just what John and Mary did--we make a "date" with God! We go apart with him in order to learn more about him and also to reveal to him intimate, personal thoughts and concerns. This is done in many, many different ways. We may attend some form of religious instruction where we learn to know God better. We may read and meditate and listen to the Scriptures where God personally reveals himself to us. Whatever the source, we begin to allow his truths to form our Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called / 337 lives. We talk over with him our successes and failures, our new begin-nings. We internalize his truths and live his life of grace as we witness them in others or as we read the reflections of others about them. In other words by reflection or "discursive meditation," as we call it, we become ac-customed to speaking with God on a personal level, revealing ourselves to him, and, at the same time, learning about him from the truths of his revelation. Our acquaintanceship with God has deepened to the level of friendship. It would be well here to emphasize one point. The friendship between John and Mary is going to endure only as long as~ in some way or other, they continue to find interest in sharing with one another, to '~date" in some fashion or other. They must, even if it is only by telephone or by mail, keep up contact with one another. We have all experienced the strangeness of an old friendship which, after years without contact, descends once again into the awkwardness of mere acquaintance. And so it is with God. If we are to continue with him, we must per-severe in our spiritual reading, in our reflective meditation. Friendships do not remain stable. Either they are cultivated and grow, or they lessen. God, by reason of the free, bountiful bestowal of his grace, is always actively encouraging a growth in our friendship with him--Imagine! He finds quali-ties in us worth pursuing! It remains for us to cooperate. Let us look now at the third level of a developing human relationship as we see it in John and Mary. 'As they continue to grow closer to one another, the relationship be-tween John and Mary takes on physical overtones. They desire not only the intimacy of shared thoughts, but also physical closeness. This is the time when they are hardly ever seen alone. Walking arm in arm, holding hands, embracing--all these manifestations emerge now. This level of relationship, sometimes called romantic love or affection (the affective level), when it has been preceded by a genuine friendship, represents an authentic growth in John and Mary's relationship. If it has not been preceded by friendship in some way, it is merely an animal relationship. This affective relationship will develop most completely in marriage where the sharing of both per-sonalities and bodies find their fullest expression. But how can this human relationship on the physical, affective level express itself in our human, prayer relationship with God? It must do this somehow if, as we have been insisting, our prayer-relationship is a human one. And it does! Spiritual masters have given us many descriptions of this level of prayer. Some even refer to it as "the honeymoon period'~ because of its brevity, its place early in the prayer-relationship, and because of its emotional (physical, affective) elements. During this period, prayer often takes the form of intimate conversations with God, not infrequently accompanied by tears~ profound, emotionally felt sorrow for sins and a lively joy at the 33~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 realization of God's love and redemptive activity. This period (as well as the earlier friendship level) may often be interspersed with longer or shorter periods of dryness or aridity as God leads us into a deeper, firmer relation-ship. One o.f the most obvious forms of this affective prayer-relationship with God is seen in the charismatic renewal. When someone is prayed over for the anointing of the Spirit, he is not infrequently "zapped," as it were. This is often accompanied by tea~s, intermingled with expressions of joy and a desire to express and to share with others the abundant overflow of graces. More often, perhaps, it is a quieter experience which serves to fill and inform the basic prayer structures presented by the Church for our worship. This affective level has a great deal to do with the effectiveness of our formal prayer. In the liturgy, for example, the priest is given a structure (readings, prayers, canon). The power in grace that this structure is able to communicate depends in great part (though not entirely) on the depth, of faith, hope and love of the minister. On the part of the participant, the level of his affective prayer-relationship with God will determine to a great extent how much he will grasp of the readings and prayers. In other words, our affective prayer-relationship with God is dependent on our friendship with him. If we do not keep faithful to our periodic "dates" with him, going apart with him for a while, then our affective prayer relationship, as well as our friendship, will degenerate to mere acquaintanceship. Now for a final look at John and Mary. Picture them, if you will, after many years of a long, sometimes difficult, but still happy marriage. Their children are grown, married and gone. John and Mary are back where they began--just the two of them sitting alone of an evening in their home. John perhaps is reading the sports page. Mary is knitting booties for a grand-child. Neither is speaking. Indeed, Mary knows by now just how John feels about everything under the sun. John is equally aware of Mary's thoughts. Yet there is a deep communion between them that does not require words. They are happy just to be in one another's presence. This is what we call the relationship of love. Verbal expressions, words and symbols are no longer necessary or even adequate for John and Mary to communicate. Their deepest relationship is known, felt and expressed by something much more complete than the partial, inadequate attempts to verbalize it. Presence to one another without words or other external signs can be the fullest expression of this human relationship of love. And so it isqn our developing relationship with God. The fourth level of our prayer is the relationship of love, or, what we call "contemplative prayer." It is a simple, quiet, peaceful abiding in his presence, One old man who spent hours daily in the church was once asked by St. John Vianney what he did during all that time. "I don't do anything," he replied. "I just Contemplative Prayer: Many Are Called / 339 look at him and he looks at me." This is contemplative prayer! Contemplative prayer is a very natural, very simple, albeit graced thing which is lived rather than taught. It is a quiet, loving gazing on the face of God (with the eyes of the soul) who is recognized, often even felt by his touching the soul, as present. God is known now, not through the medi-ation of words, or thoughts, or things. These have been used in earlier relationships and have served their purpose. God is seen now with and within the innermost center of the soul, not in light but in darkness, a darkness which is not the mere absence of light but the blinding effulgence of infinite light. He is heard now, not in words, but in the Word who cries "Abba, Father" in the Holy Spirit in a profound and filled silence. One other thing ought to be mentioned in regard to all of the levels of our prayer relationship with God. We must respond in accord with each level of relationship to the voice of God as he manifests his will in our lives. This involves a genuine attempt to make central in our lives the Great Commandment of love, a wholehearted and generous response to the guid-ance of his Church, a frequent and informed participation in 'the sacra-ments, and a continued effort to carry out the duties of our particular vocation in life. Eventually these things will themselves be seen as part of our prayer-relationship also. The distinction between prayer and activity will become less and less significant until everything we do becomes a response to, and thus a part of, our prayer life. It is important to stress the normality of these relationships--both with others in our daily life and with God in our prayer. The progression from acquaintanceship to love is a natural one (and only because of this is it able to be a supernatural one--grace builds on nature). We are all called to love God. And as Saint Bernard says: "The measure of our love is to love without measure." The precise manner or tradition or school of spirituality which we em-ploy to develop and express this love will vary with various individuals. There are many ladders of ascent to God. Each has to find his or her own way. Nonetheless, it remains true that in our day, the approach to God sometimes called Centering Prayer" or "the work of love" (as it is termed in the, fourteenth-century Cloud of Onknowing) has proven helpful to many either as an introduction to contemplative prayer or as a simple, system-atic approach which clarifies and facilitates contemplation. Centering Prayer i:loes presuppose, in some way or other, that we are ready for the love-relationship with God, that we have already passed through the levels of acquaintanceship, friendship, and affection, that we do feel, as the Cloud of Unknowing says, "every now and then a taste of contemplative love, by way of the action of the Holy Spirit in the very center of their souls, exciting them to love." Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope for the Human Personality in St. John of the Cross Joyce Hampel, C.S.J. This article is an outgrowth of a graduate course followed by Sister Joyce at Gonzaga Univer-sity in Washington. She resides in Star of the Sea Convent: 4350 Geary Blvd. : San Francisco, CA 94118. ~t begins, according to St. John of the Cross, with a certain burning Jove. God reaches down, takes your hand, and guides you along the way to a place you know not (N 2, 16, 7*). There you no longer understand by means of your natural light, but by means of the divine wisdom to which you are united. You no Iong.er love in a lowly manner, but with the strength and purity of the Holy Spirit. Your memory, too, is changed into presentiments of eternal glory (N 2, 4, 2). Having reached the end of your journey of love, you and your beloved are one. "Happy is the life and state," declares St. John of the Cross, "and happy the person who attains it" (C 28, 10). John of the Cross images the human personality as participant in the life of the living God. For the person seeking God, it is God who communicates himself. And it is in the transformation of the person in God that the two become one, "as a window united with a ray of sunlight, or coal with fire, or starlight with the light of the sun" (C 26, 4). Throughout John's writings, *Symbols: A, The Ascent of Mount Carmel N, The Dark Night C, The Spiritual Canticle" F, The Living Flame of Love 340 Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope in John of the Cross / 34"1 the human person is challenged to a process of awakening and purification, making him more and more capable of God. This transformation is par-ticularly emphasized as a growth into freedom realized in fourareas of human life: stillness of spirit, radical simplicity, authentic love, and intimate knowledge of Christ the Word. Essential to each of these is the new life of God rooted in the soul, comparable in John to the perfected evolution of aged wine and tried lovers. In his Spiritual Canticle, John's bride-soul sings: In the inner wine cellar I drank of my Beloved, and, when I went abroad Through all this valley I no longer knew anything, And lost the herd which I was following (stanza 26). The image of wine is for John a helpful one in instructing spiritual persons. It suggests all the stages of spiritual growth, and parallels the relationship between lovers. "New lovers," says John, "are comparable to new wine. They are beginners in the service of God" (C 25, 10). While in the process of fermentation, wine is incomplete; its good qualities and value are uncertain, and its taste is sharp. New lovers are also in a process of fermentation. They often rely on exterior fervor, finding strength in the "savor of love" alone. Such love cannot be trusted; in fact, it carries such anxieties that the lovers are more often fatigued than refreshed. Just as this fervor and the warmth of sense can incline one to good and perfect love, and serve as a beneficial means for such love by a thorough fermentation of the lees of imperfection, so too it is very easy in these beginnings and in this novelty of tastes that the new wine of love fails and loses its fervor and delight (C 25, 10). On the other hand, old wine offers transformed refreshment. Its fer-mentation is complete, its good quality is evident, its taste is smooth. The strength of aged wine lies not in the taste, however, but in the substance. "Old !overs," reflects John, "~hose who are exercised and tried in the service of the Bridegroom, are like old wine" (C 25, 11). The souls are at rest, afflictions of love no longer burden the sense of spirit. "Spiced wine" flows in them from the "balsam of God" (C stanza 25). Such love is based not on sensible delights, as is th~ love of new lovers, but settled within the soul, in spiritual substance and savor, and truly good works (C 2~, I I). John's hope for the human personality is reflected in this example of tried love: the person is still and rests in his Beloved; sensory delights and dangers no longer affect him, for he loves only One; the essence of the " person seeks a quality of love that is purged of selfishness and hardly ever fails the Beloved; and knowledge of God clothes the person with a di~)inity that, as we shall see, is fastened on Christ alone (A 2, 22, 5). 342 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 In reflecting on the perfection of the human personality, we so often think of human capabilities as powers--powers that men and women use to control, 6r at least influence, an external force. John of the Cross, however, speaks not so much of power.or amassed capabilities as he does of sur-render. The person chooses, having already experienced the infinite love of the Lord, to hand over to him all his powers. Human perfection rests, then, in allowing another, the one who is totally other, to move him. It is a process of holding back desire~, of permitting another to enter your life, of losing some of self in order to become gr~eater. This first movement toward stillness of spirit is described in John's Ascent of Mount Carmel. "Renounce and remain empty of any sensory satisfaction that is not purely for the honor and glory of God" (A 1, 13, 14); "enter into complete nudity, emptiness, and poverty in everything" (A 1, 13, 6). Such a self-emptying will bring the stillness that one desires. John's diagram of the ascent speakseven more clearly: In this nakedness the spirit finds its quietude and rest. For in coveting nothing, nothing raises it up and nothing weighs it down, because it is in the center of its humility. When it covets something in this very desire it is wearied.(A 1, 13, 11). The mark of a person who has achieved this spirit is that he is able to "abide in quietude" (A 2, 12, 8). He can give loving attentiveness to the Lord because he has learned to be empty. Like the wine that has stopped effer-vescing, he is still. The journey that is ahead of him will surely bring darkness and pain, but trust in God effects its own inner peace. It is significant .to mention the underlying attitude that accompanies a still heart. The' person must be able to see himself in relation to God, and to exercise the patience that will allow transformation in God to happen. This is one of John's hopes for the human personality, but not everyone achieves it. Many "would rather want all to be perfect, but God finds fe~v vessels that will endure so lofty and sublime a work" (F 2, 27). Waiting is the first act of love. "God usually does things, not so there will be an immediate understanding of them, but that afterwards at the proper time, or when the effect is produced, one may receive light about them" (A 2, 20, 3). God knows what he is doing. It is we who do not know how to be still in his hands. The second characteristic John anticipates is radical simplicity. In the darkness of its cask, wine becomes mellow when the lees of the grapes settle. The liquid has taken into itself the deep color of the skins and drawn from the pulp its delicate flavors. But the wine must be purged of the sediment before it can exhibit the valued clarity. So too with the spiritual journeyer. Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope in John of the Cross / 343 To journey to God, the will must walk in detachment from every pleasant thing, rather than in attachment to it. It thus carries out well the commandment to love, which is to love God above all things; this cannot be done without nakedness and emptiness concerning them all (F 3, 51). Such poverty requires radical denial and convergent vision. For John, this implies a todo-nada approach to the search for human fulfillment in God. You must want nothing and have nothing in order to possess everything: :For to go from all to the all you must deny yourself of all in all. And when you come to the possession of the all you must possess it without wanting anything. Because if you desire to have something in all your treasure in God is not purely your hll (A 1, 13, 11). All sensory desires, all thoughts,oall imaginings, all passions must find their satisfaction in the mercy of God alone. At the same time, the person must consider the life God offers him his only treasure. To rely on appre-hensions, natural or supernatural, would be to hold God in less esteem than we should. "God makes the ~soul die to all that he is not, so that when it is stripped and flayed of its old skin, he may clothe it anew., and thus this soul will be a soul of heaven, heavenly and mor.e divine than human" (N 2, 16, 7). The human person becomes more than the limitations of his appetites formerly allowed. The person becomes divine. "God loves us," writes John to one of his directees, "that we might love b~ means of the very love he bears toward us" (Letter 33). Embodied in this statement is John's third hope foi" human growth, authentic love. It is not enough to love what is good and to'avoid what is evil. An investment must be made of all that is truly human. Every passion, e~,ery hope, must be purified and directed toward the Lord of all ~reation. John admonishes 'the spiritual person to Rejoice only in what is purely for God's honor and glory, hope for nothing else, feel sorrow only about matters pertaining to this, and fear only God (A 3, 16, 2). Joy,, hope, sorrow; and fear are worthy of human attention only insofar as they are bound to God. "My every act is love,'? says the bride of the Spiritual Canticle. "Everything I do, I do with love, and everything I suffer, .I suffer with the delight of love" (C 28, 4). Authentic love immerses the total person in a self-effacing commitment. One loves with one's bodyand with one's spirit, with emotions as well as intellect. The will seeks only to love with the love of God, to "reach the consummation of the love of God" and the "essential glory to which he predestined her from the day of his eternity." (C 38, 2). In reflecting the gift of the whole person, authentic love brings the sensitive and the spiritual parts of the person into conformity with each other. The "sensory faculties ¯ ~.'. share in and enj6y in their own fashion the spiritual grandeurs which God is communicating 'in the inwardness of the spirit" (C 40, 5). To refer 344 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 once again to the quality of aged wine or old lovers, individual elements intermingle to become essentially one creation, new and ever fulfilling. Union with the Beloved requires stillness, simplicity, and authentic love. Consummation of that union requires an intimate knowledge of Christ the Word. "Fasten your eyes on him alone," instructs God the Father, "because in him I have spoken and revealed all, and in him you shall discover even more than you ask for and desire" (A 2, 22, 5). Left to his own, the human person cannot know God. Echoing the words of the prophet Isaiah~ his eyes have never even seen the things that God wills for him. Christ came to reveal to mankind the Father. It was in his humanity, in his life of human joys and disappointments and hopes and pain that Jesus calls us to our human perfection. "I have now called you my friends," he says, "because all that I have heard from my Father I have manifested to you" (Jn 15:15, see C 28, 1). To imitate Jesus in all that one does is John of the Cross' teaching; to live with Jesus in union with the Father is his hope. Even though this happy night darkens the spirit, it does so only to impart light concerning all things: and even though it humbles a person and reveals his miseries, it does so only to exalt him; and even though it impoverishes him and empties him of all possessions and natural affection, it does so only that he may reach out divinely to the enjoyment of all earthly and heavenly things, with a general freedom of spirit in them all (N 2, 9, 1). Do not seek Christ without the cross, John writes; let Jesus be in your soul (Letters 22 & 23). It is Jesus who is the true wine of life. He is the one who brings the person to intimate knowledge of Father-care and Spirit-love. The wine cellar is .the last and most intimate degree of love in which the soul can be placed in this life (C 26, 3). It is filled, relates John, with the gifts of the Holy Spirit in perfection "according to the soul's capacity for receiv-ing them." Even here the gentleness of the all-consuming God allows for differences in the human personality, and brings to each person those gifts that will best fulfill him. Bridegroom and bride "mutually communicate their goods and delights with a wine of savory love in the Holy Spirit" (C 30, 1). How gently and lovingly You wake in my heart, Where in secret you dwell alone; And by your sweet breathing, Filled with good and glory, How tenderly you swell my heart with love! (Living Flame, stanza 4) It begins with God. God reaches down, takes your hand, and guides you along the way to-a place of ineffable love. He teaches you to be still and to await his touch. He strips you of all that is not himself. He draws forth love that is like his own. He gifts you'with the life of Jesus his Son. There are Old Wine and Old Lovers: Hope in John of the Cross 345 two kinds of life according to John of the Cross. One consists in the v~sion of God, which must be attained by natural death; "the other is the perfect spiritual life, the possession of God through union of love" (F 2, 32). This union is John's ultimate hope for the human personality--total transforma-tion in the immense love of the Triune God. REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," H. F. Smith, S.J . 30 "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice," M. Oliva, S.J . 50 "Celibate Genitality," W. F. Kraft . 50 ¯ "Celibacy and Contemplation," D. Dennehy, S.J . "i. ¯ .30 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . . 30 "Consciousness Examen," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Institutional Business Administration & Religious," Flanagan and O'Connor . 30 "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" S.C. for Religious . 35 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassell S.J . 60 "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development," P. Cristantiello . 60 "Retirement or Vigii," B. Ashley, O.P . 30 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio," M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . . . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindeli Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience Francis X. J. Coleman Dr. Coleman is Associate P~'ofessor of Philosophy at Boston University; 745 Commonwealth ¯ Ave.; Boston, MA 02215. When picturing Christfin the way I have mentioned, and sometimes even while reading, I used to experience a consciousness of the presence of God of such a kind that I could not possibly dotibt that He was within me or that 1 wgs wholly engulfed in Him? On September 27, 1970, Pope Paul VI conferred the title of Doctor of the Church on St. Teresa of Avila, thereby placing her in the ranks of such giants as St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas. In his homily delivered at St. Peter'.s Basilica," the pope. spoke of Teresa as "the reformer and founder of an historic and eminent religious order,'~ a prolific writer of great genius, teacher of the spiritual life, an incomparable contemplative who was tire-lessly active." The pope went on to speak of "the holiness of her life. a value which was already officially proclaimed as early as March 12, 1622---St. Teresa died 30 years before--by our predecessor Gregory XV." The pope enquired concerning the source of Teresa's doctrine: :'And we might mention another particular point, the charism of wisdom, which ~AII quotations from St. Teresa's writings are drawn I~rom The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, tr. and ed., E. Allison Peers, from the critical.edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, O.C.D. (Sheed and Ward, London and New York: 1950). This citation is from Life, chapt. X. 2The Italian text is in L'Osservatore Romano, Sept. 29, 1970. 3He is referring to the Order of Discalced Carmelites. 346 St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 347 makes us think of the most attractive and at the same time most myst, erious aspect of St. Teresa's title of Doctor: the flow of divine inspiration in this prodigious and mystical writer. From where did the wealth of her do°ctrine come to Teresa?" ~ After mentioning Teresa's cultural and spiritual education, her conver-sations with great masters of theology, her singular sensibility and ascetic discipline, pope Paul asked whether ther~e was not another sourc~ of her "eminent doctrine: . Ought we not re~zognize in St. Teresa acts, facts and states which did not come from her but were undergone by her, things both endured and suffered, mystical things in the" t'rue sense of the word. '~" Pope Paul was sensitive to the grea~t difficulties involved in mystical experience: "'The originality of mystic'ai.adtion is one of the'most delicate and complex of psychological phenomena. Many factors can play a part in ~t, and they oblige the observer to rnaint~ain the severest caution," though he went on to imply that there are som+ who would deny the very possibility of mystical experience itself: ". 15sychoS_nalytic exploration is breaking down that frail and complicated instrument that we are, in such a way that all that can be heard is not the sound~i~f mankind in its sufferin~ and its redemption, but rather the troubled h~utterings of man's animal subcon-scious, the cries of his "disordered passions and of his desperate anguish." What, .then, were the "'acts, facts and states" which did not' originate from Teresa but "were undergone by her"? What are "mystical things in the true sense of the word," according to the first woman doctor of the Church? In this paper i shall attempt some.'answer to these questions. In the first part I shall give a broad survey of the varieties of mystical data to be found in Teresa's writings. These data fall into three main categories: locutions, visions and ecstasies. Then I shall describe how Teresa first reacted to her experiences, what was her reflective doctrine con~zeining the methods of distinguishing demonic deception and/or self-decepti~)n from authentic mystical experience. Next I shall turn to a contemporary of Teresa who recorded his own thoughts concern'ing the supposedly super-natural events in her life. And, finally and ver~;'briefly, I shall attempt a tentative conclusion regarding her value and a method of approaching her .for readers of today. Before beginning,' however, 1 believe it is essential to define the proper place of mystical experience within the Catholic faith. When my,stical ex.pe-rience is construed as some merely private revelation, or when it is con-strued to be irrational, insidious errors inevitably ensue, both of a doctrinal and of a personal sort. Mystical experience must never be pitted against rationality; on the contrary, the immediate experience of the infinite and the transcendent is the ultimate expression of rationality. And, when mystical experience does entail privaie revelation, the sin of pride is always lurking: the mystic may affirm propositions at variance with the traditional and authoritative teachings of the Church, and contumacy is quick to follow. 341~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 As a highly intelligent woman, St. Teresa was aware of how readily people deceive themselves. She knew that there is a special temptation for religious.to delude themselves into believing ttiemselves to be the chosen recipients of some particular revelation. She was especially suspicious of the Alumbrados, or llluminists.,., The Alumbrados were in.many ways the sixteenth-century counterparts of some types of charismatics and other seekers of special gifts in our own day. The Alumbrados were not a sect of Catholicism, but rather a collective term for small groups of priests and lay persons who practiced what they thought to be a new and interior form of Christianity. Opposed to cere-monial liturgical celebration, t.hey placed much emphasis on mental prayer, in the course of which it was assumed that the mind would be subject to a "kindling," a "spiritual flight towards God." Such experiences led to confidence in one's own salvation, the shedding of all fear. In this there were dangerous resemblances to some. contemporary forms of Luther-anism. Moreover, such experience, s were indications of the possession of the state of grace, and the absolute exclusion of sin. Teresa's suspicions stemmed not only from the taint of heresy in their doctrines, but also because the Alumbrados were publically extravagant, laying claim to direct access to the Holy Spirit. To Teresa, the ecstasies and visions of the Alumbrados were either unintentional self-deceptions or intentional deceptions wrought by others upon the hapless victims. Teresa knew, and heard of, nuns who had worked themselves into states that resembled mystical,experience by excessive abuses in the area of penances, with consequent deterioration of their health. In our own day, we know that so-called "hallucinogenic" drugs of various sorts have been used even delibera.tely to replicate the behavioral and bodily manifestations of mys-tical experience. But the result, then as now, is counterfeit. Teresa confesses that she had been influenced by the Alumbrados when she was twenty years of age and had read Fray Osuna. Yet, as her thought and her mystical theology mature, she places less and I~ss emphasis on the sensuous details of her mystical experiences, and more and more weight upon the ineffable and analogical knowledge that is part of such experience, The earliest vision described by Teresa occurred when she was about twenty-one years of age. It must be borne in mind, however, that the description appears in Chapter VII of her Life, the rough draught of which she completed when she was forty-seven years old. Teresa confesses that she had a friendship with a certain woman which was "not good" for her. Although Teresa does not go into details, she states that "Christ revealed himself to me, in an attitude of great sternness, and showed me what was in this that displeased him. I saw him with the eyes of the soul more clearly than I could ever have seen him with those of the body . ,,4 In Chapter X ofherLife, Teresa distinguishes the sort of experience just ~Life, chapt. Vll. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 349 described from the one that she describes as a suspension of the soul. She complains of her imagination, i.e., the ability to conjure up at will a mental image or picture of someone or something, that it was so feeble that if she did not actually see a thing, she could not use her imagination "as other people do, who can make pictures to themselves . "~ Teresa was conse-quently very fond of images and pictures. Although she tried to imagine Christ inwardly, no matter how much she read about him, she could never succeed. She compared herself to a blind person who knows he is talking to some6ne but cannot see him. "I used unexpectedly to experience a consciousness of the presence of God, of such a kind that I could~not possibly doubt that he was within me or that l was wholly engulfed in him.: This was in no sense a vision: I believe it is called mystical theology.''6 Teresa's description of this experience of"divine engulfment" may well have been deformed by the lapse of some twenty-five years when she wrote about it. At any rate, she does not want to call"such an experience a "vision" because the soul does not "see~' anything. "The soul is sus-l~ ended in such a way that it seems to be completely outside itself. Th~ will loves; the memory, I think, is almost lost; while the understanding, I be-lieve, though it is not lost, does not reason--I mean that it does not work, but is amazed at the extent of all it can understand . ,,7 Teresa's "visions," then, do not become rich and graphic until much later in her Life, beginning in Chapter XXXI. Even these, though, were not had by the bodily eye: they were not in a~ny sense objective, shareable, "out there." But neither did the visions consist in a series of merely mental images, for Teresa complains often of her extremely feeble eidetic imagina-tion. She describes these visions as "inward disturbances" and finds it impossible not to detect in them the hand of the devil.~ Teresa felt herself powerless to resist the devil at such times. She felt interior disquiet, but was afraid to ask the other nuns to assist her through the use of holy water (she had learned "from long experience''9 that holy water is the best method to put devils to flight). In one of her most dramatic and painterly visions,;Teresa beheld, while in a state of rapture, a great battle between devils and angels. At the time, she could not understandthe meaning of the vision. A fortnight later, she saw that it was an allegory of nuns, those who did not practice prayer, and those who did.~° In 1559, shortly before the decision to found her first convent~ Teresa had a vision which carried her spirit to a place in .hell. Her description assails each of the senses: "evil-smelling mud," "wicked-looking reptiles," and a claustrophobic sense of containment: "There was a hollow place scooped out of a wall, like a cupbgard, and it was here that I found myself 5Complete Works, I, p. 55. 8Ibid., p. 204. 61bid., p. 58. Slbid., p. 207. 7lbid. 1°Ibid., pp. 208-9. $$0 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 in clos%confinement.''n She suffered from "an oppression, a suffocation and an affliction so deeply felt, and accompanied by such hopeless and distressing misery''t=' that she could not describe it too strongly. Worse than the physical pains were the pains of despair and "interior fires." She felt herself being both burned and dismembered. She was stifled. She found herself in the blackest darkness, .yet she was able to "see everything the sight of which can cause affliction.''t'~ This vision must have occurred when Teresa was about forty-one. When she compared it to the terrible and painful paralysis which struck her at the age of seventeen, she~concluded that the vision of hell was incom-parably more painful. The vision "happened in the briefest space of time."14 Sometimes Teresa's visions were of holy persons who came through such visitations to give her advice. St. Peter of Alcantara, for example, a reformer of the Franciscan Order during the Counter-Reformation, ap-peared to her in a vision to reconfirm his admonition that her convents must not be permitted endowments)5 At other times, Teresa had visions of a dove fluttering over her head, albeit the dove was very different from those one sees on earth: ¯. for it had not feathers like theirs, but its wings were made of little shells which emitted a great brilliance. It was larger than a dove: 1 seem to hear the rustling of its wings. It mu~;t have been fluttering like this for the space of an Ave Maria. But my soul was in such a state that, as it became lost to itself, it also lost sight of the dove.16 According to Teresa's own testimony, the most sublime vision that she ever experienced recurred on four occasions. It involved seeing the Humanity of Christ in a greater glory than she had ever known. Teresa seemed to see herself in the presence of the Godhead.17 The vision, and its recurrences, had the effect of purifying her soul and almost destroying her sensual nature. Using one of her favorite images, that of a consuming fire, Teresa writes .that the vision, through excess, burnt up all her desires for vain things, such as worldly possessions and dignities. The vision made her hair stand on end, causing her "to feel completely annihilated.''is Once, when she was to communicate at-Mass, Teresa saw "with the eyes of the soul, more clearly than ever I could with those of the body, two devils of most hideous aspect,''19 who seemed to have their horns around the priest's throat while heconsecrated. Teresa understood that the priest's soul was in morthl sin, yet this fact did not invalidate the Sacrament. Although she makes no explicit reference to it, this vision gave to Teresa a direct, experiential disproof.of the Donatist heresy. Teresa wryly commented, after describing one vision with elaborate ltl'bid., pp. 215-16. ~';lbid., p. 281. rZlbid., p. 216. t:~lbid. 171bid., p. 273¯ ~lbid., p. 274: ~41bid., p. 215. ~91bid., p. 275. ~lbid., p. 257. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 351 ~ detail, one which was thronged with figures of angels and demons,"° that she does not mind writing all sorts of nonsense provided that she can write sense sometimes, and :bring people closer to God. In regard to the vision just:described, she says that it "will seem meaningless" until it. is seen as an allegory of the teaching that one should not put much trust in anyone, for there is none who never changes except God."~ ~Teresa's visionscan be of an extraordinarily"personal nature. In her Spiritual Relations, Teresa recounts how Christ revealed himself to her "in an imaginary vision, most interiorly," and gave her his right hand, saying, "Behold this nail. It is a sign that from today onward'thou shalt .be my bride . My honor is thine, and thine mine.'.'zz Later in the same work she describes how he gave her a beautiful rihg.with a stone like an amethyst, only brighter, as a pledge that he promised to grant all that she asked him. Yet Teresa quickly breaks off this account with, "1 write this foolish-heSS . ,,23 Even though the imaginary visions ceasedtowards the end of her'life, Teresa was still able to write a year before her °death, from Palencia, in the year 1581, that she still seems to experiencethe intellectual vision of the Three Persons of the Trinity and of Christ's humanity. She states very simply: "I realize now, I think, that the visions which 1 have had were of God, for they prepared my soul for the state in which it now is.'''4 I shall give a much briefer description of Teresa's locutions, mainly because she does so herself, even though they are no less important than her visions. Teresa speaks of her first locution in Chapter XIX of her Life. Finding that many of her sisters were only peripherally religious, Teresa wondered why so few of them.had a true calling, as she believed herself to have. Teresa heard: "Serve thou Me, and meddle not with this.''25 Later, at the age of 42, filled with self-doubt as well as doubts concerning certain friendships, Teresa, at the direction of P. Baltasar Alvarez, recited the hymn Veni Creator. She hea?d the words: "I will have thee converse now, not with men, but with angels.''2" Her locutions are usually brief but always of translucent clarity and distinctness. "Be not troubled; have no fear,"~r or, "1 have heard you; let Me alone.''2s Sometimes they are of a practical nature: "What dost thou fear? When have 1 ever failed thee? I am the same nowas I have always been. Do not give up either of these two foundations,' ,29 or simply, "That is the house for thee.'''~° And sometimes intensely familiar: "Now, Teresa, hold thou fast.''z~ The locutions sometimes seem condescending: "Thou wilt act very 2°lbid., p. 286. 261bid., p. 155. 211bid., p. 287. Z7lbid., p. 200. 2Zlbid., p. 352. ~Slbid., I1!, p. 130. Zalbid,, p. 353. 2~lbid., p. 167. 24lbid., p. 335. Z°lbid., p. 171. ZSlbid., p. !15. ~lbid., p. 194. 352 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 foolishly, daughter, if thou regardest the laws of the world. Fix thine eyes on Me . ":~" Sometimes the locutions instructed her~ why she must not have further raptures in public: "It is not fitting just now. Thou hast as much credit as I desire thee to have . 1 shall cite only one example of Teresa's ecstasies, because this well-known ecstasy suffices. Teresa's own description of the transverberation of her heart occurs in Chapter XXIX of her Life. The ecstasy and vision occurred throughout several days. On her left hand, an angel in bodily form, rather short and beautiful, appeared:with a long, golden spear in his hands. At the end of the iron tip was what seemed like a point of fire. The angel "seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire, with a great love of God.":~4 II It should not be surprising that when Teresa began telling friends and confessors about such extraordinary events, some persons were certain that she was. possessed,by the devil and should be exorcised?'~ Exorcism was as common, and believed to be as efficacious, in sixteenth-century Spain, as psychoanalysis is in twentieth-century America. In their later lives both St. Teresa and St.: John of the Cross were well known for their prowess in exorcising evil spirits. Teresa, however, was herself never exor-cised. Instead, her confessors commanded her to make the Sign of the Cross whenever she had a vision,, and then to make a sign~ of contempt?~ At one point in her life Teresa herself was afraid that all her spiritual favors might be illusions?7 We know from~a deposition taken from Teresa's niece that Teresa was greatly distressedl when her raptures came upon her in public, and embarrassed when she had to confess her spiritual favors to her confessors.an Teresa had a keen eye for religious fraud and excess. She writes that women are especially susceptible to ruining their health because of exces-sive prayer; ~igils and severe penances. Such women become frail and languorous, falling into stupors which they deceive themselves into think-ing are spiritual?9 She knew that many supposedly religious raptures were nothing but the result of inanition or bad health?° In her own convents, she 321bid., I, p. 338. 33lbid., p. 339. ¯ ~lbid., pp. 192-93. ~lbid., p. 188. a6See ibid., p. 165, n. 3 for the nature of this contemptuous motion. a71bid., p. 287. aSlbid., Ill, p. 366. The niece, also nam.ed Teresa de Jesus, was born in Quito, in present-day Ecuador, in 1566. a9lbid., II, pp. 245-46. For other spiritual excesses condemned by Teresa, see Gerald Brenan, St. John of the Cross, Cambridge University Press, 1973, pp. 16-18. ~°lbid. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 353 made certain that the sisters received adequate food and rest. Teresa could be as detached and objective about her spiritual favors as if they had been granted to someone else. Writing in the third person in the ' Spiritual Relations, Teresa begins by saying "It is forty years since this nun took the habit . ,,4~ Turning to the subject of her "supernatural visita-tions," as she calls them, Teresa writes in a matter-of-fact way: She never saw anything with her bodily eyes, as has been said, but always in such a sul~tle, intellectual way that at first she would sometimes think she had imagined it, though at other times she could not think so. Nor did she even hear anything with her bodily ears, except on two occasions, and on these occasions she could make nothing of what was said and did not know what it was all about.42 Without mentioning Pelagianism, Teresa nonetheless reveals a knowl-edge of that heresy and rejects it as an explanation of her rare experiences: The soul collects wood and does all it can by itself, but finds no way of kindling the fire of the love of God. It is only by his great mercy that the smoke can be seen, which shows that the fire is not altogether dead. ]'hen the Lord comes back and kindles it, for the soul is driving itself crazy with blowing on the fire and rearing the fire more and more. I believe the best thing is for the soul to be completely resigned to the fact that of itself it can do nothing, and busy itself, as I have already suggested, in other meritorious activities, for the Lord may perhaps be depriving it of the power to pray, precisely so that it may engage in these other activities and learn by experience how little it can do of itself.4'~ Regarding the imagination,Teresa argues that it can only recombine what the mind has already experienced, and that it is prey not only to the devil but also to emotions such as melancholy. To affirm or deny anything on the basis of the imagination is invariably to be misled. Teresa concludes that because her visions do not consist of mental images, her imagination or fancy is not the source of her spiritual experiences. Although the devil can give pleasures and delights which might seem spiritual, they are inevitably disruptive of the soul's quiet. The devil might present himself to the imagination in the likeness of Christ, but the mere fact that the devil is making use of the imagination proves that he is bent on deceiving. In a true vision of Christ, he is surrounded in glory; but glory cannot possibly be counterfeited by the imagination because it is a kind of intellectually perceived aura. ~2onsequently, the most that the devil can counterfeit is the flesh.4~ But since God will never give the devil the power to feign his glory--for this would involve the impossible, i.e., divine abdication--the devil can deceive no one when he assumes the likeness of Christ, unless one is willing to be deceived. Teresa calls the devil "a skillful painter.''~'~ But just as a very wicked man might paint a beautiful painting, and one that has good effects, so, too, the devil might conjure up a beautiful image from which one might profit. 411bid., IIl, p. 319. 4~lbid., I, pp. 324-25. "~albid., pp. 264-65. 441bid., pp. 182-83. 451bid., 111, p. 41. 354 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 "We should never allow the identity of the painter to hinder our devo-tion." 46 Similarly, a vision is not good or evil in itself, but in its effects upon the person who has it. Humility~ is essential to drawing profit from a vision: if the vision is of God, but the person who receives it lacks humility, then the vision is wasted; if the vision is from the devil, and the person lacks humility, he will be misled and become even more swollen with pride. Again, although the devil can give delight, he can never conjoin extreme physical or mental pain with tranquillity and joy in the soul. Both the pains and the pleasures caused by the devil necessarily bring restlessness and discord. "Secondly, this delectable tempest comes from another region than those over which he has authority.''47 And thirdly, pain and suffering in which the soul takes delight make one all the more determined to serve God and renounce the ephemeral pleasures of this world. True visions have a clarity and distinctness which prove that they could not be produced either by anything corporeal, or by one's own imagination, or by the devil. If one has any doubts whether or not one has experienced .a true vision, then one can be sure that the vision was spurious. When Teresa had her first mystical experiences, she did not doubt whether they were genuine, but she greatly doubted and feared what other people would say. A genuine vision comes when it is least expected. The content .is no more and no less than what appears to the person having the vision. One of Teresa's confessors tried to force her to fill out the description of Christ, in view of her claim that she had seen him. Teresa replied that when she tried to see the color of his eyes or how tall he was, the vision vanished. One can always be asked to add to a description of something in the phenomenal world; but if a certain quality is not given in a vision--e.g., the Color of Christ's eyes, then the assumption that the quality was in the vision but unobserved is a categorical mistake. The final criterion of a genuine vision is the great peace and tranquillity ¯ produced by it, coupled with a strengthening of one's moral fiber.4s Physical concomitants are also frequent: the soul faints away in a manner which one cannot resist. But these physical repercussions are of relatively minor significance. It seems as if my life is about to end, and this makes me cry aloud and call upon God: this comes upon me with great vehemence. Sometimes it makes me so restless that I cannot remain seated and this trouble attacks me without my havir~g done anything to bring it on . For Ifrom my yearnings] there can be no relief; the only relief for them is the vision of God, which comes through death,, and this 1 cannot obtaih of Him.4~ Much of'what has already been said concerning the differences between authentic and spurious visions also applies to locutions. A few points, 461bid. "~rlbid., II, p. 278. 48lbid., 1, pp. 262-63; il, pp. 296-97. 46lbid., !, p. 306. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience however, should be emphasized. Although clear and distinct, the words of a locution are not heard with the bodily ear; they are more strongly im-pressed upon the understanding than if they were so heard. When one does not want to hear something, one can close one's ears or attend to something else; "But~when God talks in this way to the soul, there is no such remedy: I have to listen, whether I like it or no . -5o The locution is the unique object of one's attention, canceling out all else. Teresa is well aware that persons sometimes "talk" to themselves and deceive themselves into believing it to be some higher, spiritual force communicating with them. But no matter how subtle the locution might be., when the understanding has made up the words itself, one must know that the mind is active, rather than passive and receptive, as it is in genuine, locutions. Spurious locutions always lack the clarity and distinctness of those from God; moreover, one always has the power to divert one's attention from self-spoken locutions. Lastly; counterfeit Io~:utions are empty vocables, effecting nothing. Gen-uine locutions, even if they are of reproof, prepare and move the soul towards greater love, and "give it light and make it happy and tranquil."5~ Sometimes locutions are so lengthy, even though they come in a flash, that one knows that it would have (aken a long time to make them up oneself. ' Teresa argues that one would have to court deception in order to be deceived about~ the true provenance of a locution.5~ Of course one may pretend to having heard a locution, and lie about its contents, but, then, one may lieabout .anything. Divine locutions "instruct us at once, without any lapse of time, 'and by their means we can understand things which it would probably take us a month to makeup ourselves.''5'~ Demonic locutions have only bad effects, and leave one ina state of aridity and. anguish. Teresa is emphatic on the point that no privately heard locution can be contrary to the publicly enunciated doctrine of the Church. If any locution is at variance with Holy Scripture or the teachings of the Church, it must be. from the devil or from one's own self-conceit.54 There emerge, then, three types of locutions: (1) those which are heard by the corporeal sense of hearing; (2) those which are received by the imagination alone but which give the impression of having been heard by the sense of hearing; and (3) those from God, which involve neither sound nor'voice, and which leave an indubitable, fecund, unforgettable and clear concept in: the depths of the spirit. Teresa recommends that anyone who seriously believes he hears locutions of the first two types should be treated like a sick person. He should be advised to pay no heed to the matter: "One: should humor such people so as not 'to distress them further. If one tells 5°Ibid., p. 157. 5llbid., p. 158. 521bid., p. 159. ~lbid., pp. 159-60. 541bid., p. 161. 3*$6 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 them they are suffer.ing from melancholy, there will be no end to it. They will simply swear they see and hear things, and really believe that they do."55 Teresa casts the same clinical eye on nuns who fall into swoons and call them raptures. Such women are of a physically debilitated nature and given to melancholy. Their swoons may last for hours, but nothing productive comes from them. Although swoons and ecstasies may seem alike in some aspects, they are profoundly different. Ecstasy or rapture, which involves the union of all the faculties, is wont to last a very short time. The.soul is enlightened and spiritual effects are produced.56 Rapture is the sign of spiritual betrothal, carrying the soul out of its senses. Sometimes rapture is brought about by God's having compassion on someone who is not actually praying, but "is struck by some word, which it either remembers or hears spoken by God.' ,57 The faculties, as well as the senses, cease to function; nonetheless, God reveals his majesty to the soul. "When the soul is in this state of suspension and the Lord sees fit to reveal to it certain mysteries, such as heavenly things and imaginary visions, it is able subsequently to describe these . ,,~8 But if the visions in the rapture are intellectual, they cannot be described in any earthly terms.5a Yet in the same breath Teresa says: "although after regaining possession of their senses they can often describe many of these intellectual visions.' ,60 Teresa is immediately aware that she is contradicting herself. She tries to get out of the difficulty by saying that Jacob was in a rapture when he had the imaginary vision of the ladder, but he undoubtedly understood greater mysteries and had an intellectual vision which he could only describe in part.61 Similarly, Moses, in his rapture before the burning bush, could describe some of what he saw, but not all; yet Moses must have been impressed with great and ineffable secrets, otherwise he could never have done what he did for the people of Israel.6'-' After an elaborate comparison between seeing the private apartment of a great lord for a few minutes, and God suddenly revealing the vastness of his secrets to the ~oul in ecstasy, Teresa grows impatient with herself and asks, "Is this tantamount to an admission on my part that lthe soul] has really seen something and that this is an imaginary vision?''6~ She wants to be speaking of intellectual visions, and we have already observed how suspicious she is of the imagination. Teresa gets angry with herself: ". I have no learning and am too stupid to explain anything . -64 She characteristically changes the subject, gives a prayer and a few admonitions,.then returns to one of the central themes of,the Interior Castle: the nature of rapture. She describes some of the physical signs: The hands and body grow cold,.breathing ceases, the senses 551bid., II, pp. 279-80. "°lbid. 5nlbid., llI, pp. 27-28. ~lSee Gn 28,12. ~rlbid. "2See Ex 3,2. ~81bid., I1, p. 288. ~Op. cir., 11, p. 289. 5albid. ~41bid., p. 290. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience no longer function. The ecstasy lasts for only a short period of time, then the bodily functions gradually resume while the "profound suspension liftS a little.''~5 For days thereafter, the person might wander about in a stupor, uninterested in anything that does not awaken the faculty of the will to love. The ultimate result of such an ecstasy is good: to work harder for the glory of God. But when Teresa returns to the philosophic problem of describing the nature of rapture, she writes: "To give a full idea of it . . . is impos-sible.""~ Teresa describes another sort of rapture which, though substantially the same as the one described above, causes the soul to become conscious of an exceedingly rapid motion, while the spirit is transported with great speed. Resistance is impossible, even though the person remains in com-plete possession of his senses. To resist only makes the transport more perturbing. One feels as though one is in another world, where the light is. brighter and of a different kind than the brightest sunlight. "In a single instant he is taught so many things all at once that, if he were to labor for years on end in trying to fit them all into his imagination and thought, he could not succeed with a thousandth part of them.''~r When the soul returns from this high transport, "to live on earth is a great affliction to it . That the rapture was caused by God's agency is proved by three effects: (1) a greater consciousness of the greatness of God; (2) a more deeply felt humility and sense of unworthiness; and (3) a supreme contempt for earthly things. Conversely, one might add, if the rapture were caused by a satanic agency, the effects would be greater contumacy, overweening pride and heightened greed. In rapture the body "remains as if dead and unable of itself to do anything: it continues all the time as it was when the rapture came upon it, "in a sitting position, for example, or with the hands open or shut.''69 One rarely loses consciousness altogether. One can still hear and understand, but only dimly: When the faculties are lost through being united to God, and the soul is transformed, one reaches the peak of the rapture. When the soul is thus in union, neither visions nor locutions can occur, because the facul-ties are wholly lost.r° In the Spiritual Relations Teresa gives a long descrip-tion of union, from which I quote a part: I understand that the spirit in union is pure and lifted up above everything earthly, and that there is nothing remaining in it that will depart from the will of God, but that the spirit and the will are in conformity with his will, and detached from everything, and occupied in God so as to leave no recollection of love of self or of any created thing,r~ II1 How did Teresa's contemporaries react to her descriptions of these rare ~51bid., p. 291. ~lbid., p. 292. ~91bid., I, p. 125. 671bid., p. 295. 7°lbid., p. 158. S8lbid., p. 296. 7~lbid., p. 348. 358 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 ¯ phenomena? I shall restrict myself to one contemporary, P. Pedro Ibanez, who commanded Teresa to write her Life. A Dominican, Ibanez was easily the most articulate and perceptive of Teresa's first commentators. In a statement written between 1562 and 1564, Ibanez explains that those who believed Teresa to be suffering from deception had excellent reasons for believing so.7z He gives five such reasons: 1. Good judgment requires that we judge in light of what normally happens; and normally, people who have claimed to be the recipients of locutions and revelations were deceived, lbanez sees fit to add: "These deceptions come principally to women, and very seldom tO men."r'~ 2. In trying to ascertain the truth in any matter, we must take the judgments of the experts as definitive, e.g,, we must consult theologians in questions of theology and captains in matters of war~ The saints have always taught that very few revelations can be accepted as ,genuine. Some saints have gone so far as to repudiate all private revelations, arguing that their faith is sufficiently strong without them. When so many visions and apparitions occur to one nun, the legitimacy of all or most ot~ them is highly improbable. 3. If Teresa~s visions were gen-uine, then they must be counted as miracles; but miracles are performed "in cases of great necessity,''74 and in order to confirm the Faith. Neither of these grounds for miracles applies to an enclosed nun. 4. Saints who have been granted supernatural favors always strive to conceal them, both out of the belief that God would deprive them of the favors if they made them public, and as a sign of humility. Teresa made her "favors" only too well known: she described them to a great number of confessors and lay per-sons, and wrote about them in all of her works. 5. The devil is the cleverest of all deceivers because he mixes so much truth with his falsehoods. It is most likely that Teresa's experiences were the work of the devil. Although Ibanez concedes that these reasons have great weight, he ~.nonetheless counters that some things considered by themselves seem bad, but "if some circumstances be taken into account, seem quite holy and virtuous.''r5 His example is the familiar one from Plato: taking someone's property is wrong, but if it is added that the thing was taken from its owner in order to prevent him from killing himself or someone else, then it is right. Ibanez's defense of the genuineness of Teresa's visions rests ultimately upon the following premise: We have also to consider that there has never been a time in the world when there have hot,been certain persons with whom our Lord has been on very familiar terms and to whom His Majesty has expounded and revealed many secret things which he has determined to do . In some ages there will be more of these than in others, but there will always be some, and as a rule they will be men given to prayer, contempla-tion and quiet~r6 721bid., 111, pp. 313-333. r~ibid., p. 317. ralbid., p. 316¯ r61bid., p. 318. ralbid. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 359 Invoking God's providential care of his Church, and alluding to the threats of the Lutherans, Ibanez claims a historical necessity for'the exis-tence of certain intermediaries between the world and the supernatural. Moreover, the fact that a person lives "in great Christian perfection" is a very relevant argument in favor of the genuineness of certain revelations. Even though complete ce~'tainty concerning the genuineness of revela-tions is impossible, there are "some ways and means which are very sure.''7~ In general, the tree i~ known by its fruit,just as physicians diagnose a disease by its effects. Given that revelations and visions must be either true and good or false and bad, a true vision must partake of the qualities of God,. and a false vision must show" signs of the wiles and subtleties used by the devil.''7s Ibanez gives eleven rules for distinguishing true from false visions: 1. Visions from God must produce a sense of humility and unworthiness; thosefrom the devil bring pride and a sense of self-importance. 2. Visions from God drive the recipient to shun the world 9,nd turn away from material things; those from the devil have the opposite effect. 3. Visions from God come only to those who are systematically give.n to prayer and who mani-fest a genuine love of God; the devil's chief aim is to entice one away from prayer and to suborn one's love of God. 4. Perso_ns who receive visions. from God invariably seek counsel from learned persons, holding nothing back from their confessors; persons receiving visions from the devil be-come furtive and self-opinionated. 5. Because scholastic theology is not sufficient to pronounce on the genuineness of mystical experiences, some- " one who believes that he is the recipient of such experiences must consult confessors who have personal experience of such things and who lead lives .~of great sanctity. 6. It is all the more likely that a person's visions are from God if he has patiently suffered all sorts of undeserved annoyances and tribulations. "Our Lord is not likely to reward our patience by sending us a delusion from the devil.''r9 7. If all of a person's confessors are convinced of his purity of conscience, then it is all the more likely that the revelations are of divine origin. 8. An empirical test is to ascertain how much help and spiritual profit people obtain from familiar converse with s.~ch a person. 9. The content of divine visions should be in complete conf6rmity with the Scriptures; demonic visions are replete with irrelevances, curiosities and thingsof little edification. 10. If none of a person's confessors detects any trace of vanity, then it is all the more certain that ~the experiences are genuine. Lastly, 11. The devil persecutes and torments the good, and ap-pears to them in a hideous form; but to persons whom the deyil has won over, his appearances are pleasant, and he cajoles and flatters them. Ibanez proceeds to apply each of these rules to Teresa. On the basis of 7rlbid., p. 319. 781bid. rSlbid., p. 324. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 considerable documentary evidence, he proves that her experiences clearly pass each test. IV This is a difficult paper to conclude. One could of course change the entire mode and tenor of Teresa's experiences and delve into her medical history. As inte?esting as it might be to try to diagnose her early cataleptic seizures, her neurasthenia, and all the bodily, aches and ailments that she complained of throughout her life, I do not see how the content of her experiences can be reduced to physical causes. Of course one could attempt a psychoanalytic study of Teresa, examin-ing her very strong attachment to her father, her ambivalent friendships, her great attraction to Ft. Jeronimo, her self-flagellation and so on. But if one begins with the assumption that mystical experience is nothing but psy-chiatric disorder, Teresa's proper place is on the doctor's couch and not in the gloria so remarkably ~imbodied by Bernini. Again, one could fit Teresa's experiences into the long history of mys-ticism, drawing from Plotinus, Proclus, Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite, and many others. One could try to show how Teresa unconsciously drew on ancient Jewish, Sufistic or Hindu sources. All this would be fascinating to those who are interested in such things. Lastly, one is free to adopt William James' largely dismissive attitude expressed in The Varieties of Religiotts Experience: . confess that my only feeling in reading [Teresa] has been pity that so much vitality of soul should have found such poor employment.''~° James finds Teresa's reli-gious ideal "paltry. ,,81 But if the ideals expressed in the Interior Castle are paltry; I should lik~ to know which ideals may be called "high." It ig the conclusion of this article, however, that, in order to understand St. Teresa's descriptions of her experiences, one must construe them sym-bolically or analogically. When St. Thomas Aquinas addresses himself to the problem of speaking about God, given that no two beings are as unlike as the Creator and the created, he argues that language about God must be understood analogical-ly. In De Veritate, for example, St. Thomas reasons that there are only ¯ three ways in which one may predicate any term of a given subject: univ-ocally, equivocally, or analogously,sz He argues: "We must assert that we may not predicate anything univocally of the creature and God, for in univocal predication the intelligible nature that the name signifies is com-mon to each thing among those of which that name is predicated univocal-ly . Now,.no creature, regardless of how much it imitates God, can ever reach the point of having anything in common with God . We cannot say, 8°The Modern Library: New York, p. 339. 8~lbid. 8ZDe Ver., q. 2, a. 11. St. Teresa on Demonic Deception and Mystical Experience / 36"1 on the other hand, that whatever is predicated of God and creature is predicated purely equivocally, since, if no real likeness of creature to God existed, his essence would not be the likeness of creatures, and then he would not know creatures through knowing his own essence . "s'~ The conclusion, then, is that predication in reference to God can only be made analogously. In other words, if all language about God were equivocal, absolutely nothing could be said about God. The mystic's talk would necessarily be idle and utterly uninformative. His visions would have no substance or value. Yet mystics, as well as other religious people, feel driven to speak and to write about God. And they believe that their language has meaning. This language has to be interpreted, not literally, but analogously,s4 It is chiefly because readers, whether from their scepticism or their enthusiasm, mistakenly interpret St. Teresa's writings in either a univocal or an equiv-ocal fashion that this great saint's message to humanity is often misunder-stood and falsified. a31bid. a4See also ST, I, q. 13. Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Principles of Asceticism Richard J. Hauser, S.J, Father Hauser is an associate professor in the department of theology at Creighton University, and is currently its chairman. He resides in the Jesuit Community of Creighton; 2500 Cali-fornia St.; Omaha, NE 68178. There is probably no area in spirituality more difficult to discuss than asceticism. For many of us the term relates primarily to Lenten practices of mortification. Most of us were relieved when the legislation was altered, and we abandoned fast and abstinence with little sense of loss. I believe there are two major reasons why we did not miss these practices. Increas-ingly the practice of mortification was not functional in our spiritual lives. Spiritual concerns were moving beyond the traditional spheres of prayer and asceticism and focusing more directly on service to others in the world. The relationship between mortification and service was not clear. Secondly, we were becoming uncomfortable with the assumptions un-derlying these practices regarding the body. The body was frequently seen only as a source of sin and so primarily a barrier to spiritual growth. It had to be repressed to be kept submissive. This assumption was incompatible with a general cultural awareness of the importance of the whole person, including the body and its feelings, for leading a happy life. These practices were also incompatible with the growing emphasis in Christian circles on the dignity of the total perso~n flowing from the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. This article attempts to spell out some general guidelines for a meaning-ful asceticism today, and then to present some practical principles of ascet-icism. In doing this it hopes to respond to the church's admonition .to all Christians to find a personally meaningful rhythm of asceticism to replace the strict system that had previously been legislated for all. 362 Principles of Asceticism / 363 Functional: Asceticism The first demand of a valid contemporary asceticism is that it be func-tional, that it foster the goals of Christian living. We are called to b~ like Christ. The Gospels present Jesus as totally dedicated to doing the Father's will in union with the Spirit. Imitating Christ, we, too, are called to do always the Father's will, and to do this with the power we have received from the Spirit of Jesus. We know from the theology of grace that :the Holy Spirit is our sanctifier and that we can make no movement toward God unless we are drawn to him by the Spirit. So if asceticism is to be functional it must promote living in tune with the Spirit. We will understand asceticism, then, as our efforts, prompted by the Spirit, to live and act always in union with the Spirit of Christ in order to know and do our Father's will. The practical challenge of a contemporary asceticism will be to establish regular rhythms in daily life that enable us to live in union with the Spirit. The general goal of all asceticism is to provide the conditions in daily life th~.t facilitate living in tune with the Spirit. But this goal must be brought down t0~ the level of the individual. Each Christian must ask the question: What is God's will for me? .How is God calling me to serve his people and his kingdom? This question is central, for no two of us have exactly the sam6 vocation from our Father. And the question must be asked on two levels. First, what is the state in life and particular occupation God is calling me to? And second, how is he leading me on a day-to-day basis to fulfill my particular calling? For example, in my own person, ! believe the Lord has called me to serve him as a Jesuit priest, and, within this state of life, to teach college theology. In addition I believe the Lord is leading me each day to mak~e decisions within this vocation that will be for his greater glory and service. To know and to respond continually and energetically to the Lord's calling demands that I live in touch with his Spirit. My personal ascetical challenge is to put patterns into my life that enable me to do this in a daily schedule that is already crowded with classes, counseling, meetings, study and research. My challenge will obviously be quite different from that of a housewife or a businessman. But the goal for all of us is the same: to know and to do our Father's will. And it is reached in the same way: by living in tune with the Spirit of Jesus. ~ We have been stressing the fact that ascetical°practices must be func-tional, related to doing the Father's will. But it is crucial to emphasize that asceticism is not concerned simply with developing life patterns aimed at the conscientious external performance of our various callings. The real challenge of asceticism is to develop life-rhythms that :facilitate an internal quality of heart that reflects the presence of the Holy Spirit during the performance of our duties. Paul gives us very concrete signs by which we .can recognize this presence: ". love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (Ga 5,22). Meeting :364 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 this challenge is the most difficult aspect of asceticism. Most of us find it much easier simply to get our jobs done and not worry about our internal quality of heart--we all know the empty feeling of getting through a day and doing everything we were supposed to, but realizing at the end of the day that there was very little Iove,-joy,. or peace. Though we have ostensibly done God's will, we have not served the Lord well because we have not lived in tune with his Spirit. The difficulty of this challenge ought not be underestimated. There exist immense obstacles to its attainment both within and outside ourselves, and it is hard to say which are the more foreboding. We are aware of our own internal dividedness, our habitual tendency to serve ourselves only, rather than the Lord and others. And just as Paul gives us a list of the qualities of heart indicating the Spirit's presence; he also gives a list indicating the Spirit's absence: ". feuds and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels; disagreements, factions, envy." (Ga 5, 20).And we also know .how regularly this internal dividedness is reinforced by our external situa-tion. We are continually moved away from a peaceful and loving service by the pressures of a busy schedule and anxieties from our work and personal problems. So from the very beginning the Christian who is concerned with totally loving and serving the Lord must acknowledge that the" task is impossible by personal effort alone. It is possible only by the Spirit's presence and power. Let me put it like this: if you are guided by the Spirit you will be in no danger of yielding to self-indulgence, since self-indulgence is the opposite of the Spirit, the Spirit is totally against such a thing, and it is precisely because the two are so opposed that you do not always carry out your good intentions. (Ga 5,16-17). And there is peace in the realization that his grace will always be sufficient. We need only build rhythms into our life that enable us to live in contact with it. Respect for the Total Person I believe that a major reason traditional approaches to asceticism lost their hold on us was that they were not clearly related to living the Christian life. Ifasceticism is to regain its deserved place in Christian living, it must be functional: it must clearly facilitate greater love and service of the Lord and others. But I believe that there is a second major reason, why the traditional approach to asceticism lost its hold. I believe that the Christian community became increasingly uncomfortable with one of its major-- though not always articulated--assumptions, namely that the body is pri-marily a barrier to spiritual growth and needs to be repressed to be kept submissive. It was indicative of our attitude toward the body that we felt comfortable in attributing to it rather than to the whole person so much evil in the self. We are clearly not. denying the internal dividedness of the self, the tension between the Spirit in us and our lower human nature---ourself Principles of Asceticism / 365 outside the Spirit. Any approach to asceticism that underplays this fact of Revelation is obviously distorted. But we are insisting that the body, too, is good because it is part of the person that has been transformed by the grace of Christ. The conclusion for asceticism is that the body is not only a barrier to the Spirit needing to be repressed, but it is equally an aid to the Spirit and must be respected and treated as such. This view of the person is reinforced by current theological works on the nature of the self. Theologians today continually speak of the threefold dimension of the person: body, mind, and spirit. They stress that all our acts are combinations of the three dimensions; they are simultaneously phys-ical, psychological and spiritual. One dimension inevitably influences the other two. The conclusion for spirituality is that the way we use our bodies and minds will either help or harm our life in the Spirit. And so we must respect all'principles of good physical and psychological health. I believe these insights have crucial import for asceticism today, import not ade-quately acknowledged in our previous approaches to asceticism. The chal-lenge of a contemporary asceticism will be to develop rhythms for the use of the body and the mind that respect their positive and vital role in the service of the whole person. Perhaps a note should be added on the importance of the psychological dimension for spiritual growth. It goes without saying that if body, mind and spirit are interconnected, psychological health and maturity are crucial for spiritual growth. The challenge of ascetical practices in this area is to develoP rhythms in daily living that respect valid psychological principles of growth. It is clear how intimately related are psychological and spiritual growth. For instance, a generally accepted touchstone for psychological maturity is the ability to be in touch with our inner selves and to make decisions flowing from our own insights without being unduly influenced by outside pressures. This principle of psychological health is central for the Christian. Our goal is to know and do the Father's will. To do this we must be guided by the Spirit. And' t6 be guided by the Spirit we must be in touch with our inner selves, for it is on this very deep level that God can influence and direct us. This means we must develop daily rhythms that enable us to live in tune with our inner selves. Fr~)m the perspective of mental health and maturity psychologists can only concur. The Christian seeks always to know and do the Father's will in love. We cannot do this by ourselves; we can do this only with the Spirit. We seek then to develop rhythms in our daily life forthe use of our bodies and minds that keep them under the influence of the Spirit: "Since the Spirit is our life, let us be directed by the Spirit" (Ga 5, 25). Thomas Merton's expression is perfect. The "spiritual life'" is then the perfectly balanced life in which the body with its passions and instincts, the mind with its reasoning and its obedience to principle, and the spirit with its passive illuminationoby the Light and Love of God form one ~i66 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/3 complete man who is in God and with God and from God and for God. One man in whom God is all in all. One man in whom God carries out his own will without obstacle. New Seeds of Conternplation (New York: New Directions, 1961), p. 140. ~ractical Principles: the Body What are these rhythms that foster our being directed by the Spirit? The most obvious place to begin is with the body--body is theterm we are using for ~he physical dimension of our existence. The basic question in this area is: What rhythms are necessary in daily living to keep the body responsive to the direction of the Spirit in energetically doing the will of the Father? There are two major principles: first, we must do whatever is necessary and possible to keep in good physical health, and second, we must do whatever is necessary to keep our sensual desires responsive to the Spirit and not to our lower human nature, that is, the part of our being that has not yet been transformed by the Spirit of Christ. The first we will ~:all the positive principle for the use of the body; the second, the negative principle. For me the first is

Issue 35.5 of the Review for Religious, 1976. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edited by faculty members of St Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Braiding, 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1976 by REVlEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $7.00 a year; $13.00 for two years; other countries, $8.00 a year, $15.00 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 FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Book Editor Assistant Editor September 1976 I"olume 35 Number 5 Renewals,-new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELICtOUS; 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 FOrt REL~CIOt~S; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. The Prayer of Jesus' Paul VI The Holy Father delivered the following address~ in the General Audience of June 14, 1976. The text is taken from Osservatore Roma/to, no. 26 (430), June 24, 1976. In these times, in these days so busy with human events, we are ~till mind- " ful of the spiritual cyclone that Pentecost was for the world and especially for the Church. We turn our thought again to prayer, to its legitimacy, its necessity, its procedure. We are well aware that the study of religions, the study of Christian prayer, the study of human psychology, have dwelt upon this expression of the human spirit. This almost places in a quandary one who, from such a great mass of experiences, customs and literature, wishes to draw a comprehensive and guiding idea,, sufficient for the modern secular man to classify in the summary of a mental index-card that which it is enough to know on this subject, now alien to his empirical and positive mentality. Accepting this imperious simplifying method, we conclude our reflection on prayer with two major propositions. These are: prayer, first, presupposes oft God's side an interest, a listening to the voices addressed to him by man, that is, a "Providence"; and, second, it presupposes on man's side, a hope, an expectation of being satisfied 'and helped. Thus we see that we have, it is true, constructed the essential pattern of prayer, that is, a possible con-versation betweeh man. and God, but that we still know very little, if any-thing, about the validity of this conversation. Is it an imaginary hypothesis, or does it really establish a relationship; a bilateral relationship, a bene-ficial relationship? Meaning of Prayer Well, among the greatest favors tha~t Christianity, faith, nay more Jesus 641 642 / Review lor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 Christ in person, conferred on mankind, there is precisely this real, valid, indispensable, very opportune prayer. Christ established communication between man and God; and this communication, which prevails over all our marvelous modern technical and social communications, has as its first, normal expression, prayer. Praying means communicating with God. Christ is himself this fundamental communication with the manifestation o[ himself. We enter the sanctuary of the exploration of who Christ is, the subject, today still, of tormented and, fundamentally, inevitably negative investigations for those who break with the Chalcedon definition of the one person of the Word, living in two natures, divinerand human (cf. Denz- Schoen. 301-302; Bouyer, Le Fils eternel, 469 ft.); the "bridge," as St. Catherine said (Dial 25, ft.). Jesus himself is the most luminous example of prayer, which, documented in the Gospel, becomes for us the highway to prayer and spiritual life. People who follow him and believe are still tireless students in this school. "By what way can I reach Christ and his message?", a well-known modern Catholic thinker asks himself; and he answers: "there is one very short and simple way: I look into the soul of Jesus as he prays, and 1 believe" (C. Adam, Cristo nostro Fratello, 37, see the fine chapter: "la preghiera di Gesh,"). And likewise the powerful synthesig on the "'Message de Jdsus,'" by L. De Grandmaison, Jdsus Christ, 1I, 347, ft.). Jesus Prays But, how and when did Jesus pray? Oh, how beautiful and instructive an excursion into the Gospel pages would be, picking like wildflowers the almost incidental references to the Lord's prayer! The" evangelist Mark writes: "And rising up long before daybreak, he (Jesus) went out (probably it was Peter's house, at Capharnaum, see V. 29), and departed into a desert place, and there he prayed" (1, 35). See, for example, after the multiplica-tion of the loaves: "And when he had dismissed the crowd, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. And when it was late, he Was alone" (Mt 14, 23). The Lord's prayers, about which the Gospel informs us, would deserve such long meditation. The famous one, for example, in chapter XI of Matthew, which lets us "enter the deepest secret of his life';: "At that time Jesus spoke and said. 'I praise thee Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou didst hide these things from the wise and prudent, and didst reveal them to little ones' " (verse 25). And what can we say of the prayer that concludes the talks of the Last Supper? "And raising his eyes to heaven, he said, 'Father, the hour has come!~-.Glorify thy Son, that thy Son may glorify thee', . " We recall it: it is the prayer for unity: "that all may be one" (Jn 17, 21-22). And then the triple groaning, heroic praye~" at Gethsemane, just before the passion: "Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me! Yet not my will but thine be done" (Lk 22, 42). The Prayer o] Jesus / 643 Union in prayer What a revelation not only of the drama of the Saviour's life, but also of the complexity and depth of human destinies, which even in their most tragic and mysterious expressions can be linked, by means of prayer, to the goodness, the mercy, the salvation deriving from God. Pray, then, like Jesus. Pray intensely. Pray today: always in the con-fident communion that prayer has established between us and the Father. Because it is to a father, it is to the Father that our humble voice is ad-dressed. So let it be, always. .O ¯ . . be silent now and try to listen within yourselves to an inner proclama-tion! The Lord is saying: "Be assured, i am with you" (see Mt 28:20). I am here. he is saying, because this is nay Body! This is the cup of my Blood!'. Yes, he is calling you, each one by. name! The mystery of the Eucharist is, above all, a personal mystery: personal, because of his divine presence-- the presence of Christ, the Word of God made man; personal, because the Eucharist is meant for each of us: for this reason Christ has become living bread, and js multiplied in the sacrament, in order 'to be accessible to every human being who receives him worthily, and who opens to him the door of faith and love. Paul VI to the Eucharistic Congress in L'Osservatore Romano, August 19, 1976, p. 3. Prayer Father Joris,, O.F.M. Father Joris (Heise) has taught scripture at St. Leonard's College in Dayton, has recently completed an as-yet-unpublished translation of the Gospel o] St. Matthew, and regularly contributes Old Testament exegesis to "Homily Helps" published by St. Anthony Messenger: he is presently on detached service in metropoliffan Washington. He usually signs his name simply Joris, in imitation of evangelical simplicity. Prayer is not a thing, not even an action. It is a quality, a dimension of living. Prayer is not the words you say. Jesus says for us togo into our cryptic place, and pray in the dark. He tells us not to say, "Lord, Lord!" He tells us not to go up front and rattle off repetitious or self-centered information. Prayerbooks--we will always have them. The Book of Psalms is the prayerbook, and it is a good one. It has in it litanies and moods and orchestras (Psalm 150); it stiggests common prayer and has some very pri-vate ones that are shared with the world. But no prayerbook is a prayer. Prayer is us, me, when I stop and my soul's face turns to God, when I really edge into desperation and need and joy. Prayer is that quality of openness that happens in response to discovery of newness, whether of pain, of belief, or sharing, or insight--into the real state of things. Prayer is that dimension when the person's bud blooms into a maturity beyond just coping, just drifting. For instance, when I talk with God (talking sort of to "myself) about how to treat some visitors who have complicated my life, really, and no particular answer is ready--that is prayer. When I find myself in a new territory where I do not have an answer at all, and I am waiting for onew that is prayer. When I discover someone else shares a shame or a wonder 644 Prayer / 645 or an interest--that discovering is itself a prayer. That edge-of-truth, like a blade that enters skin, is prayer. Established Prayer (the Pr,ayerbooks of Liturgy and Childhood) I received in the mail recen.tly a "prayerbook" that included many of my childhood prayers and songs: "The Way of the Cross," litanies, prayers to Mary, prayers to "Most Sweet Jesus." It served to remind me of the differences between Prayer and prayers, between the things, called "prayer" pointed to by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount and the kind of prayer he thought was right. ,, I think that children need "prayers." They need to hear litanies and to memorize grace at meals. They need to hear the repetitions of Mass prayers, the "Our Father," songs that will be sung over and over as "old favorites." I think that the.child who continues to live inside us throughout our lives--that child--needs to hear old and familiar "prayers" that give us a comfortable feeling, a sense of belonging here to the club of tradition. I think that this set of simple prayers, memorized, repetitious and senti-mental, needs to be accompanied by other non-verbal features: stained-glass windows, incense, vestments, an intonation of authority in the priestly voice, familiar tunes that are even mawkishly sentimental (like some Mary-hymns based on old romatic or drinking songs). But it is essential that we remember that these traditional prayers, as they are done, are done so as to cater to the child-in-us. If these are the only prayers, the only forms of prayer we_ take seriously, then we are not adults who have "turned and become a child again," but rather we are simply immature persons. We never grew up in the first place; we "fixated," to borrow a term from psychological jargon. Furthermore, a person who limits himself to forms that just come close to these, a person not creating his or her. own forms of prayer, will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven, as Jesus warned. They are receiving their reward already: the comfortedness they feel, the sense of belonging, the nurturedness, the peace. These are all qualities, of the drug world, too-- qualities condemned throughout th~ Gospels. It is a false world, a self-centered, self-rewarding form of prayer. It is valid for children and valid to begin with. It is not valid to stay there. It is the validity of blossom that needs the autumn fruit. Conversation ~vith God All of us talk tO ourselves. Sometimes we really talk, in deep conversa-tion, with other people. We reach a stage of conversation that is just more than usual, it means something more than the day-to-day exchange of com-ments. Prayer is that talking--that talking when we have no answer, when our need or, question or wonder or shame or comments form into words but 646 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 without any answer ready,set and cut. Not ~rambling;~on the contrary, the words focus some human matter that is definitely bothering us--or helping us grow. It is a moment when we gather "it" together and say it, not know-ing what the answer is or whether there is an answer. That is prayer--that "talking out" of what is inside of me. It has that quality of truth-which-is-more-than-facts, more than honesty even, because "honesty" is "saying something that is true." This "talking out" is the very creation of truth, the appearance of truth that is discovery of it. Real prayer is the birth of the words of truth--it has been carried inside of oneself, but has not yet come to light. Everybody who matures, 1 think, begins this conversation with God, this phrasing of problems (and expression of wonder and they are often the same thing. They certainly have the same quality.) ~ This kind of prayer-~-these prayers--occur during moments of pause and work, during habitual actions. (like driving, scrubbing, planning jobs, parties, schedules). They touch .significant elements of life as well as little things. (God is interested in it all, of course.) ~The solitary person as well as the very active person can discover to their surprise that they both do the very same thing on the inside--and perhaps spend as much time at it. Some people do it with deliberate advertence to God: the words are ad-dressed to "You, God." (Both the Tevye of Fiddler on the Roof and Jesus used such ~xpressions of direct address--they half, praise God for such good-ness and half-haggle with God about the possibilities of the future.) Other people are officially atheistic. The conversations of such people may, surprisingly, contain references to "God" in the form of cursing or "bad language"; and the surprise is that the very reference indicates the quality of prayer that it really is. I have. known an agnostic administrator-- a Dr. Bill Fitzgerald--whose determination 'and decisions were colored by some kind of "swearing": "By God, . . o " or "Jesus Christ! We're going to . " I studied his habit and noticed that he used these words only in connection with this quality of truth, this edging into a real commitment, this formulating of a communion of the office people so that .action would result. It was a "creation of truth"--and I found it funny that the little '~flag of prayer" was his reference to God. Still others do not connect their serious self-conversations with "re-ligion" or God. But they are prayer, they are real prayer. They are truth emerging and commitment forming. They are care rising into practice. They are small and large crises--listening then for what is the "right thing to do." They are a turning on of the radio to the "station" of God. The very turning on is the listening for God, the words that come to mind are the presence of fresh truth; the coining of the phrases the way the situation appears--is itself the belief in solution, the belief that some intrusion, from somewhere, from Someone, can measure up to the words uttered. Prayer / 647 Into the darkness the words go, and a response is expected that may be beyond words. Such a "conversation" is of God, is prayer. Beyond Conversation with God Years ago, some monk wrote a book titled something like Common Mystical 'Prayer. His point as I recall it, was tO ~.say that "mystical prayer" is far more common than we suppose. I'agree with that monk. Prayer is a quality, a facet, of the good person, it is a habit or even a limb of the good person.In the end, 1 cannot picture a good person without a "side" that is prayer--a side that faces God nor-mally, continuously. Bye that I mean that, besides successful actions~ deliberateness, care, kindness, strength and truth, there is in the good person an attention to what is, right, an internal facing forwards that is nothing else but prayer. By prayer here I mean that quality of a person which is his or her validity-and-awareness, an aliveness that is more than simply living. To be alive is a gift. It happens to every human being born and growing. But prayer is the "choice to live" and the many ramifications of that choice --all the nobility and pain and acceptance which mark the person who is doing more than "suffering through life." In other Words, prayer is as~integral to the good person as blood; as thought, as the electrical charge of all the body's cells. Prayer is the mystery gurrounding someone who is "different" when we cannot quite say why he is different. Prayer is the "reason" for our feeling that this person is mature and that ~person is not; prayer is the quality bf deliberateness that makes some mistakes "all right," but other mistakes are in fact ',guilty" ones. Prayer is the humble honesty of a person who retrieves a mistake or failure, and converts it into a more valuable event than could be thought. Prayer is the, power to make decisions on a basis deeper than the facts would indi, cate, on principles beyond the conflicting, shallower principles of popular debating. Prayer is the way we are--the whole root of, and then reflection on the meaning of the decisions that we make. Prayer is the connection we keep making .between the momentary commitments and the larger ripples--and ultimate results, those commitments which we make in our lifetime and in our world. Prayer is the belief that everything I do has meaning--and mean-ings-- touching far beyond what I can see. And so i need a constant help in doing them. God, of course, is the you for whom this attention, this search for principles, this belief in. value, is done. It is not that we pay attention to a mere "god of tradition" out there. The One we are paying attention to in this silent discourse is our God. We are paying attention to a Mystery, to a quiet source of answers, of truth, to someone who is beyond being just a 648 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 person or a "non-im-personal." T.his "wail" we address with our very self, so often without even any words at all, is God, the very meaning of a god. This is the value-giver, the ultimate, the Final One we "bounce against" at the end. Community, Shared Prayer ~ Without living these previous forms of mature, complex, and human prayer, community-shared prayer is meaningless. When 1 go into a church on Sunday, I find so often that there is so little effort to connect community prayer with these other elements of--- "elemental prayer." No effort at all, sometimes. Such liturgical prayers then are the empty voicing of words, gestures "and pomposity which Jesus condemned so strongly. They are magic and not prayer. They are sleight of mind and hand; but not prayer at all. We have Great Traditions. ' We have the Gathering of People regularly and the wonderful gift of ever-fresh Scripture. We have the hierarchical leadership of order and the application of talents, such as in music. We have all the right elements to comprise a living body of shared prayer. But there is almost a conspiracy to suppress quality, to reduce Prayer to prayers, to eliminate human communication as though that hinders Holy Communion, to supply clich6s instead of truth, to repeat anything that once proved good in the past, without realizing that such a repetition is to freeze and kill prayer that is alive. Shared prayer--contrary to all of this--is the sharing of elemental selves, the gathering of the greatness of our past and pouring it into our present as a "way of life." (Incidentally, I hate "relevancy" as simply a plastic imitation of real prayer. Prayer is relevant, but because it is prayer, not because its ideas or words or stories or music are "relevant:") Shared prayer is the spirit of wonder ("What really does it mean?") at the traditional Scripture. The repetition of the act of Jesus in giving, breaking, blessing the bread needs to be seen as a strange and puzzling thing, a curiosity that makes our minds wonder what is going on. The readings from the Bible become praye~ in the exploration of what it means--not the assurance of what that meaning is. The readings--when read with appro-priate emotional and intellectual sincerity--are themselves prayer and beget prayer. (How tragically often the Bible is read in church with an over-pious tone of voice. The finest reading I heard, 6ver, was a boy of ten who read Genesis, chapter one, as though he was just discovering the whole wonder of how creation has happened.) The community at prayer needs to receive everything as wonder and gift--the words from the past, the songs with their emotional impact, the presence of one another (and the mystery we are to one another). Hassling about ~clothing and place, about whether to stand or sit or kneel, about themes or style--these are distractions, inappropriate, even sinful--is alien Prayer / 649 to the quality which is the prayer of the gathering group of people. Every-thing there is to serve the prayer of the praying persons. The leader of such prayer, the priest, is the uncommon person whose heart and eyes, are as a sponge absorbing the people here. The leader uses the p~ast and the future to focus on these people; this is the nature of his prayer. The leader draws the sacred attention of. all together towards the mystery where all the threads meet, where all the human wants and joys hunger for fulfillment, where all the quests for meaning meet in their com-monness. The persons who enter the praying community on Sunday morning come not just for religious reasons, but for their entire lives and the meanings hunted and mysteries encountered in day-to-day events. They need religious jargon--but only insofar as it enlightens and judges the unfolding of daily ,work and play, of marriage responsibilities and growth, of jobs and adoles-cent children and political choices, andso on. The person of prayer is in the habit of scrutinizing all these things for what they mean--or might mean. In coming together, this person is searching with others to find where they, the ones who pray, are, what they have concluded, how they are cre-ating and finding true directions for living. The coming together becomes a matter of "spirit" when this quest and this finding is perceived in other persons who care and ripen like oneself. Without some "communion" between people in church (not just the leader to each individual, or the past .words to the present--but sideways, one to another), the whole gathering is only partial towards its fulfillment. The facets need to interlock, the side of true prayer in each good person to fit the sides of others. We need one another. We need the surprising side of each other, the edging into revelation that is faith that there is someone worthwhile--someone godly--there. We need to hear the admissions of guilt which this truthfulness so often is. We need to hear the shared needs, the outspoken hungers that are new discOveries. We need to feed one another with a handed-on Bread, the sharing of the single Cup. (This physical act, so rarely seen i~nd' practiced in our churches, is designed [by Jesus, no less] to represent and facilitate the.~ore significant one of hand-ing on our care, our truth towards one another, our passion, interest, in-volvement- our love.) Essential Prayer , Prayer is not a concept. It is even "inconceivable." Prayer is a "person facing." Prayer is a reflectiveness outward. Prayer is a tone of our life, a "how" we look at someth!ng. Prayer is a deliberate meaning towards choices--a meaning not in words, and certainly not a meaning that comes afterwards! Prayer is the meaning I sense for doing something, the ~ood I am when I am about to make a choice. Prayer erupts'into words (but is 650 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 not the words afterwards repeated); it is the developing process (like a photograph) from a need into making a decision that is the "good reason why," as well as the commitmeni itself involved in the ~lecision. Prayer, in other words, is never simply something we do or say: Prayer, rather, is the quality with which we do something, the rootedness and hope-fulness involved in living, our deliberate Jiving. It is the thinking and thank-ing which is our delicate dialogue with our environment and with ourselves. Prayer is facing God as God really is (and not just' some religious, narrow view of God, a religious jargon about God). Prayer presumes an ultimate of truth for some issue I face--and God provides it. Prayer means confronting' this new edge of truth for me, this searching for it and into it, and believing it when it is found. Prayer means involving the best we can do in what we do. Prayer, then, is an "always-freshness" about our lives, a constant ripen-ing towards fruition. Prayer is .my opening to discovery, my lifting up of myself towards exposure of some divine light, my waiting for whatever comes next from God. Prayer is placing myself to wait for what God wants. I ~m black, but comely, daughters o] Jerusalem . . . Do not regard me only as one dark With sin, for there is God-like beauty here. Too easily i'm seen to miss the mark Of all my high resolves, and it is clear That dark 1 will remain. With angry scorn My loved ones gave to me a servant's place Which I have filled, with patient merit borne, A Quie.t joy upon my dusky face, Because I am beloved. Like to the tents of Kedar on the glowing summer sand 1 take from each day's gift the light from whence My shadowed beauty shines. Simply to know I am beloved of Him--this is the band Of golden hope that gives my life its glow. Cornelius Askren P.O. Box 783 Bothell, WA 98011 Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet M. Basil, Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Pennington is a frequent contributor to these pages. He resides at St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, MA 01562. We live in one of the greatest moments in the history of the human race. We live in the Christian era when God has sent his very own Son to bring to us the fullest revelation of his love and his inner life and to share that life with us. We live" in the time of a council, when there is a special out-pouring of grace and light to enable the People of God to achieve a deeper and fuller insight into the Revelation, And certainly the Second Vatican Council was one of the more significant of the twenty Councils which the Lord has granted to his Church in the course of her twenty centuries of life. But over and beyond this, we live in the time of a Second Pentecost. The humble-Vicar of Christ, Pope John XXIII, dared to call upon the Father to send forth the Holy Spirit in that same powerful and unique way in which he did at the birth of Christianity. The Spirit is abroad new, among us as never before, enlivening us and calling us forth to ever fuller life. In a very real sense this is absolutely necessary. For the human family has made such strides forward that .it is only by a greater infusion of the Spirit that the Christian can hope to respond to the many new challenges of our times in a faith-full way. One of the more significant changes for Western civilization, where Christianity largely resides, is the evolution from a conceptual era to an experiential one. Since Gutenberg's wood-_cuts first touched paper, the printed word and the ideas it disseminated more and more dominated Western culture. But in these last decades audiovisuals have led men to seek an ever fuller experience of reality. Technology's success has awakened desires.; its failure to satisfy awakens yet deeper desires. The spirit of man has come alive in a way that now transcends cultures. And the man of the West finds that the stirring within him is the same as that which stirs within 651 652 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 his brothers and sisters in what has sometimes been considered the "primi-tive" culture of the natives of many lands and in the more ancient cultures of the East. The Christian nurtured in this climate is no longer c6ntent to ruminate on truths of dogma to develop motivating thoughts and feelings in an effort towards union with God. He wants to ex.perience God as present, loving and caring. And the Lord seems to be very willing to respond to this aspira-tion which ultimately springs from his providential care of those whom his love has created. I think this is the significance of the widespread charismatic movement. Among those who open themselves to the Spirit of God, he seems to be granting, in what is commonly referred to as the "Baptism of the Spirit," that experience of himself which the classical mystical writers have called a grace of union. ,But not all are attracted to seek the experience of God in the enthusiastic and communicative climate which surrounds most charismatic groups. Many are drawn rather to seek this experience in the quiet of their own inner sanctuary where the Word dwells in his eternal stillness. There is ample evidence of this in the multitude of Christians who are flocking to the masters from the East to learn the methods of Zen and Yogic meditation, especially the Transcendental Meditation taught by Maharishi Mehesh Yogi. Turning to the East A ~:ouple of years ago I had occasion to visit a Ramakrishna temple in Chicago. Here I found twenty-four disciples gatheredaround a relatively young swami. The man was not unusually impressive, but he lived what he taught and spoke out of a~ personal inner experience. His disciples were an impressive group, twenty-two to fifty-five years of age. They expected an-other twenty-four disciples to join them that year and were inaugurating a subsidiary ahsram in nearby Michigan. All twenty-four disciples were from Christian backgrounds. When I asked them what had drawn them to the temple, they invariably answered that they were not able to find anyone in their own Church who was willing to lead them into the deeper ways of the spirit where they could truly experience God. Then they met the swami and he was willing to do that. They still worshipped Christ, but now, un-fortunately, as only one of many incarnations of God. In their search they have somewhat lost their way because there was no Christian master (or, to be: more faithful to our own traditional terminologyi no spiritual father) ready to guide them, sharing with them from the fullness of his own lived experience. Over the years in retreat work I have talked to many, many priests and religious. I have found that in most cases, though not all, in the .seminary or the novitiate they have been taught methods, of prayer and active meditation. In many cases they have also had a course in ascetical and Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet / 653 mystical theology in which they have heard about the various stages of con-templative prayer. Unfortunately they have usually been left with the im-pression or have been actually taught that it is a very rare sort of.thing, usually found only in enclosed monasteries. To seek it is presumptuous. One must plug away faithfully at active meditation and perhaps some day, in the far distant future, after long years of fidelity, God might give one this precious but rare gift of contemplative prayer. In no instance have 4 yet found anyone who had been taught in the seminary or the novitiate a simple method for entering into passive meditation or contemplative prayer. This is sad. Especially in face of the fact that St. Teresa of Avila.had taught that those who were faithful to prayer' could expect in a relatively short time--six months or a year--to be led into a prayer of quiet. Dom Marmion believed that by the end of his novitiate, a religious was usually ready for contemplative prayer. One of the signs that St. John of the Cross pointed to as an indication that one is ready for contemplative prayer is that active meditation no longer works--an experience very many priests and religious do have. Faced with this experience, and ~vith no one showing them how to move on to contemplative prayer, many give up regular prayer. A faithful few plug on, sometimes for years, in making painful meditations that are any-thing but refreshing. Given this state of affairs, it is not surprising that Christians seeking help to enter into the quiet, inner experience of God find little guidance among their priests and religious. If a person desiring, to seek the experience of God. in deep meditation does go to one of the many swamis found in the West today, he or she will be quickly taught a simple method to pursue this goal. "Sit this way. Hold your hands this way. Breathe thus. Say this word in this manner. Do this twice a day for so many minutes." And if the rec'ipient does this, he usually has very good experiences. We can see this~ practice, up to a point, as a good thing. For often, whether the person kno~ws his name or not, he or she is in fact seeking God. And in carrying through this exercise, in devoting mind and heart to,this pursuit, he is actually engaging in a very pure form of prayer. The sad part of it is that his pursuit and his experience, probably of God's very real presence in him in his creative love, is not informed by faith. Sadder still is the fact that, in .not a few cases, grateful recipients, so helped by the swami's meditation-technique, begin to accept from him as well his philoso-phy of life, thus abandoning their Christian heritage. Some of the greater swapnis, such as Swami Satchidinanda and Maharishi Mehesh Yogi, certainly advise against this. But such advice can fall on ears deafened by an almost cultic veneration for a truly' selfless master. These good masters from the East are truly a challenge, whether they intend to be or not, and in more ways than one. For one thing they cer-. tainly remind us that the effective teacher, at least in the area of life-giving 654 / Review lor Religious, VoluJne 35, 1976/5 teaching, must be one who lives what he teaches. For a minister to try to teach the Christian Gospel with its strong bias for the poor' and its way of daily abnegation ("If you would be my disciple, take up your cross daily and come follow me.") and still to be busy pursuing the same pleasures and immediate goals as the wc~rldly'materialist is to condemn himself to a fruit-less ministry. We must teach more by what we are and how we live than by what we say, if we want our hearers to take us seriously. The swamis' response to seekers makes us ask ourselves, are there not in our own Christian tradition some simple methods, some meditation techniques, which we can use to enter into quiet, contemplative union with God? Before responding, I would like .to say, we Christians should not hesitate to make use of the good techniques that our wise friends from the East are offering, if. we find them,' in fact, helpful. As St: Paul said: "All things are yours, and you are Christ's and Christ is God's." Many Chris-tians, in fact, who take their prayer life seriously have been greatly helped by Yoga, Zen, TM and similar practices, especially where they have been initiated by reliable teachers and have a solidly developed Christian faith to giv~ inner form and meaning to the resulting experiences. But to return to our question: Do we have, in our Christian tradition, simple methods or techniques for entering into contemplative prayer? Yes, we certainly do. The Use of "Technique" First of all, "techniques," methods, are certainly not foreign to the prayer experience of the average Catholic. The rosary is a "technique"-- and certainly not one to be readily discounted. It has led many, many Chris-tians to deep contemplative union with God. The Stations of the Cross are another "techn!que." So are the Ignatian Exercises, which are directly ordered to contemplation. Well enough known in the West today, at least by name and reputation, is the ancient Eastern Christian technique of the "Jesus Prayer." We have, in fact, many Christian techniques. The use of a technique or method in prayer to help us come into con-tact with God present to us, in us, and to bring our whole selves into quiet-ness to enjoy that presence and be refreshed by it, is certainly not, in itself, Pelagian. Mystical theologians have not.hesitated to speak of an "acquired contemplation" (in distinction to "infused contemplation"), a state or experience which the contemplator has taken some part in bringing into being. All prayer is a response to God and begins with him. To deny this would be Pelagian. God's grace is not operative only in infused contemplation. When the little child lisps his "Now I lay me down to sleep . . ." if there is any movementi of faith and love there, any true prayer, grace is present and operative. Every prayer is a response to a movement of grace, whether we are explicitly aware of it or not, whether we conscious!y experience the Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet/ 655 movement, the call, the attraction, or not. God present in us, present all around us, is calling us. to respond to his presence, his love, his caring. We are missing reality if we think otherwise. When we use a technique, a method, to pray, we are doing so because God?s grace, to which we are freely responding, is efficaciously, inviting us to do this. That we have been taught the technique and have responded to the teaching is all his grace at work, inviting us, leading us, guiding us to have a deeper experience of our union with him. That iswhy it takes a certain courage---or foolhardiness--to learn such a technique. For it is, indeed, an invitation from the Lord to enter and abide within. The Prayer of the Cloud Yes, we do have in our Christian tradition simple methods~ "tech-niques," for entering into contemplative prayer, a. prayer of quiet. I would like to share one such method with you, drawn from a little book called The Cloud of Unknowing. This is indeed a.popular book in our time.1 At the time of our author's writing there was a vibrant spirituality alive and widespread in ~the Christian West. The swell had begun with the great Gregorian reform in the eleventh century and the ensuing monastic revival. This was followed by the enthusiasm of the sons of St. Francis and the other mendicant orders. All, even the poorest, the most illiterate, the vil-lainous, were invited to intimacy with the Lord. The fourteenth century was a high tide for the Christian spirit in the West. Unfortunately it would soon enough ebb. With the Reformation, the monastic centers of spiritual life would be swept away by the new currents that flowed through much of Europe. And on the rest of the continent the prosecution of Quietists and Illuminists by an overly zealous and defensive Inquisition would send contemplation to hide fearfully in the corners of a few convents and monasteries. A great movement of the Christian spirit flowed away with the undercurrent, only to surface and return under the impulsion of the mighty .winds of a Second Pentecost, These winds blow across the face of the whole earth. They certainly are not contained by the Church. But the Church, the Christian commuhity, cannot afford to be slow to respond to them: True renewal must begin with each .Christian, respond-ing to the call of the Spirit within, to the call to the center where God dwells, waiting to refresh, revitalize, renew. There is a simple method of entering into contemplative prayer which has been aptly called "centering prayer." The name is inspired by Thomas 1At p.resent the book is available in 'four different paperback editions. The one edited by William Johnston and published by D~ubleday is the best. The author is an un-known English Catholic writer of the fourteenth century. He could hardly have put his name to the work, for all that it teaches belongs to the common heritage of the Christian c~mmunity. 656 / Review Ior, Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 Merton. In his writings he stressed that the only way to come into contact with the living God is to go to'one's center and from there pass into God. This is the way the author of The Cloud of Unknowing would lead us, although his imagery is somewhat different. The simple method he teaches really belongs to the. common heritage of man. I remember on one occasion describing it to a teacher of Tran-scendental Meditation. He repli,ed, "Why, that's TMo" I could not agree with him. There are very significant differences, but perhaps it takes faith really to perceive them. I can also remember, when I was in Greece a. couple of years ago, finding a Greek translation of The Cloud. The late Orthodox Archbishop of Corinth had written the Introduction. In it he stated that this was the work of an unknown fourteenth-century, English, Orthodox writer. He was certain it belonged to his own Christian tradition. If one reads The Cloud of Unknowing on his own, as perhaps many of my readers have, he is not apt effectively to draw from the text the simple technique the author offers. This is not to be wondered at. One would have the same experience reading books on the "Jesus Prayer." As the spiritual fathers on Mount Athos pointed out to me, no spiritual father would seek to teach this method of prayer by a book~ It is meant to be handed on per-sonally, through a tradition. The writings are but to support the learner in his experience and help him place the practice in the full context of his life. This, too, I believe is the case with The Cloud o] Unknowing. Simply read-ing it will not usually teach the method. And so let me try to spell out the "technique" of The Cloud of Un-knowing quite concretely, adding some practical advice and explanation. To do this I would like to sum up the method in three rules. Posture and Relaxation But "first let me say a word about posture. Some wonderful ways of sitting have come to us from the East. They are ideal for meditation. But unless we are 10ng practiced, and in most cases, have gotten an early start, our muscles and bones do not too readily adapt° themse.lves to these pos-tures. I think for most of us Westerners the best posture for prayer is to be comfortably settled in a good chair--one that gives firm support to the back, but at the same time is not too hard or stiff. As the author of The Cloud says, "Simply sit relaxed and quiet . " Most imprrtant, the body should be relaxed. When our Lord said, "Come to me all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will refresh you," he meant the whole man, body, soul and spirit--not just the spirit. But the body is not apt to be refreshed if we begin the prayer physically tense. Settling down in our chair ahd "letting go," letting the chair fully support the body, is sacramental of what is to take place in the prayer. In centering prayer we settle in God, "let ourselves go," let him fully support us, rest us, refresh us. Centering Prayer--Prayer o] Quiet / 657 Posture and relaxation-are important. It is good, too, if we close our eyes during this prayer.: The more we can gently eliminate outside distur-bances the better. That is why it is good, if possible, to make this prayer in a quiet place, a place apart, though this is not essential. More important is it that it be a situation in which we will not be disturbed in the course of the meditation. Quiet will usually be found helpful. Psychologically, also, it is experienced as helpful if one has a sort of special place for meditation--a place apart, even though "apart" may be only a corner of a room where there is a presence sacramentalized in Bible, icon or sacred image, and the going apart simply involves swinging around in our chair from desk to shrine. The physical set-up and the bodily movement itself reinforce the sense of passing now from the frenetic activities of the day to a deeper state of prayerful rest and divine refreshment. Three Rules the But now let us get on with the "rules" for entering into centering prayer, prayer of quiet, contemplation. Rule One: At the beginizing o] the prayer we take a minute or two to quiet down and then move in ]aith to God dwelling .in our depths; attd at the end oI the' prayer we take several minutes to come out, mentally praying the "Our Father." Once we are settled down in our chair and relaxed, we enter into a short period of silence, Sixty seconds can initially seem like a long time when we are doing nothing and are used to being constantly on the go. Better to take a little more time rather than less. Then we move in faith to God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, dwelling in creative love in the depths of our being. This is the whole essence of the prayer. "Center all your attention and desire on him and let this be the sole concern of your mind and heart" (The Cloud oI Unknowing, c.3). Faith moving towards its Object is hope and love--this is the whole of the theological, the Christian life. All the rest of the method is simply a means to enable us to abide quietly in this center, and to allow our whole being to share in this refreshing contact with its Source. Faith is fundamental for this prayer, as for any prayer. We will have no desire to enter into union and communion, to pray, if we do not have at least some glimmer in faith of the all-Lovable, the all,Desirable. But it is more especially a "wonderfUl work of love," a °response to him who is known, by living faith. -"It is true, some techniques like Zen call for keeping the eyes open. But these are usually effortful techniques. This method, however, is effortless; it is a letting go. "It is simply a spontaneous desire, springing from God . . ." (The Cloud, c.4). 658 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 The Inner Presence When God. makes things, he does not just put them together and toss them out there, to let them fly along in his creation. "One is good--God.'':~ And One'is true, and beautiful, and all ':being--our God. And everything else is only insofar as it here and now actively participates in him and shares his :being. At every moment God is intimately present to each and every particle of his creation, sharing with it, in creative love, his very own being. And so, if we really see this paper, we do not just see the paper, but we see God bringing it into being and sustaining it in being. We perceive the divine presence. If this i~ true of all the other elements, how much more true is it for the greatest of God's creation: man, made to his own image and likeness. When we go to our depths we find not only the image of God, but God himself, bringing us forth in his creative love. We go to our center and pass from there into the present God. Yet there is still something even more wonderful here for the Christian. We have been baptized into Christ. We are in some very real, though mysteri-ous way, Christ, the Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me." As we go to the depths, we realize in faith our identity with Christ the Son. Even now, .with him and in him, we comeforth from the Father in eternal generation, and return to the Father in that perfect Love which is the Holy Spirit. What prayer! This is really beyond adequate conception. Yet our faith°tells us it is so. It is part of that whole reality that revelation has opened up to us. And it is for us to take possession of it. We have been made sharers in the divine nature by baptism. We have been given the gi]t of the Holy Spirit. We have but to enter into what is ours, what we truly are. And that is what we do in this prayer. In a movement of faith that is hope and love, we go to the center and turn ourselves bver to God in a simple being there, in a presence that is perfect and complete .adoration, response, love, an "Amen" to that movement that we are in the Son to the Father. This is what St. Paul was talking about when he said, "We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself prays for us . " Coming Out 'of Contemplation In this prayer we go .very deep into ourselves. Some speak of a fourth state of consciousness, a state beyond waking, sleeping or dreaming states. Tests have shown that meditators do achieve a state of rest which is deeper than that attained in sleep. We do not want to come out of contemplative prayer in a jarring way. Rather we want to bring its deep peace into the whole of our life. That is why it is prescribed that we take several minutes :~See Mt 19, 17. Centering Prayer Prayer o] Quiet / 659 ~zoming out, moving from the level ot~ deep, self, forgetful contemplation to silent awareness and then a conscious interior prayer, before moving further into full activity. When the time we have determined to pray is over, we stop using the prayer word we have chosen," savor the silence, the Presence, for a bit, and then begin interiorly to pray the "Our Father." I suggest saying the "Our Father." It is a perfect prayer, taught us by the Lord himself. We gently let the successive phrases come to mind. We savor' them, enter into them. What matter if in fact it takes a good while. It is a beginning of letting our contemplative prayer flow out into the rest of our live~. A Valuable Asceticism I strongly recommend two periods of contemplative prayer in the course of a day. It introduces into our day a good rhythm: a period of deep rest and refreshment in the Lord flowing out into eight or ten hours of fruitful activity, and then anotho: period of renewal to carry us through (what is for almost everyone today) a long evening of activity. This is certainly much better than trying to base sixteen hours of activity on the morning prayer. Twenty minutes seems to be a good period to start with. Less tharl this hardly gives, one a chance to get fully into the prayer and be wholly re-freshed. Some will feel themselves drawn to extend the period to twenty-five or thirty minutes or perhaps thirty-five. On a day of retreat or when we are sick in bed, and our activity is curtailed, we can easily add more periods of .contemplative prayer. This might be better than prolonging individual periods. Those who are generally living a contemplative life'may find somewhat longer periods helpful. For most of. us, the real asceticism of this form ot~ prayer comes in scheduling into*our daily life two periods for it. Once we are going full steam, it is difficult to stop, drop everything, go apart and simply be to the Lord. And yet there is a tremendous value ,here. All of us theoretically subscribe to the theme, "Unless the Lord build the house, in vain the masons toil." But in practice most of us work as though God could not possibly get things done if we did not do them for him.The fact is there is nothing that we :are doing that God could not raise up a stone in the field to do for him. The realization of this puts us in our true place. Though, lest we do get too defeated by such a realization, let me hastento add that there is one thing that we alone can give God-- our personal love. The very God of heaven and earth wants, and needs because he wants, our personal love. And if, while we pray, someone 'has to wait at our door, for ten or fifteen minutes, he will probably learn a lot about prayer while he waits-- certainly more than if he were inside listening to us talk about prayer. 4See below, under Rule 2. 660 / Review Ior Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 Actions speak louder than words. Those around us will not fail to notice, even though we might prefer they would not, when we begin to give prayer prime time in our busy lives. Rule Two: Alter resting ]or a bit ~it~ the center in ]aith-lull love, we take up a single simple word that expresses this response attd begiu to let it repeat itsel] within. As the author of The Cloud puts it: "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 . Be careful in this work and never strain your mind or imagination, for truly you will not succeed in this way. Leave these faculties at peace" (c.4,7). What we are concerned with here is a simple, effortless prolongation ~'or abiding in the act of faith--love--presence. This is so simple, so effort-less, so restful, that it is a bit subtle and so needs some explanation. A spiritual act is an instantaneous act, an act without time, "The will needs only this brief fraction of a moment to move toward the object of its desires" (The Cloud, c.4). As soon as we move in love to God present in our depths, we are there. There a perfect prayer of adoration, love and presence is. And we simply want to remain there and be what we are: Christ responding to the Father in perfect Love, the Holy Spirit. To facilitate our abiding quietly there, and to bring our whole being as much as 'possible to rest in this abiding, after a brief experience of silent presence we take up a single~ simple word that expresses for us our faith-love movement. We have seen that the author of The Cloud suggests such words as "God" or "love." A word in the vocative case seems usually to be best. We begin very simply to let this word repeat itself within us. We let it take its own pace, louder or softer, faster or slower; it may even drift off into silence. "It is best'when this word is wholly interior without a definite thought or actual sound" (The Cloud o[ Unknowing, c. 4). We might think of it as though the Lord himself, present in our depths, were quietly repeating his own name, evoking his presence and very gently summoning us to an attentive response. We are quite passive. We let it happen. "Let this little word represent to you God .in all his fullness and 'nothing less than the fullness of God. Let nothing except God hold sway in your mind and heart" (The Cloud, c.4). The subtle thing here is the effortlessness. We are so .used to being effortful. We are a people out to succeed, to accomplish, to do. It is hard for us to ',let go" and let God do. Yet we have but to let go and let it be done unto us according to his revealed Word. The temptation for us is to change the quiet mental repetition of the prayer-word (which simply pro-longs a state of being-present) into an effortfui repetition of an ejaculation Centering Prayer Prayer ol Quiet / 661 and to use it energetically to knock out any thoughts or "distractions" that come along.' This brings us to our third rule. Rule Three: Whenever in the course o[ the prayer we become aware o] any-thing else, we simply gently return to the prayer word. I want to underline that word aware. Unfortunately we are not able to turn off our minds and imaginations by the flick of a switch. Thoughts and images keep coming in a steady stream. "No sooner has a man turned toward God in love when through human frailty he finds himself distracted by the remembrance of some created thing or some daily care. But no matter. No harm done: For such a person quickly returns to deep recollec-tion" (The Cloud, c.4), In this.prayer we go below the thoughts and images offered by the mind and imagination. But at times they will grab at our attention and try to draw it away from the restful Presence. This is so because thoughts or images refer to something that has a hold on us, something wefear, or desire, or are in some other way intensely involved with. When we become aware of these thoughts, if we continue to dwell on them, we leave our prayer and become involved again in tensions. But if, at the moment we become aware, we simply, gently, return to our prayer-word (thus implicitly renewing our act of presence in faith-full .love), the thought or image with its attendant tension will be released and flow out of our awareness. And we will come into a greater freedom and peace that will remain with us after our prayer is ended. Should some thought go on annoying you demanding to know what you are doing, answer with this one word alone. If your mind begins to intellectualize over the meaning and connotation of this little word, remind yourself that its value lies in its simplicity. Do this and I assure you these thoughts will vanish (The Cloud o! Unknowing, c.7). We can see how pure this prayer is. In active forms of prayer we use thoughts and images as sacramentals and means for reaching out to God. In this prayer we go beyond them, we leave them behind, as we go to .God himself abiding in our depths. It is a very pure act of faith. Perhaps in this prayer we will for the first time really act in pure faith. So often our faith is leaning on the concepts and images of faith. Here we go beyond them to the Object' himself of faith, leaving all the concepts and images behind. We can see, too, how Christian this prayer is. For we truly die to our-selves, our more superficial selves, the level of our thoughts, images and feelings in order to live to Christ, to enter into our Christ-being in the depths. We "die" to all our thoughts arid imaginings, no matter how beau-tiful they may be or how useful they might seem. We leave them all be-hind, for we want immediate contact with God himself, and not some thought, image or vision of him-~only the faith-experience of himself. "You are to concern yourself with no creature, whether material or spiri- 662 / Review 1or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 tual, nor with their situation or doings, whether good or ill. To put it briefly, during this work you must abandon them all" (The Cloud o[ Un-knowing, c.5). "By Their Fruils . . ." There is another consequence of this transcending of thought and image. This prayer cannot be judged in itself. As it goes beyond thought, beyond image, there is nothing left by which to judge it. In active medita-tion, at the end of the prayer we can make some iudgments: "I had some good thoughts, I felt some good affections, I had lots of distractions, and so forth." But all that is irrelevant to this prayer, If we have rots of thoughts--good, lots of tension is being released; if we have few thoughts --good, there was no need for them. The same for feelings, images, and more. All these are purely accidental; they do not touch the essence of the prayer, which goes on in all its purity, whether these be present or not. There i~ nothing left by which to judge the prayer in itself. If we simply follow the three rules, the prayer is always good, no matter what we think or feel. There is, however, one way in which the goodness of this pra)Ter is con-firmed for us. Our Lord has said, "You can judge a tree by its fruits." If we are faithful to this form of prayer, making it a regular part of our day, we very quickly come to discern--and often others discern it even more quickly--the maturing in our lives of the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, benignity, kindness, gentleness--all the fruits of the Spirit. I have experienced this in my own life and I have seen this again and again in the lives of others, sometimes in a most remarkable way. What happens, ¯ the way the Spirit seems to bring this about, is that in this prayer we experi-ence not only our oneness with God in Christ, but also our oneness with all the rest of the Body of Christ, and indeed with the whole of creation, in God's creative love and sharing of being. Thus we begin, connaturally as it were, to experience the presence of God in all things, the presence of Christ in each person we meet. Moreover, we sense a oneness with them. From this ~flows a true compassion--a "feeling-with." This contemplative prayer, far from removing us from others, makes us live more and more conscious of our oneness with them. Love, kindness, gentleness, patience grow. Joy and peace, too, in the pervasive presence of God's caring love in all. Not only does contemplative prayer help us to take possession of our real transcendent relationship with God in Christ, but also of our real relationship with each and every person in Christ. 'Charismatic Spirituality and. the Catechist Johannes Ho[inger, S.J. Father Hofinger is well known for his work and writing in the field of catechetics. He resides at the Center of Jesus the Lord~; 1236 N. Rampart St.; New Orleans, LA 70116. The true value of any ramification of Christian spirituality must always be judged according to its potential of leading to authentic union with God in a life lived according to God's saving plan. Some valuable side-effects or some partial aspects of this basic criterion cannot ultimately determine the worth of a given spirituality. But good side-effects, too, have their value and deserve to be properly estimated, of course always in the light of the cen-tral aim: an ever closer union with God. With this in mind it may be worthwhile to ask what charismatic spiritu-ality can contribute to a fruitful-engagement in the apostolate of catechetics. A large percentage of religious serve the Kingdom of God in one or other activity'involving religious education. A continuously growing number of them also participate in charismatic prayer meetings. Thus the question may well arise: what can authentic charismatic spirituality contribute to their cate-chetical apostolate?. How can genuine charismatic spirituality dispose them to become ever more perfectly what Christ expects of them if they are to proclaim with him the Good News of God's saving love.? No one would say that all who regularly participate in charismatic prayer meetings have therefore grasped genuine charismatic spirituality and really live it, just as no one would contend that all who live in Jesuit communities have grasped and really live genuine Jesuit spirituality. Be-cause of this, it is definitely meaningful to make explicit inquiry into the apostolic values of the spirituality of Jesuits---or of charismatics. 663 664 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 The Pentecostal Origin of Christian Catechesis Before entering into an analysis of charismatic spirituality and its potential for the catechetical apostolate, it may be worthwhile to remember the pentecostal origin of Christian catechesis. The New Testament is very explicit in this regard. True, all gospels mention how, even before Pente-cost, Christ had commissioned his disciples to preach the Good News in his name, but John (14, 15-17) and Luke (24, 49; Ac 1, 8) insist that Christ explicitly promised them the indispensable assistance of the Holy Spirit in order to fulfill their difficult task. In Acts 2 we are given a detailed report as to how the first powerful proclamation of the Good News started with Pentecost. It may truly be said, then, that Christ formed his first messengers through the Holy Spirit. The catechesis of the primitive Church was plainly charismatic in character. To this historical fact Acts and the epistles of the apostles give irrefutable testimony. The starting point of the original evangelization is the pentecostal experience of the life and exaltation of the risen Christ, the emphatic proclamation that he is Lord. "All the people of Israel, then, are to know for sure that it is this Jesus, whom you nailed to the cross, that God has made Lord and Messiah" (Ac 2, 36). This experience of the apostles was so overwhelming that they could simply not cease to speak of what they had seen and heard (see Ac 4, 20). The extraordinary results of this apostolic preaching were not due to any particular method, but to the religious depth of their charismatic ex-perience and the power of the Holy Spirit which accompanied it. "When I came to you," St. Paul reminded the Corinthians, "I was weak and trembled all over with fear, and my teaching and message were not de-livered with skillful words of human wisdom, but with convincing proof of the power of God's Spirit. Your faith, then, does not rest on man's wisdom, but on God's power" (1 Co 2, 3-5. See also Ga 3, 1-5). Is there any indication in the Scriptures or in ecclesial tradition that God later on wanted to lose the original intimate connection of charismatic experience and the proclamation of his Good News? What does the testi-mony of history tell us about the spirituality of the most outstanding heralds of the Gospel throughout all the centuries? Surrender to Christ Even a good number of charismatics may not be sufficiently aware of what constitutes the basic charismatic experience. They may overrate some valuable, particular gift such as prophecies, healing, or the gift of speaking or singing in tongues, and not see these particular gifts clearly enough against the background of the much more' fundamental gift which consists in the total surrender to Christ under the impulse of the Holy Spirit. Surely we cannot blame the Scriptures for such misunderstandings. Although they were showered with the particular gifts we have just men- Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 665 tioned, the e.mphasis of the primitive Church and of its leaders rested unequivocally upon the overwhelming experience they had of God's saving power and love as experienced in their Spirit-given encounter with Christ the Lord and Savior. This holds good not only for the very first disciples who personally have seen and heard the risen Christ, but also for the others who, on the word of the apostles, believed in Christ and accepted him as the Lord of their lives. The original preaching of the Gospel was the enthusiastic proclama-tion of God's saving power with the Christ-event at its very center. "It is the.Good News," St. Paul wrote to the Romans: "I preach, the message about Jesus Christ . . . the secret truth which was hidden for long ages in the past. Now, however, that truth has been brought out into the open" (Ro 16, 25f). It is "a message that is'offensive to the Jews and nonsense to the Gentiles; but for those whom God has called . . . this message is Christ who is the power of God and the wisdom of God" (1 Co 1, 23f). The effect which this faith-surrender to Christ should have on our lives is perhaps nowhere described as impressively as in the writings of St. Paul. In Chapter 3 of his letter to the Philippians--his favorite Christian com-munity- he described the first impact of this surrender to Christ as he experienced it in his own life. After his encounter with Christ (which was real, but definitely charismatic in character) he says, "All things that I might count as profit I now reckon as loss, for Christ's sake. Not only those things; I reckon everything ~s complete loss for the sake of what is so much more valuable, the knowledge of Christ my Lord. For his sake I have thrown everything away; I consider it all as mere garbage, so'that--I might gain Christ, and be completely united with him . All I want is to know Christ and to experience the power.of his resurrection; to share in his sufferings and to become like him in his death, in the hope that I myself will be raised from death to life" (Ph 3, 7-11 ). St. Paul leaves no doubt that he .expects a similar Christ experience in the lives of all His friends. Significantly he concludes this passage of his epistle with the remark: All of us who are spiritually mature should have this attitude . Keep on imitating me, my brothers. We have set the right example, for you, so pay attention to those who follow it" (Ph 3, 15-17). Admittedly every surrender to Christ isn't always charismatic to this same degree. The impulse of the Holy Spirit that leads to it is not always experienced with the same awareness and depth of experience that was Paul's. But any true surrender to Christ is in fact always the result of the impulse of the Spirit. "No one can confess 'Jesus is Lord' unless he is guided by the Holy Spirit" ( 1 Co 12, 3). . What is important here is simply this. On the one hand we know that genuine Pentecostalism, as we find it at the beginning of Christianity, has the surrender to Christ as its fundamental experience. On the other hand, we all agree that authentic catechetical activity continues the preaching 666 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 of the Apostles; thus, it, too, must have Christ as its center and it, too, must communicate an existential knowledge of Christ that leads to a life of union with Christ the Lord'. What does this mean for the spiritual life of the religion-teacher him- .self? Must he not first himself live in an exemplary way what he teaches others? Could not the charismatic renewal bring him the spiritual encounter with Christ which is indispensable for his catechetical apostolate? Herald of the Good News The first "Pentecostals" were also the first catechists of the early Church. Although Christ had commissioned the Twelve with the proclama-tion of the Good News, and although they must have been aware of their apostolic obligation, there is nothing to indicate that their preaching was primarily the discharge of an incumbent task, but was rather the spontane-ous consequence of their overwhelming experience of God's saving power. Their own deep and joyful experience simply compelled them to com-municate their own spiritual riches. In the pentecostal movement of our times there is question again of a very similar experience. Whatever one may think of this movement, it is impossible to deny the fact of its tremendous evangelizing power which results from the experience of God's forgiving love. For various reasons the pentecostal experience may not always be equally sotind, but we should not overlook its unusual power of communication. Fundamentally it is the joyful experience of liberation and salvation through the undeserved love of God. Fcr a long time we did not stress enough in Catholic catechetics and homiletics the essentially joyful character of God's message which, by its very nature, is the "gospel," the "Good Tidings." The way, for example, that the message was presented for a long time in the Baltimore Catechism surely did not do justice to the "evangelic" character of God's saving mes-sage. Sorry to say, very few priests and even bishops noticed that some-thing was wrong. The kerygmatic renewal of the late 50's and early 60's opened our eyes; yet there was still much to be desired. All too many re-ligion teachers considered kerygmatics only as a new "method," and did not even grasp its basic point. What kerygmatics intended before all else was a new religious attitude on the part of the teacher himself, not simply a change of textbooks. The teacher of religion is called to proclaim. God's message as Good News. But he cannot do this properly if he has not first in his own life experienced the Christian religion as a liberating power and as the source of deep, interior peace and joy. As long as Christianity for the teacher of religion ,means primarily a matter of inescapable duty or a complex of "good and venerable traditions" which, after all, still deserve to be kept, he will never become a true "evangelizer." His message may be correct, but Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 667 it will not be the "Gospel" which God intended to be given to his beloved children. It would be naive to think that only within the charismatic renewal of our times can the Christian message and Christian life be experienced as the source and guarantee of deep and lasting joy., But it is sufficient ,for our purpose here simply to show that authentic charismatic renewal can make a valid and powerful contribution in this regard. Catechetical and Religious Concentration Before Vatican II Catholic preaching and religious observance often suffered from a deplorable lack of concentration on the essentials, a fact which caused real scandal to our fellow-Christians. That devotional themes, often presented in a sentimental way, could for so long a~ time hold a preferential position .before essential themes, such as the meaning of the Holy Spirit, of true conversion and justice--and this even in the priestly catechesis in the course of the Eucharist--was a fact which clamored for correction. This is not the place to demonstrate how much the Council was aware of this shortcoming, and how it tried to remedy it (see, e,g., J. Hofinger, Our Message is Christ/Notre Dame, Fides, 1974; pp. 6-8). Preconciliar religion teachers (priests, religious, and lay-teachers alike) were usually very cohcerned about the orthodoxy of their teaching. Their c6ncern resulted from the conviction that, in the teaching of religion, the teacher is acting as a messenger of. God whose saving word must be faith-fully transmitted from generation to generation without any falsification. (In fact, we religion teachers of today could learn much from our predeces-sors and their concern to be faithful messengers of God!) But, while giving full credit to the validity of this concern, we might also mention that authentic orthodoxy in the messenger was often understood in much too narrow a way. In order to transmit a given message correctly and faithfully, it is not endugh merely to avoid particular statements which contradict the original message. A faithful messenger must also concentrate upon the central idea of the message that is given to him. He must make sure that all who listen to him grasp at least the main message and act accordingly. Secondary e~lements must be relegated to the peril0hery, or even .omitted altogether in circumstances in which the solid presentation of the more important ele-ments might demand it. Teachers of religion who speak more about the Little Flower or about Fatima than they do about the Holy Spirit are not heretics in the technical sense. But they do commit, objectively, a serious fault against one indispensable element of' their role as conscientious messengers. Historical studies of the last thirty years have proven convincingly that the. evangelization of the early Church excelled in its concentration upon the core of the Christian message. In our times, we might almost be 668 / Review lor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 shocked by this resolute concentration, putting, as it does, its whole empha-sis on the core, while it remains surprisingly broad-minded in treating of the rest. The early catechesis forcefully proclaimed God's saving love "now," in the fullness of time, offered to everyone who accepts this love and believes in~.Christ the Lord and Savior. The center of the original message was, beyond any doubt, the Christ-event: tile exaltation of Christ crucified as the Lord of all. It is a joyful message of salvation, but it de-mands a thorough change of life. Ih the name of his Heavenly Father, the risen Christ calls his beloved brothers and sisters to a new life; he fills them with his Spirit; he unites them with himself in a communion .of life and love. The charismatic renewal has as its special purpose a ~horough renova-tion of Christian faith and Christian life in the spirit of its origins. Catholic charismatics are sufficiently aware that we cannot simply copy the primitive Church. Mere .pristine returns never work in history. But from the spirit of the early Church we can all learn. In dealing with the renewal of religious life, th~ Council rightly insisted that authentic renewal in a religious community must be characterized by the revival of the original spirit of the particular institute. This principle is equally valid for any authentic renewal in the Church as a whole. And the return to the original spirit of Pentecost and of the early Church includes, as one of its main points, a healthy concentration upon the essentials of both the Christian mes-sage- and the Christian life. Charismatic renewal in our times has under-stood this, and so has resulted in a noticeable improvement among its adherents precisely in this regard. It is only realistic to note the fact that many of our most dedicated religion teachers come from those segments of the Christian people who were deeply influenced by the earlier, more devotional approach to re-ligion. These individuals often excel in their abundance of good will. But, at the same time, in their spiritual life they lack this necessary concentra-tion which, thus, was also lacking in their catechetical activities. It is en-tirely possible that participation in one or other solid charismatic p~:ayer group could help them to develop still more what was best in their earlier experience and, at the'same time, introduce into their lives and into their teaching the concentration that is so necessary to any life of faith and of apostolate. Importance of Prayer and Religious Experience The concentration that characterized evangelization and life in the early Church was not the product of professional theological reflection, but rather the result of God's gracious outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This outpouring was received in a situation of personal encounter with God expressed, above all, in prayer. The Pentecostal experience, throughout, was distinguished by exuberant and powerful religious emotions, but 'not in Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 669 the sense of a purposeless emotionalism in which emotions figured as ends in themselves. Rather the experience was the result of their vivid aware-ness of our Lord's presence among them and of their astonishment about the marvels God had accomplished in their midst (see Ac 2:11 ). The Acts and all the epistles of the canon present" in this regard a similar picture. Apostolic preaching and apostolic ministry'was not geared to the cultivation of exuberant but irrational emotions. Rather they were geared to the implantation of faith in the sense of an unconditional accept-ance. of the gospel which was then, under the guidance of the Spirit, to lead to an authentic r61igious experience with profound and vigorou.s emotions. Whenever it came to the point of an overflow of emotions, the Apostles insisted upon the necessity of discernment and balance (see, for example, 1 Co 12:3; 14:23, 33; 1 Th 5:19-22). The pentecostal movement of our century must be understood as a re-action against a one-sided rational approach to religion; one which did not do iustice to its emotional side. In this reaction, the movement may at times have expressed itself exaggeratedly in the opposite direction. Still, overall, it would be easy to show that Catholic charismatics have moved toward a sound balance of religious insight, commitment and sentiment just as they have also demonstrated an awareness of their Catholic identity, keeping themselves open to the recommendations and warnings of. the best Catholic spiritual traditions. Even in cases where groups have yet to reach this de-sired balance, we still have to acknowledge their valuable contribution to religious renewal in bringing so many people to a new appreciation and practice of genuine prayer, and through their insistence on more spontaneity in the expression of religious conviction and sentiments. The significance of this contribution for catechetics becomes immedi-ately evident as soon ~as we try to evaluate it against the backg~:ound of our present catechetical situation. An impartial assessment o1~ this present situa-tion would disclose an unprecedentedly low general interest in religion, which stems primarily from our present culture with its secularized outlook on life. In this kind of situation, we need a powerful catechetical movement, one which insists above all on a new awareness of God in life, one which helps those affected to encounter God again in a very existential way. Yet, in fact, we have to admit that the catechetics of the past ten years have more and more stressed the merely human aspects of religious education, that catechetics have quite often favored a secularized outlook on life in-stead of a genuinely religious approach to it. Misled by a wrong interpreta-tion of God's immanence in his world, teachers of religion today seem.to be inclined to content themselves more and more with the "discovery" of inner-worldly values and with a proper use of such values in life without ascending from them to God, to a personal encounter with God in genuine prayer. Thus, catechetics in the past ten years may often have neglected, the 670 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 vertical dimension in the process of religious education, but they have surely not neglected at ail to stress the great importance of spontaneity, of gen-uine human experience and emotions in all spheres of'human activity. Mod-ern man, growing up as he is in a secularized culture, may find great difficul-ties in discovering God. But whenever he does discover God and does come to personal contact with ~him, modern man definitely favors the kind: of dialogue which is characterized by great spontaneity and by 'the engage-ment of strong emotions. Especially among younger people, today's person shox~s interest only in a religious movement which gives a great deal of room for spontaneity, for emotional expression. The Spirit of Community The charismatic spirituality of the early Christians was distinguished by conspicuous spontaneity. But this spontaneity must not be misinterpreted as religious individualism! Their pentecostal experience united them inti-mately into a single, closely knit community. When Luke describes (Ac 2:42-47) the life of the first Christians, he may well have idealized somewhat the historical reality. But he certainly expressed well the ideal image which the early Church had formed of herself and which she labored to realize in the various Christian communities of those early days--of course without ever realizing this ideal. Luke, of course, is fully aware of the leaciing position of the Apostles and of their important task, and even stresses it in unambiguous fashion. However, as he portrays her, the early Church is above all a communion of life and of love. His pentecostal community is exactly the ideal of what we call now-a-days the "basic community." There is no ~need to enter here upon an historical investigation of the causes which led this initial ideal of the Christian life to lose its original ur-gency and attraction. Suffice it to say that the change definitely did not come from a change on the part of the Holy Spirit and of his basic in-spiration. Rather it stemmed from a change on the part of ~the Christians-who did not listen to the Holy Spirit in the same way as did the first Chris-tians. As a result of unfavorable influences from without, and from a faulty development within the Church, Catholic theology and its catechetics have, for a long time, overly stressed the ingtitutional aspect of the Church. It needed the assistance of the Holy Spirit in the last council to restore once more the right balance, to see the Church again as, above all, a "communion" (withou.t forgetting or minimizing the God-given aspects of its institutional character). The General Catechetical Directory, published by the Holy See in 1971 as a guideline for all catechetical work, tries to make teachers of religion aware of this shift in emphasis: "The Church is a communion: She herself acquired a fuller awareness of that truth in the Second Vatican Council" (n. 66). Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 671 In order to experience once again the Church as a communion of life and love, there is need for more than a mere shift in catechetical emphasis. There is. need for the formation of relatiVely sma.ll but dynamic Christian communities which can truly come to this experience. Our typical mammoth parishes cannot achieve this experience unless they build up within their structure much smaller groups of deeply committed Christians. Since the begin~ning of this century, small groups have been forming themselves in this renew~il of pentecostal experience. For the most part non- Catholic, these bands have regularly shown strong cohesion within the par-ticular group, while at the same time manifesting little concern for the universal church, coupled with a noticeable tendency to split among them-selves into yet smaller groups with markedly~ sectarian attitudes. Many years' later, when the pentecostal movement began to lay hold of Catholic circles, many feared that something similar would happen among Catholic charismatics. In fact, however, just the opposite took place. Pre-cisely at the time when many Catholics began to waver in their loyalty to the Church, the overwhelming majority of Catholic charismatics "were giv-ing convincing proofs of their loyalty. In fact, through the charismatic move-ment,, many Catholics found a new and vital contact with the institutional Church. In fact, an impartial assessment would lead to the impression that, in the overall scene; there is more interest on the part of charismatic groups in the institutional Church than there is interest on the part of the parochial clergy to provide pastoral care for the charismatic groups within their area --and this at a time when we desperately need the development of such small groups within the Church. It is not impossible that participation in some solid charismatic group. could give to today's religion teacher a valuable experience of Christian community of precisely the kind that he would need in order to present the Church'as a communion! A Zest for Scripture One characteristic feature of pentecostal spirituality is a zest for Scrip-ture. We encounter this everywhere in pentecostal prayer-meetings and in the members' daily prayer-life. This zest for Scripture comes from the first "Pentecostals"; it is a basic element of the spirituality of the early Church. In fact, we can even say that it is a valuable heritage which the young Church received from the Synagogue. The painful break with the Synagogue did not affect Christian attitudes toward the Scripture. Rather, early Chris-tians continued in their deep appreciation and ardent use of them. In our own time, many Catholics found new access to Scripture through the charismatic renewal. True, long before the beginning of Catholic charis-matic renewal, there was in the Church a powerful biblical renewal which had a decisive impact on the discussions and decisions of Vatican II. Just a few years before the first Catholic charismatic groups started, the Council had 672 ,/ Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 already vindicated, with unusual emphasis, the role of the Scriptures in authentic Christian spirituality (see Constitution on Revelation, nn. 21-26). There is no need for us to decide here which had in fact brought more Catholics back once again to the Scriptures: the teachings of Vatican II or the later charismatic prayer-meetings, It is sufficient for our purpose simply to point out that a genuine zest for Scripture and its religious wealth is not just a fad among charismatics, but an indispensable element of the spiritual-ity which is to be expected from any true Christian, and, of course, most especially, from the teacher of religion who acts as a messenger of God. Vatican II tells us: "In the sacred books, the Father who is in heaven meets his children with great love and speaks with them; and the force and power in the word of God is so great that it remains the support and energy of the Church, the strength of faith for her sons, the food of the soul, the pure and perennial source of spiritual life" (Constitution on Revelation, n. 21). If the Council really meant what it so emphatically stressed, what must follow for anyone who would take the Council seriously? In describing charismatic spirituality, we are fully aware that any move-ment like the pentecostal renewal is going to include groups which express and live this spirituality with enormous differences of perfection. It could easily happen that a given individual sincerely appreciates charismatic spirituality, yet is not at all satisfied with its realization in the group which meets next door. In such a situation, his remedy may well be to seek out another, more congenial group. The ideal solution for teachers of religion who work as a team~would be to form their own group from the members of the. team. That wotild, be the best answer to their special needs and to their particular aspirations. The Rope When a man reaches the' end of his rope, he comes to the beginning of God. Edward A. Gloeggler P.O. Box 486 Far Rockaway, NY 11~91 On Burying Our Isaacs Sister Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J. Sister Mary Cath~erine has been a frequent contributor to ,our pages, her last having appeared in the March issue. Her address in the coming year will be: St. loseph's Provincial House; 91 Overlook Ax;e.; Latham, NY 12110. Th~ word of God is something alive and active: it i~uts',like any double-edged sword but more finely: it can slip through the place ~vhere the soul is divided from the spirit, or joint.s from the mar~row; it can judge the secret emotions and thoughts. No created thing can hide from him; everything is uncovered and open to the eyes of the one to whom we must give an account of ourselves (Heb 4, 12-13). It happened Sometime' ,later that God put Abraham to the test (Gn 22, 1). Abraham was a vulnerable man. He could never-quite master the art ~of resisting God. Always, he was too available. Had he been a more pragmatic human being, he would have quickly cultivated a quality of deafness where God.was concerned---rr at least a fair pretense of it. But that was his weak-ness: he was too receptive. Whenever God called, he answered. Such alacrity can be dangerous, especially wtiere Yahweh is involved. He is all-consuming. And so when, after a short span of years of relative peace and quiet, God once again cried out his name: "Abraham~ Abraham," our Old Testa-ment forefather responded as could be expected: "Here I am." He should have known better. He should have realized toe incipient danger of those words, because he had uttered them before and they had cost him quite a bit of pain. In ~fact, they had brought him to where he was then: in a strange land of strange people with a young son, the fruit of his and Sarah's old age. It had been a weary journey to this destination, filled with suffering and hope, alienation and promise, discouragement and fulfillment. But today, existence was peaceful and ,.God was benign and Abraham was happy in the new life growing up around him: Isaac, his son. So he never should have " 673 674 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 answered with such openness, such literalness, when he said: "Here I am." Those three words capsulized a whole lifetime of givenness and surrender on Abraham's part and God knew that. He knew the implied depths of Abraham's response because long ago he had blasted his foundation, carved him out, and molded him in faith. So God was not surprised at Abraham's reply. Hehad tested him before. Purgation is a messy business. No matter how finely wrought the.instru-ment, there is always pain and a certain amount of blood-letting. Ironically, although we are quite familiar with the concept, we are never much at ease in the throes of the process. Double-edged swords are dangerous, especially the ones that slip into the hidden place "where the soul is divided from the spirit," because eventually they strike the heart. Abraham had been prodded and probed before. But he had also lived long enough to realize that there are always untouched recesses, crevices of the heart, where the finger of God has not yet been felt. One of those crevices contained Isaac. And so Yahweh commands: "Take your son, your only child Isaac, wh~m you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There you shall offer him as~a burnt offering, on a mountain I will point out to you" (Gn 22, 2). God couldn't have~ been more blunt nor, apparently, more unfeeling~ With near ferocity, he highlights the very nadir points involved in Abraham's sacrifice: '~'son," "only child," "Isaac," "whom you love." And then he conjures up a picture of that supple-limbed first fruit of endless expectation: blackened--a burr~t offering on a wilder-ness mountaintop. Abraham makes no response because he has already made the 'total one of "Here I am." We are. simply told that early next .morning he rises and begins the three days' journey to Moriah. Whatever the outcome, the journey itself is part of the purgation, is already a piece of the burnt offer-ing, and the fact that.it is leading to final consummation only intensifies the pain. Anguish is not a very communicable emotion. It is too deep for utter-ance. So insistent is it that all other~feelings.give way before its flood. So Abraham says little on the pilgrimage to holocaust, but in grim irony loads Isaac with the wood and himself takes the knife and the fire. In stolid faith, Abraham bears in his own hands the purgative instruments that will cut. and sear his son. But more deeply, he bears the instruments that will cut and sear himsel[.olsaac is to suffer a holocaust ,of body; Abraham suffers a holocaust of heart. iOutrage always accompanies the destruction.of an innocent---outrage on the part of the non-participants. But who can fathom the outrage Abraham feels as he binds his only son and lays him on the altar? We cannot begin to plumb the depths of his grieving heart that still believes in the~irrevocable word of Yahweh. "Abraham stretched out his hand and seized the knife to kill his son" (Gn 22, 10). On Burying Our "lsaacs / 675 Once again the cry comes: "Abraham, Abraham" and once again the familiar responseis given:. ','I am here." And then come the sal~,ific words: "Do not raise your hand against the boy; do not harm him, for now I know you fear God. You have not refused me your son, your only son" (Gn 22, 11~13). Isaac is spared. What about Abraham? The holocaust of the body does not occur; the holocaust of the heart is complete. We are accustomed to naming Abraham our "Father in Faith." Is he not also the ',Father of Freed Love!'? All the time he thought the journey was made to annihilate Isaac. Now he discovers that it was made to annihi-late Abraham. Father van Breemen in his book, Called By Name, offers the following analysis: When Abraham descends from tl~e mountai'n~ with his son, both he and Isaac have changed; something has happened on that hilltop . Like a tree which has been turned full circle in the ground, Abraham's~roots have been cut loose, and he has returned a new man (p. 19). in what does his newness consist?' Abraham comes down the mountain with a living Isaac: Yetsomething in both of them is dead. Because he wag bent over the prone Isaac on the altar, we Could not 'see the pain in Abra-ham'S eyes, the look of utter bewilderment at what he was about to do, the trembling terror at the death of love by his o~wn hand. But Isaac could see~ And in that look of love that 'was exchanged b6tw~en them--father and son--the holocaust of the heart is accomplished. In that inst"~n't, Isaac cedes over his life to his father in trust and surrender. And Abraham cedes over his heart to Yahweh in a similar fashion. Because part of Abraham's heart is Isaac, that part of Isaac in Abraham's heart dies forever on Mount Moriah. Abraham returns to Beersheba with a son, but no longer with his son. Isaac is irrevocably gone, yielded over to Yahweh. Isaac returns ~vith a father who is no longer solely his father, but more radically is father to Yahweh's people. Both lose and gain life; both surrender the other and are given the other in return--but transformed. In The Letter to the Hebrews we are told: It was by faith that Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac. He offered to sacrifice his only son even though the promises had been made to him and he had been told: It is through Isaac that your name will be carried on. He was confident that God had the power to raise the dead; and so, figuratively speaking, he was given back Isaac from the dead (Heb 11, 17-19). Centuries later, when speaking of losing and gaining life, Jesus would use the analogy of the wheat grain dying in the earth to produce a rich harvest. We might say that out of.the seed of love for Isaac which Abraham allows to die in the holy ground of Yahweh, com~s the rich harvest of transformed life. For Abraham, indeed, has Isaac back from the dead, but only after he has first let him go. In a sense, he leaves Mount Moriah having buried part of himself and his son there. 676 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 So what does the story mean to us? Certainly we are relieved that Isaac is not slain. We are glad that: Abraham's faith was vindicated: And we hope that we are never put to such a test. It is just such a latter mentality that is our mistake and our misfortune. For we all have our Isaacs--those, hidden crevices of the heart.where we do not even realize that "the soul is divided from the spirit." Unless we are willing to bur), them (our Isaacs) in a holo-caust of: the heart, our faith is weak and our love is unfree. And to that extent We,are poor spiritual progeny of our great desert patriarch. ' The Book of Judith tells us: We should be grateful to the Lord, our God, for putting us to the'test, as he did Our forefathers. Recall how he dealt with Abraham, and how' he tried Isaac; and all that happened to Jacob in Syrian Mesopotamia while he was tending the flocks of Laban, his mother's brother. Not for vengeance did the Lord p,ut them in the crucible to try their hearts, nor has he done so with us. It is by way of admonition that' fie chastises those who are close to him (J~t 8:25-27), Admonition for what? Admonition, so that eventually our hearts in the crucible will be so tot~ally purified'that we will, indeed, have lai~ to final rest all our Isaacs. Admonition, so that eventually our hearts in the cruc!.- ble will be so totally free that we too will be able to respond as did Abraham to Yahweh's cali :~ "Here I am." "The @ord of God is something alive and active"--in Abraham'~ day and in our own.'~Will we let it pierce us, double-edged though it might be? Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation Pedro Arrupe, S.]. Father, Arrupe, General of the Society of Jesus, originallY, gave this talk as part of a series of cbnferences on the 32rid General Congregation which was sponsored by the Centrum lgnatianum Spiritualitatis (CIS; Borgo S. Spirito, 5; C. P. 9048; 00100 Roma, Italy),~which ~s presently preparing the conferences (in the languages in which they were delivered) in book form. I would like to speak tO you about the last section of Decree 4 of the recent 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. As you know, Decree 4 was on "Our Mission Today," and the last section of it dea!.t with "Prac-tical Dispositions." These practical dispo~sitions are applications that follow from t,h~e general decisions and guidelines developed throughout the decree. When the, Congregation states~, in this.decree, that "the mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of which the promotion of jus~tice is an absolute requirement," it is not in the slightest way restricting the purpose, of the Society. That Society was founded, as you know, princi-pally "to serve the divine Majesty and his holy Church, under the Roman Pontiff, th~ Vicar of Christ on earth" and "to devote itself totally to.~the defense and spre~ad of the holy Catholic faith." Those words are taken from the F'ormula ol the Institute, approved by Pope Julius III (MI [ser. 3] I, 375-~76). The Soci.ety's purpose thus remains the same as ever: the ex-pression that,the 32nd General Congregation used is.simply a reformulation to meet the needs of the present-day world, which is characterized by so many and such flagrant injustices. And so, in discussing this D.ecree 4, we are simply showing how the So-ciety i~sflu~f!,~ll!ng its overall purpose:, how it is living up to its mission. The principle~s, attitu~.es and methods that the decree proposes thus acquire a 677 6711 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 universal value much more far-reaching than the Decree itself, since every- ~thing is included in, and exemplified by, the way the Society carries out its purpose. The Originaiity of St. Ignatius The originality of St. Ignatius is to be found, not so much in the rea-sons that he "put down in writing, so as to be able to reflect on them" (Spiritual Diary, Feb. 11, 1544), as in "other illuminations" that he re-ceived from the Holy Trinity, with "feelings of intense emotion" (ibid.). 'Clearly, his originality will keep the same creativity and apostolic vigor down through .history, and the Society of today wants to continue to be--and should continue to be--what St. Ignatius made it. But there are certain moments in history when an inner force appears, stirring that originality to new external manifestations, and its dynamism acts with greater exuberance and creativity. Today is such a moment. In the aggiornamento that Vatican II called for, the Holy Spirit speaks more clearly to the Church (See Per- [ectae Caritatis, 2), and hence to the Society too, inviting us to a "thorough-going reassessment of our traditional apostolic methods, attitudes and in-stitutions, so as to adapt them to the changed conditions of our day" (De-cree 4:9). Our effort, then, after the congregation even more than during it, has to be to discern how we can provide the Society's distinctive service and carry out its mission with all its consequences. The new way of exercising this mission will require of the updated Society new or renewed attitudes, en-deavors, undertakings and institutions, which in turn presuppose new men, similarly reriewed fo~ today's generation. All these elements--"the Society of Jesus, its mission, its apostolate, its way of life"--are closely in~e'rrelated and cannot be considered or achieved separately. We cannot, therefore, discuss how the decree would have us carry out our apostolate, prescinding from our Order's special charism, or from the Jesuit'of today and his life style. In the constant advance of the pilgrim Church, which, vivified' by the Holy Spirit and under his impulse, comes ever closer to Christ (s~e LG 4), amid persecutions from the world" and consolations from God, the 32nd General Congregation is merely one episode in 'the life of this universal Church moving toward its eschatological perfection. The congregation too, as part of humanity and of the people of God, has felt itself inspired, guided and strengthened by that Spirit "who writes and impresses on hearts the law of charity and love" (Introd. to Constitutions, 1.) and keeps pressing toward "what is most conducive" (Sp. Ex. 23). A Return to Sources At this moment of history, the challenge the world offers has'brought the Society to a limit-situation, forcing it to go: back to the original soui'ces Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 679 of Ignatian spirituality, to find there more effective means, to be able to face today's problems vigorously, not only in order to survive, but to come out of them purified and rejuvenated, and thus to.be more apt for giving the Church the service it desires. The return to Loyola, Manresa, Paris, La Storta and Rome was a .spontaneous movement in the Society of Jesus, and especially in the fathers of the General Congregation. We were, and we are, conscious that any renewal must always be inspired by those funda-mental :graces that St. Ignatius received for himself and the whole Society, by those mystical intuitions that begar~ with the spiritual infancy of Ignatius (.God treated him as an infant then, he tells us in his Autobiography) and continued through his full spiritual maturity, when he composed the Con-stitutions. The-me(hod that the congregation suggests for our ~practical applica-tion of what Decree 4 recommends is very simple, yet it is based on a deep theology and a logic and practical sense that give us the greatest guarantees. The Method Is the Message It has been said in another context that "the medium is the message." Here we may say that "the method is the message," because it includes such a wealth of elements that, though perhaps not altogether new, are under-stood and applied in so profound a way that their meaning and implications and correlations give them a great novelty. It is a method that uses new concepts, and when applied, sheds a new light on those concepts on which it is based. This method was not excogitated in an abstract or a priori way, but results fr6m a number of enriching ideas and concepts, of better studied, better tested situations. Thus it arose almost spontaneously, not so much as a logical deduction, but rather as the fruit of many vital° elements and their mutual Correlations, e.g., the concepts of mission, ofcommunity, of interpersonal relations, of service, of authority, bf poverty, and so' forth. It would be very easy to describe superficially thee manner of applying this decree, but that wa3~ we would not reach the real profundity of its method, nor would we catch the meaning and concrete manner of its application. It would b~ totally ineffective to proceed that way. Our deeper know!edge of certain concepts and circumstances enables us to work out a method v,e~ suited to the situations of this new world of ours. Thus, the application of this method, plus the experience, the intuitions and tile difficulties that contact with reality adds to it, enriches the ~concepts and gives them a greater r6alism. But that is not all: our new understanding of the ideas and their prac-tical apostolic applications call for renewed men~.who, incarnating this men-tality, will react in a fresh way, or at least will be able to adapt their ser-vice to the new needs of a Church and of a mankind we see rapidly becom-ing the great, universal human family. 680 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/5 A Process of Reflection and Revision The final section of this decree, subtitled "Practical Dispositions," 6pen~ with a clearly Ignatian principle: "Considering the variety of situations in which Jesuits work, the°General Congregation cannot pi~ovide a single, uni-versally applicable program for producing this awareness and reducing it to 15ractice acco~rding to th~ decisions and guidelines gi,~en. Each province or group of provinces 'must undertake a program of reflection.and a review of our apostolate to discover what action is ,appropriate in each particular con-text" .(4.'71): It is the same princip!e that P.ope Paul stated for the whole Church in his Octogesima adveniens: "Faced with such varying situations, it is hard for Us~to formulate a single statement and propose a Solution with universal validity . It is for the Christian communities to analyse objec-tively their country's situation, to clarify' it in the light ofr'the unchanging words of the gospel" (4). ~ To find the appropriate mode of action, the congregation .gives us tWO basic principles that are implicitly contained in the Constitutions, the norms for the selection of ministries and those for the preparation of the instru-ment. We express these principles today by the terms "discernment" and "continuing formation." They are like two roads leading us to a personal knowledge, a conviction, and a more perfect pe~rformance of what God wants of us at each moment. Discernment , Discernment is, in all its profundity, the best way (I would say, con-sidering it in all its breadth, the only way) to be able to plan and choose among our concrete options, the proper apostolic strategy, in other words, to discover God's will for us here and now. The congregation recommends precisely this to us when it says that we need, "not so much a research program, as a process of reflection and evalua-tion, based on the.Ignatian tradition of spiritual discernment" (4:72). Psy-chological or purely t~chnical procedures are not sufficient; we need a deter-mination to .really "find God," using all the means, objective and subjective, indiVi~dual and collective, social, political, and so forth, through which he manifestos his will to us. A process of this sort requires a special divine assistance and a constant effol:t on our part to rid ourselves of every inordinate affection. For that reason, the °decree very properly underlines the word "indifference," when it tells us: "The primary stress is on prayer and the effort to attain 'indiffer-ence,' that is, an apostolic readiness for anything" (72). The seriousness of this discernment 6alls for thos~e perfect dispositions that St. Ignatius demands' inthe election, that culminating point in his Exer-cises. This .is a divine-human, personal, ecclesial act, inserted into the one plan of salvation that leads to the building up of the Kingdom of Christ in time, and comes, even now,~under eschatological judgment. St. Paul d~fines Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 681 it: "Think+before you do anything; hold on,to what is good and avoid every form of evil" (1 Th 5,21~22)., .4 This~Pauline discernment is not~only a key to the New Testament; it is also a key for apostolic planning in the exercise of our :~'mission," remind-ing us of the interplay of divine grace and human freedom in Christian ilife. Thus the apostle feels integrated into salvation history, associated with the central kairos of the Incarnation and Resurrection, and:the final eschatologi-cal~ kairos. Understood in this,way, discernment explains and renews the meaning of,Ignatian solid pruden(e, "discreet charity," And thus the "mis-sion" received under0obedience can be applied concretely to the different and changeable situations of the problematic of today's world. At the same time, discernment is the great force that enables us" to grow spiritually,,in a rapid but solid way, since it obliges us to have our soul always inca disposition of total detachment from created things. As a conse-quence Of this active-passive "indifference,, discernment disposes the soul for the inspirations of the Spirit, no-matter .how they come or where ~they come-from. In particular, it disposes the soul for that basic inspiration of faith,~ hope and "discreet charity" that awakens it to desire the magis, i.e., to choose always what is better, what iS~"~.'God's will'here and now." An ac-tive indifference, always seeking the'magis, is, indeed, the Ignatian equiva-lent~ of ~"finding God in all things," or as Nadal put it in a dense and pro-found, phrase, the "contemplativus in actione" (contemplative in action). In addition to this inner disposition of Spirit, so necessary for a real dis-cernment, we also need as complete and deep a knowledge as possible of the reality that is the object of our .discernment, so that we can discover in that reality the expression of God's will f6r the world. To discover this, we need, first of all, a real "conscientization,, or critical contact with reality; and after that, an "insertion," an "evaluation," and finally an "incultura-tion." The basic elements of.,this process of discernment and conscientization, of insertion and inculturation~ are described briefly in Octogesima adveniens, which the 32nd General Congregation. quoted. They are: experience, re-flection, choices, action,, a constant reciprocal relationship. These are steps that lead, by their own inner force, to a "change in our.thought patterns and a conversion of souls and hearts so that we can make apostolic decisions" (4:73). ¯ Conscientization To know thoroughly the reality that we meet or in which we live, we need more than a superficial glance at it in a random contact, or a one-time experience of that reality. "Knowing thoroughly"means going beyond a mere spontaneous grasp, to a critical understanding. Real conscientization is a critical insertion into historical reality. This obliges man to accept the role of a subject who makes the world---or better, remakes it. It forces man to 6112 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 create his existence out of the material that life offers him. This is based, naturally, on the human capacity to work consciously on reality: hence conscientization necessarily includes the combination of our reflection on the world and our action on it. It also follows from this that real conscientization has to be a process constantly in act, so that the new reality that is evolving can in turn be grasped in a new conscientization, which again will produce a still newer reality. It is an ongoing process; conscientization is always creative. "Think-ing of the new reality as something-untouchable is simplistic and reactionary, just as much as saying that the old reality was untouchable; if men, as working beings, continue to accept a 'made' world, they will very soon be plunged into a new darkness."' And so, as conscientization increases, the manifestation of.reality also increases, and the penetration of its phenomenological sense. If we merely contemplate reality, we are no more than false intellectualists. Without the binomial action-reflection, there can be no conscientization; in other words, there can be no conscientization apart from practical action. The dialectical unity "action-reflection" will always be man's most distinctive mode of being, his only effective way of changing the world (see ibid. 30). There has to be, therefore, an insertion into reality 'and a reflection on reality. This double function enables us to know and act on re.ality, which in turn then acts on us. In other words, the external reality that we change then changes us in our very. depths, and that very change makes us become "agents for change." This interaction is a manifestation and an effect of the intimate action of the Holy Spirit, who integrates, simultaneously and har-moniously, the progress of a pilgrim mankind toward its true fatherland and each one's growth in divine life that the Spirit cbmmunicates to him. Insertion To~ know reality, to change our attitudes and achieve a true discern-ment, we must first be inserted into reality in an effective way, When I speak of insertion, I am referring to a real, critical insertion among the men of today, in order to create and shape society in an evangelical way. A genuine, insertion thus requires a change of personal attitude, the giving up, under many aspects, of our manner of being, thinking and acting, so we can understand and come closer to the new realities that we want to evangelize. It is a real problem of life and experience, which gives us a special profound and realistic knowledge which makes us solidary with men, particularly with the poor and the weak. Scripture itself and the entire theology of evangelization invite us to this insertion: "To become all things to all men" (1 Co 9, 22), to make other 1(See Paulo Freire, Conscientizaci6n [Sp. version], 2a ed., 30-36, in Coll. Educaci6n hoy, 4, Asociaci6n de publicaciones educativas, Bogot~i). ~ Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 6113 people's problems ours, "to make ourselves servants of others" (Decree 2". 29), to. be "segregatus in evangelium" ["specially chosen to preach the Good News"] (Rom 1, 1), and to become the "salt of the earth" (Mt 5, 13). For that re.ason, the 31st Congregation recommended that our residences be built and set up among workers and the most downtrodden classes, so that Ours, spending their lives with the poor Christ, may [thus] practice their various apostolates (27: 8). This insertion or "incarnation" means solidarity with those who suffer, even to being identified with their lives. Here we find the most profound meaning of the poverty of the poor Christ, whom we want to imitate and follow. That phrase of the Exercises that describes our contemplation "as if I were actually present" (Ex 114)~-takes on a vivid meaning that re-flects the gospel words: "What you did to the least of my brothers, you did to me" (M~ 25, 40). If we juxtapose St. Ignatius's tw.o key lines from the Exercises: "What shall I do for Christ?" (Ex 53) and "being poor with the poor Christ" (Ex 167), with those words of Christ: "What you did to the least of my brothers, you did to me," everything takes on a new light, whose brilliance shakes our consience. It_is the apparition of Christ among the poor, his real presence among them.: This reality of Christ in the world of today plays a decisive role in our choice of ministries and in our lives. "Have we realized that conversion to Christ implies a conversion to our neighbor, particularly our most abandoned neighbor? This requires a change of mentality that is not at all easy, a change of attitude and of life on the personal, collective and apostolic level. In a word, it transports us. to the heart of the painful tension of the election" (ibid. 199). Not every insertion has~ the value and meaning of a truly apostolic in-sertion. To see if our insertion is apostolic, we will have to look for some of its characteristic features. First of all, it should be evangelical, i.e., inspired and guided by the Gospel, by the spirit of the Gospel, which we find in the Beatitudes, in the cross and the resurrection of Christ. On the contrary, an insertion inspired by radicalism or a revolutionary spirit, one seeking class struggle or vindica-tion, one that exalts itself, regarding itself as a model far better than any other, is not the insertion a religious should seek. In practice, we often lose sight of our evangelical spirit, even though we~protest that our aim is to "evangelize." Sec6nd, this insertion should be apostolic, i.e., inspired by an apostolic motivation and idealism, not by merely sociological or humanitarian con- ~iderations, which are a completely different thing. It has to be rooted in '-'(See J. ,Alfaro, "Ejercicios y Constituciones: Unidad Vital," in Mensajero, Bilbao, 1974, 195-199). 61~4 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 faith, built on prayer, purified of all,selfishness. Such an attitude cannot be had from natural forces alone, but comes only from the force of the Spirit. Third, the insertion of the religious has to be the expression of a mission, that is, something more than the fruit of one's own ideas or some project oil-one's own. It has to be the object of a mission that follows, under obedi-ence, God's will, rather than the whims of a self-appointed group thatmakes independent decisions, ignoring or opposing those of their superiors. It must be the result of mission precisely conferred or approved by Obedience. A true insertion requires a series of qualities in the individual or the community: ,. --First of all, it calls for humility and conversion, i.e.; the desire of leading a more evangelical life and the recognition of one's own limita-tions, without considering oneself superior to anyone--and especially without~judging anyone, even if exteriorly he may seem to be leading a less evangelical life. --Second,. such an insertion calls for a clear sense o] one's identity, inas, much as the harsh experiences that can come to those who live such an insertion, and the observance of others' sufferings and injustices can strike us in so forceful and passionate a way as to take away our re-ligious and evangelical sense and lead us to adopt' positions and atti-tudes foreign to the Institute to which we belong. --Third, to be truly and solidly inserted, we need a well'integrated personality, capable of resisting the "shock" caused by the effort of adapting to a very different set of surroundings. Not a few.religious~men and women, full of generosity but without a solidly integrated personal-ity, have lost their vocations because of this "shock," and h'ave then succumbed to irreparable crises. -~Fourth, we need a solid [ormation. Some'have to learn to experience this insertion in surroundings and situations that are not sufficiently formed for that level of hardship. A full insertion into new s.urroundings calls for a very'solid and balanced formation,'which'usually takes a long time and experience. Only a serious preparation can give su~cient maturity and ability to integrate all the elements of the apostolic pro-cess: experience-reflection-choice-action. With it, the insertion can be kept within proper limits and will allow the maximum .of productivity. --Fifth, it requires serious reflection. Experience alone is not enough; it has to be tested by reflection, without which we can never have opti-mum results and avoid the mistakes due to either excess°or deficiency. Reflection on the concrete experience will expand o~r understanding of the situation, and will suggest the proper options find the changes that must be made for a more. effective apostolate. That is, it will make our action not only tend in the right direction, but have some likelihood of continuing and succeeding; too. Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 685 ¯ ---Sixth,~-we need~ close collaboration with others. A genuine insertion invites and produces such collaboration. It is a stimulus and an apt means for fitting into the overall pastoral plan and activities of other groups and sectors. -z-Seventh, we need pluralism. Insertion needs and introduces a broad pluralism in the sense that modes of service have to be different urider differing circumstances. Insertion is not limited to a particular social stratum, e.g., the poor, but takes in all worlds: intellectual, univei'sity, ~ ,.professional, cultural, infracultural, etc. ~ If all these conditions are verified, the insertion will be 'much more ef-fective, organic and "differentiated: W~ will avoidduplications--and 6mis-" sions--of projects and methods for ~vhich, others~ are better qualified; each one will ,produce to the maximiam, having found his plac.e in the overall pastoral' plan of the local and universal Church. This insertion can also resolve the tension betweenthose who learn and those who teach, because, as experience shows, p~articularly in times of rapid change, life and human contact, even with the less cultured and humbler," are a "marvelous school, in which we learn from others th~it very lofty science, the "science of man," which we can never acquire without this contact with reality and every-day life. Insertion will make us feel the need to be always in the posture of a disciple, which is indispensable .for the apostle working for contemporary man in the world of today. Eyaluation TO ~be able to make an objective and effective discernment, so we can give to our labors, 6ur projects and institutions a new orientation, we need not only conscientization iihd insertion, but an~evaluation of our activitie~ too. Decree 4 suggests this to us very clearly: "Where do'we live? Where do we work? How? With whom? What, in the final analysis, really is our in-volvement with, dependence on, or commitment tO ideologies, or to those who wield power? Is it only to the converted that we know how to preach ,Jesus, Christ? These are some Of the questions w~ should ask about ourselves individually, as well as about our commumtles and restitutions (4:74). It0is very important to evaluate~ our acti~'ities and our works. We are urged to make such an evaluation by Decrees 4, 6 and ]5: "Our Mission Today," "The Formation of Jesuits," and "Ceritral Government." Our evalu-ation would consist in analyzing the quantity and quality of the results we are obtaining, in relation to our.objectives, in, order to have some'idea of their effectiveness. Evaluation presupposes that we have'logically ~¢ell-defined goals, suffi-ciently recognized as such.- : o Unfortunately, the Society has not always stopped to evaluat~ its work, or at least it has not always done so with precision, scientifically. Usually, 6116 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/5, it has.gone about this effort in an improVised and haphazard fashio.n, mak-ing obvious, superficial judgments that do not enable us to reach valid con-clusions. What is more, we seem to be afraid of such evaluations at least subconsciously, considering them a threat. When they are asked to rate their efforts, some feel threatened and called into question, as though such a re-quest implied a negative judgment or a challenge to the project in which they are engaged. But an evaluation is the indispensable means for being able to upgrade. our projects. If in certain cases it should turn.out that a certain project.ought to be revised or disappear completely because it no longer accomplishes its purpose,~ or because ~it blocks projects of ~greater importance, that is the moment for Ignatian indifference. Indeed, why should ~we keep a work going that once upon,a time was co~astructive, but now has become an ob-stacle? The sufferings we naturally feel when told to give up some work are not against indifference; they are an understandable human reaction, a normal manifestation of the love we feel for a project on which we' have ~pent.ourselves, perhaps for many years. But such an evaluation has to be made. The argument from authority comes into play here, since not only GC 32, but the Holy Father, too, wants such evaluations (Acta Romana XVI, 432). Moreover, experience a.nd the intrinsic value of making periodic evaluations also. urge us,to make them, if we want to be consistent with the Ignatian magis which bids us always to offer the greatest possible service of God. The 32nd General Congregation recommends, therefore, that "there should be a definite mechanism for the review of our ministries" (4:77). This mechanism is the indispensable condition,.for having an evaluation, and hence a rational "choice of ministries and sel~ting of priorities and pro-grams" (4:75). The congregation therefore added: "Now is a good time to examine critically how these arrangements are working and, if need be, to replace them by others that are more effective and allow for a wider participation in the process of communal discern, ment" (4:77). The data proyided by an evaluation of this sort will be most helpful and even essential for knowing thoroughly the works to be examined by an apostolic discernment, and they will enable u