Suchergebnisse

Issue 51.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1992. ; for religious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 3 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universio,., by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the "Canonical Counsel" department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 V~;ashington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Senti address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, anti additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5.00 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription information and mailing costs. ©1992 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe David J. Hassel SJ Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY/JUNE 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 3 contents life choices 326 A Monastic Way in the World Theresa Mancuso tells of the monasticism she has found herself continuing to live now for ten years in New York City, ever since she left her monastery in upstate New York. 337 I Leap Back Over the Wall Corey S. Van Kuren OFMCap offers reflections on his experience of reentering a religious community. 341 Why We Stay Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ presents a personal witness to a lasting commitment to the religious vocation. 347 When a Sister or Brother Leaves Melannie Svoboda SND offers personal reflections on the departure from religious life of a lifelong friend. transitions 356 The Integral Sabbatical Brian B. McClorry SJ blends the traditional sabbatical elements of coursework and reading with time in a remote wilderness and discovers the riches of the ordinary. 373 Using Ignatian Discernment Philip L. Boroughs SJ applies the Ignatian principles for discernment to a person in a time of transition. scripture and spiritual life 388 A Woman's Compassionate and Discerning Heart Mary Lou Cranston CND examines the compassionate heart of the. woman in 1 Kings 3 as a model for understanding discernment and its relationship to religious obedience and governance. 397 Peter's Characterization in Luke-Acts Lola M. Wells proposes that a unified reading of Luke-Acts provides a valuable portrait of individual discipleship. 3 2 2 Review for Religious 403 Petitionary Prayer in a Biblical Perspective John H. Zupez SJ reflects on the constant value of petitionary prayer especially through a more mature way of entering into our Scriptures. 408 Hasidism, Creation, and the Psalms Joseph Fichtner OSC, guided by the Hasidic tradition, finds in the Psalms an awe-filled creation spirituality alert to the Creator's presence and power. devotional life 417 Marian Spirituality and Apparitions Walter T. Brennan OSM suggests that the proliferation of Marian apparitions leaves us living in a gray area of pastoral judgment and practice, but paradoxically gray is full of color. 424 The Mirror Image in Clare of Assisi Sister Karen Karper develops how Clare presents Christ as the mirror of one's own deepest identity and its apostolic implications. charism and mission 432 Reclaiming Competence Theresa M. Monroe RSCJ indicates that some careful limits and boundaries would protect the creativity our times demand of religious institutes. 453 Restructuring William F. Hogan CSC points out that restructuring in religious congregations must balance the twofold need to maintain institutional essentials and to adapt to the challenges of the mission. 458 reflection Why Claude la Colombi~re? John A. McGrail SJ uses the canonization of Claude la Colombi~re to consider the roots and contemporary value of devotion to the Sacred Heart. departments 324 Prisms 461 Canonical Counsel: Voluntary Exclaustration 469 Book Reviews May-j~une 1992 323 prisms Pope John Paul II seems to be setting a record in saint making. In his various missionary travels, he frequently celebrates the ritual of beatification or can-onization of a woman or man recognized for holiness by the local people. Some are critical of this making of saints. "Out of step with the times," they say. Others just wonder why. We human beings need our heroes and heroines. The stories of women and men who have captured our minds and hearts because of their bravery, their dedicated service, their contribution to a more humane world have been told in every culture and in every age. The names change, the circumstances differ, but the inspiration for human living remains the same. We all seem to be searching for a glimpse or two of heroism not too far from home. Yet some fear or some reluctance appears to stifle, early on, our own desire for the heroic. Various factors may contribute to this reluc-tance. Perhaps pop psychology, too readily imbibed as Gospel, has made us too content with being the ordinary persons we are, too willing to be coddled into a generic self-esteem. Or when heroes are proposed, a mean spirit in us and in our culture may drive us to search out ways to cut these people back down to ordinary size . . . or less. Maybe such behavior flows from a poorly idealized pro-letarian spirit which is a communist residue in us all. Often it seems that heroes or heroines are quickly raised up and 324 Review fbr Relig4ous just as quickly forgotten. Perhaps our enthusiasm for their exam-ple and their deeds lasts no longer than the music or video of the moment. Then, too, we probably fear the disappointment of the hero or heroine letting us down; we surely fear the cost of hero-ism for ourselves. Despite such stifling factors or because of them, our need for inspiring heroism to permeate our everyday world in the living example of contemporary women and men remains. The vari-ous spiritual traditions in the church have been first enfleshed in the lives of women and men before they came to be written down as programs for the following of Christ. Life and ministry shone out in persons with names and faces before any rule or constitu-tions were formulated. There comes a time in every spirituality when structures or formulas or written theological treatises are essential if it is to become a heritage or tradition within the church community. A common way that particular spiritualities have been institutionalized has been through the foundation of religious congregations. Religious life does not exist as a generic reality, but only in particular embodiments, each with its own approved rule of life, an organized spiritual tradition. A religious rule of life, then, not only provides for the identity of a particular reli-gious family as a legitimate form of following Christ, but also ¯ brings that family's prophetic voice to the harmonies and coun-terpoints of the church on earth. The danger of any heritage arises when it becomes a tomb or sculpted sarcophagus, beautiful in its form, but containing disconnected bones devoid of breath. Only heroes and heroines make spiritualities live. Can people live heroic lives in an unheroic age? The answer obviously lies with us. No matter what our spirituality or her-itage may be, the people who embody it for us retain an impor-tance beyond a brilliant theoretical study of a particular charism or some wonderfully fashioned new constitutions. Saints, both old and new, hold out to us the promise that this kind of a fol-lowing of Christ is humanly possible. Requiring a little heroism, perhaps, but humanly possible. Our church and our world need heroes and heroines. Anyone of us who is serious about the spiritual heritage we try to live rec-ognizes the call within it to be heroic. To paraphrase Chesterton, it is not so much that heroism has been tried in our day and found wanting; rather, today we try so little to be heroic. .David L. Fleming SJ May-3~une 1992 325 life choices THERESA MANCUSO A Monastic Way in the World Into the darkness of a cold winter's night, I peer quietly from my third-floor window, reflective after the day's work. Gathering up my briefcase and tightening my gray woolen scarf close about my face, I leave the office and head up Lafayette Street towards the "M" train. This is the evening part of my daily routine, the trip home from work. Upstate far away the semantron sounds over halcyon hills of white birch. Monks and nuns make ready to answer the call of the monastery bell which will soon follow the hol-low rhythm of the semantron. Donning black choir robes, they will take their places for Vespers. Ancient chants will blend harmoniously with the whistling mountain wind as it purrs along the windows of the monastery church. Still living my self-imposed exile of a decade, I walk through the darkening streets of lower Manhattan as falling snow shimmers softly about the dim street lights. I hear down-town church bells chiming six o'clock. The old nostalgia rises as I hustle down broken concrete steps into.the cold, damp tunnel, far from the candlelight kingdom of my monastery home. The "M" train screeches into the sta-tion, jamming to a stop along the drab platform. Doors fling open and I rush to board, jostled by the crowd, my fellow travelers, all scrambling for a seat. Everything monastic, everything I love, is far away and long removed, Theresa Mancuso has been a member of an active religious order and of.a monastic community. She has published on wide-ranging topics 'including religious education, elder abuse, and criminal probation. She lives at 448 Seventh Avenue; Brooklyn, New York 11215. 326 Review for Religious but I carry it still in my heart. Here in the streets of the city or deep beneath them hurling through subterranean corridors on hard cold rails of steel, I ponder the Desert Fathers and the vows I made years ago while walking in their pathways. Every day, five days out of seven, I begin and end my travels at Union Street station in the underside of Park Slope, Brooklyn. It is a poor neighborhood unreclaimed by urban renewal. Trash and waste clutter its curbs and sidewalks, a place where immigrants cling tena-ciously to the fringes of hope that carried them from their homes in Ecuador, Nicaragua, Puerto Rico, parts of Asia, Africa, and Eastern Europe. They work hard here and live hard, struggling to make it on Union Street. These are my neigh-bors and I am theirs. Amid the drama of daily life unfolding here with its stark reality calling me toward a new wisdom, I park my car and climb down the subway steps to board the train to and from Manhattan. Every morning and every evening my meditation begins and ends here, my earnest prayer rising from the cold and lonely street. The crowded train on weekday mornings teaches me much of patience and endurance. Pushing, shoving, sweating, shivering, they board, riders of this underground iron horse, travel-weary as they squeeze into place. Once settled, the subway people sink into watchful silence, hardly raising their eyes yet ever on guard. Destinies mingle here in this place where the sun does not shine and danger is always just a breath away. Muggings and murder are familiar specters in the New York City subway. The security of the monastery is a dream-like state, a fading unfamiliar mem-ory. There is no security here. Here one rides in the arms of Divine Providence, wrapped in total abandonment under the pro-tection of the Mother of God. There are no promises of personal safety in the darkness of this daily voyage underneath the city. I often look about and see prayer happening on the faces of many fellow travelers. Some'read Scripture, openly holding a small Bible on their laps; some say the rosary, while others sit straight with hands folded in the perfect posture of meditation. How true ring the words that rise in my heart as the train rushes forward, "Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us." I often look about and see prayer happening on the faces of many fellow travelers. May-.~une 1992 327 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic V~ay in the IVorld Dirt and discomfort surround me as I call upon the assistance of the Holy Spirit to quiet my soul and prepare my mind to reflect more deeply on that which alone is nec.es~ary. In this, the most unlikely of places, I have learned to make my daily prayer. Well I remember the daily formula used in my earliest experience of religious life, when the superior commenced the community's prayer time with the words: "Let us place ourselves in the pres-ence of God and ask the assistance of the H?ly Spirit to make our meditation well." These words speak themselves in my mind as the subway train runs along the track. The harsh screech of iron wheels blazing along the curved track under the East River assaults my ears as my mind focuses on interior prayer. My eyes meet a kaleidoscope of society, fellow travelers scurrying like ants on their way to anyplace but here. They are part of the collage of prayer that rises in my heart. Sometimes I wrestle with truths of the spiritual life learned in the safe, secure society of robed monks and nuns and I try to apply those truths to today's society, neither safe nor secure. What is monasticism if not the road to repentance? And what is this daily voyage in the belly of the earth if not a journey of repentance? I study my companions .along t_fie way, for they will often teach me without saying a word. Busines~ men and women dressed in smart somber suits, their briefcases clutched with pro-found importance--their presence awakens me to the cries of sec-ular society. I watch students and tourists with backpacks loaded on their shoulders, leftover hippies with long hair tied in greasy ponytails. I observe ill-clad .teenagers late for school or playing hookey, perhaps, instead. The sea of humanity that ebbs and flows around me leads me deeper into contemplation of the Creator who knows them all, each by name, who reads the secrets of their hearts and hears their every longing. My fellow riders are of every race, religion, color, size, and descriptign. Together we hurl through tl~is iron tube deep in the belly of darkness. The homeless are here, too, dreary and desolate, fighting a daily battle with hunger, told, and desperation. They live on the subway trains or ride them until they are evicted, for here at least there is some warmth and shelter from the outdoor elements. Coffee cups are freqtiently extended in their dirty hands under hungry, sad, defeated eyes. What can they not teach me of poverty and penance? Indeed, I am embarrassed at the luxuries I knew in the monastery while they, the poor and dispossessed, not 328 Review for Religiog~ by vow but by reality, have perhaps not for one instant in a life-time known real comfort, security, or personal safety. They force me to reexamine everything I once took for granted. I count their sufferings in vacant eyes and in the biting fatigue on faces worn and haggard. They call me to deeper repentance without saying a single word, me who have enjoyed so much of what they lack. Outside the protection and security of the religious life, outside the shelter of community, I have come to new terms with reality, to understand at last what it really means to have no one and nothing but God. Sometimes the subway poor wander through the train speak-ing loudly, interrupting our smug self-centered silence. We are reading, we are thinking, we are silent; they are begging. They ask for change or a dollar perhaps if they feel lucky. But straphanger charity is always unpredictable. Accursed with misfortune, they ride side by side with the powerful and privileged while I, look-ing from one to the other, remember that poverty has many faces. I see it there, poverty, even among the rich, poverty of spirit and of morals, poverty of faith, bankruptcy of the soul. My heart is forced to consider the meaning of poverty in vows I took so long ago and the poverty I practice today, for after all some kind of poverty is essential to the monastic life. But everything is differ-ent now; I understand for the first time in my life the struggle for survival others must face. When I offer one of them the small and meager gift of a dollar or a dime, I know that I am here not for the purpose of teaching them but in order that I may learn. So different from the monastery classroom, this too is an education of the heart. When I left the monastery ten years ago, I fully expected to abandon forever the life I had known, for twenty-five years, the religious life. I thought I was headed for secular society, for free-dom and promise in a world without restrictions and restraints, away from the rigors of community life with all its pain and heartache. I came to New York City at the recommendation of the metropolitan. But, once here, I soon realized that I had only taken the nun out of the monastery, not out of me. All my experiments with other lifestyles served to teach me that monastic life was rooted far deeper and more intensely in my heart than I had ever dreamed. My spiritual journey continued 'far from the support of monastery routine, far from the view of the monastery community. May-.~une 1992 329 Mancuso ¯ ~1 Monastic Way in the World Indeed I found myself living alone the same monastic life I lived in the community. All I had read in years gone by concerning the Camaldolese in the West and ideorhythmic monks in the East began to make great sense to me. Could I survive spiritually as a monastic living in the world? I sought a spiritual teacher and could not find one. Then I found one, strange and unexpected, in New York City; not a per-son, but a phenomenon: this daily ride on hard cold rails of steel. The New York Subway System, harsher than the sternest spiritual father, pulled me from the gutter of despair in the dismal winter of 1981. It dragged me down the cold dark tunnel of despon-dency and forced me to choose between life and death. There I was forced to cling to God with all my might lest I fall from the subway platform by my own step and crash on the tracks below in the path of the roaring train. Ten years have healed that broken-ness. A new hunger awakened within me. A new spiritual jour-ney began as I recommited myself to the monastic way. My search for monasticism in the city led me to understand that what I needed was monasticism of the heart. I knew I could not go back before I grew up, and perhaps never. What I needed more than ever before in my life was an authentic spirituality, a genuine monasticism, for now I was a nun without a monastery, alone in a world I did not know or understand. My new cloister was the streets of the city; my new obedience, an obedience to reality and the obligations of survival. The cold, hard teacher I had found was the subway itself---with no name, no face, and no heart and demanding of me complete abandonment and total surrender to God. It spoke to me as surely as any spiritual teacher I have ever known. It spoke because my whole being was listening. I was searching with all my heart. That is what great spiritual longing does; it opens every fiber .of one's being. Then one can truly hear. At last. One listens best when no more escapes are possible. Every day, morning and evening, I found myself grappling with the mysteries of faith and reality, struggling to discern the presence of God in the secular world. The milieu of faith I had known in religious life and took so much for granted was far behind me now. I had to create one in myself if I was to retain a spiritual focus in my life. In the personless hands of this tutelage, there was no protection, no one to turn to, no arms to hold me faint with fatigue. Fear loomed up over the darkness of my soul like fog on the docks of South Street Seaport. In the beginning I 330 Review far Religiaus was angry, depressed and bitter. Confusion reigned where once I thought I knew my purposes. Conflict raged. Gradually, from daily meditation and interior prayer deep in the darkness of the earth as I traveled the subway system, there came the dawn of a soft, strong light which began to illumine the darkness of my spirit. I remembered words spo-ken to me long ago by my father when I was just a little girl: "There is no night so dark that you cannot reach out and take the hand of God." Slowly I regained perspective on the original purpose of my life, my spiritual journey. Is there, I wondered, searching my heart, the possibility of being an authentic monastic living in the world? And if there is, what shall it ask of me and how shall I answer? When the doors we have passed through are closed and locked behind us and those we have loved no longer speak our name, then indeed we must come to the truth or we shall surely perish. And if the truth should call us on alone, girded only with the armor of faith, with no assurances and no compan-ions to stave off the terror of the night, when there is no road back, we must carve our own road forward. When that which we have loved the most is forever lost to us, we must build a new tabernacle in the desert of the heart. This is the vocation of the monk or nun in the world. To bring to birth in the solitude of society an authentic monasticism of the heart, alone except for God and whatever he provides. Every morning I exit the train at Chambers Street and make my way up the subway steps. The stench of urine greets me, the first smell I perceive each day in downtown New York. I who love the warm richness of burning incense and the leaping flame of candlelight, I am thrust into this daily reminder of what is behind and what lies before me: the smell of the street and its treachery, the darkness of places where candles never flicker. I am Moses in the desert, forty years of wandering across the wasteland of Manhattan. Today I pass two Hasidim studying a subway map just outside the entrance of the train. One is bent with age, his white beard flowing over the collar of a shiny black coat. The other is young, unmarried, tall and blond with side curls fluffing out from under his black yarmulka and felt hat. They do not acknowledge me, a goy, though I pass within inches of their out- 'There is no night so dark that you cannot reach out and take the hand of God." May-~t~une 1992 331 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Way in the World spread map. On Centre Street a Chinese peddler opens a stall, displaying his wares on two small sidewalk tables set by the curb. He and his wife sell woolen caps, scarves, sweatshirts, and pants. Their breaths steam like smoke in the windy street. Here on the next corner the Italian sausage man has been standing for several hours beside his concession wagon. Smells of sausage and sauerkraut overwhelm me as I pass, for the day is very young. I walk behind two black lawyers dressed in gray three-piece suits. They are deeply engaged in conversation with a white woman, also an attorney. She wears herself proud, this articulate lady; achievement and prominence like her gold earrings proclaim her success in a man's world. They head toward the courthouse on Centre Street carrying their serious leather briefcases with an air of profound importance. I think about pride and power and humil-ity and powerlessness. I think about the righteousness of law. A thin young man, alone and smiling, dressed in woman's clothing, sits on the bench at Thomas Paine Park, quietly hum-ming to himself. He is there every day, all day. Across the street a tall Hispanic man, handsome in his faded blue jeans and tan hooded sweatshirt, keeps his post with hand outstretched. He entertains passersby, juggling several coffee cups and telling humorous stories. Is he a fool for Christ's sake, or has he only learned to play the fool in hope of an extra quarter in his cup? When the morning crowd has passed and rush hour is over, he slumps onto a park bench and does crossword puzzles until later in the day when he will resume his trade, the daily round of beg-ging. I walk on toward Lafayette and Leonard Street. A homeless woman pushes a grocery-store cart which contains all her earthly possessions. She is wrapped in layers of rags. Near the corner of Worth Street, I notice the old cab driver, an Irishman with shin-ing blue eyes and stubbly beard. He is retired now to a life of penury, another beggar on the streets of the city. He sits on the park bench combing white disheveled hair just as he did yester-day, just as he will do tomorrow. What monk weaving baskets in the desert or writing music in a modern monastery knows greater mortification or penance than he? Soon he will change his wet socks no matter how cold it is. In the rain, in the sleet, in the snow, or in the sun I see him every day, his stack of reclaimed newspapers beside him. I wonder if he ever thinks of God, or must he always worry about his daily bread? I continue down Centre Street and lift my eyes to read words 332 Review for Religious inscribed high on the courthouse faCade: "The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government." I think a lot about justice. Justice, mercy, and charity. Righteousness and law. I think about the government of our country, the government of the church and that of monastic life. I wonder about politics in places where politics should have no place, the house of God. I wonder if the hand of justice can ever reach beyond the bound-aries of political alliances, those in the world and those in the church. Does the true administration of justice happen anywhere, I wonder, and if so, when and where? Who renders justice in real-ity? Is the government of the church and that of monasteries in particular built on true justice and charity, or is it linked to the power of a few who have pleased their superiors and risen to high places? Who are the recipients of justice? And I, when shall I learn to be just? When shall I have the courage for justice and charity? Crossing the street before the light changes, I ponder the plight of those for whom justice never happens and charity is but a word, those in the world and those in the church. Now I head toward the large marble building at the corner of Lafayette and Leonard Street. Its dark charcoal .walls shine in the morning sun. It is here on the third floor that I work in the New York City Department of Probation housed in the Family Court Building. It is time now to concern myself with matters of crim-inal justice: domestic violence, restitution, probationer miscon-duct, probationer drug tests. My tasks are writing and analysis. I lay aside my morning reflections and commit myself to the day's work. It, too, has something to teach me. In the monastery I baked cheesecakes and bread, I built cabinets and furniture, grew vegetables and cooked for the community. I tended guests and prepared the hospitality we offered to strangers. Did that work dif-fer so much from the work I do today? Was it more purifying to my soul or more pleasing to God than these hours before the computer researching and writing about criminal justice? Who can say that one is somehow more pleasing to God than another? Is it not the heart that makes the difference?. Everywhere there is something to learn. Often have I looked into the eyes of a pro-bationer, understanding that we are all on probation in this world, all of us facing the opportunity to change our lives or not, and the consequences thereof. Nothing, it seems, is incapable of teaching us if we pay attention with our hearts. This is the way it is, five days a week, every week of the year. May-.~une 1992 333 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Vday in the IVorM All about me are the signs God places in my path calling me back to himself over and over again. I gather up the fragments of the day, bits and pieces of reality, signposts and fellow travelers I have met along my way. I take them to my heart, where like candles they illumine the darkness of my soul. I pray for them as I pon-der what they have told me without speaking. I am jostled into awareness by the touch of their reality on my own. In seventeenth-century France a man named Vincent, now called St. Vincent de Paul in the Roman Catholic Church and considered by Western Christianity to be the universal father of charity, said to his first sisters--those early pioneer sisters in social service, for nuns until that time were always cloistered in monas-teries--" Your cloister will be the streets of the city and your chapel the parish church." On the streets of New York and beneath them, I have entered a new and different cloister, a spiritual one. It is not an enclo-sure; indeed, it is very open. Open to reality. Open to grace. The parish church is indeed my chapel. There in the sacred hours of Vespers and Divine Liturgy I come to understand what Vincent de Paul was talking about. It is a phenomenon of the last decades that numerous sisters, brothers, monks, nuns, and priests have left the enclosure of con-vents and monasteries and ventured forth into the world. For sure, many of them have completely turned to new lifestyles, abandoning the old. Some have married, others have entered paths altogether removed from that on which they first set their course. I am among another group, that of monks and nuns liv-ing alone in the world and striving to continue the monastic jour-ney started in community. Some may say that monks and nuns in the world cannot be monks or nuns at all. Perhaps so. Perhaps not. If monasticism is repentance and conversion of heart, surely anyone with goodwill who sets out on the path of repentance and conversion of heart is truly a monk, truly a nun. If monasticism is the search for truth and harmony in the universe, a search for God hidden beneath all the layers of reality that cover everything and everybody, then those who search are truly monks and truly nuns. If the habit does not make the monk and the essence of monasticism is seeking God above all things and striving to live the spiritual life with all one's being, then those who commit to this sacred journey--whether alone or in community, dressed in 334 Review for Religious religious attire or secular garb, recognized or not recognized by official ecclesiastical structures--are truly authentic monks and nuns. The riason of the choir is not suitable for the street, but the true choir robe of the heart is purity of intention, single-mindedness in faith, humility before God, ation. One need not live in a monastery to wear this authentic spiritual robe, and thus clothed on the inside of one's being, one is truly a monk, truly a nun. Yes, it is frightening to ~tand on the edge of the desert and know that absolutely there is no other way to pass. It is hard to go naked into the nigh.t of the spirit with no comforts, no road maps, no spiritual father or mother, no companions for sup-port or sustenance. Alone. This stripping, however, of everything we mistake for safety and security is the reality that makes us true monks and true nuns in company with those who have gone before us, the Desert Fathers of antiquity. I do not wish to compare one form of monastic life with and love for his cre- The true choir robe of the heart is purity of intention, single-mindedness in faith, humility before God, and love for his creation. another. I do not wish to contrast the merits of living in com-munity and living in the world. Rather, what I wish to ponder is the fact of the spiritual journey, the reality of the spiritual searcher whereve~ he or she may be. This inner journey never ends though everything may change. If we know that, whatever may have gone before us and whatever yet may come, there is no path for us but through the desert, no cloak for us but the mercy of God, no pos-ture but humility and repentance before his face, then we have sufficient knowledge to continue on the path. He will provide all that is needed. If we find ourselves aware that we have no road map, no comfort station, no companion to lighten our burden and cheer us along, how shall we find our way? Will fear and loneliness defeat us? Having lost or abandoned everything, the soul stands naked and empty in the face of its Creator. This is the moment of truth. Accepting our essential nakedness and littleness, we take our emptiness back to God. Kenosis. The outpouring, the emptying of our hearts. Everything we have done and have failed to do. We gather up the fragments of our lives and return them to the Lord. May-.l~une 1992 335 Mancuso ¯ A Monastic Way in the World Holy wisdom teaches us that everything lost in time will be recov-ered in eternity. Our task is but to seek the Master who calls us to the feast. Contemplating the mercy and terrible judgment of God, how shall we stand? Only in abandonment and complete surren-der, with no excuses and no demands except to pray: "Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we for-give those who trespass against us." When all the rest is taken from us or when we, like foolish children, have ourselves run from our Father's house, have nothing, we may yet have every-thing, for only faith, hope, and love remain, "and the greatest of these is love." I wonder as I wander the streets and subways of New York if the monastery is not really everywhere and monasticism everyone's journey. Over a Garden-Wall at Bambous Mission Ile Maurice Can He be jealous that I hear the music of men's loves swirling whirling over garden-walls dancing through the moonlit trees around, swirling whirling once again and around and out, now carried on the evening breeze mingling with the rustling grass and palms and shyly whispering leaves, now ebbing flowing on the turning tide of salty scented ocean air? Can He be jealous? of me? of them ? Or does He too plainly see and hear the kernel of man's pain and loss and disillusionment they waltz about? And yet He holds me tighter. Cothrai Gogan CSSp 336 Review for Religious COREY S. VAN KUREN I Leap Back Over the Wall tth le 9c5o0n ~Me n° ~ iacf~ d aid ~ni ~y _Cehi rgOh~i~ leeadr s.h ~nr r!eLfl ;c~ o0~ eOr ~eeaV idff' she recounts in classic style what occurred and what she felt as she reentered a world she did not know because of her "hiddenness" in religious life. In the past twenty-five years, many religious have left reli-gious life, and most others have experienced enormous changes in it. Many books and articles have been written about the emo-tional, psychological, and anthropological realities involved in such changes. These writings run the gamut from leaving reli-gious life altogether to changing one's status in a particular com-munity tokeeping the same status in another community with a different history, ministry, charism, or geographic center. Lawrence Rywalt CP, in the September/October 1991 issue of Review for Religious, lays out in fine fashion the realities of what goes on with those who are changing their religious life by pass-ing from a "community of origin" to a "receiving community." Throughout his article he uses terms like "a time of adolescence" to describe the mixed emotions one experiences upon entering the unknown. It is somewhat understandable to this reader, as one who is presently going through this process, that these terms are more than somewhat awkward; they may be harmful if per-ceived to be negative. Not only is there a lack of a "clear" canonical process for Corey S. Van Kuren OFMCap is currently in the reentry program of the Capuchin-Franciscan province of St. Mary (New York-New England). His address is St. Michael's Friary; 225 Jerome Street; Brooklyn, New' York 11207. May-~une 1992 337 Van Kuren ¯ I Leap Back Over the Wall The cycle of leaving/reentry can and perhaps should be perceived as a healthy pattern of living. defining this reality of "reentry," but the rarity with which it is perceived and coped with, let alone talked about, makes the use of analogy the only way to discuss it. There are no terms proper to this process, so we who exp.erience it and those who must deal with us are forced to speak in analogy or struggle to invent new ways of speaking about who and what we are. (This is as frightening as was the experience of Monica Baldwin in 1950.) In my own case, the entry/reentry process has happened a couple of times. I first entered the Capuchin Order in 1973 and left in 1981 before ordina-tion. I returned for a short stint and left again. In 1986 I was ordained a diocesan priest and now am in a reen-try program with the same province of Capuchins. I firmly believe that the cycle of leaving/reentry can and per-haps should be perceived as a healthy pattern of living. It is only through the ongoing struggle to find God's will that anyone of us is going to reach sanctity, the goal of any vocation, religious, mar-ried, or single. We need to call the emotions and behaviors they involve by their real names, instead of trying to liken them to any other experience of change. Leaving religious life is no't like divorce, an analogy often heard. Divorce usually happens after prolonged experience of anger, hurt, or at least a clear realization of irrec-or; cilable differences. My own exp~rienc~ and that of others who have talked with me is that we felt, or discerned, that the life we were leading was not what we were then called to, if indeed we ever were called to it. This is not to say that the feelings of loss were not real for us or that we did not miss the people or perhaps even the structures that w~ left behind, but the negativity of such feelings that divorce usually implies was absent. Likewise, to term the process of reentry a time of "adoles-cence" because it might conjure up feelings 6f "anger, despair, fear, chaos, denial, bewilderment, and malaise," as Rywalt sug-gests in his third stage, casts a shadow on the reality of these feel-ings as healthy or as progress or as worthy of an adult. In any event, the expectation of finding such negative feelings is pro- 338 Review for Reli~ous claimed more strongly than any thought of the possibility of feel-ing joy, peace, and a sense of "coming home"--which seems, at least to me, highly possible for those in the reentry process. Just prior to my ordination as a diocesan priest, at a meeting with Bishop Frank Harrison of Syracuse, I revealed to him one fear I had, that I was not sure that I was not called to religious life as I had previously believed and that I might feel compelled to try to reenter religious life in the future. I felt it necessary to speak to him of this feeling before ordination, and must admit that I feared his response might be that I should postpone my ordination until I was sure. Not surprisingly (in looking back and having come to know Bishop Harrison better), his response to me was wise, fatherly, and helpful. In essence, he assured me that this feeling was no reason not to go forward with ordination, pro-vided I was sure that even as a religious my call would include ordained ministry. In addition he laid no claim to knowing what God had in store for him in the future, let alone what the same God had in store for me. The question remains for me: Should it not be possible to change, to move in and through the structures of ministry as we seek God's will, without enduring the analysis of our psycholog-ical motivation, having our behaviors monitored or judgments made about the health or sickness of our actions? It seems to me that as Gospel people we would at least admit to the possibility of a religious motive, the reality of the call. We are too quick to give over to the sciences that which is spiritual, God centered, and not bound by the analysis of science. Is it a bad thing for men and women to constantly try to dis-cern God's will for them? If occasionally this discernment calls for change in structure or movement in or out of structures, need these people be subjected to an analysis of their health, a ques-tioning of their motivations, or must they live with the stigma of being unable to commit? I cannot predict whether my reentry experiment will be sue-cessful in moving me to "profess" again within the Capuchin com-munity. It is my deep hope and desire that it will. However it happens, though, I will neither judge the community nor myself at fault. Nor will I subject myself to questions whether I am mov-ing or not moving through "healthful" stages of development in the process. Prayer, the grace of God through living the Gospel counsels in common, sacramental grace, and meaningful ministry May-June 1992 339 Van Kuren ¯ I Leap Back Over the Wall will be the reality that decides for me and the community if this reentry is God's will. I find that reality comforting and assuring. I do not want to degrade the proper role of the sciences in defining the realities of our life. But as Christians, as ministers, as religious, we cannot give them positions they do not deserve. They must be seen in the proper perspective, and that means integrated with religious, spiritual realities--not taking their place. The leap back over the wall takes as much grace and courage as does the original leap over the wall. That grace and courage comes from relationship with a loving and forgiving God. Religious find this in the lives and faces of brothers and sisters more than in the psychological and scientific analysis of what is healthy or in other comparisons. A leap over the wall--a leap back over the wall--is always a leap of faith. Antiphonal With joy and gladness we cry out to you, Lord: with love and laughter make our hearts sing today from sunrise to sunset. Wisdom of God, be with us, ever at work in us: guiding our hearts and hands; our thoughts, our words, our works. How happy are we who dwell in your house, 0 Lord, forever praising you. Maryanna Childs OP 340 Review for Religious EILEEN P. O'HEA Why We Stay Aging, inadequate retirement funds, as well as the high cost of health care that paralleled and intensified these issues, were crises in religious life that Archbishop Rembert Weak]and of Milwaukee and the campaign inaugurated by the American bishops made public. This campaign aimed at bring-ing attention and monies to the plight of religious communities in America. It brought public attention to something else as well. Along with the assessments religious communities were making about themselves and the data provided by professional research organizations, it made plain that religious communities, with their median age then at 62 and rising, could be vanishing from the American culture. What to do? Get more candidates! Vocation ministry then became a recognized need in religious communities. These min-isters were given offices, cars, and money to explore solutions to this problem. What was once left to chance meetings of persons attracted to religious life now became a full-time occupation. When the problem did not get resolved with an influx of members, these vocation ministers started confronting both com-munity leaders and community members about their nonin-volvement in the process of attracting candidates. Religious communities then began to examine their collective consciences. Why are people not attracted to us anymore? Are we doing some-thing wrong? Are we no longer reflecting those religious values Eileen P. O'Hea is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Brentwood, New York. Presently she is working as a therapist and a spiritual director at Stony Lake Office Park; 2459 15th Street N.W.; New Brighton, Minnesota 55112. May-June 1992 341 O'Hea ¯ Why l~Ve Stay that attract people to want to live out the gospel in a religious community? Or have we been so coopted by materialism and our own needs that people see us as just another lifestyle with little connection to the holy and the truly religious? Or perhaps we are just not presenting ourselves, not advertising ourselves enough, not effectively reaching the public's consciousness? Not doing enough or not being enough to attract members was taken seriously by religious communities. But numbers of candidates did not increase. What religious communities found was that there were people "out there" who wanted to join them in prayer and gospel response, but not full-time. This gave birth to associate membership. These associates reminded members of religious congregations of the value and importance of community. They recognized, perhaps intuitively, that the joining of persons in faith and love is essential to the experience of realized love. Religious communities opened their doors and their hearts and found that the relationship between them and their associate members was mutually beneficial. Leaders and members of reli-gious communities latched onto this relationship as the hope for the future of religious life. This new hope was translated into a familiar organizational plan: designate a community member as director of associate membership. Give the person a car, office, and money to explore this undertaking. The beginning of associate membership brought a sigh of relief to communities. Many communities began to see associate membership as the answer to extinction. But, shortly after its ini-tiation, problems began to arise about how much "say" associate members would have in setting the direction for religious com-munities and whether they could vote for members for leader-ship positions or become leaders themselves. How much "say" would associates have about monies spent, or how much access would they have to these monies in time of need? Moreover, actual associate membership, however popular and good, is not weighted in favor of youth and vitality. Some of the individuals attracted to this membership share the same median age as the community with which they associate. Some of a dif-ferent age group visit for a while and then move on or are taken up with other commitments. Some, of course, stay and radiate to the established community their vitality, gifts, and deep spirituality. What Archbishop Wealdand did through the campaign he inaugurated was make thoroughly public what had been only 342 Review for Religious known in the privacy of religious communities. What happens to individuals when they finally express some fear out loud to a friend or therapist happened to religious communities. They could no longer deny or conveniently repress the facts of aging and dimin-ishment. When the private fears of religious communities were brought into the public forum, they became more real, more potent. The problems of aging, not attracting permanent membership, inadequate health care are realities known to members who have chosen to stay in religious life. These problems are compounded especially for women religious as they sometimes experi-ence themselves systematically oppressed by the institutional church. Women have been deeply hurt. In this ecclesial relationship, as in other personal relationships, the hurt can come only if the investment is deep enough. And it is precisely because their love for the church is so deep that women, as well as men, have experienced hurt from some of the structures, operating principles, and mind-sets of the institutional church and its representatives. Some of us have chosen to stay in religious life fully con-scious of the crises and dilemmas presented. Others have left for personal reasons such as fear about the lack of security religious life represents. Still others wrestle with the option of leaving as they look at the statistical data, their experience of the institu-tional church, and the logic of the situation. Some of the reasons people stay are very personal, some are theological, and some are mystical. My reasons for staying incorporate all of these and, I believe, represent some of the convictions and intuitions held by many. One of the sweetest gifts of religious life I have experienced is the friendships I have had and the bonding I have experienced with a group of women who are part of my community. Though I do not stay in religious life because of them, their presence is very important. If you could imagine us all standing in a circle facing a luminous light, dancing our way to that light, it would image this reality somewhat. We weave in and out of each other's lives in this dance of life, knowing the reality of the center and at times being that center of light for each other. Though I do not stay in religious life because of my friends, their presence is very important. May-~Zune 1992 343 O'Hea ¯ Why We Stay The ones not in my immediate circle I know belong to another circle of their own intimate friends. We do not experience the light in each other yet. But our experience in community and our interdependence over the years have brought us from mutual rejection or intolerance to mutual appreciation of the differences between our personalities and mutual caring about each other. Someday, after my negative intellectual and emotional program-ming has been purified, I will know that they too are light. In the meantime I am surrounded by women who, at some level, value the search and desire to be one with God and struggle to live this out in their ministry and personal life. In the novitiate our novice director told us that we would be given a hundredfold return. I could not then imagin~ what that could mean, but reflection on the past years says that is so. Although my life has been difficult at points, especially through the sting of a celibate lifestyle, it has also been life-giving and full of wonderful people and experiences that belonging to a reli-gious community has either allowed or facilitated. And although I can point to oppression in the past (religious life, like marriage and other vocations, was evolving in its understanding of itself), today I experience inner freedom. In spite of, or because of, belonging to a religious community, I have come to some under-standing of myself. I have had the opportunity, through prayer and commitment to spiritual pursuits, to know myself as loved and to realize that my being and the Being of God are the same reality. Some days I am more conscious of this truth than others; some days my own egocentricity obscures it completely. My longing to be one with God drew me to religious life. Frequently I was disillusioned by members of my religious com-munity. Each hurt, each disillusionment, forced me to peel away another layer of a psyche torn between finding its happiness out-side itself in people and things or finding happiness inside itself. It was a bright moment, a moment of light, when a deeper self was realized, a self that found within her the longing of her heart and then began to make peace and love with the external world. That process continues. Religious life helps the process. The same wise woman of my novitiate also quoted the saying about putting one's hand to the plow and not turning back. It is another reason for staying in religious life. It is not a matter of logic or assessment of security needs. Staying in community is a stance of faith. In faith I believe that my original desire found 344 Review for Religious form through religious community. The form might change or dissolve or might mimic all living organisms and go through a disintegration period before being reintegrated in a new form. I wafit to be faithful to my original commitment, which is a com-mitment of right relationship with God, of knowing and discov-eri~ ng the essence of this relationship. The task of all forms, including that of religious life, is to give expression to a deeper reality. The reality of God is beyond form. The place of faith is standing with others, community members and friends, and fac-ing together the deeper reality and not being overwhelmed as the form does whatever it needs to do. To be companioned in faith and love at this level of reality is to mirror the light, life, and love of a God who is beyond form. When sisters and brothers stand together at this place of faith, we redirect the energies of the world from its obsession with form to the Reality toward which all form is supposed to point. The creative energy of God is what we see reflected in our material universe, but the ultimate call of all human beings is to go beyond ~he reflection to the source who is Life and Being. As groups of religious unite in faith, facing into and sharing in the c~nter who is Love, they acknowledge the interrelatedness of all p~rsons in a communion of being that is beyond form. Perhaps the apparent disintegration experienced by ?eligious com-munities is part of the nec~essary evolution all living organisms go through. Perhaps it is taking us to a deeper experience of real-ity- the Reality beyond form. We, in our age, have evolved to a point where we are con-scious of being conscious. We are teeter-tottering on the edge of a new shift in consciousness. Members of religious communities have made great efforts to join with one another and to remove the psychological and emotional blocks that cause us to see our-selves as separated from each other. We have made great efforts to know ourselves at our deepest level. As we discover this deep-est self, we begin to realize that God "is" the centered self--that we (God-I) ire one. The realization of this oneness is an experi-ence that cannot be contained. It cannot be restrained by the form that is our body or the form that is religious community. As we recognize our being "in" Love, we begin to experience oth-ers no longer as other, no longer as outside ourselves--or sepa-rated from us. This is the beginning of communion consciousness. It is a way of being with each other that is beyond form. May-June 1992 345 O'Hea ¯ Why We Stay Why do we stay in religious life? We stay because the form that is religious life is still pointing us to the Reality our hearts have longed to be one with. We stay because our companions have been faithful to us and we want to be faithful to them. We stay because the greatest adventure of all, the awakening of con-sciousness to Reality, is about to happen and religious community can facilitate that awakening. We stay because we recognize love here. We stay because we know God's faithful love and want to respond with love. We stay because the form provides, 'through the experience of community and ministry, relationships of mutual love and sharing. We stay because we refuse to be intimidated by fear and a lack of security. We stay because we have put our hand to the plow and want to fulfill our commitment. We stay because our lives and commitment are about faith. We stay because in community the experience of God as Trinity is being realized and manifested in relationships that are life-giving, loving, and mutual. We stay because our intuition tells us that the experience of com-munion consciousness is about the many discovering themselves as one. We believe that the evolution of religious life is moving us closer to this discovery. We stay because true identity is realized in the discovery of the mutual indwelling of our being in the being of God and others. We stay because we want to witness to the Reality beyond form. Silence I cannot say that I no longer sing for in my heart, the while my lips are dumb, my song I keep. I only know that words no longer come to break the silent singing of a thing that lies too deep. Florian Reichert SSJ 346 Review for Religious MELANNIE SVOBODA When a Sister or Brother Leaves All of us in religious life have seen some of our brothers and sisters leave our communities even after many years. The circumstances leading to such a decision are usually complex and unique to each individual. But one fact is simple and universal: a person's decision to leave religious life has an impact on those who "decide to stay." The stronger the ties that bind us together in a religious community, the greater the pain and con-fusion when such bonds are, for all practical purposes, severed. This article explores some of the pain and confusion sur-rounding one sister's leaving. "Sue" (as I call her) is not a "real" sister, nor are these direct quotes from my own "real" journal. Such a reflection would be too personal for me to publish at this time. It would also run the risk of violating the privacy of a par-ticular individual's decision to leave religious life. Sue is rather, a composite of a number of i'eal people who have left my commu-nity and other communities as well. And though this account is fiction in the technical sense, it is nonetheless, I trust,-very true. It is my ho~e that these reflections will resonate with the thoughts and feelings of o~hers who have experienced a friend's departure from religious life. She tells me, "I'm leaving." And she wants me to be one of the first to know, before "it's announced." I sit in silence and disbe- Melannie Svoboda SND, a regular contributor to Review for Religious, resides at Notre Dame Academy; Route One, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. May-j~ne 1992 347 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves Something is terribly wrong. Like someone has died or something, only I cannot remember who. lief in the front seat of the car. For a few moments I can say and do nothing. I am not surprised. Not really. Hasn't she been sharing her struggles with me these past three years? Didn't I suspect even a year ago that her searching and questioning would eventually lead to this: the decision to go? No, I am not surprised. But I am numbed. At least momentarily. Finally I say, "Are you sure?" And in the dim light of the car I see her nod and pull out a tissue, and I know she is crying. I reach over to her-- awkwardly over the gear shift and try to comfort her. I say her name a few times, and then I start to cry, too. For several moments we sit like that--me with my arm around her shoulder. No words. Just the sound of our soft crying. After a few moments we both sit up straight and blow our noses. In unison. We laugh at that and the laughter frees us to talk. Unhaltingly, she tells me of her most recent talks with her spiritual director, of her meeting with our provincial, and of her plans to tell her fam-ily. Everything seems decided. Everything is in place. She will leave in two months--on July 1. One day short of the twenty-eighth anniversary of her entrance into religious life. Of our entrance. I try to listen to everything she is telling me, but my mind is still stuck back there on her first two words, "I'm leaving." At the end I cry some more. I feel her hand gently on my back. I say, "I'm sorry, Sue." She thinks I mean for my tears. But I don't. "It's okay, Melannie. It's okay." But I am thinking: It is not okay. Nothing is okay. And, I fear, nothing will ever be okay again. When I wake up in the morning, I sense: something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Like someone has died or something, only I can-not remember who. I turn on the light. My eyes wince from the assault of its brightness. As my head falls back onto the pillow, "it" hits me: of course, she is leaving. How could I forget? As I slowly crawl out of bed, I feel sick to my stomach. And I know it's 348 Review for Religious not something I ate, it's not the flu. It's the thought of her going away. Later this morning she calls to ask me how I am. She asking me! I say, "Okay. How about you?" And we talk a little more. But before she hangs up she says, "You know, you cried the most. Of everyone I have told so far, you cried the most." And then she adds, "Thanks." Thanks? For what? For loving you? I go to school and I am the cheerful, competent, organized teacher you read about in all the educational journals. But it is all a sham. Inside I am dying--only no one knows. Her leaving is an oppressive burden I bear alone--for now--in secret. But maybe that is good, I think. For as long as nobody else knows about it yet, her leaving has an aura of unreality about it--which eases the pain a little. For now. o~o o~o o~o o:o I have known her for over thirty years--since we were fresh-men in high school. We sat next to each other in homeroom that year, and I liked her from the very start. She was cute, funny, lively, and (above all) good. Although we were typical teenage girls back then, we were somehow comfortable with bringing God into our more serious conversations. We were both terribly idealistic back then. My idealism nour-ished hers and hers mine. Although we made the decision to enter religious life independently of each other, we obviously influ-enced each other greatly. One month after graduating from high school, at age eighteen, the two of us entered the novitiate of the Sisters of Notre Dame--together. I decide I am taking this whole thing too morosely. I tell myself: "So, what's the big deal, anyway? You are acting as if she has died or something. That's stupid! So, a friend decides to leave religious life. So what? People make big changes in their lives all the time. "So, she is leaving. Don't make it soUnd so awful. Gone are the years when we called such departures 'defections.' Do not try to figure out her decision. Do not try to understand it. Accept it. May-~une 1992 349 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves Accept her. Stop moping. She's leaving. But life will go on--for her, for you." And just when such logic makes such good sense to me and I resolve to accept her decision with greater equanimity, she calls me on the phone and, after talking to her for an hour and hang-ing up, I cry again. Through my outpouring of words, I am celebrating her and our friendship. I talk,to Bob about her. He listens with concern and com-passion- as usual. He asks me all kinds of questions--about her, about me, about our relationship. And it is as if a dam has been broken wide open, and my words come gushing out like water. And I talk and talk. And in the talking I suddenly real-ize: I am celebrating her. Through my outpouring of words, I am celebrating her and our friendship. And it feels good. Then I tell him of my concerns for her, my fears. He listens attentively, gen-tly prodding with a question every now and then. And I am grateful, so grateful for this man who can elicit such an out-pouring from me and who is so respectful of everything I tell him. Finally he says, "You love her very much." A simple statement of fact. And I nod and smile at its obvi-ousness, and then I cry a little more and laugh, too. And later he asks, "Have you taken all of this to the Lord, Melannie?" And I stumble over my words, knowing I have not. At least not nearly enough. I tell Bob: "I keep thinking, 'God, if I love her this much, how much more you must love her.'" "That's good," he says. "That's good." And I leave Bob with a lighter heart and a clearer appreciation of my love for her-- and of my pain. And I wonder: When will I take all of this to God? Soon, I think. But not yet. I am worried about her. She is looking for a job now. She is talking about salary and taxes and insurance and getting an apart-ment. Almost all of our conversations these days are about her-- her and her plans. 350 Review for Religious It bothers me a little. Why? Do I feel left out? (I have plans, too!) Or is it that I want our relationship to return to an earlier form, to a time when our plans tended to coincide more? Whatever, I suggest to her: "The next time we get together, let's do something. Like go bowling or even to the zoo or some-thing, okay?" She says okay. I am relieved, for I am tired of talking about her, about "it." But as soon as I admit this to myself, I feel small and selfish. I do not understand her reasons for leaving. They are deep and go back many, many years. She still believes in religious life, she tells me. She still loves our community. And yet leaving us is something she feels she has to do. I do not understand, but I believe she has to do this. That belief makes her going easier for me to accept. o~o o~o o~o o.'o I loved her before we were Sisters of Notre Dame. I will con-tinue to love her afterwards, too. Yet I sense (and so does she) that there will be a change in our friendship--a significant change. After all, our shared commitment in the same religious commu-nity has been a vital part of our friendship. With that pai't gong, we are both wondering: How much wili our friendship be altered? And will the two of us be up to such an alteration? These past few days have been "guilt days." I keep thinking: Did I, as a friend, fail her? Is that why she is leaving? Maybe there is something I could have done that would have prevented her from making this decision. Maj'be .I could have been more sensi-tive, more caring, more supportive, more . Or did we as a religious community let her down? Is there something we as a community should be doing to prevent all these departures? Maybe we are overworked. Maybe we are focusing too much on ministry and not enough on each other. Maybe we are living the life all wrong.-Maybe., maybe., maybe. Bob says,"Youwomen really do get emotionally involved in each other~ lives." May-.~une 1992 351 Svobodu ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves I ask, "Don't you men feel like this when a brother leaves your .community?" "No," he says, "with us it is different. I do not think we feel it nearly as much as you women do." If what Bob says is true in men's communities, there is a part of me that envies men. But, then again, there is a part of me that feels sorry for them. Peg calls. She knows now, too. Finally someone in the com-munity I can talk to about it. "What do you think?" she asks me. And I tell her what I think. Then she shares with me her feel-ings. She is hurt. She is angry. She is worried about Sue. And now there is an added dimension to my own pain: seeing the pain Sue's leaying is having on others like Peg. But it is Peg's anger that takes me aback. So far I have not felt any anger, have I? Only hurt. Only worry. But now I wonder: Am I denying my anger? Am I letting Sue leave us too easily? Should I be fighting more to make her stay? Is my acceptance of her decision my way of lessening my own pain? Of easing my anger? I do not know what to think anymore. At the break at the meeting, Carol grabs me by the arm and pulls me out into the hall. "What's with Sue?" she asks brusquely. Not sure how much she already knows, I ask, "What do you mean?" Immediately I sense her irritation: (She has ne;cer been known for patience--or gentleness.) "Okay, Melannie, you can spare me the gory details. I know she is leaving. All I want to know is: Is she going to be okay?" I nod. "Yes, she is going to be okay." Carol seems satisfied--with that tiny scrap of information. I am amazed at how little it takes to appease hei', how little she wants to know. But maybe I am reading her wrong. Maybe she is just being extremely respectful of Sue's privacy. Whatever, she walks back into the meeting seemingly content. It was announced today. In a letter from the provincial. One brief paragraph. (Over twenty-five years of living religious life, and one short paragraph to tell the community of your leaving.) She 352 Review for Religious has asked for a leave "for personal reasons." Let us "remember her in our prayers," and so forth. How many times have I read such announcements? You would think I'd have gotten used to them by now. But I never have. I hope I never will. When I get the letter and read it, I cry again. How strange. I have not cried in weeks about "it." Why now? Then I realize: the announcement finalizes "it." There is no denying her leaving now, no turning back. It is a fact. And every sister in the community knows it now, too. o:o o:. o~o .:o Mary meets me in the hall, and I can tell by her eyes what she is going to say before she says it. "I just read the announcement about Sue, Melannie," she says softly. "And--and I guess I just want you to know: I am praying for her--and for you. I know it must be hard." She puts her hand on my shoulder. I smile. I say, "Thanks, Mary. Thanks." But two people are struggling inside of me. One is saying, "Yes, comfort me! Please comfort me!" while the other one is screaming, "Go away! I do not want your pity! Go away!" So, she is gone. Officially. Not completely, of course. She is still "connected" to us, for the church does not ordinarily permit a quick egress from religious life. Rather, it encourages a gradual one. She is still one of us, although living in an apartment now and working on her own. She will stay in touch with "us" by her contact with the provincial, with one of our local communities, and with a few of us, her closest friends. I tell myself, "She might come back. Some do, you know-- after doing what they have to do or whatever . " But I know in my heart: hardly anyone ever does. I call Sue. It has been weeks since we talked. The spaces between our conversations and meetings are getting wider, I notice. She is upset because she feels her leaving has hurt so many sisters. She knows some are angry with her. She says, "Why can't they see that my leaving is not an indictment against religious May-June 1992 353 Svoboda ¯ When a Sister or Brother Leaves life or their decision to stay? Why can't they just accept my deci-sion?" I say something like, "Well, maybe you have to give them more time, Sue. After all, you took years to make your decision. Now give them time to work through accepting it." I see Bob ~again. He asks about Sue. "Have you begun to deal with what effect her leaving is having on you personally--and your own commitment?" "Not really," I say. "I think I am still wallowing in the pain of losing her. And I am still too worried about her to think too much about myself. And I am so busy, too." ("Mercifully busy," I think to myself.) He listtns attentively and then says, "That's okay--for now. But it will come, you know. Sooner or later. You will have to deal with it: your own decision to stay." I know he is right. At the community meetings this week, I miss her very much. I expect to see her in the hall, to have lunch with her, to laugh with her. Only she is not there. Afterwards I call and talk to her, but I do not know how much of these community meetings to share with her, how much she wants to hear about what "we" are doing. And I sense I am beginning to see her as no longer a part of that "we." If only she were more sure of herself. If only I saw more direc-tion in her life, more certitude. But she still seems so direction-less, biding her time with this temporary job, still searching for who knows what. Everyone asks me, "How is Sue doing?" And I never know how to respond. If I say, "Fine," that is a lie. She is not fine. She is confused, lonely, and struggling. But if I say, "She i~ having a really hard time right now," that is misleading, too. It makes it sound as if she has made a mistake in leaving us. So, not knowing how to respond to their inquiries, I usually end up saying, "She is okay--but it is hard, you know." And my 354 Review for Religious voice trails off, and I think I have communicated the truth as well as it can be communicated. I love her. I care about her. I miss her. That is all I am trying to say, God. These jottings are perhaps too focused upon me and not enough upon her. But I entrust even that to your love as I try to entrust all things--especially Sue. She leaves. I stay. Why? Forever I have never lived in forever. ? where love is always and night never comes. Tonight, as I crawl into the arms of your Love, God, the idea of lasting forever causes a shudder thru my being. I have never known forever. ? here, everything ends. Day ends when night comes. and Yesterday is different from Today or Tomorrow. Here nothing is always the same. As I lie here thinking of your Love that lasts forever, two pains f!ll my being-- fear and desire, because I who had a beginning will join You in life unending. I have never known forever. ? Vowed to You, I promise to persevere unto death. Should I not say, ". into life"? Claire Mahaney RSCJ May-j~une 1992 355 BRIAN B. MC CLORRY The Integral Sabbatical transitions I woke very early on a June morning, restfully uncertain where I was and so checked the surrounds with interest, coffee and cigarette in hand, looking for a sound, geo-graphical answer. The sunlight was bright, the landscape clear: Holman Island, Northwest Territories, Canada, some three hundred miles inside the arctic circle. The third and final part of my sabbatical had begun. Holman seemed a far cry from the Jesuit Renewal Center in Milford, Ohio, where the sabbatical had started, a far cry from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where I had spent a semester at the Weston School of Theology. It was all a far cry from Leeds, England, where I had been Catholic chap-lain for the University and Polytechnic. Both in Cambridge and Milford I had been mildly surprised at the number of people, mainly religious, who were also on sabbatical. No doubt there is a tendency for sabbatical people to frequent the same watering holes when they are not wandering the earth visiting their con-gregation's communities. Sabbaticals are now common among religious, and in the religious press sabbatical pro-grams are widely advertised. The sabbatical now seems to be an unexceptional part of religious life in much the same way that, for some congregations, the tertianship--a kind of compulsory spiritual sabbatical--is an integral part of formation. This is clearly a new development. Brian B. McClorry SJ writes from Manresa House; 10 Albert Road; Harborne; Birmingham B 17 0AN; England. 356 Review for Religious In the 1960s sabbaticals were primarily a way of dealing with problem people or people with problems. It was, of course, a moot point whether the problem belonged to the persons involved or to their congregations. These sabbaticals were, in part, ways of responding to developments which were unforeseen, confusing, and frequently unwelcome. Sometimes they were mainly thera-peutic or disciplinary. There is likely to be a healing element in many sabbaticals, but it is right to allow sabbaticals a valid exis-tence on the far side of therapy. Recently the sabbatical has been reintroduced as a disciplinary measure by congregations and Roman authorities in an attempt to save an order or an ortho-doxy felt to be imperiled. Again the question remains whether it is the person or the institution that stands in need of a sabbatical. This, however, is not a question I will discuss here. There were and are "problem," "therapeutic," and "disciplinary" sabbaticals as ' well as those associated with academic work. But none of these is unexceptional and integral to religious life. The integral sabbat-ical, however, is new. Of course it may well be asked how integral to religious life sabbaticals really are, even at a more or less empirical level. Neither all congregations nor all religious make use of them. Indeed, when taken, not all sabbaticals are greeted in a sufficiently sabbatical fashion. There is the itch to justify or to decry, a ten-dency to view sabbaticals as a reward, or a vacation, or as a debt to be paid. That there are many kinds of response to the statement "I am on sabbatical . . ." is sufficient reason for discussion. Moreover, if religious make widespread use of sabbaticals, the diocesan clergy in the main do not. There are regional and denominational variations. Sabbaticals are commoner among diocesan priests in the United States than in England; the Methodist Church in England has a policy and a provision for sabbaticals whereas Roman Catholic dioceses in England do not-- except in a very negative sense. The questions raised both by sab-baticals and their absence are of widespread interest. In what follows I will try to examine way~ of understanding the "integral" sabbatical, using my sabbatical experience as a kind of case study. This approach inevitably will be limited, but not inevitably limiting. There are no absolute anecdotes: individual cases are also part of our social, cultural, economic, and religious history. Most serious questions will be left decently unanswered on the ground that closure is ordinarily premature. May-d~une 1992 357 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical Timing and Validation One clear and important element in evaluating and preparing for sabbaticals is timing. Scriptural tradition designates every sev-enth year as a sabbatical year. The British province of the Society of Jesus provides for h sabbatical ten years after tertianship. Having a policy, provided it is not applied woodenly, allows indi-viduals to have and to plan for sabbaticals. It also allows the con-gregation to suggest them more easily. It is at the level of policy that the question of justifying sabbaticals emerges with particular force. Are sabbaticals.justifiable? As with many questions, this one is best approached not directly, but through the categories which are found helpful in discovering the kind of thing a sabbatical might be. There are, of course, lines of thought in the scriptural tradition. Originally the intention behind the sabbatical year was to give rest to the land, the vineyard, and the olive grove. This rest would give the poor and the wild animals a chance to eat (Ex 23:10-11) and allow debts to be remitted (Lv 15:2). There would be no scarcity, for the "sabbath of the land" itself would provide enough food (Lv 2 5:6). The help given to the poor was not to be confined to the sab-bath year (Dt 15:9), for this sabbatical value was of permanent importance and validity. What is involved here is a careful knowl-edge of the land, plants, and animals--and the perception that the workings of the economy both damage these and do violence to the community. People are squeezed out and forced into the powerlessness of debt. The sabbatical year is a piece of positive discrimination and a recall to the tru~ values and creative origins of the community. Parallels are problematic, but it may make sense to view the contemporary sabbatical in these terms rather than as intrapersonal refurbishing or as an opportunity for gain-ing skills or knowledge. To leave for a time the work we do may well benefit that work (there will be, it seems, no shortages), and both the work and the workers may recover their creative ori-gins. We may begin once more to perceive whfit is demanded and who is excluded both in our work and in our societies. In this sense a sabbatical may be an effective symbol of grace and faith, of justice and peace. The link between "sabbatical" and "sabbath" is obvious. Whether or not this is the beginning of a line of thought in favor of the "integral" sabbatical, the question of timing remains. Timing is not simply a matter of administrative convenience or 358 Review for Religious possibility, nor is it only a question of calendars, frequency, and opportunity. Some years ago I had a particularly trying period of ministry in a poor inner-city area. The ministry failed. The team failed to work together--a failure in which I was implicated deeply. Eventually the project was closed. I was hurt, angry, and had come to the end of the road. The off-road terrain was hardly visible. I scarcely believed I had energy enough left to start afresh any-where and so began to dally with the seductive idea of a sabbati-cal and its promise of escape. Fortunately my provincial suggested that I return to university chaplaincy work--a ministry I had known and liked. To my surprise I agreed quickly and easily and, in the event, found to my delight that the energy and interest were still there. The work therapy worked. After four years, how-ever, it became clear that my old and easy patience with under-graduates was wearing thin, that I wanted to spend my time with faculty, ecumenical questions, and issues affecting the institutions themselves rather than with students. It was not the end of the road, just time to go. Then the idea of a sabbatical reemerged, tinged with excitement, less seductive but more promising. The sabbatical promised to be less therapeutic or escapist than it would have been if taken earlier. It would be more positive, an affair of discovery. Sabbaticals are "integral" in more ways than one: they are better timed the more they are at one with the positive move-ments of our life stories and not just snagged on fragment.s of these narratives. Better timing, it seems, might also lead to a bet-ter content. Content and Desire Academics on sabbatical might well do research, though many academics speak of sabbaticals in terms not reducible to academic research. Nonacademics also might want to do research, to con-template steadily or ferret away busily in some area which comes into view as life-giving, deeply interesting, part of the emerging oudines of a mysterious but attractive future. On occasion it makes sense to learn skills that can be put to determinate use. Sometimes it is better to do woodwork. Clearly the content of a sabbatical varies indefinitely and could even include the possibility of a care-fully mixed cocktail. I wanted to have time, space, and the right environment for reading and writing. So much was a felt need. I also wanted to follow a program in spiritual direction. For many May-June 1992 359 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical years I had given one or two directed retreats a year and won-dered what, if anything, I had learned from the experience and what, if anything, I imagined I was doing in this ministry. It seemed that retreat work of some kind was a likely future. For me woodwork was not a serious contender--although I can almost smell the i:eel of the grain. Behind the question of content--what, after all, shall I do?- there is the matter of imaginati6n and desire. What do I really desire? How free or frozen is the imagination that shapes our conscious desires? What are the desires that might free or freeze our imaginations? It does not do to link desire solely with what is conventionally good, for there is more to good than convention supposes. It does not do to mold imagination only by pi'agmatic realism, for realism can imprison as well as free our imaginations. Desire is a matter of discovery and strange meetings: a geography of uncertainty and power. Maps for desire do not exist, for it is a contemplative heuristic, a medium in which mystery is disclosed. It is not, however, an infallible heuristic. A year before he died, a friend who had many desires told me, "I have never known what I really wanted to do." Desir~ is not exhausted in the desires we know we have. In Genesis the naming of animals is, in a strange and unfem-inist narrative, part of a search that culminates in the joyful, real-ized completion of creation. God brings the animals to the man to see what he would call them (Gn 2:19). To stay long enough in prayer so that completing the sentence "I want." is done iri God's presence is to begin to name those elements of ourselves and our world which God brings to us for naming. We may name what is incomplete or destructive in us, or what lacks integration in our lives. In this naming w~ may be set free of what possesses Us, an exorcism in which the demons, if they return, have no real power. We are freed from d~fensiveness and become less timid. Alternatively, we may find that we name our positive desires and find in this naming that the truth of our seeking and welcoming is revealed. In both cases the disclosure of the God who, in Christ, dream~ with us brings with it freshness and discovery. The con-tent of a sabbatical, however practical or impractical it may be, is also to be discovered, found out, stumbled across, given. The content of a sabbatical should resonate with or express the desires we discover in us, desires which at the same time help us find out what a sabbatical--or a life--might be like. 360 Review for Religious Even though my imagination was thin, my desires were real enough: an intern.ship in spiritu, al direction at Milford and a semester of reading at Weston. I felt there was much to be dis-covered in the course of these programs that would be enjoyable and useful. I did not envisage any discoveries jolting my paradigms. At Weston I would go on a light diet and look for space. There were, however, some four months of the sabbatical which were as yet undetermined. The "third world" was not a strong contender. I had recently spent a hard but exhilarating summer in Guyana and, years before, had done my tertianship in India. A journey to Zimbabwe or to South Africa always remained a possibility. Whatever the status of my gawky ratio-nalizing, the truth was that I had no particular desire to go to the third world. I found I wanted to go to northern Canada. The experience would be new, which is one value in sabbatical planning; but it was the desire to go, rather than arbitrary novelty, that mattered. Certainly I wanted to be far from known places and defined expectations; there was the lure of the north with its sparse and spacious environment and its rather specialized attractions of ice and snow. That world would have a different scent: snow alters aromas. The Canadian north had always been attractive to me, and once or twice I had sniffed at its fringes. But although the desire to go was clear, its rationale was elusive, mysterious. It had to do, I thought, with going to a large, remote, and cold place in order, paradoxically, to unfreeze my imagination and creativity. The north was the right environment for that kind of event, in some sense the necessary place. Moreover, there was the remote but dramatic possibility of spending time in the Canadian arctic. I liked the dramatic frisson, expected something to "happen," and found that the prospect enhanced the attractiveness of the sab-batical as a whole. It gave a sharp edge to the enterprise and I looked forward to that edge. I got out maps and wrote to bishops. The desire had emerged and persisted. The provincial concurred; the bishops in the north agreed. So much for the discernment. I write, of course, after the event--with the heightened accu-racy and inaccurate overclarity which marks retrospectives. Sometimes, however, the content of a sabbatical is found largely Sometimes the content of a sabbatical is found largely in retrospect. May-3~ne 1992 361 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical in retrospect. Characteristically I planned my sabbatical carefully. I was not going to drift into a sabbatical and discover afterwards that a sabbatical is what I might have had. My time would be spent well, responsibly, even originally. But planning has its times and seasons, and for many "planning" and "exploration" are hyper-active metaphors better replaced by "contemplation" and "wait-ing." A friend of mine spent the first three months of a sabbatical year waiting to see what he wanted to do; another spent some months after his sabbatical finding out what he had done and what his desires had been. It seems that the justification of sab-baticals and their content lies in the mysterious priority of desire and imagination rather than in efficient planning and declared good intentions. There is some need for discernment of desire and imagination, for neither whim nor designer image is a suffi-cient guide. Conventionally, the value of a sabbatical rests on enhanced skills, published research, a revitalized person. The generous mea-sure of truth in these pictures--which do express something of our desires--should not obscure another dimension. Sabbaticals are in some respects like parables.~ Jesus' parables carry many meanings and so have a capacity to interact in many and new ways with our lives and cultures, Sometimes the parables break under their own realism--ninety-nine sheep are left unprotected in the course of the search for the one which is lost. The parables both disjoint our ways of looking at and being in the world and open up new and energetic possibilities. On this basis it is mean-minded to settle effectivelyon one allowed description of a sabbatical, for example, "study leave." What matters is that sabbaticals are allowed to become parables, polyvalent narratives whose realism does not determine the story. Milford and Cambridge It is a commonplace that programs in spiritual direction include much "listening." Accurate, active, contemplative, prophetic, and holistic listening--with individuals and in a group--are all elements in a conversation. They are ways of dis-covering what may be going on in prayer or life--ways of finding a path that fits and may.lead somewhere. No doubt I learned and relearned some skills at Milford and welcomed the lines of inquiry and interest which these engendered. Such learning, however, is 362 Review for Religious notoriously not neutral or unaffecting. Listeners listen also to themselves; and, when they become conscious or aware of what they hear, there is the possibility and gift of a transformation which is not reducible to the addition of skill to skill. So I found, in a time of surprise, a change in me which was about trusting and expecting more from God. The coloration of my world shifted, its shape altered. The world I stepped into was a friendly place and the friend-liness was to be trusted. This perceived feature of the world was not a purely intrapersonal shift. Nor was it entirely an empirical affair. My father moved from house to hospital and from hospi-tal to a retirement home with his memory impaired. I returned to England for a few weeks to help the moves and to sell the house. The Gulf War started unbelievably and ended with unseeing cel-ebrations. Ten feet from me in a bus in Boston a man was shot in the face on Good Friday. But the world was friendly because God was in the world and the world was in God. This discovery did not invite me to rush into developing a theodicy or to reread the old ones, to put together friendliness and unfriendliness. If there was a theodicy, it would be rooted in, among other things, a complex attentiveness to the world, which was in God, and to God, who was in the world. Both the friendliness and the unfriendliness of the world called forth the look of friendly regard. This, the grace-ful face of panentheism, seemed new--a well-remembered face seen as if for the first time. This friendliness connected with specific matters in spiritual direction. In the language of Ignatius's Spiritual Exera'ses, I became better able to trust "consolation" both in myself and in retreatants. God, after all, relates to consolation and desolation in different ways. The relationship to desolation is real but entirely provi-sional; what characterizes God's action is consolation. In this friendliness it also became possible to sit happily with my igno-rance when giving spiritual direction. "Not knowing" was nei-ther a fearful void to be filled nor an affront to be denied. It was not an affront to competence but a resource to be tapped. To sit with ignorance was to be in danger of finding out, with the part-ner in the conversation, what good thing was happening, what shape hope might take. Such changes in ways of looking at and being in the world are at one with the Old Testament tradition on sabbaticals: a recovery of creative origins. They may happen in the staid, sup- May-d~une 1992 363 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical portive, and challenging world of the Jesuit Renewal Center-- although Milford, Ohio, is not a location which of itself provokes radical insight. (Sometimes it seemed that many areas of our planet are invisible from Ohio.) But changes may also require places or environments which are marginal or shocking. A friend of mine spent most of his sabbatical working in a refugee camp in Thailand. What can be hoped for, wherever we go, is that changes include but are not restricted to intrapersonal health and survival. They will also include the world in which we ordinarily live but have only partly discovered. We may also hope to accept and to find that we do not control the narrative of the sabbatical--nor does the institution or environment in which we find ourselves. Such hoped-for changes, as in the Old Testament tradition, do not need to be confined to the time of a sabbatical, but can have a more permanent validity. With some loss of narrative control, I spent a few weeks in Montreal and Quebec City writing fiction (short stories in which I struggled with and for the narrative) before descending on Cambridge, Massachusetts. The semester at Weston was to be reflective: a few seminars for social reasons and an amount of reading. There was much to delight in, from Erich Auerbach's Mimesis to Annie Dillard's Teaching a Stone to Talk. The reading mattered. Someone said that Annie Dillard's writing evidenced "an amoral hospitality to experience." What price could the dis-cernment of spirits fetch here? Auerbach's literary criticism dis-tinguished a high style, quite divorced from the ordinary life of undistinguished people, from a style, also high, which found won-drous significance in commonplace lives and circumstances. If Milford was about trusting God in a world in which consolation and friendliness were to be trusted, Cambridge was about doing that in the ordinary present--the place where true hospitality lies. For some periods of time I had felt (often with good reasons) that there were important things to be done which were not real-izable in the job I had, the place I was in, the circumstances in which I found myself. Matters were unsatisfactory. Something of this feeling is, perhaps, an occasional inevitability. Life is unsat-isfactory in different ways and at a variety of levels. But a gap can open between the present and the significant future which robs both of any real value. Of a character in Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, the narrator says, "He was looking over into the next val- 364 Review for Religious ley all the time. He wasn't scarcely around where he was." The gap, of course, is about faith as well as presence. There can be a belief in a "god within" who does not welcome the present and a belief in a "god without"--usually absent from the present--in whose future greatness is promised. These two gods are awkward little idols who are not on speaking terms, but who conspire to augment the discomfort of the believer. In the disappearance of the gap between the present and the significant future, there is the loss of two idols, of two gods, and a being found by the one God. Monotheism turned out to be a very powerful affair. The disappearance of the gap, the exiling of the idols, helped me to let go of some things I would never do, however grand the significant future and the pointed present. This was not asceticism or realism, that doubtful consoler. In friendliness and free from the idols, I found there was no need to package myself, to tie up in well-wrapped parcels who I am and what I do. I become pack-aged for reasons of defense and success. But these energy-con-suming activities turned out to be not only harmful but also, and more importantly, unnecessary. The fears that provoked packag-ing became heavily relativized. John Macmurray has a striking remark about fear: The maxim of illusory religion runs: "Fear not; trust in God and he will see that none of the things you fear will happen to you"; that of real religion, on the contrary, is "Fear not; the things that you are afraid of are quite likely to happen to you, but they are nothing to be afraid of.''2 There may well be matters about which it is right and proper to be afraid, but the fear that provokes packaging turns out to be wonderfully otiose. What emerged in Cambridge and had been emerging in Milford was a new sense of integration or fit, not only in me but in how I am present in the world. I preferfit, with its sense of a curve fitting spot readings, a trail in the wilderness which finds the nature of the landscape, a saying in a conversation which res-onates and reveals. "Integration" is a touch static and inward. The appearance of the fit had precisely the quality of exploration and discovery--exploration within and, at one with that, explo-ration of the world. A man lies bleeding in the aisle of the bus, sol-diers pray for peace as the Gulf War ultimatum runs out, people have the glow and the shock of the Holy Spirit on their faces, the books are in the library, the seminar sparkles, and the cold May-June 1992 365 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical in Quebec City gnaws the bones by the frozen St. Lawrence out-side the first Jesuit house in Canada. In all of this idols vanish, the world has a new curvature, and God dreams and surprises. Sabbaticals are times for heralded and unheralded exploration and discovery. These are prime sabbatical hopes and valid extrasabbatical values. Going to northern Canada, to the remote places, seemed like an appropriate continuation of this journey. It had also the character of a celebration. Yukon and Northwest Territories From one point of view, I went north in order to "supply" in parishes and on mission stations. It would be a time of much trav-eling and short stays. As the sabbatical proceeded and the time for departure drew closer, I found that what I wanted was simply to be in the here and now, in that environment, with those people. To be present in a friendly, contemplative, unpackaged, and reflec-tive fashion was what mattered. I did not want to undertake a study tour or become a tourist. Nor did I want to stay in one place "working" or creating a proactive availability. For this period, rootedness was not a value. Staying wherever the bish-ops3 suggested would keep me free of programs, encourage a being present which had little predetermined character--and yet would allow me to give myself and others a ready and real account of what I was doing and why I was there. Performing a small ser-vice was a satisfactory blessing and a gift I needed. I also wanted to look at the landscape and to see what hap-pened when I looked. The environment, I thought, would announce itself in ways which could not be honored simply by going for a walk. From this viewpoint people were secondary, but there is an environmental dimension inseparable from human life and it seemed that the native people would be at one with their environment. That people were secondary in my immediate inter-ests was not a dismissive attitude. So I looked at the landscape-- from the ground and from the air in light planes. In Yukon Territory it turned out to be difficult to look steadily at the moun-tains, valleys, lakes. What was there remained veiled by a prodi-gal facticity, and I had to set myself repeatedly not to turn aside. To sit' with this ignorance was also difficult. "This coast is too beautiful," said a man in the Vancouver airport to a friend; "get me another beer." Eventually the season of looking (after winter 366 Review for Religioto and before summer) itself turned out to be curiously privileged. The mountains disclosed more of themselves when their features were picked out by a light snow cover than when blanketed by heavy snow, or as free of snow as they might be in the late sum-mer. All seasons are privileged and so--also and therefore--was this present time. Eventually it became possible to see shapes, colors, and variations--to pick out the crude outlines of the geol-ogy. At what seemed an infinite cost, it became possible to look steadily. The startling landscape and harsh climate provoked ques-tions. Although the land is beautiful, some of the "southerners" who have come to stay cannot tolerate the winter isolation and depression. The land is wonderful and the energy people expend relates them closely to the environment; but mining marks the landscape. The slag heap grows huge in the middle of the valley by the mine in Cassiar; the tailings continue to mark the Klondike. But in Elsa, a ghost mining town, there is no human activity. The trees, lynx, and martin--the original inhabitants--are beginning to reclaim their territory. To what does this expenditure of energy and ingenuity relate? Sometimes--often--the energy is not expended. Without employment the choices seem to be contem-plation, alcoholism, activism, or hibernation. But the southerners who come and stay--or who return with regularity--seem to be larger and more significant than I imagine they would be if they had remained "outside." It is as if the landscape gives them value and importance or allows their significanFe to emerge and flour-ish. Some come north for a time of healing or to step away from unaccommodating circumstances; others are on the run and bring their pursuers with them. At best there is more than eccentricity and escapism. Lives are lived with old values brought from the south which are given room and enhancement by the land; new values are recognized and welcomed in small towns in the moun-tain wilderness. Strong views coexist with tolerance, showing a respect for people similar to the necessary respect for the climate. At times there is scant respect for environmentalists, who are seen to have a relationship with the country and the animals which is thin and unreal compared to that of miners, hunters, and trappers. Yet downstream from Whitehorse the waters are polluted. The pollution amazes: the Yukon, though twice the area of the United Kingdom, has a population of only about thirty thousand. Despite the invitation and the rewards, I found it difficult to May-~t~une 1992 367 McClorry ¯ Integral Sabbatical sit, to be, to contemplate, and see. My head, eyes, and feet were always in danger of being drawn away toward the future or toward present effectiveness. There was the ridiculous itch to justify how I spent my time here, in one of the most privileged environments on earth. To look, to appreciate and hear, were not more impor-tant but, rather, prior necessities. So much, it appeared, would be true for me also in the United Kingdom. There, too, I would need to discover how to look and listen. Eventually these dis-tracting energies, these pieces of unbelief, became insubstantial. Sitting in the dust--the gold dust--of Dawson acquired power. What mattered were walks along the banks of the Yukon River, taking care to identify the ducks. Surf scoters! This identifying and naming were not violently dismissive (a "that's that and what next?" attitude) but allowed what I saw to become part of the public world, made it shareable and so part of a communal promise. In some places the forests were thin. It was possible to move through them without following a trail or struggling through the undergrowth and fallen trees. Twice the bright' bark of the birch trees seemed to give light. The forest was lit from within: an event as unexpected and as usual as a fox crossing the road. I left the Yukon for the Northwest Territories. The flight from Whitehorse to Yellowknife exchanged vertical country for a horizontal landscape: a flat, flat land. Whitehorse, in mountain-ous country, has few buildings over three stories; Yellowknife, in a terrain that scarcely undulates, is full of high-rise buildings. So do we mark in our architecture our estimates of ourselves and our relationship to the land. The short Yukon spring, when all the trees came out in leaf during one afternoon, also vanished. I flew to Victoria Island, well north of the arctic circle, where there are no trees. It was snowing at Coppermine and Cambridge Bay, the snow flung horizontal by the wind. The frozen bay and the tundra do not make for "beautiful country," but they are exhila-rating: some snow remains and there are occasional, new flowers close to the ground. I see it as keenly and as vividly as the jaguar I saw in a Guyanese village two years ago. The twenty-four-hour sunlight and the intricate flatness of the land, heaved up into flat-topped rock formations near Holman, enliven my tentative pres-ence in these astonishing places. Suddenly the tundra is a place for happiness.4 There is excited wonder at the native people leaving their 368 Review for Religious houses and going to live in "camp" or "on the land" as the win-ter subsides, at the sleds, skidoos, and boats lining the bay and half covered in snow, the profusion of dog lines. There are the inviting enigmas of the snow and ice (color coded like the houses, where the color gives information about origin and ownership), the wreck of Amundsen's Maud. I walk by houses in spaces which are hardly streets, greeting and being greeted, enjoy the camps, am on holy ground. People here do not live "off the land" like Europeans on safari in what became African colonies; they live "on the land." Certainly they do not have "a place in the country." Marie Zarowny, interviewing the Dene and Inuit peo-ple about their political, economic, social, and cultural concerns, found that these were, for the people, inseparable from spirituality: "We are deeply spiritual and our spiritual power comes from the land . Our spirituality is tied in with the animals.''s I found, in this land of the Copper Eskimos,6 a desire for a project, a Gospel activity, and began to sense something of what it might be as I w.alked the tundra, cut inland by the lakes and pancake-topped striated banks, as I prayed in 'the mornings. It is to live and explore the belief that God in Christ is active in the middle of' our creativity and destructive-ness-- and to do so partly in terms of neglected areas of Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises. The context for this would be ecumenical. The people involved most likely would be marginal in ecclesiastical and social terms. Maybe something of this could be said in pub-lic language. I imagine a thin book as sharp, bright, and useful as a razor. The idea is not new. What is new is the tangibility given an idea by the land. The book does not itself matter. What counts is the invitation to live and move in this way. So much is a possible event, the gift that is also a product of looking and sit-ting with ignorance, of listening and friendliness. It is frail but real. Cautious at first, a caribou crosses the trail and moves off across the tundra, splashing through the meltwater and covering the bare ground and remaining patches of snow at a determined trot. An arctic hare appears, each hair individual and alive, crouches down ten feet away, and remains still, long-eared, and eye to eye. What mattered were walks along the banks of the Yukon River, taking care to identify the ducks. May-June 1992 369 I fly south of the arctic circle to Yellowknife, for two weeks in the parish--weeks full of conversations. Then I go on to Fort Smith, by the Alberta border, for a similar two weeks. It is good to sit by the Rapids of the Drowned on the Slave River watching the pelicans, the birds clearly at home in the spilling and swirling waters. Living "on the land" spoke of ways of living in the United Kingdom. Waiting for the looked-at and walked-over landscape to disclose itself speaks of a wider connectedness, a solidarity. I remember the six Jesuits and two women murdered in E1 Salvador on 16 November 1989. Later I fly north again, north of the cir-cle, to Inuvik. There I wonder once more about space and people: the Northwest Territories are larger than Western Europe and have a population of about 55,000. I do not know what this con-trast might mean or what it is to populate or overpopulate the land. In a short while I will exchange these huge and empty spaces for my own overcrowded little island, where every piece of land seems like an archaeologist's find. Meanwhile there is the Mackenzie delta to see--the delta of the Decho, to use the Dene name--and the small settlement of Arctic Red River to visit. But sabbatical time is running out. When I arrive back in England I will have spent some four months never passing more than two weeks at a stretch in any one place. Afterwards It is usual to say that those who travel undertake an inner journey as well as an outer journey. Covering distance, when the travel is a pilgrimage, is a metaphor for a change of mind and heart. Explorers explore also themselves and their own cultures. Similarly the landscape, the land on which we put our feet and live, is an exterior landscape which affects and is affected by our interior landscape. Barry Lopez, contemplating the "bleak and forsaken" aspect of Pingok Island in the Beaufort Sea, writes: The prejudice we exercise against such landscapes, imag-ining them to be primitive, stark, and pagan, became sharply apparent. It is in a place like this that we would unthinkingly store poisons or test weapons, land like the deserts to which we once banished our heretics and where we once loosed scapegoats with the burden of our transgressions.7 Happiness, however, had been given on the undistinguished tundra. The "land" had become a metaphor, a mnemonic, partly 370 Review for Religious learned and partly obscure, which held attractive promise. This was not distant from the care of the land in the Old Testament sabbatical tradition; it was close, also, to the concern for people and society, for the excluded, which is integral to that tradition. The landscape of Victoria Island and the Decho had reminders, in the oil storage tanks needed for winter warmth, of a different economy, other concerns. The land-scape would also include the cityscape, the interre-latedness and demands of first-world economies. Desire and fear both go into the making of cities and are evoked by the complexity and coloration of their shapes, just as they affect and are evoked by our perception of the land. The city includes and excludes, vivifies and oppresses--and needs as much care in its contemplation as does the tundra in the arctic and the mountains of the Yukon, as much set-ting of ourselves not to turn away. In the city, in our quotidian economies, the invitation is the same: to look steadily, to sit with ignorance, to trust the friendliness, to find, in this also impossible terrain, the outlines of the kingdom as drawn in the few "remembered" words of Jesus. Back in England, in Birmingham, there are vivid memories of smokehouses and camps, mountains and snow, the tundra and the frozen sea, mosquitoes and black flies, the particular people and their traditions. The coffee-lubricated conversations continue to echo. The tundra, I think, was easier to look at than Birmingham. But the tundra invites a fuller regard for my own place, these islands off the coast of Europe, and speaks of new possibilities. The landscape of the Yukon speaks of hoping for what is more and larger than is admitted in other, more usual, locations. Solidarities beckon in a welcoming fashion. A sabbatical is a way of returning to one's own place. The difficulty of all this is clear: "The differ-ing landscapes of the earth are hard to know individually. They are as difficult to engage in conversation as wild animals.''8 Nonetheless, to think of a world without wilderness is to be full of disquiet. For wilderness--living "in the land"--was integral to Milford and Cambridge, and is part and parcel of where I am now and where we all are. Explorers explore also themselves and their own cultures. May-June 1992" 371 Notes ~ In what follows on parables, I am indebted to James Crampsey, "Look at the Birds of the Air ." The Way, 31, no. 4 (October 1991): 286-294. 2 John Macmurray, Persons in Relation (Adantic Highlands, New Jersey; first published by Faber and Faber, London, 1961), p. 171. 3 Thomas Lobsinger OMI, Bishop of Whitehorse, and Denis Croteau OMI, Bishop of Mackenzie-Fort Smith--to whom I am very grateful. The Yukon and Northwest Territories are ordinarily a Jesuit-free zone. 4 A time of happiness, if not frequent, is at least commented on often enough for it to be by no means unique in this kind of terrain. See, for example, P. G. Downes, Seeping Island (Saskatoon: Prairie Books, 1988). The happiness contrasts with, but is not provoked by, the harshness of the country. Imprisoned by "a relentless wind of eight days fury," Downes is told by his partner "You do not 'hope' in this country; you do not hope, you just do the best you can" (p. 63). An explanation is given in a foot-note: "What he means is that 'hoping' is a passive state, and that you must be physically and mentally active in this type of situation." This seems also about right when hoping in God. s Marie Zawowny, "You Can Help Us to Become Strong Inside: Discerning the Direction of the Church with the Dene and the Inuit," Insight: A Resource for Adult Religious Education, no. 4, 1991, National Office of Religious Education, Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops. 6 "Copper Eskimo" was the phrase I heard. Local people do not always use the the more favored general name, Inuit--"the people." A fine account of life with the Inuit of the area is given in Raymond de Coccola and Paul King, The Incredible Eskimo: Life among the Barren Land Eskimo (Hancock House, 1989). The work was first published by Oxford University Press, New York, in the early 1950s under the title Ayorama; the new edition is fuller and uncensored. 7 Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams: Imagination and Desire in a Northern Landscape (Picador, 1987), p. 255. See also the chapter "Landscape and Narrative" in his Crossing Open Ground (New York: Vintage Books, 1989). 8 The continuation of the quotation noted in n. 7 above. 372 Review for Religious PHILIP L. BOROUGHS Using Ignatian Discernment work, ministry, or living arrangements. Diminishing energy, feel-ings of boredom or of being taken for granted, or an emerging desire for new challenges can signal a need to reappraise one's situation. Obviously, these times of transition are unsettling, and they can be stressful as one begins to let go of the security of the familiar and searches for new clarity and direction. However, these periods also can generate new possibilities and a renewed sense of responsibility for one's life. At times such as these, the Serenity Prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous seems particularly appropriate: "O God, grant me the courage to change the things that I can change, the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference." Sometimes circumstances warrant a fun-damental change in one's life, while at other times a change of attitude or behavior seems mor4 appropriate. As one critically reviews his or her situation and assesses available options, one wisely might wonder whether there are any norms or principles to help one choose among the options. In the Spiritual Exercises St. Ignatius of Loyola offers a num-ber of principles for discernment which can be extremely useful for those entering into a time of transition. One of the major goals of the Exercises is to assist those who Philip L. Boroughs SJ may be addressed at 621 17th Avenue East; Seattle, Washington 98122. May-June 1992 373 Boroughs ¯ Using Ignatian Discernment undertake them to make the right life choices. The principles of discernment reflect Ignatius's own experience of prayerful decision making, and a brief review of the major transitions in his life will offer a context for his insights. Ignatius's Life On 20 May 1521 Ignatius was wounded in the battle of Pamplona, and in the long recuperation period which followed, a fundamental reorientation of his life began. Over the next sev-eral months, as he contemplated his future, Ignatius became aware of different interior movements affecting him. Gradually he rec-ognized the patterns of these interior movements, noting that certain spirits or desires produced peace and hope while others, which initially delighted him, eventually left him sad and depressed. As a result of these fluctuations, Ignatius decided to fol-low the spirit or direction which ultimately consoled him, and thus his religious quest began in earnest. Abandoning his life as a soldier and courtier, he moved to Manresa and formally commenced a spiritual journey which grad-ually helped him to identify and understand his limits and dis-oriented attachments as well as his deepest dreams and desires. After months of intense prayer and penance, mystical experiences, and interior growth, he embarked on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. There he hoped to spend his life visiting the holy places and help-ing souls. However, after he had been in Jerusalem only nineteen days, the Roman Catholic authorities ordered him to leave. The political climate was tense, and they did not want to assume lia-bility for this questionable religious enthusiast. Accepting their legitimate authority over him, Ignatius con-cluded that it must not be God's will that he remain in Jerusalem. He decided that he needed further education if he were to serve God's people in some other capacity. He returned to Spain and began studying grammar at the University of Barcelona. Two years later he advanced to study the humanities at Alcalfi. After many months, however, his austere lifestyle and his growing rep-utation as a lay spiritual director caused such controversy that he was investigated by the Inquisition. Mthough exonerated of any wrongdoing, he was forbidden to continue his spiritual ministry. Consequently he moved to the University of Salamanca. There the same pattern was repeated, and once again he had to revise his 374 Review for Religious plans. Ignatius then transferred to the University of Paris, where he spent the next seven years earning his bachelor's and master's degrees. These were intense years of study and spiritual ministry, and they were also years when he gathered some lifelong com-panions who shared his ideals and his commitment to service. As his formal education drew to a close, Ignatius became seri-ously ill and was advised by his doctors to return to his native country to recuperate. He journeyed home with the understand-ing that he and his companions would reassemble in Venice once he had recovered. From there they hoped to gain passage for Jerusalem, where they would spend the rest of their lives in min-istry. Ignatius and his friends vowed to wait one year in Venice for passage to Jerusalem; but if they could not arrange their trip dur-ing that time because of political turmoil, they would travel to Rome and place themselves at the service of the pope. Since no ships left Venice for Jerusalem that year, they proceeded on to Rome in keeping with their vow. As their reputation for holiness and ministerial effectiveness spread, requests for their services began to arrive from various corners of the world, forcing this rather loose-knit group of friends to consider the nature of their commitment to each other. After weeks of prayerful deliberation, they decided to form a reli-gious community and elected Ignatius to be their religious supe-rior. Although he initially declined the position, subsequent prayer and consultation with his spiritual director moved him to accept. He spent the last fifteen years of his life as the superior general of the nascent Society of Jesus. During this time of rapid growth and development, Ignatius not only provided this new community with inspired leadership, but he also prayerfully drafted its con-stitutions. With the exception of his seven years at Paris and his final years in Rome, Ignatius moved fre.quently throughout his adult life. His constant effort was to discern and follow God's will within the social and historical realities of his time. A!though he was the recipient of many mystical graces, few of them provided him with specific instructions about the decisions he faced. Rather, these mystical experiences confirmed the general direction of his life and God's ongoing companionship with him. Decisions about particular choices he faced required prayer and discernment to discover God's will. Ignatius's early lessons in the discernment of spirits, his respect for human learning and reflectivity, and his May-~Tune 1992 375 Boroughs ¯ Using Ignatian Discernment courage to act once he felt he knew what God wanted of him facilitated his prayerful decision making during the numerous transitions of his life. Predispositions for Discernment Ignatius's religious experience and his Spiritual Exercises sug-gest that, if an individual wishes to enter into a process of dis-cernment in order to discover God's will, certain predispositions are necessary: interior freedom, sufficient knowledge of self and the world, imagination, patience, and the. courage to act respon-sibly. Without these graces, true discernment is not possible. Interior Freedom: The first paragraph of the Spiritual Exercises clearly asserts that interior freedom is a sine qua non for finding God's will: "We call Spiritual Exercises every way of preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments and, after their removal, of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul" (SpEx 1). When Ignatius speaks of ridding oneself of inordinate attach-ments, he can be very explicit. In the Meditation on the TWO Standards, he identifies inordinate attachments primarily as temp-tations to riches, honor, and pride (SpEx 142). Today we might describe them as an attachment to possessions or a specific lifestyle, a desire for recognition or a preoccupation with the opinion of others, and an insistence on being in control of one's life or radical self-sufficiency. Ignatius believed that attachments " ~uch as these would so condition one's life that one's relationship with God would be seriously compromised and one's freedom to find God's will would be lost. During times of transition in a person's life, other variations of inordinate attachments also can surface. For example, at the first sign of serious difficulty, some people immediately search for new living or work possibilities, fearful of the asceticism required for long-term commitments. Others, feeling misunder-stood and unvalued, find it easier to cling to chronic anger and bit-terness than to identify and address the source of these feelings and move to a more integrated life. Still others become so com-pletely preoccupied with their own personal growth that they ignore the legitimate needs of those whose lives are intercon-nected with theirs. Whatever form an inordinate attachment takes, 376 Review for Religious it can effectively inhibit the possibility of true discernment because it centers one's life in oneself rather than in God. Knowledge: True spiritual freedom or detachment depends on self-knowledge. More than just an understanding of one's limits or even one's patterns of temptation, self-knowledge requires a pro-found awareness of one's gifts and one's deepest desires. However, during times of transition, individuals frequently say that they do not really know what they want. This is often part of the initial unrest which introduces a need for change. But it also can be an invitation for individuals to reclaim their deepest desires, those essential values which give ultimate meaning to their lives, their relationships, and their involvement with the world. For example, when one becomes overwhelmed juggling the increasing demands of family and career, or exhausted by the mounting expectations of one's ministerial position, or seriously disillusioned by institutional intransigence, identifying again or reformulating one's deepest desires provides a starting point for making new choices. Articulating one's deepest desires helps one to prioritize commitments and can provide some perspective for letting go of tfiose concerns which jeopardize whfit is more impor-tant. Sometimes people come to realize that .they have to r~con-sider tfieir original life commitment because of s.ubsequent choices they have made over the years. Others may discern that their deepest desires have not changed, but their they have to find a new oi" healthier way of living them out. S~ill others may experi-ence a call to liv~ out their original commitment even more rad-ically. Reapp~:opriating one's deepest desires is a critical dimension of self-knowiedge. However, for Ignatius self-knowledge was not enough. He spent many years studying in some of the most respected univer-sities of his day and achieved an advanced degree in theology because he believed that education was a critical component for ministry. He even rediaced his intense spiritual activities during his university years because he discerned that his ex[ended prayer was interfering with his con~mitment to study. Ignatius emphasized education as a significant component in the formation of young Jesuits and as an important ministry of the Society of Jesus because through it he promoted the ongoing transformation of individu-als, church, and society. Consequently, not only knowing oneself, but also knowing the complexities of any given situation, pos- May-June 1992 377 Boroughs ¯ Using Iffnatian Discernment sessing a critical understanding of systems and structures, and having sufficient education for one's current ministry or some new possibility are critical dimensions of a discernment process. Imagination: Knowledge in concert with imagination can produce new possibilities. Ignatius clearly manifested an imaginative approach to ministry through the creation of the Society of Jesus and its novel structures and methods. He also used the power of imagination in his approach to prayer. Through an imagina

Issue 51.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1992. ; for religi.ous Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1992 ¯-VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 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, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington~ D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1992 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 4 contents evangelizing and witnessing ° 486 Church of the Poor Juan Ram6n Moreno sJ reflects on the implications of seeing the poor as central for the identity of the church and religious life. 496 Women Missioners amidst Violence Annmarie Sanders IHM reflects the questions, fears, and chal-lenges facing foreign women missionaries in Peru. 504 School of Terror Roy Bourgeois MM speaks on behalf of the poor as he voices his concern about a particular military training camp called the School of the Americas. inculturating 508 Women Religious and the African Synod M. Gerard Nwagwu offers her thoughts on the evangelization of Africa in an article originally presented as the keynote address at the National Day of Celebration of the Nigerian Conference of Women Religious in January 1992. 519 Rerooting Religious Life in South Africa Jennifer Mary Alt OP reflects on how native African spiritual values might become better integrated into the religious-life vocation. 527 54O 545 living religiously Religious Life and Religion Albert DiIanni SM calls attention to the religious core of a belief in God and of our relationship with God which cannot be reduced to a personal~ social, or ecological morality. Detachment in Our Psychological Age Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ explains detachment as a way of freeing ourselves from our compulsive behaviors and opening ourselves to God's healing. An Ache in My Heart Bernard Seif SMC witnesses to the continuing call and direction of God in bringing forth new forms of dedicated life in the " church. 482 Review Jbr Religious focusing religious life 550 Religious Life in Church Documents Patricia F. Walter OP presents some aspects identifying religious life in conciliar and postconciliar documents of the magisterium. 562 The Ignatian Charism of the Sisters of St. Joseph Joan L. Roccasalvo CSJ shows how the Spiritual Exercises per-meate Jean-Pierre M~daille's Maxims of Perfection and so fire an Ignatian spirit for the Sisters of St. Joseph. 575 Envisioning Associate Identity Rose Marie Jasinski CBS reflects on the status of the associate movement in the light of the second national conference held 5-7 May 1991. 581 Musings about Vocations James E. Claffey CM finds vocation ministry a stimulant to a broader understanding of how God breaks into our history. 585 595 600 614 484 625 632 ministering Pastoral Leadership beyond the Managerial (XL*~ Matthias Neuman OSB stresses the role of spiritual leadership in the midst of ministry challenges. Scarcity and Abundance in Parishes Thomas P. Sweetser SJ compares the parish to a desert of scarci-ties, but at the same time a desert beautiful with hidden wells of life. Marian Community and Ministry Patrick Primeaux SM combines data from both the theological and businessomanage.ment disciplines to distinguish a Petrine and a Marian way of ministering and of living community. Three Images of Priesthood Henry J. Charles proposes the images of priest as collaborator, mystagogue, and holy man for a renewed understanding of priesthood. departments Prisms /~ Canonical Counsel: Involuntary Ex~laustration Book Reviews .l~uly-Augu.ct 1992 483 prisms History happens. We human beings can write our history books and, by emphasis and omission and sometimes by romanticizing, make as if we are mas-ters of our history. It may take only some seventy years for the rewriting of the Communist history of Russia or it may take five hundred years for the European discovery of the Americas to be reevaluated. But it happens. We say that Pope John XXIII made history when he called the Second Vatican Council. We are well aware that the church experienced, through the actions of the bishops present at the council, something that has been likened to a second Pentecost. For our own availability to the God of history, we need to return again and again to the happening of that first Pentecost and the subsequent events as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. God's Spirit makes things happen, even when the very persons involved seem so little capable of being the crafters of history. Most recently Pope John Paul II has expressed his own desire to make history by his call for a new evangelization, partic-ularly occasioned by our entering into the third millen-nium. This call to a new evangelization holds the promise of another moment of this second Pentecost that came with Vatican II. It is history happening, in which none of us is the master or control-artist, but every one of us plays an important role--with the Spirit's direction. Evangelization--new evangelization--demands much of us all. A paradigm of evangelization and inculturation captures our attention anew as we reflect upon the events in the Acts of the Apostles. It means that no one can hold himself or herself exempt from the call of this second moment of the second Pentecostqthe call to a new hear- 484 Review for Religious ing of good news. This is not the time for new rules or the impo-sition of old ones--the Judaizers tried that two thousand years ago. It is the time for Cornelius, his wife, and household to invite Peter once again to proclaim the gospel so that new conversion on everyone's part can take place. It is the time for Peter to dream new dreams and hear God telling him that old restrictions do not apply in a new creation moment. One of the deepest meanings of Pentecost lies in the fact that all peoples heard the good news in a way that they could under-stand and respond to. It goes beyond the language barrier to breakthroughs involving customs, heritages, and rituals. In the Pentecost beginnings, Jesus Christ and the gospel message needed no inculturation. In the new evangelization as in the original one recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, it is not Jesus Christ who needs to be inculturated; he is already a confidant of people's hearts. It is his church that must be inculturated by being evan-gelized anew as well as by evangelizing others. The Acts of the Apostles--the story of the first evangelizing time--portrays the exhilarating and somber picture that inculturating a church does not come without cost--a cost which everyone must bear in lis-tening to ~hocking good news, in experiencing a certain amount of turmoil, in suffering the pain of differences expressed vigorously by people who serve or are served. John Paul II has said that "we need an evangelization that is new in its ardor, new in its method, new in its expressions." That ' is what we--always the disciples--must allow to happen to our-selves first: to be evangelized anew in order to be the new evan-gelizers. We need to rethink how to inculturate a church, not a gospel. If the original Jewish and pagan converts to the new Christian faith seemed to share little common religious heritage and ritual and yet, with struggle, came to form the Body of Christ, can we today not recognize the imperative of a new evangelization demanding the same kind of breakthrough for traditionalists, lib-erals, feminists, or whatever modern-day version an appeal to the party of Apollos or Paul takes? A new evangelization brings the excitement of discovery into our own lives and so into our church. Let the Spirit lead. It has happened; it will happen again. David L. Fleming SJ ~uly-Augu~t 1992 485 JUAN RAMON MORENO Church of the Poor evangelizing and witnessing Juan Ram6n Moreno SJ was one of six Jesuits mur-dered along with an employee and her daughter by Salvadoran military forces at the Jesuit residence of the Central American University, San Salvador, on 16 November 1989. He was widely known as a spiritual director, teacher, preacher, and giver of retreats and conferences and was the founder and editor of the spirituality journal Diakonfa. Besides holding other responsibilities, at various times he was novice director for the Jesuits of Central America, local superior, university professor, and president of the Panamanian and Nicaraguan con-ferences of religious. This article was first published in Diakonfa 7 (1978): 17-28 and republished in a collection of Father Moreno's writings, Evangelio y misidn (San Salvador: UCA Editores, 1990). The translation is by James R. Brockman SJ with the permission of UCA Editores. The footnotes are the translator's. The term "church of the poor" is meant to express a new awareness of what it is to be church, an awareness that is growing in force among Christians in Latin America. The following thoughts are proposed as a help toward under-standing the foundation and principal traits of this way of viewing the church. Church of the Poor and Vatican II The schema on the church elaborated by the precon-ciliar doctrinal commission brought together the ecclesi-ology traditionally taught in recent centuries, and the 486 Review for Religious that allow one to recognize in Jesus the hoped-for Messiah are that "the blind see and the lame walk., and the good news is proclaimed to the poor" (Mt 11:5), what should be the traits that make recognizable Jesus' church? Church Born from Below Vatican II has allowed us to pass from a church that becomes conscious of itself and is organized and structured fr0m within, from itself, to a church that seeks to understand and structure itselffr0m without, from the world that it has been sent to in order to make God's kingdom grow in that world. Nevertheless, the reality that the world is a divided world had not yet made its full impact on the council. Consequently, the challenges to which it more directly proposes to respond are those of a world seen too much from above, from the angle of the learned and the skilled, from the culture and the perspective of the dominant classes. But at Medellfn2 the Latin American bishops began to express in an inspired and probing manner the conflictive reality of our world. The cry of the impoverished majority of the continent found an echo. The church began to become aware of itself and to organize and structure its life and pastoral action not from an abstract world or from just any part of the real, concrete world, but from below, from the world of the poor, and from there to fashion itself as the true church of Christ. Church of the Poor One must not confuse church of the poor with church3'br the poor. A church for the poo~r would be a church that is constituted in a first step that is logically prior to its encounter with the poor and then, in a second step, seeks out the poor to serve and help them. But the church of the poor is a church that in its very con-stitution has the poor as its center. There is no doubt that the church, as the historical body of Christ, must place itself in the world to transform it and to make present in it the reign of God. It must be incarnated, that is, take a body, become a visible and acting institution. But the problem is, what are the criteria that are to determine its institutional shape? What body will it take? Faithful to the incarnational logic of Jesus, the church must take the body of the poor, incorporat-j~ uly-.4ugust 1992 489 Moreno ¯ Church of the Poor ing the poor, making the poor to be those who make up what is characteristic and determinant of its body, which is structured and takes visible form from the cause and the interests of the poor. Let us take a Gospel passage that graphically illustrates this, which is the particular way of acting of Jesus. I choose the short scene with which Mark begins his third chapter. He describes a Jesus situated within a determined sociocultural-religious con-text. But Jesus is situated in it concretely, and he is situated in a way which is perceived by one of the parties as threatening to its interests--"they wer~ watching him closely" (3:2)--and which provokes a conflict so sharp that "they plotted together to see how to eliminate him" (3:6). What is indicative is the place where Jesus is situated and from which he faces the situation: solidarity with the actual man, the man in his poverty, the man oppressed by his paralyzed hand and forsaken by the institution. He has him step into the middle of the synagogue. And he obliges the others, the representatives of the grand institution, to face up to their own presuppositions: Is it licit or not? What is more important, the institution or the person, maintaining the institution or free-ing a man from what concretely oppresses him? What is the cri-terion to act on? "But they were silent" (3:4). Jesus' reaction is, "Then looking at them with anger . . ." (3:5). Countless times the Gospels speak of Jesus' look--always a loving and compas-sionate look. Now he looks "with anger." At whom? At that group of wise, prudent men who are respectful of the institution. Why? Because they refuse to commit themselves to the man, they refuse to make a decision in regard to a poor person, they refuse to take a stand in a situation that questions their rigid institutional schemes. Jesus says, "Hold out your hand" (3:5). Jesus chooses the poor person, the man in a situation of concrete need. The institution is either at the service of human beings orit does not reflect the true God. The Gospels contain many even more radical expressions about the poor as the fundamental criterion for discerning whether we are following the path to God's kingdom. Perhaps the most awesome and disquieting is the words contained in Matthew 25:31-46: "Come, blessed ones of my Father, inherit the kingdom . . . for I was hungry and you gave me to eat. depart from me, accursed ones., for I was naked and you did no~' clothe me . " There is not much room here for sociological or 490 Review for Religious theological lucubrations about who are the poor that are spoken of and what is the determinant criterion for measuring God's nearness. Crucified Church As we can see in the example of Jesus, taking the side of the poor supposes having the courage to get involved in conflict. The history of the Latin American church since Medellfn confirms what has been true all through its existence: insofar as it empties itself of power and prestige so as to enter the world of the poor and be identified with them and their cause, it has also had to suffer their lot--crucifixion and death--and it has come to under-stand why it cannot follow Jesus without denying itself and car-rying the cross. It is because the immense majority of the poor are not poor simply because of nature, but because of other persons. In reality, the poor are the impoverished. Hence, their mere pres-ence is an accusation, a questioning; it creates conflict. The poor are a cause of division, a division whose theological meaning is apocalyptically described in the eschatological discourse I have mentioned: "He will separate one from the other, as the shep-herd separates the sheep from the goats" (Mt 25:32). Jesus him-self, poor and in solidarity with the poor, appears as "a sign of contradiction" (Lk 2:34); and when he takes his place actually at the side of the poor, he provokes conflict and repression, and he suffers death. For this reason the church of the poor is the crucified church, the church of the martyrs. It is so insofar as it is a church of the poor. As long as it preaches universal but abstract love, as long as it is a church from above, the world's powerful praise and respect it; they consider it their church. But when it begins to translate love into historical terms, when it begins to take the side of the poor and it plans and organizes its pastoral work with them in mind, then it begins also to be the church that is slandered and persecuted. If we look at this fact in the light of the Beatitudes (see Lk 6:22-23, 26) there is no doubt which one is the church of Jesus. Church in which the Poor are Evangelized The poor are the privileged consignees of the good news of .~ly-Aug'ust 1992 491 Moreno ¯ Church of the Poor salvation. That does not mean they are the exclusive consignees. Partiality is not the same as exclusiveness. Jesus comes to bring sal-vation for all. But he comes to bring it from the poor, and fi'om them he confronts the changes that must come about in the world; he makes specific what it means to be converted, what it means to become brothers and sisters. This is not a matter of mystifying the poor, as if they were the good and the rich were the bad. It is that objectively God's identi-fication with the poor, the defense of their cause, is precisely where it is revealed what God is, a God who is love that saves, love that creates a brotherhood and sisterhood of sons and daughters, love that makes all things new. And so it is from there that salva-tion is offered to all. The Beatitudes proclaim, not the goodness of human beings, but the goodness of the God who identifies with the little ones of the earth. The Acts of the Apostles describes for us a church that under, stood this very well and where for that reason the poor find their place in such a way that they cease to be poor: Among them no one was needy, because all those who pos-sessed land or houses sold them and brought the price of the sale., and distribution was made to all according to their needs (Ac 4:34-35). It is the very gesture of him who "being rich became poor for you in order to enrich you with his poverty (2 Co 8:9). Church in which the Poor Evangelize Us This is another of the traits that characterize the church of the poor. St. John declares: Everyone who loves . . . knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love (1 Jn 4:7-8). But those who from their objective condition teach the church what true love of God, Christian love, consists in are the poor: If someone has material possessions and sees a brother in need and yet closes his heart to him, how can love of God dwell in him? My children, let us love not just with words, with our lips, but with actions and in truth (1 Jn 3:17-18). The poor reveal to us what the demands are of that love which, because it is Christian, seeks efficacy and a real change in the conditions of suffering and injustice of the poor. They makd us discover who God is: the one who takes the part of the orphan, 492 Review for Religious the widow, the stranger, the one who becomes their goeL They make us understand the Jesus who has compassion, who casts out demons, who looks with anger. They reveal to us the demons that must be cast out today, what the sin is that today stirs up the Lord's anger, what it is that today negates brotherhood, that kills our brother or sister. It is from the poor we must learn what grace means, grace that is manifested in powerlessness, that makes possible the impossible, that bursts in as pure gift. In short, they keep on making us discover the Gospel in a new dimension. On the other hand, if the poor are the privileged consignees of the good news of the kingdom, that means they must also be privileged in understanding and interpreting what that good news signi-fies. The Gospel is understood through the lens of the poor and from their per-spective. Therefore, it is in them before all else that the Spirit becomes present, From the poor we must learn what grace means, grace that is manifested in powerlessness, that makes possible the impossible, that bursts in as pure gift. and from there the Spirit speaks today to the church. There is a hierarchical magisterium in the church, but it only makes sense if it is rooted in the reality of those poor who make up the church's rank and file. The good shepherd's sheep follow him because "they know his voice" and "he knows his own sheep" (Jn 10:4, 14). The hierarchy of the church of the poor is a hierarchy of service, not of domination. It is a hierarchy that knows its sheep in dia-logue and solidarity, that is ai~tuned to their concrete needs, their sufferings, their longings. Precisely for this reason, because it can hear and understand the people's silent cry, it is able to speak with a language that is recognizable, and in the hierarchy's voice the poor find their life, their cause, their hope, their own voice. The theological reflection of the church of the poor is done from below also, tuning in to 'the awareness and the feelings of the poor. Those poor have had their voice taken away--within the church as well--for so long that they have forgotten how to speak and must learn, to express themselves; but they must increasingly acquire a voice within the church. And that voice must be heard, because in it is revealed the Spirit of Jesus that guides the church. Thus will arise a church where things are considered, struc-at~ dy-./lugust 1992 493 Moreno ¯ Church of tbe Poor tured, and carried out from the perspective of the poor. It is they who say how the institution should function, what new ministries are required for a better service, what ministries and functions they need so that they themselves may be active participants within the church's life. Church on Its Way We must not forget that this church of the poor is also a pil-grim church, a church that must keep forming itself through hard-ship and conflict. I am not referring now to conflict with the powers of the world; I am talking about the world and the sin that are still found within the church itself, about conflict that arises from the church's limitations and from different models of church. The church's unity--that unity for which Jesus died--is eschatological unity, a unity that will come about beyond the church itself as fundamental gift of the kingdom that will burst forth into fullness. The church has a mission to go on building that unity--which is universal brotherhood and sisterhood--by attacking at the root what keeps that unity from being realized. That is not achieved by denying the reality of the conflict, but by facing up to the lack of love and Folidarity that produces it. The mere existence of the poor exposes that lack of love and sol-idarity- which is why there will be protest, conflict, and division as long as there are poor--and it reminds us that salvation, the fullness of God's reign, has not yet arrived. The Religious Life in the Church of the Poor What place do we religious have within this church of the poor that I have just described? The religious life arises as protest against the values and struc-tures of the world. It arises as a search for what is radical in the Gospel, for the "one thing necessary" (Lk 10:42), which tends to be obscured in a church tempted to become worldly, to stop being the distinct event that it ought to be within the world. With its special form of Christian existence, religious life ought to be prophecy that points continually towards the church's true mean-ing and calls on it, not to settle down, but to seek ever to go for-ward. That is the eschatological meaning of the vows, as they show us a beyond that urgesus to transform the present. 494 Review for Religious But what is the natural place for religious life to flourish? Where is the root that makes our life radically evangelical? If what I have said about the church of the poor is true, then there is no doubt that the poor are the place par excellence where the reli-gious life should be located in order to carry out its charism of prophecy. In point of fact, the Spirit is stirring up a notable move-ment among religious towards a real and concrete insertion among the poor. From there the Spirit provides light for a reinterpreta-tion of religious life itself. The religious vows are seen before all else as ,consecration to the Christ who is poor and identified with the poor, as vows that consecrate by freeing us from fixity and exclusiveness so as to form Christians who are available for all and approachable by all, but with an availability and approacha-bility whose universalness is shown precisely in being dedicated by preference to the poor and effectively committed to their cause. It means being detached in order to go where the institution can scarcely reach because of the difficulty and poverty of the condi-tions. Jon Sobrino expresses it very well as a going to the desert, the periphery, the frontier: to the desert, where no one is, where no one wants to go; to the periphery, where everything is seen through the lens of the powerless (not to the center, where the powerful are, where things are seen from above); to the frontier, where risks are greater and the task is harder, where there are no trodden paths because no one has trod them and the walkways are made by walking. What better way to fulfill religious life's prophetic function within the church than to help it read the signs of the times from that insertion into the world and struggle of the poor? What bet-ter way than to point out the new paths that the Spirit of Jesus is having us discover through the poor, in whom that Spirit becomes so specially present? The challenge offered us is, how to bring this about? To what conversion does the Lord call us as religious within the church so that we may help it become increasingly a church of the poor? Notes 1 The Documents of Vatican H (New York: The America Press, 1966), pp. 23-24. 2 The 1968 Latin American bishops' assembly at Medell~n, Colombia. July-August 1992 495 ANNMARIE SANDERS Women Missioners amidst Violence efforts of two insurgency groups, drug lords, and a military that violates more human rights than the groups it seeks to suppress. Through the country more than sixty percent of the people are living in emergency zones, and a great deal of these areas have been placed under military control. Many of the towns have lost their leaders, doctors, teachers, and development workers and even their police. Often only Catholic church workers remain, the great majority of whom are women religious. The situation has called us who serve here to a new way of liv-ing and ministering among the people and to a new spirituality. Following Christ and living Christian values can no longer be done as in the past. The reality in which our spirituality is lived out is now radically different. In speaking with various foreign women missionaries through-out Peru, I see that we struggle with many of the same new chal-lenges, are asking ourselves the same questions, and are recognizing similar patterns in our lives of prayer and relation with God. Our situation is unique because of the state of the country in which we work. The complexity of problems plaguing Annmarie Sanders IHM, a member of her congregation's vocation and formation team, has been in Peru since March 1989, She also works as associate editor of Latinamerica Press/Noticias Aliadas. Her address is Apartado 18-0101 ; Lima, Peru. 496 Review for Religious Peru does not follow any pattern in the history of other nations, and thus we have no precedent to follow. To understand our questions, fears, and challenges, one must better understand the context of the violence we face. Peru's two terrorist groups, the Maoist Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) and the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Move-ment, hold as their primary goals the takeover of the country. So far their efforts since 1980 ¯ have resulted in 23,000 deaths, 5,000 disap-pearances and US$18 billion in economic damage. Sendero has declared its willingness to wade through a "river of blood" to expunge foreign influence in Peru and establish a peas-ant society. It rejects competition from the church, the state, and the private sector. The methods of the two groups include bombings, intimidations, blackmail, torture, and ruth-less murder. The terrorist groups are known to be linked with narco-traffic rings, and in return for the security which the terrorists provide coca traffickers, they receive an esti-mated $40 million a year. Although the current government of Although the terrorist problem has been present in the country for over a decade, only recently has the church been directly affected. President Albert Fujimori attempts to control the drug trafficking and terrorist situations, it also battles cholera, endemic corruption, frequent drought, eighty-percent underemployment, and a deep economic depression leaving 13 million of Peru's 22 million inhabitants in extreme poverty, a figure which has doubled in three years. The government must also contend with the Peruvian military and police forces, which, according to the Washington Office on Latin America, are among the worst violators of human rights in the hemisphere. The U.S. State Department's 1990 human-rights report notes "widespread credible reports of summary executions, arbitrary arrests, and torture and rape by the military, as well as less frequent reports of such abuses by the police." The United Nations Commission on Human Rights noted that in 1991, for the fourth consecutive year, Peru had the highest number of disap-pearances of all the countries in the world. Although the terrorist problem has been present in the coun-try for over a decade, only recently has the church been directly affected. Between the church and the terrorists there had existed .~dy-August 1992 497 Sanders ¯ Women Missioners amidst Violence an "understanding." Generally, when terrorists entered to take over a village, if church workers complied with terrorist expecta-tions they were left unharmed. The church work often had to be significantly curtailed,.'but the religious could remain as a presence to the people. The recent direct destruction of church projects and prop-erty; the deaths of Irene McCormack, an Australian Sister of St. Joseph, in Junin in May 1991 and of Zbigniew Strzalkowski and Michael Tomaszek, Polish Franciscan priests, and Alessandro Dordi Negroni, an Italian priest, in Chimbote in August 1991; and the attempted assassination in July 1991 in Chimbote of Miguel Company, a priest from Spain, changed the scene signif-icantly. More religious encountered terrorist demands that their works--especially food aid and development projects--be stopped, and many received direct threats on their lives. Rather suddenly priests and religious became direct terrorist targets. Sendero Luminoso proclaimed that the church was the enemy of the peo-ple and an obstacle to revolutionary triumph. As the Rev. Robert Gloisten, a U.S. missioner and a staff member of the Peruvian Episcopal Conference for Social Action, stated, "We have become a church under fire with no idea of what will happen day to day." For several years, denial of the serious-ness of the situation was possible. Life was carried on with a vague knowledge that terrorists were active in a few isolated areas; as long as their activity did not directly touch us, we could continue peacefully. Those days are past. ~ The level of awareness and acceptance of the reality of this sit-uation naturally differs for each person. Much depends on one's personal experiences. For example, Pittsburgh Sister of Mercy Rita Harasiuk, who works in the diocese of Chimbote, was jolted by the death of her three colleagues into a new view of the situation: Although I began seeing things differently with the attempted assassination of Miguel Company, it was really the deaths of the two Franciscans that affected me the most. The two, along with two mayors from nearby towns who were also killed, were laid out together in coffins--all open-- and one worse than the other. For some of us, it was the first time we had seen what a human body looked like after having been shot in the head with weapons designed to destroy and mutilate . When Sandro [Alessandro Dordi] was killed two weeks later, we could see that more killing might go on. That's when we really began to strug-gle with what our response to this situation should be. 498 Review for Religious For California native Teresa Avalos of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, an incident directly involving her community played a significant role in making the situation more real for her and her sisters. In July 1991 a group of Sendero Luminoso ter-rorists entered Moho, where five of her community members lived and worked. They dynamited several buildings, executed six people, and ordered the townspeople to break into and ransack the convent. "This brought the fear of violence that is directed toward us much more into the open," Avalos said. Others of us have grown in our acceptance of the seriousness of the situation from our hearing such accounts by our colleagues. We stand in solidarity with them, aware that the problem is no longer isolated. An important task most of us have faced has been the admission of our feelings in the midst of such turmoil. Fear, nat-urally, is among the most common emotions, and, unfortunately, sometimes very difficult to accept and share with others. "We are all at different stages of being able to accept the real-ity, and some are still in a stage of denial," said California native Liane Delsuc of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur. "This leaves me often feeling alone and sometimes I don't want to share my fears because others don't feel them. I start to think--is it only me that feels this way? Does that mean I should leave? That I am not able to handle it? But I do not feel that is the case. So I look for people with whom I can more freely share because in sharing it I feel stronger and as if I can continue living this." The sharing has helped us understand the wide range of emo-tions we feel. "Reflecting with others enables me to sift through real fears and imaginary ones," said Pauline Maheux, an Edmonton, Canada, native of the Ursuline Sisters of the Chatham Union; "in sharing we help one another admit to our fears and face them." The emotions one feels get mixed up when one watches the sense-less killing and destruction of years of work. Feelings include shock and anger. Often what is hardest for us to accept is the distrust we now feel towards others since we know that we must be aware of terrorist infiltration into our parishes and workplaces. An important task most of us have faced has been the admission of our feelings in the midst of such turmoil. July-August 1992 499 Sanders ¯ Women Missioners amidst Violence Harasiuk received a shocking revelation of this after the funeral for the slain Franciscans. At the offertory two gifts were quietly brought in procession to the altar: the rope used to tie the hands of those killed and the blood-covered cardboard left on their bodies with messages from the assassins. "We later dis-covered that among the young people bringing the gifts to the altar were persons who belonged to Sendero." Our situation naturally causes us to reflect on death--that which we see around us as well as our own. "I think much more about the possibility of my own death," said French native Anna Ingett of the Sisters of Christian Education; "not that I think death will come in the next few days,,but I am more conscious of its nearness." Given this stark reality, we are constantly asking ourselves on personal, communal, local, diocesan, and national levels: How do we deal with this personally and how are we to respond as church workers? One of the greatest challenges we face is receiving accu-rate information about what is happening in the country. The media in Peru are severely restricted and often rely on third-party sources; great doubts remain. Although organizations such as the Religious Conference of Peru work hard to gather facts, the dis-semination of information is very difficult, given the lack many religious have of telephones and reliable mail service. Many reli-gious, however, felt aided by the Religious Conference's meet-ings and workshops on violence and also by programs dealing with situations and problems in the various dioceses. What seems most useful to us are open, honest dialogues with our community members and other religious working in our areas. Many of us have listened to the facts, tried to process our feelings, and then asked ourselves some hard questions: How much more of this can I take? Will I leave if one more religious or priest is killed? Can I live with this tension? Can I remain a sign of hope in what looks like an apparently hopeless situation? Once some sense of peace was reached about our presence here, we began reexamining why we are staying. Many of us, espe-cially those working the emergency zones, began looking at our work with very different eyes. "After the deaths here, most of us slowed down and started thinking, evaluating, praying, and talk-ing together about why we are here and what we should be doing," said Harasiuk, who has been working for ten years as a pastoral team member in Chimbote. She recalls a meeting of priests and 500 Revlew for Religious sisters where someone asked, "Do you think you should continue working as you have been?" Not one person said yes. Many pastoral workers have reduced their work to simple presence in their parishes. They no longer lead groups, distribute food and aid, or attempt to organize the people. They maintain a low profile and lead quiet lives of simple accompaniment. For Delsuc, who is principal in a Lima barrio of a Fe and Alegrfa School, one of forty-three institutes set up by the Jesuits to educate young people in Lima's shantytowns and in the provinces, the questions about work are many: "I wonder if we are presenting relevant, peaceful alterna-tives that will allow the people to respond with Christian values to the violence around them? I wonder if it would'be better not to be involved in a certain work and just live alongside the people? I wonder if our commit-ment to the people is valuable even if it brings death?" Many of our ques-tions must be left unanswered. But we recognize that simply by asking them we have allowed our lives to be changed. For many of us, before we could accept the change the situ-ation calls us to, we had to let go of the past. Harasiuk says that this was a common experience for the religious in Chimbote after the deaths. "Our grieving process was not just for persons, but for a whole way of life that is passing. This situation has taken away from us a freedo~n to move day and night without fear, to speak openly without worrying about what we say or to who~n we are talking." For Harasiuk this experience also helped her to evaluate her life and her activity and to decide what really matters. "So many of the things I had been involved in suddenly did not seem so important." Maheux, who has served as a pastoral worker for eight years in Chiclayo, had a similar experience. "The situation has enabled me to sift through what is of essence and what is truly insignifi-cant. Relationships have taken on profound meaning . . . to be nourished and cherished." The change in relationships extends for most of us also to I wonder if we are presenting relevant, peaceful alternatives that will allow the people to respond with Christian values to the violence around them ? j~t~-Aug'u~ 1992 501 Sanders ¯ Women Missioners amidst Violence our relation with God. Many have noted that prayer is more dif-ficult, little ecstasy is experienced, much more anger is expressed, fewer words are used, and often God becomes the scapegoat for all of Peru's problems. Christ, for many of us, reveals himself in new ways in Scripture. "I experience Christ more in his passion, where he ends up in the midst of violence, mistreatment, and ridicule but stands strong to his values and commitments," said Delsuc. Many seek a sense of consolation in their relation with God--an assurance that they are loved and that God is still in control. Many, feeling lost in the confusion of these times, turn to God as a source of wisdom. For Lia Finnerty, a Canadian Holy Cross sister working in Juli, prayer is now more integrally connected with what is hap-pening in the news and in her village. "My prayer is the time when I can try to integrate our reality with God's word and see how our community is touched by all that." That need to connect our prayer with the wider community and to pray with others is co,ninon among us. Many note that the desire for communal peti-tionary prayer is much stronger and that it is a helpful experi-ence to bring to God each day all that we see and experience each day. Ingett, who serves on a pastoral team in Sicuani, notes that her community's time of petitionary prayer is also a time for asking pardon for all that these women experience in their daily inter-action with the people. Living in the midst of so much violence and structural injustice has clearly revealed to many of us the anger and violence present within ourselves. "Sometimes it's so hard to hear that the police have attacked innocent victims or tortured young people," admitted Finnerty. "My first reaction is often a violent one, even though I want to be nonviolent." We all seem to struggle with the anger we feel and our desire to be compassionate, and we ask ourselves many questions about how we can be more nonviolent people. We are trying different approaches. Massachusetts native Carmen Foley, a Halifax Sister of Charity serving as a spiritual director in Lima, is looking at her interactions with others and her judgments and is trying to be more merciful in her attitudes. Avalos, a pastoral worker in a Lima barrio and formhr.vice-provincial of her congregation, is look-ing at violence in her speech and her reactions. Finnerty, a pastoral worker among the Aymara people, is returning to the Aymaran value of solidarity and community as a block to violence. Delsuc 502 Review for Religious is practicing communication techniques to become more skilled in conflict resolution. Probably most important for all of us, however, is an openness to learn from the Peruvian people, who seem to know better than any of us just what hope in the midst of crisis is all about. As Maheux concluded, "My greatest source of hope for the future is the women, men, and children with whom I live. Their faith-fulness to the daily struggle to just live--to being able to eat, to the one-day-at-a-time facing of tremendous obstacles--teaches me that justice, peace, and life will endure and win out." Coming Out one shall know as dawn disentangles morning from night if one's desert spell was purgation or vacation was awakening or escape when one emerges anointed in power or scorched and spent Andrea Wild OSF July-August 1992 503 ROY BOURGEOIS School of Terror write from the Federal prison in Tallahassee, Florida, where am serving a sixteen-month sentence for an act of civil dis-obedience to protest the training of Salvadoran soldiers on United States soil. As I look back, I feel my being here is no accident, but rather the result of God's grace at work in my life. Growing up in rural Louisiana, I was a Sunday Christian and gave little thought to issues of peace and justice. I studied geology in college with the hope of getting rich in the oil fields of South America. After college I became a naval officer and volunteered for duty in Vietnam, feeling it was. my patriotic duty to fight communism. There I met a missionary who, amid the war, gave me a vision of Jesus as a healer and peacemaker. I left Vietnam wanting to be a missionary and entered Maryknoll, whose work is in twenty-eight countries overseas and in the United States. I was ordained in 1972 and went to serve the poor of Bolivia. A slum on the outskirts of La Paz became my home for six years. In Bolivia, as in Vietnam, the poor became my teachers and challenged me to grow in my faith. I then returned to do educational work in the United States. My involvement with E1 Salvador began in 1980, after Archbishop Oscar Romero was gunned down at the altar and after four church women from the United States were raped and killed by Salvadoran soldiers. Two of the women, Maryknoll sisters Maura Clarke and Ita Ford, were friends of mine. Their death forced me to confront what was happening in this small Central American country. Roy Bourgeois MM writes that prison can be a good place to read Scripture, pray, and do ministry. His address is Register No. 01579-017; PMB 1000; Tallahassee, Florida 32301. 504 Review for Religious After several trips to E1 Salvador, it became clear that the problem was not "communism" or "subversion" but hunger. As is the case almost everywhere in Latin America, the wealth, power, and land of E1 Salvador are in the hands of an elite few. While these live in huge mansions where they are waited on by servants and enjoy frequent vacations and shopping sprees in the United States and Europe, most Salvadorans live in dehumanizing pover.ty and die before their time. The poor, once told that their suffering was the will of God, now know better as they gather in small groups to read and reflect on the word of God. They now real-ize that their poverty and suffering are the result of exploitation, greed, and irresponsible stew-ardship of God's creation. In May 1983, five hundred Salvadoran sol-diers arrived at Fort Benning, Georgia, to undergo U.S. Army training. At the time, I was speaking at churches and colleges in New Orleans about the injustice of U.S. military aid to E1 Salvador. I felt it was no time for business as usual, so I went to Columbus, Georgia, the home of Fort Benning, and began meeting with local residents. After two months of meet-ings, talks, and prayer vigils, three of us decided to enter Fort Benning at night, dressed as U.S. Army officers. Armed with a.high-powered cassette player, we climbed a tall pine tree near the barracks that housed the Salvadoran soldiers. At lights out, we tuned the cassette player to its highest volume and played Archbishop Romero's last homily, given in the cathedral the day before he was assassinated; in it he called on the military to stop the killing and lay down their arms. We were arrested, tried for criminal trespass ~and impersonating military officers, and sen-tenced to eighteen months' imprisonment. After serving my term I sought a few months of silence and solitude at. a Trappist monastery, then returned to the pulpit and classroom. On 16 November 1989 six Jesuit priests, their coworker, and her fifteen-year-old daughter were brutally murdered in E1 Salvador. According to a U.S. Congressional task force sent to El Salvador to investigate the massacre, five of the nine soldiers arrested for the slayings had been trained at Fort Benning. Today, hundreds of Salvadoran and other Latin American soldiers are being trained at Fort Benning's School of the Americas. The The problem was not "communism" or "subversion" bu t hunger. .y~dy-August 1992 505 Bourgeois ¯ Scbool of Terror School of the Americas (SOA) was located in Panama before mov-ing to Benning in 1984. Since 1946 this training ground for Latin American soldiers has quietly readied some 45,000 officers and enlisted men for right-wing Latin American governments. Manuel Noriega is a distinguished alumnus, as is General Hugo Banzer of Bolivia. In 1984, when the SOA was forced out of Panama, then Panamanian president Jorge Illueja described the school as "the biggest base of destabilization in Latin America." The foundation of the course work at the School of the Americas is low-intensity conflict (LIC), which, by military ana-lyst Michael Klare's definition, is "that amount of murder, muti-lation, torture, rape, and savagery that is sustainable without triggering widespread public disapproval at home." Students of LIC learn that the enemy is not just an opposing armed force; rather, the enemy can include anyone, armed or unarmed, who threatens the stability of the existing order. Hence, priests, teach-ers, health-care workers, union leaders, cooperative members, and human-rights advocates are among the victims of the School of the Americas. On 3 September 1990, ten of us--Vietnam veterans, Salva-dorans, a teacher, and members of the clergy--began a water-only fast at the entrance of Fort Benning to protest the training of' Salvadoran soldiers. When our fast ended after thirty-five days, our bodies were weak but our spirits remained strong. Miguel Cruz, a Salvadoran in our group who had been forced to leave his country because of a death threat, said, "We have the option to end our fast. However, the poor in my country do not. For them hunger is an everyday occurrence." On November 16, when we had recovered from the fast, three of us--Charles Liteky, a former army chaplain who had received the Medal of Honor for heroism in Vietnam; his brother Patrick, who had trained at Fort Benning's Infantry School, and I-- returned to Fort Benning to observe the first anniversary of the killing of the six Jesuits and the two women. After a prayer service, we entered the post, placed a white cross with photos of the eight martyrs at the entrance to the School of the Americas, and poured blood in one of the school's main halls. We wanted to impress on our country that we cannot wash our hands of the blood of inno-cent people killed in E1 Salvador by soldiers trained in the United States. We were arrested and tried. A jury found us guilty of dam- '506 Review for Religious aging government property. The Liteky brothers received six-month sentences, and I received sixteen months because of my previous conviction at Fort Benning in 1983. "Was it worth it?" I am often asked by friends and critics alike. Prison is hard and very lonely at times, even with the support of family and friends, who also suffer. My dad cried when I called home to tell him of my sentenc-ing. Yet I feel I did what my faith and the poor called me to do in the face of such violence, death, and suffering. As a Christian I feel I must try to relieve the suffering of the poor and integrate my faith in a loving God with action. It is indeed tragic what our silence did to the people of E1 Salvador over the past twelve years as our po!iticians fun-neled billions of dollars (hard-earned tax money) to a military regime that killed thousands of innocent people. ~ The recent peace accords in E1 Salvador now bring new hope, and it is a time for rebuilding after all the death and destruction. It is also a time for the hundreds of Salvadoran soldiers who continue their training at Fort Benning to go home--along with the troops from Guatemala, Honduras, Venezuela, Peru, Chile, Colombia, Bolivia, and other Latin American countries. I am convinced that we can relieve some of the suffering of the poor in Latin America by closing down the School of the Americas. It is a school of terror and should be shut down. While I am in prison, friends in Georgi~ are carrying on the peace-and-justice work. To learn more about our efforts, write to School of the Americas Watch; P.O. Box 3330; Columbus, Georgia 31903. Archbishop Romero said, "We who have a voice must speak for the voiceless." I pray and hope that we will speak clearly and boldly. As a Christian I feel I must try to relieve the suffering of the poor and integrate my faith in a loving God with action. j~dy-August 1992 507 M. GERARD NWAGWU Women Religious and the African Synod inculturating Following the initial enthusiasm with which our people welcomed Pope John Paul II's announcement of a special assembly for Africa of the Synod of Bishops,l an accom-modating attitude of tolerance for whatever might result from the event seems to have settled in. In such a frame of mind, any document coming from the synod will proba-bly be treated like any other Vatican document---it will be gratefully accepted and respectfully mentioned, but lit-tle else will follow. If, however, the document were to grow out of our experiences and be developed from our contributions, then its contents would have a better chance of being well received and more fully observed. The introductory chapter to the Lineamenta2 speaks of the period of preparation and celebration of the synod as the "tempus acceptabile," the favorable hour, the hour of Africa. This is the hour we have all waited for. It offers us a unique opportunity to bring about some of the changes and modifications religious life in Africa needs. It is a time for religious women in Africa to state our vision of commitment and involvement. This favorable hour con-tinues until the synod is actually celebrated and concluded, As part of this process it is important for us to raise issues and speak out about the problems that women religious encounter as they try to contribute to the work of evan-gelization in Africa. Indeed, for Africans this synod truly M. Gerard Nwagwu does much of her teaching at the Catholic Institute of West Africa; P.O. Box 499; Port Harcourt, Nigeria. 508 Review for Religious promises to be a "third Vatican Council" in what it could accom-plish for us. Consequently the initial period of intense preparation needs to be followed by a continued interest in the synod that fosters a receptive disposition of willingness to adopt its directives. The next generation of religious is likely to question how we made use of this opportunity, criticizing chances wasted and applauding those utilized. The older generation in their turn will be less critical insofar as they have never experienced such an event during their active days and therefore cannot be blamed for not effecting changes. Our contemporaries themselves could point accusing fingers at us if, for all our ideals and foresight, we achie~ced nothing when the circumstances were most opportune. Accepting facts as they are can be a mark of virtue on occa-sion. However, if we were to do that in the present situation, it would indicate complacency and inertia exactly when the action of working toward objectives that will benefit our people is demanded of us. Accepting the status quo just when the church calls us to make a move could indicate a cowardice and portray a fear of "launching out into the deep waters and laying out the nets for a catch," as Christ challenged the Apostles to do at a point when all hope seemed lost.3 We need an openness among ourselves to help us discover our weaknesses, our duties, and our obligations of evangelization--duties that the Code of Canon Law itself demands of religious in canons 211 and 758. Aware of these challenges, we can begin searching for an effective strategy. The Lineamenta presents a good number and variety of themes for our consideration. In any of these themes, the African reli-gious woman-has a role to play, not simply because she is an African or works in Africa, but because her religious life is directly intertwined with the life of the church. Vatican II witnessed to the fact that at no time in history has the church lacked some form of religious life.4 Religious life, in other words, is a con-stant and inseparable feature of the church. This universally his-toric fact is no different on African soil. However, it would take us too far afield to dwell on all of'the proposed themes as they relate to women religious in general. Rather let us consider those that focus strictly on the life of women religious in Africa, their apostolates, and their relationship with the world around them. Presently, most of the countries in Africa have celebrated the centenary of the arrival of the early Catholic missionaries. The few July-August 1992 509 Nwag-wu ¯ Women Religious and the African Synod who have not will do so in the near future. Mmost everywhere the native indigenous clergy have assumed the direction of the particular churches, on both the diocesan and parish levels. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for all congregations of religious women in Africa.5 These factors and others highlight the growth of the church in Africa. Specifically, religious institutes are not left behind in the development. The momentous rise in the number of vocations to the religious life, especially in women's congregations, attests to this growth. Indeed the problem for many religious commu-nities is not so much trying to attract candidates but finding ways of adequately training and forming them in the spiritual and apos-tolic life. It is no wonder that foreign religious institutes endeavor to recruit girls from Africa to fill up their depleted ranks. Such recruiting, however, has been limited and conditioned by the authorities since it has often left a trail of disillusioned women who believed they were sent abroad for further studies, only to find that they were meant to supply domestic services. Though the road remains open for taking candidates abroad, yet some condi-tions must be fulfilled.6 The obvious growth of the church in Africa is one of the "signs of the times" that determine the form evangelization should assume in our midst. The evangelization that starts first with inte-rior conversion of hearts, matures to a personal witness of life, and finally develops into external commitments and service is the type that best suits the vocation of religious women. Before evan-gelizing others we must evangelize ourselves, for only after we have been converted can we support those around us.7 We shall be witnesses, yes, but only after an interior transformation of heart. Through such an authentic witness of the life of the evan-gelical counsels, we can make our own contribution to the new stage of evangelization required in Africa. With regard to reli-gious life, this first stage of evangelization involVes modeling to our people the values of total dedication and consecration to God with a hope of evoking a corresponding response from young women and men to embrace religious life. The second stage of renewed evangelization which suits our time is that of deepen-ing the faith of those who already believe and are baptized, We are already experiencing an influx of vocations, but how deep is their faith, how reliable is their commitment? Religious women, particularly, must ask probing questions, 510 Review for Religious admit the facts, and make worthwhile proposals. The point at issue is whether we realize that the effective contribution of women religious in the evangelization of Africa depends first on the genuine and generous commitments of our communities and second on the spiritual and apostolic formation we give our younger members. The vitality of religious life in Africa depends on these elements and on its being a true witness of the presence and love of God among our people. Such an objective compels us to examine some of the negative currents that undermine our abil-ity to evangelize our people in the manner referred to above. Primary among the negative currents is the wind of secularism that has blown through the world from the 1980s to the present day and has begun to register its presence in Africa. Some see it as materialism, others as atheistic humanism. Secularism, as Pope Paul VI has pointed out, views the world as entirely self-explanatory without any reference to God, who thus becomes unnecessary and is, as it were, an embarrassment. Secularism of this kind seeks to assert the power of humankind and leads to a situation in which God is ignored and denied.8 An allied expression is secularization. Where secularism is a theory and an ideology leading to denial of God, secularization is, instead, the fact and reality of experiencing life with a secular-ized mentality and attitude--that is, evaluating life from a worldly point of view. This, then, is the new form of atheism by which God is perceived to be less present, less necessary, less capable of providing a valid explanation of personal or social life experi-ences. In its undiluted form, secularization should not find a stronghold in Africa, given the characteristic spiritual vision of life within an African society wherein the divine permeates all aspects of life. However, what has invaded this sense of the sacred is the aftermath of secularization, revealed in such characteristics as superficiality, the desire for power and domination over others, autonomy and individualism, and a pleasure-loving orientation. Within our religious circles, when we lack an original experience of God and consequently fail to lead others to a similar experience, the evangelical counsels are confused or glossed over in various attempts to describe, them. We shall be witnesses only after an interior transformation of heart. j-~uly-August 1992 511 Nwag~u ¯ Women Religious and the African Synod Poverty is explained away in the tendency to acquire and accu-mulate in the name of the congregation; chastity in the necessity of having the comfort, convenience, and satisfaction of personal fulfillment; obedience in the assertion of autonomy and individ-uality as marks of our uniqueness and originality. In the maze of such ambiguity, the question for religious women to answer is whether at the present stage of their religious experience they can lay claim to preserving in full the religious sense and charac-ter of their consecration. Where secularization has made its mark, it is difficult to be a witness of the Gospel message. Secularism holds out to us the values of the world and urges us to conform; the Gospel offers us the mind and values of Christ. If we examine our situation and find out that our choices are secular in character, it is important for us to admit it, and so be able to discover what strategy to adopt con-cerning it. The type of choices we make and the attitudes we have clearly show whether we are evangelized at heart or not. On a secondary level the way we treat each other and the interpersonal regard we nurture in our communities would truly show if the Gospel values were operating among us. For when we continue to make discriminatory preferences between persons or congregations, then our witnessing cannot be anything but counterproductive to the task of evangelization. When we are carrying out a common objective, what should matter is the appre-ciation of a sister as a religious and the virtues she possesses for her to be entrusted with an undertaking which she will accomplish in the name of all, not whether she is a member of one congre-gation rather than another, or whether she has occupied a position of importance in her institute, or whether she has important con-nections, and so forth. Evangelizing witness on the community level is likely to be rendered nugatory as ~vell if, instead of the communion and unity which religious life signifies, we have the division and disunity of uncoordinated activity. The difficulties occasioned by lack of cooperation and coordination are most often seen between dif-ferent congregations rather than between members of the same institute. How often have we witnessed the complaints and dis-enchantment of institutes whose services are unceremoniously terminated in a place in favor of another institute--especially when the institute that takes up the apostolate in question may be completely ignorant of how the first institute left the scene! Such 512 Review for Religious a practice is exploitive and appears to be based on the availability of women religious. Apart from the circumstance related above in which two con-gregations of religious women are made to be victims at the same time, division of opinion among institutes is certainly a question that needs to be considered if the challenges of our times are to be adequately addressed. The church regards women religious as experts in communion both because of the communitarian quality of our consecration and because of our natural tendency to bond ourselves closely to oth-ers. Our best field of operation, therefore, is to work for unity and communion within our African church in all its various components. Women have a great capacity for personal adaptation in the face of the varied and often unexpected needs of the real life of societies and churches. We are thus often in a better position to ensure not merely the survival but even the development of evangelization.9 A determination to form deeper and stronger bonds of solidarity and sharing between our various institutes is the best way to confront the changing political, economic, and social conditions of our times. Such operative and meaningful solidarity will happen if various congregations are able to evolve while each institute retains its unique identity and character. As Pope Paul VI told us,'° we are missionaries to ourselves at this stage of the evangelization of Africa. We Africans are cat-echizing and witnessing t6 our own people in our home missions. We are also undertaking the evangelization of other African coun-tries outside our homeland--not overlooking, of course, the invaluable assistance offered by our foreign missionaries. Taking into account the greater number of women .religious, these foreign missions are mostly operated by religious sisters. We must ask ourselves, therefore, whether there exists a corresponding mis-sionary cooperation between the various religious congregations whose members labor on these foreign missions, or whether mis-sionaries carry along with them to the missions the lack of coop-eration and perhaps rivalry which possibly exists at home. We need to remember the call of John Paul II as he spoke about the problems facing evangelization in Africa: secularization has made its mark, it is difficult to be a witness of the Gospel message. July-August 1992 513 Nwagcvu ¯ Women Religious and the African Synod Let all form one unity. Let everything be done to smooth and multiply the ways of mutual esteem, of fraternity, of collaboration. May anything that might be the cause of suf-ferings or casting aside, for one group or another, be ban-ished! May all be penetrated with sentiments of humility and of mutual service! For Christ! For the witness of the church! For the progress of evangelization!'~ With a unified front, we religious could more easily discover new approaches to problems that arise in the apostolate. These problems include the challenge of Islam and the determination of Muslims to spread the Koran from coast to coast by whatever means available. Carrying arms and matching violence with vio-lence is definitely not what the church expects religious women to accomplish in this regard. Neither is it possible to close our eyes and imagine that the friction and conflict with Muslims will even-tually ease off while we do nothing. We must, however, evaluate our strength and discover unobtrusive ways to reduce the threat of Islam for our people. In the face of such an offensive, the church has in the past usually adopted the practice of intensified prayer and a rigorous asceticism lived with generous hearts. Some apostolic religious institutes were founded to labor in countries of Islamic faith. But there are relatively few, if any, contemplative orders founded exclusively for the propagation of faith among Muslims. Such contemplative orders, which by their i~rayers, works of penance, and sacrifices labor to effect the conversion of souls, are crucial for the growth of Christian faith amidst the increased onslaught of Islamic hostility. It would be a welcome endeavor if the tendency our religious folk have to found new religious institutes is allowed to mature into communities that will pitch their tents among the Muslims of our country despite foreseeable opposition and even death. If such an inspiration of the Spirit were to happen, it would cer-tainly respond to the needs of the times. The challenge of Islam requires a radical religious decision. It calls for active institutes to reawaken their consciousness of the value and practice of the con-templative dimension of religious life. The Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes exhorts: The contemplative dimension is the real secret of renewal for every religious life. Being a reality of grace, it preserves in the religious the commitment to bear witness before the world to the primacy of a personal relationship with God. They can thus avoid the constant danger for apostolic work- 514 Review for Religious ers who often become so much involved in their work for the Lord as to forget the Lord ofalI work,~z Another area of concern is the proliferation of sects and evan-gelical movements. The increase in their adherents means that some other churches--the traditional Christian churches includ-ing the Catholic Church--are losing members. The sects usually direct their proselytizing toward those who are already Christians and offer them what they apparently cannot get from their mother churches. Again Paul VI sounded the alarm when he noted: It is well known that in some places the church in Africa runs the risk of the fidelity of its sons and daughters being subjected to dangers and struggles, and to being tempted by false teaching. Indeed, Christian faith must become some-thing interior like a personal possession of each individ-ual.' 3 In the face of such phenomena, congregations of women reli-gious can be of immense help to the church if they include this ground among their fields of apostolate for the second stage of evangelizing Africa. By identifying the reasons Christians are attracted to these sects and the group of Catholics that are easily influenced by them, they can develop a strategy for deepening the faith of those most affected. Often a shallow faith, which offers no reply to the vital questions of suffering and pain, poverty and misery, doubts and fears, insecurity and emptiness, sickness and death and so forth, is quickly abandoned for what seems a better way out of problems. Such defections occur where people seek a church that'proffers some human warmth and mutual con-cern, an experience the larger churches cannot easily provide.'4 Even if religious themselves do not minister directly to the sects and their adherents, they can train the Christian laity to assume their role of searching out and reevangelizing their brethren. Similarly, it is important to examine the variety of means of social communications available in order to determine the ones best suited for evangelization in Africa today. Every institute is able to evaluate the effect of each of the means on individual members and on the community. For while it is necessary to know what the world around us is saying through the media, we must not allow it to monopolize our attention and dictate our conver-sational exchanges. Growth in religious commitment does not follow from an indiscriminate and sometimes imprudent use of the mass media, or with the exaggerated and extroverted activism the 3~uly-August 1992 515 Nwag-wu ¯ Women Religious and the African Synod media can generate, or with an atmosphere of dissipation which contradicts the deepest expectations of religious life. The search for intimacy with God needs silence, never involving noise and confusion.~s Presently, however, our discussion on the media is not how much we adopt them in our communities, but how well we use them for evangelization. Since the various means are each an effi-cacious tool for communication, the message of faith can be divulged to millions of our people at the same time with their aid. What prevents us, for example, from publishing a magazine that focuses on African religious life? Other Christian groups take the lead in the use of media while Catholics lag behind. Sacred songs and music on the thousands of audiocassettes that flood the market are ahnost always produced by Protestant evangelical groups. In the past there used to be a festival of the arts for Catholic schools. Now the competitions organized for parish choirs do not seem to generate the same interest. When an institute chooses to engage some of its members in apostolates using more contemporary methodologies, the initial difficulty will be lack of trained personnel. Requisite educational competence is important; however, some religious superiors are reluctant to send sisters for further studies that take time to com-plete and cause financial constraint, especially in the face of past disappointments. All the same, such reservation should give way before the conditions of our times and the needs of the church, which demand specialized training in some fields of study. No field of study can be superfluous if it furthers the mission of the institute. And since evangelization is a common mission for all, then adequate preparation is necessary for its realization. We cannot meet our contemporaries handicapped. For priests and religious to grow in requisite skills and maturity, it is essen-tial for them to receive the type of formation usually done in cen-ters of study at the university level or in institutes of higher studies. Specialized studies undertaken by religious should be prompted not by a misdirected desire for self-fulfillment with a view to achieving personal ends, but with the sole intention of meeting the apostolic commitments of the religious family itself in the context of the needs of the church.16 In view of the renewed call to evangelize, some significant changes may have to be made in the initial stages of formation. This sensitive area touches the autonomy and identity of insti- 516 Review for Religious tutes. Nevertheless, some general criteria may be adopted on the intercongregational level while the exact details can be left to the creativity of each institute. A rereading of the conciliar guide-lines for renewal shows that there is no question of simple adap-tations of certain external forms such as the habit. There is question, rather, of a deep edu-cation in attitude and in lifestyle that makes it possible to remain true to oneself even in the new forms of being present--a presence as con-secrated persons who seek the full conversion of people and of society to the ways of the Gospel through personal witness and service.~7 The challenges presented to religious women by the forthcoming synod will demand prayer, discipline, and sacrifice. It will not be easy to effect changes because part of the pattern of life and action we have grown used to will have to be renounced. Though renun-ciation may be spiritually rewarding, it is never gratifying to the ego. All the same, the changes need be made. The "signs of the times" are ripe and they offer us incentives to renew and revise our pattern of life and to give a preferential treatment to the duty of evangelization. The traditional ministries carried out in hospi-tals, schools, and social centers remain important, but their rel-evance in meeting the people of our times and engaging them in faith encounters has diminished. Women religious who are solidly founded in faith and suffi-ciently prepared and who can use their feminine qualities of devo-tion, refinement, faithfulness, and patience and their great capacity to adapt to the unexpected demands of real life can transform sit-uations which would intimidate others who lacked the weapons of faith and culture. In conclusion, let us remember the call of John Paul II and our obligation to respond to his invitation: We cannot meet our contemporaries handicapped. You have lived a first great stage, an irreversible stage. A new stage is open to you. It is no less an exalted one, even if it necessarily involves new trials, and perhaps the temp-tation of discouragement. It is the stage of perseverance, in which it is necessary to pursue the strengthening of the faith, the conversion in depth of souls and ways of life, so that they will correspond better and better to your sublime Christian vocation.18 July-August 1992 517 Nwag-wu ¯ Women Religious and the African Synod Notes i The exact date for the synod has not been set, but observers do not expect it to take place before 1994 or 1993 at the earliest. ~" Lineamenta, General Secretariat of the Synod of Bishops, Vatican City, 1990. 3 Luke 5:4. 4 Lumen Gentium §44. s Some congregations of women religious still have nonindigenous administrative personnel. 6 This includes the establishment of a local community in the area, which in turn requires.that a diocesan bishop invite the institute in ques-tion to his diocese. 7 Luke 22:32. 8 Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, §55. 9 Sacred Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples, Dans le Cadre, The Role of Women in Evangelization, in Vatican Council H Postconciliar Documents, vol. 2, p. 322. l0 Paul VI, Inaugural Session of SECAM, Kampala, 1969. llJohn Paul II, Address to Zairean Bishops 3 May 1980, in Origins 10, no. 1, p. 6. 12 SCRIS, La Plenaria, The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life, January 1980, §§ 2, 4, and 30. 13 Paul VI, Address at the 4th Plenary Assembly of SECAM, September 1975. 14 Paul V-I, Evangelii Nuntiandi, §58. is SCRIS, La Plenaria, §14. 16 SCRIS, Mutuae Relationes, §31 and §26. ~7 SCRIS, La Scelte Evangeliche, On Religious and Human Development, January 1981, §32. is John Paul II, Address to Priests and Religious, Zaire, 1980. 518 Review for Religious JENNIFER MARY ALT Rerooting Religi ous Life in South Africa the dialogue has been to develop a religious-life spirituality that would be less foreign and more of a special flowering and inter-pretation of African human and spiritual values. These values encompass all of human life. The spiritual is never seen as apart from the material, and people are seen as depending on other people, and therefore on the Divine, for life and meaning. Outside of their social relationships, individuals are less than nothing. If religious life became better integrated with native African spiri-tual values, it would witness more clearly and bring greater hope to South Africa's strife-torn people. Religious life is not foreign to Africa. In fact, its cradle is to be found in North Africa in the early centuries of Christianity. Organized religious life took its conception from the life and work of the Desert Fathers and was rooted in the form of Christianity found among the rural tribal people of North Africa. This rural tribal Christian expression was eventually declared heretical and has since been known as the Donatist heresy.- St. Augustine, the well-known urban African, a man cut off from his Jennifer Mary Alt OP, a member of the Cabra Dominican Sisters, is director of the Catholic Centre for Spiritual Growth sponsored by the Southern African Catholic Bishops Conference. With her doctoral research in cross-cultural personality studies, she has worked with religious in developing an African religious spirituality. She may be addressed at the Catholic Centre for Human and Spiritual Growth; P.O. Box 53 505; Troyeville (JHB); 2139 South Africa. ~uly-August 1992 519 Alt . .Re~roo~ng Religious Life cultural roots, was chiefly responsible for the suppression of the Donatists. Early North African Christianity was predominantly rural. These rural Christians had been formed by their own primal reli-gion. This religion revolved around being in harmony with the spiritual in life. The Ancestors--important good people who had died and who then lived on in spirit in the living--were seen as important mediators of the spiritual. Life among humans was seen as essentially social, and people got their meaning and pur-pose from living and working in harmony with other people. To be in a group was part of life. Over fifteen hundred years separate us from these earlier times, and Africa south of the Sahara is in a different position today. Yet it too moves from a very strong primal religious back-ground. In parts of Africa, for instance South Africa, much of the primal past has disappeared, but the beauty of its spirit remains. Unless one pays attention to it, one will find it difficult to under-stand the modern movements in religious life in Africa. A primal outlook on life in terms of human values is'a profound way of looking at it. The work of the Divine is easily seen in it. The connectedness between this outlook and the teachings of Jesus is easy to recognize. Unfortunately, modern religious life has been presented in Africa south of the Sahara as something foreign and Western, as something that has nothing to do with African values. In fact, African values had to be somehow discarded as one entered a reli-gious order. Westerners find the intricacies of life in Africa very difficult to understand and, without ill will, have misjudged much of what they saw, dismissing it as primitive and pagan. It is exceedingly important for people entering religious life to realize the continuity between the values they were given in their families and the values outlined in their religious rule. African religious largely see religious life as divorced from their past, as something quite other. They see the rules and regula-tions of religious living as something totally new which has to be learned. Because of this the rules of religious life remain largely outside of them. The rules have little effect on their feelings and attitudes. The result is that religious life tends to lose its mean-ing and become more a drudgery than a life-giving program. There is a saying which is practically ubiquitous in Africa. It runs in South Africa: "People are made people through other 520 Review for Religious people." In Swahili a similar saying is: "I am, you are, and because you are, I am." This circular statement sums up the insight which Africans have about people depending on one another and the insight that without people the individual is nothing. This aware-ness of dependence and interdependence is a far cry from the individualism of the modern. Western outlook. Dependence on God is the source of all spir-ituality and is clearly discernible in the African outlook. Africa has a strong belief in the spiri-tual life. Death is seen not so much as an ending, but as a passing into a spiritual way of being. In Africa everything material has its spiritual equiv-alent. In fact, nothing exists without its spirit. It follows that religious life is seen as essentially for the purpose of bringing people into contact with the Divine in a special way. If this does not happen, then religious life for the individual tends to remain on a material and self-centered level. The religious vocation is a call to a special relationship with the spiritual realm. Religious with their vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience are marked as essentially different from others, for they are in a sense outside the primal group of family, clan, and nation. They live in an area of liminality in life and in this area make contact with the Divine. Everywhere in Africa the call to the spiritual is treated with great respect and reverence. The call is seen as mysterious and very important. It is not questioned. Take, for example, persons who discern that they are called to be a sangorna, to be one who understands the relationship between the material and the Divine and who is specially equipped to interpret rifts that occur between the human and the Divine, rifts that are seen as the cause of all mental and physical illness. Such calls will not be dismissed lightly, and people will undergo rigorous training to equip themselves for their special task as a sangoma. The religious call is seen in this context. It also comes from the Ancestors of the family, and therefore no one should interfere with it. The Ancestors will protect the person so called. Africans believe that when outstanding members of the family or the nation die, they join the living dead. They live on in spirit in another member of the family. As a human being casts a shadow, so each human in the flesh represents the spirit of an Ancestor. A parent 'People are made people through other people.' 3n-uly-Augus~ 1992 521 who first refused to allow a daughter to enter a convent remarked on her behavior: "I was fighting with the Ancestors." In Africa the spiritual revolves around the Ancestors, who mediate the Divine in life. The blessing of the Ancestors needs to be invoked in all circumstances. This ancient method of prayer might seem fundamentalist to a Western person, but it suits many people in the indigenous churches. They invoke God in all cir-cumstances: when getting up in the morning, at the beginning of all jobs--nothing, in fact, is done without prayer to the Ancestors. MI church services center on asking the Ancestors for blessing and healing of any rifts between the living dead and the humans in the flesh. Prayer then centers on the spirit of reverence and respect: through prayer, healing and forgiveness are brought to ordinary human relationships, and rifts with the Ancestors are healed. In this way the negative effects in our lives are resolved, and we become healthy again. Religious in this context are people who are especially moved by the spirit, in a charismatic sense. Prayer then is warm, spon-taneous, and real. But if religious life is seen by Africans as a bureaucratic organization in which material advantages follow the keeping of the rules, even though many of the rules may cen-ter on saying prayers; then it remains outside the person and will not lead to a true conversion of heart. Young people who enter often see a religious house as a house protected by God. They see religious as being protected by God, and the convent as a place of shelter from the storms of life; God will protect the people whom he has called. Many young people enter to be protected from the violence in the streets. Young girls come to escape being raped. Parents send children to convents in order to prevent .them from joining gangs. As people turn to sangomas (the spiritual healers) to protect themselves from the chaos around them, so they send their young girls to convents for the same protection. They feel that no evil can enter a reli-gious house. They also feel that God protects his religious from economic disaster. Young people and their parents see religious houses as places where people will be educated, fed, and housed; as places where the chaos of grinding poverty and ignorance will be kept at bay. Religious will be protected from thes~ material disasters. It is essential in these circumstances to help young people, through self-reflection, to an acceptance of their African values in 522 Review for Religious the light of the Gospel values. This helps to bring about a con-version of heart in which the person is moved to choose Jesus and break out into the wider world of other people and their needs. Young persons, in answering their call, answer it on behalf of their entire family and the Ancestors whom they embody in their life. Therefore, when young people join a religious order, they do not come as mere individuals with little significance. They come as deserving of great respect. They are not alienated people of no back-ground. They are not nobodies. God calls people through an entire network of relationships. Young religious who respond are responsible, therefore, for answering the call of the entire network. This gives the religious a great sense of sup-port and responsibility. To know that one bears the spirit of a beloved grandmother or grandfa-ther in one's life makes the path less precarious, less lonely, and more meaningful. Second, it gives the religious a great sense of dignity and worth. Religious need to respect their own call, and others must respect it too. Without this sense of reverence and respect, the young reli-gious fails to have any sense of liminality. Religious life then becomes more a question of obeying external laws which do not touch the heart and of obtaining an education. Instead of reli-gious life being a development or an exploration of the spiritual, it can become monotonous and meaningless. When the crises come, as come they must, the religious will not choose Jesus, but will make an easier, more selfish choice. A common saying in Africa expresses this lack of conviction and choice: "That person is a Christian by day and an African by night!" A difficulty inherent in the above outlook arises when a reli-gious wishes to leave the convent. Leaving is looked upon as a disaster: the religious loses her ties with God. Her relationship with him is broken. It is in the light of this broken relationship that all future troubles will be judged. The following example is typical: A young'sister left a religious congregation and then failed to pass her nursing examination. She moved to teaching and was equally unsuccessful. This was seen to be the result of leaving the convent, not the result of lack of sufficient talent. It is important to stress, therefore, that the divine call arises out of our baptismal God calls people through an entire network of relationships. j~ly-August 1992 523 Alt . Rerootin Reli "ous Life call. It is this call that must be answered, whether it is lived out in the context of religious life or not. In Africa, to be in a group is part of life. The richness of the human exchange in a community enriches the individual. The individual who is not included in this exchange is drained of life, so to speak. Group living is full of all that is human. Contentment, excitement, joy, happiness, and security are part of that living as are tensions, fears, suspicions, and disharmony. But the underly-ing attitudes of loyalty and respect can keep a group together through major emotional upheavals. In Africa, people truly live community. In the West, people tend to theorize and talk about community, but find it difficult to live it. Both lifestyles have their problems. In Africa, people are meant to live in harmony with one another and with the Ancestors. The individual is meant to enrich the lives of others and to be enriched in return. A religious group thatis not living a life filled With the Spirit will tend to exhibit the spirits of discord and chaos. In such close-knit and complex living together, the individual can feel very vul-nerable. Fear of one another, fear of authority figures, is a natural component of such living. Unless the group is living in the Spirit, fear instead of acceptance and warmth can dominate the group. Community life is held back by fear. Individuals will keep quiet at community meetings, for example. Many opinions which could build up a community are not stated. This can lead to seri-ous mistakes being made. Superiors can go unchallenged and do irresponsible things. Individuals who choose to live a life which is not in accordance with their vows are also left unchallenged because others are afraid to say anything. Those who have this fear feel humiliated and inferior; they grow depressed; in the end, tension shows itself as an illness. Such fear of disharmony, of expressing conflicting opinions, can cause great problems to social and group life in Africa. If disharmony and conflicts arise, the group tends to split and quickly polarize. This process is very evident in the histories of many of the African Independent Churches. African political leaders have generally chosen a one-party style of government in order to avoid disharmony. In so doing they have introduced a totalitarian system which in practice is marked by tribalism and greed. Modern urban societies demand that we learn to live with some disharmony and difference of opinion. In fact, differences of opin- 524 Review.for Religious ion can lead to positive growth, for without differences adaptation to changing times and circumstances cannot take place. In Africa the method of handling differences is for the entire group to°come together and to discuss fully the pros and cons of the different opinions. In these long conversations each person is listened to, and the conversation does not end until consensus is reached. This is like methods of conflict management in the West. The Gospel message of Jesus enhances and brings to fruition the message which Africa can give our world in terms of the interdependence of humans and their dependence on the Divine. The message of Jesus is close to the heart of the African experience of human living together. The message of the great religious founders like St. Benedict finds spontaneous resonance in Africa. The message of religious life, which strives to express the values of the Gospel of Jesus, is not much different from African value systems. The message of Jesus helps people choose less selfish values. In Africa, choices are made according to how a person feels. They tend to be made in terms of present time. A person might, there-fore, at one time choose some abstract Christian value and at another time choose against the same value. But people who are moved by the Spirit choose more responsibly. For instance, peo-ple might not feel like helping when help is needed, but if they are filled with the Spirit, they will go against that feeling and help nevertheless. Or, again, people may feel like getting revenge by not sharing, but if they are filled with the Spirit, they will share. The transcendent message of Jesus helps people to consider beyond this present moment. Christians need to think about the consequences of present actions: Would the future be better, more Christian, as a result of choices we might make now? Often enough, thoughtless pragmatic choices can bring immediate sat-isfaction in terms of money, goods, or pleasant feelings, but the long-term effects of these choices can be extremly destructive. Africa is full of examples of people who pragmatically and selfishly participated in their own destruction. Africans took part in the slave trade. African leaders have greedily plotted the economic ruin of the countries they govern. Tribal rural people have taken The message of Jesus is close to the heart of the African experience of human living together. AI~ o R~'ng Reli ~ou~ monetary handouts from the West, which have led to the destruc-tion of their way of life and to a dependency on further hand-outs. Other cultures can be less utilitarian and selfish by taking their heritage very seriously and protecting it. The Chinese, .Japanese, and Indians have not allowed Western materialism and individualism free access into their cultures, and they have been less enthusiastic in terms of cooperating with the West. Africa can be rather like Esau, who sold his birthright for a mess of pot-tage, because Africa does not appreciate the richness of its social and spiritual heritage for itself and for the world. The message of.jesus builds deeper trust. Christ has through his death and resurrection conquered death and despair. He is above all spirits. He is above all ancestors. There is no need for Christians to fear curses or sangomas or their neighbor. Life for Christians is secure because .jesus has already overcome the spirit of death and chaos. .Jesus speaks a message of love of one's neighbor and of one's enemy. Christians have to consider people who do not belong to their group or clan as nevertheless belonging to the family of .Jesus. Such "outsiders" are not objects, and they must be treated with love and respect. In this way the Christian message brings peace to the troubled area of ethnic and tribal violence--some-thing which has brought misery and death to many millions in Africa and has impoverished whole nations of people. If Christ's message is allowed to bring to fruition the values which the African people received from-God through the Ancestors, much that is unauthentic can be removed from African life even as its contact with the West increases. 526 Review for Religious ALBERT DI IANNI Religious Life and Religion Some recent discussions on "refounding" religious life in which I participated were passionate and at times ended in discord. Admittedly the groups involved were tired and overworked, but this was not the whole explanation. The heat manifested in exchanges about potential cures for the ills of contemporary religious life springs from a deeper source, from a basic disagreement about the nature of Christianity and of religion. When I first encountered the notion of"refounding" currently in vogue, I welcomed it as an improvement over "renewal" because it seemed to demand a deeper conver-sion and a more radical rebuilding. It brought to mind the Carmelite reform at the hands of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross through an inventive retrieval of the spirit and discipline of the founders. Refounding seemed to invite us to set out once again upon a religious adven-ture demanding both great sacrifice and an engagement with the world that remained in some way separate from the world. Resistance to the notion mounted, however, with the repeated calls to identify "change agents" in the group who might encourage creativity in ministry and develop alternative community lifestyles. The more speakers lim-ited their discussions to talk about "delivery systems" for Albert DiIanni SM serves as vicar general of the Society of Mary (Marist). His address is Via Messandro Poerio 63; 00152 Rome; Italy. living religiously ~-uly-dug~_st 1992 527 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life and Religion change, namely, leadership models derived from anthropology and from corporate-reflection techniques borrowed from busi-ness psychology--the more they discussed only means--the more I felt I was being bundled down some primrose path. Before I discuss means, I want to discuss goals; before I accept help to move forward, I want to determine where I, where we, should want to go. This is possibly because I suspect that I do not want to go where some speakers want to lead me or that their advice about means carries some hidden freight about goals with which I do not concur. In a recent conversation about refounding, I found myself suddenly compelled to ask some strange, basic questions, not about religious life but about religion: What, for you, constitutes the heart of the Christian religion? What is its basic meaning or purpose? What engenders religion in the first place? Such ques-tions came to mind because I suddenly realized that our dis-agreement lay at a deep level, that we could not simply assume we would all answer such fundamental questions in the same way. This was not because anyone had expressly denied any belief which I held, but becaus{ they seemed to deflect or sidestep cer-tain ideas as old-fashioned or not in line with the particular action steps being recommended. The urge to ask fundamental questions comes upon me espe-cially when I sense that religion is being reduced to sociology, psychology, or even to morality, be it personal, social, or ecolog-ical morality. In fact, any tendency to reduce religion to morality fires me up more than sociological or psychological reductions because it is more subtle and plausible and thus more seductive. But let me put my own cards on the table. What do I believe is at the heart of the Christian religion? (I will ignore the eso-teric distinction drawn by some between faith and religion and the theory that Christianity is not a religion but.a faith.) Though Christianity like other religions is an amalgam of many compo-nents, I believe that its strictly religious aspect lies in its being an answer to the experience of human contingency and the con-tingency of the world. Most people at some time in their lives have felt wonder that the world exists at all and have faced into the void of their own death. They moved beyond the taken-for-grant-edness of the world and became frightened by the thought that nothing at all might have existed and no possibility of anything. They wondered if there were an ultimate meaning to life or if 528 Review for Religious humans were but a sport of nature. Christianity's central doctrine is that the world need not have existed and that it was the object of creation by a good God. A Christian believer is convinced that at the center of the universe is not a surd but a personal Love. The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein was not a believer. Norman Malcolm, his former student and biographer, says that he could not be called a religious person, but that he was passionately interested in religion and always seemed close to the possibility of religion. Wittgenstein once produced two examples of what he consid-ered bona fide religious experiences as opposed to moral or aesthetic ones. He respected them even if he thought that in entertaining them he was running up against the limits of language. One was the experi-ence of uncanniness that the world exists at all. The second was the conviction he some-times had that, whatever might happen, he would be safe. Neither of these experiences points of necessity to the existence of some transcen- The urge to ask fundamental questions comes upon me when I sense that religion is being reduced to sociology, psychology, or even to morality. dent reality, but they provide, the experiential ground from which many people move to affirm the existence of God. In such feelings and experiences, the affirmation that God exists is existentially grounded, becomes more than an intellectual proposition, takes root, finds a home. The first experience is the sense that a fleet-ing world must be rooted in a stable fundamental Reality. The second bespeaks a trust that cannot be explained without the pres-ence of a loving center of the universe. My own thoughts about religion center on experiences of this type. Admittedly my idea of religion has strong mystical over-tones; it is our response to radical contingency and, in its most primitive and deepest meaning, has little to do with morality. Religion refers primarily to a "holy" space out of which we and the world spring and gives rise to the imperative that each of us become holy, living our life in and for God. Beyond this I know that religion and morality are intimately intertwined and that a religious or holy person must also be morally good. One can hardly be holy and evil. Holiness means in part being extraordinarily kind, socially just, honest, temperate, a ~dy-Augvmt 1992 529 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life and Religion peacemaker. Yet it cannot be reduced to the practice of these moral virtues. For it is conceivable that someone could be morally good, could follow punctiliously the rules of a moral system, fos-ter social justice, be chaste and kind, and yet not be a religious per-son. He or she could be moral out of personal taste, by temperament, for aesthetic reasons, or out of natural sympathy toward others, and not because of his or her relationship to God. Philippa.Foot, an Oxford moral philosopher and avowed atheist, once told a seminar group that she was such a moral person and that she refused to be patronized by being called an "anonymous Christian." A Christian religious person not only acts morally, but also sees the world in a new way--that it is dependent for its very existence on a transcendent reality and that this makes all the dif-ference. Because it is focused upon the transcendent, the Christian vision has specific ethical implications different from Enlighteflment theories which place the human person or freedom at the center of the moral endeavor. For the Christian the pri-mary response to the world is not that of owner and Promethean creator, but of humble and obedient creature; not an entrepreneurial relishing of power and freedom, but a Marian gratitude before God for all that God has wrought. From this Christian gratitude is born the imperative to love God and God's creation, to allow God to express the divine mercy through us, especially toward the weak and the abandoned. This Christian gratitude and its ethical implications are nourished and deepened through a close union with God in prayer. It is this vision, it seems to me, which should be at the heart of the life of consecrated religious. If they are to be prophetic, it is in this: that in their lives they point constantly to the tran-scendent moment of the universe and try to develop what it means. It is up to each group to decide how it will express this. Christian meaning exists in--and is to be found in--religious sis-ters, brothers, and priests when they are rapt in contemplation of God as well as when they are picking up dying persons from the streets. When people see one of them unremittingly engaged in both, they believe they are in the presence of a saint. Some contemporary Catholic lay people and members of reli-gious congregations seem to have lost sight of the transcendent pole of Christianity. Their model of Christianity has become what Charles Davis labels "pragmatic." The pragmatic version of 530 Review for Religious Christianity arose, he says, when "the Christian religion ceased to function mythically as an overarching totality . The emphasis therefore shifted to Christianity as a practical way of life or eth-ical system. This is still conceived in religious terms, such as the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of God's children, the kingdom of righteousness . But all these expressions are different ways of formulating the moral imperatives gov-erning human existence." ~ Both conservatives and liberals have made this pragmatic shift in Christianity. Conservatives stress per-sonal and family morality and such questions as abortion and euthanasia, and progressives stress social justice, ecology, and women's rights. Future historians may judge that the Vatican itself, but to a lesser degree, has been drawn into what I am characterizing as an overemphasis of morality. They may well remember Pope John Paul II as the "morality pope" because of his repeated statements about both per-sonal and social morality. In practice if not in theory, love of neighbor and enemy seem to have taken precedence over con-cern about union with God. Today's heresies all seem to be moral heresies. Not many Catholics seem concerned about dogmas, about trinitarian, soteriological, or Christological errors. And yet the history of the early church reveals that this was not always so. (I am at times tempted to fashion a brand-new trinitarian heresy to spur people to think more about God and less about themselves!) In this excessive emphasis on morality, the modern church reflects our secularized times, the age that mistook the world for God. In the late sixties, a time noted for its air of revolution, our seminary faculty once gathered the seminarians for a discussion on the question: W'hat are the most important qualities for being a priest and religious today? Some suggested approachability, oth-ers learning and competence, still others kindness or some other human virtue. I was surprised that no one spoke of holiness--a sure candidate just ten years before--and I pointed this out to Someone could be morally good, could follow punctiliously the rules of a moral system, foster social justice, be chaste and kind, and yet not be a religious person. ~dy-August 1992 531 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life and Religion the group. One of the seminarians fixed me with a stare and said with an air of disdain: "Just be human, Father!" Recently I had the pleasure of interviewing Kiko ArgOello, the Spanish layman and artist who founded the Neo- Catechumenate movement, which offers a series of steps, a way, for modern Catholics to rediscover their baptism and be com-mitted to evangelization. I played the devil's advocate and asked whether his way (camino) of training lay people over a period of years did not produce an arrogant elite and end up creating more division than unity in parishes. His answer was in strict contrast to the seminarian's. He insisted that becoming a Christian today was not easy, regardless of what many priests trained since Vatican II seemed to believe. It did not suffice to simply shout the love slo-gan. Belief that God exists and that Jesus is in some way the son of God was difficult in a secularized culture. Besides, our world of drugs and violence, suburban adultery and abortion, euthana-sia and consumerism, was full of snares. It would not be suffi-cient simply to limit our preaching to a form of positive reinforcement. People had to be called to a public confession of their belief in God and Jesus, be brought to a felt need for con-version, be tested in their resolve, b~ supported by a tightly knit community, and be nourished by an adequate participative' liturgy. Needed, in his view, was a method, a way, a structure, a catechu-menate, 'to bring people squarely before their baptism and its implications for their lives. In so many words he was saying that it was simplistic for the 1968 seminarian to have said: "Just be human, Father." Yes, Christ is at work in the world wherever human good is being done, and we have to recognize and foster such work wher-ever we find it; but we must be aware, too, that fostering human-istic values and being a Christian are not in every way identical. Besides demanding that we be thoroughly moral, Christianity demands belief in many strange things, like the incarnation, the need for redemption, the resurrection, the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, and the role of Mary. For a time in my adolescence, I wished I had been brought up neutral vis-~a-vis religion so that at the age of twenty-one I might consider all the major religions and choose among them without the prejudice of early Catholic training or brainwashing. But I know now that this is naive, for I have recognized that young people who have not been brought up in any religion end up by 532 Review for Religious having no religious sentiment or religiosity. They tend to remain religion-neutral, unable to make a choice in favor of any religion. George Lindbeck, a Protestant theologian, believes that, unless some religion is taught to us when we are young, unless we are brought up in some religious prac-tices, we might not even be capable of religious experience. This may be exaggerated, but I am sure it contains a grain of truth. One thing is certain: People are never brought up in a vac-uum of vision and values. If they do not absorb religious vision and val-ues, they absorb the secular vision and religion-neutral values of the movies and television. Especially in Europe several new lay Christian movements and reli-gious orders have been born in full awareness of this: the Focolarini, the Sant' Egidio community, the Neo- Catechumenate, the Lion of Juda, the Legionaries of Christ, and so forth. They all believe that becoming Christian in a secularized world is especially difficult and demands a way, a method, an entry through a kind of Christian subculture. It means leaving behind a lot of things that can seem very important from the world's point of view, but really are not. It demands kenosis, emptying oneself, in preparation for a radical decision in favor of Christ and God. Karl Rahner once declared: "A Christian in today's world will be a mys-tic or else he will not exist." And he went on to speak of mystagogy, the need of a method to lead people to see everything in God. I believe that one reason why religious congregations are in a mere survival situation today is that, in their admirable effort to take a positive view of the world, they have identified religion too strongly with a humanistic morality that tends to be secular-istic, individualistic, and overly egalitarian. History shows that almost all religious congregations enjoyed strong growth at their beginnings. They were exciting and attractive in part because they were new, but part of their attraction lay elsewhere. The early members had a sense of a religious adventure and cause larger than themselves which rendered them willing to forgo many personal rights and privileges.~They were members of what Besides demanding that we be thoroughly moral, Christianity demands belief in many strange things, like the incarnation, the need for redemption, the resurrection. July-August 1992 533 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life and Religion have been called "intentional" communities as opposed to various "associational" and "bureaucratic" ones that have come into exis-tence since Vatican II.2 They were quite unconcerned with self-expression and equality, not because they were naive and subservient (today's caricature), but because they were caught up in a higher religious vision that enhanced and focused their ener-gies for God and the church. Most religious congregations were founded for three main purposes, the salvation of the members, the salvation of others, and dedication to a devotion or a way of the apostolate. Their charism did not lie only in the third element but in all three. Their purposes were decidedly religious and eschatological as well as incarnational. Today the eschatological has been pushed aside by an incarnational theology interpreted too secularistically and humanistically. Transcendent themes have been toned down in favor of an emphasis on egalitarian rights, on a type of justice interpreted not only as equity but as evenness, a kind of unifor-mity without differences. Everyone knows that only in unity is strength. But egalitarianism, by its very definition, effects an atomism and separateness within a group inasmuch as it deems individual rights and desires more important than the group's religious cause and adventure. Such stress upon egalitarian and humanistic ideals is an ide-ology. It is one way--and only one way--of interpreting democ-racy and justice in society and in religious groups. To oppose that ideology is not to give up democracy but to give it another inter-pretation. This was brought home to me recently as I overheard a conversation between an Mnerican priest--a born-again egali-tarian- and a young female member of the lay Sant' Egidio com-munity in Rome.3 Describing how the community functioned, she mentioned that in her particular community, because of its makeup and history, only certain men and no women were asked to speak at the prayer services. The American priest objected that this was a grave error, that it was supremely important--as a sym-bol and sign to others if not for her personally--that women be allowed to preach in every community. She answered that the Sant' Egidio community did not approach questions ideologi-cally, but pragmatically. Some of the other communities did have women preachers, but because of its particular history and tal-ents, her group preferred not to have them and she was happy with things as they were. She explained that for the Sant' Egidio 534 Review for Religious group three things were of paramount importance: (1) prayer together over the word of God, (2) friendship or mutual support, and (3) work for and with the poor. All else must cede before the achievement of these goals. The American priest's voice rose as he insisted that she was wrong and that the American interpretation of women's rights was correct. But she stood her ground and deftly changed the sub-ject. We have come full circle. In the 1960s, after many years of repression and an exaggerated supernaturalism, we needed to stress personal free-dom and responsibility and a true equality among the races and sexes. We had to recognize our duty before God to take responsibility to build up a world of justice and peace. But this did.not mean that such concerns should come to prevail in reli-gious congregations and sweep all else away in their wake. Now that we have seen the shadow side of such emphases in religious life, we can bet-ter take stock and rediscover that our involvement with the world must begin beyond the world. While the psychological and political agendas were very important for religious life, neither of them was the "one thing necessary." Religious life should center upon that in Christianity which relates our lives to the transcendent. It is here that we must seek its prophecy. It is in reminding people of the divine enchant-ment of the world that it must be countercultural. It is upon this that reflection on refounding religious life must insist. In her arti-cle "Religious Life and the Need for Salt,''4 Joan Chittister asks the right questions regarding contemporary religious life. She wisely concludes that the project of encouraging self-expression in traditionally repressed religious has now been achieved. She says we must now move to questions about the group and how it can be prophetic in today's world. But her answers, giving her interpretation of prophecy, are still too much centered on ecology, social assistance, and human rights and thus, by remaining within a pragmatic model of Christianity, seem but another reiteration of the program of liberal politics. These liberal concerns are impor-tant and must be addressed by the church: the laity, the clergy, and the religious. But addressing such issues, in my opinion, is not going to be the salvation of religious life. Its problems do not 'A Christian in today's world will be a mystic or else he will not exist.' .July-August 1992 535 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life and Relig4on arise from a neglect of them. Religious lack, not moral outreach, but religious centering. They fail to realize what the poor them-selves realize and express in their popular religions, that our union with God through Jesus is central, that we must work at it, and that it is primarily in this that we will be countercultural. Which is more countercultural--to say we must strive to save planet earth or to say we truly believe that the dead are with God because Jesus rose from the dead and that this makes all the difference? I have made some hard remarks and asked some hard ques-tions, and I would welcome a dialogue about them. I am sure I have not expressed them adequately, but I am convinced that they contain at least a grain of truth. I am encouraged in uttering them by the swing of young people in both Europe and North America toward an interest in the mystical sense of religion. In the 1960s the young were caught up in the humanistic values of psychol-ogy and sociology, but today's youth exhibit a great interest in mysticism, religious cults and movements, apparitions and heal-ings, the afterlife; and even reincarnation and the satanic. Does this not indicate that they are experiencing a deep void of mean-ing in an anorexic and bulimic world where money, notoriety, power, individualism, and equality have become the primary val-ues? Does not this cultural change signal that secular humanism for all its ethical achievements has also been an impoverishment by reason of a dearth of religious imagination? Is it not a sign of the times when people living in sophisticated technological cul-tures begin to be attracted to religious beliefs interpreted in a most .simplistic fashion? I know the good responses to the distinction I draw within Christianity between morality and religion. Most will describe it as dualistic--for contemporary pundits the most damning of epi-thets. They will say, "You are separating things that are essen-tially linked." Love of God and love of neighbor are two aspects of the same thing. If you do not care for the person you see, how can you say you love the God you do not see? Those who love God should find their love's primary expression in their dedica-tion to caring for their neighbor, whether friend or enemy. Prayer is missionary and missionary activity is prayer--and on and on. Others will say that I give a false description of the present sit-uation of religious life; they will deny that those engaged in social justice and ecology tend to pray less and to be less interested in the transcendent, in sacraments, and in the eschatological. 536 Reviezv for Religious I know these rejoinders are partly true, but also that they are partly false. I know that the two aspects of Christianity, religion and morality, love of God and love of neighbor, are very closely intertwined, and I am aware of Karl Rahner's brilliant attempt to conjoin them.5 But I know too that they are conceptually distinct because I have seen them separated in the history of the church. At times the church has experienced the extreme of quietism, an overem-phasis on faith without good works, and other times the heresy of action, a hectic involvement in important works of justice and charity to the detriment of prayer and interiority, the soul of the apostolate. It is up to each of us to examine our life to determine where we are. But I am convinced that the problems of religious life stem only partly from a lack of adequate delivery systems and from ignorance about psychol-ogy, social systemics, and anthropo-logical models in an age of rapid change. I am convinced that their deeper source lies in the confusion between religion and morality and in an insistence upon moral-ity because of a loss of faith and interest in religion. If Christian religion is centered almost exclusively upon doing the moral good, upon promoting social justice and ecology, or upon fighting pornography and abortion, then what is the mean-ing of doctrines and dogmas? Are they but religious, accouter-ments? If so, why not be honest and simply drop them? What is the meaning of the redemption through Christ for a religion reduced to morality? What is the meaning of the Eucharist? Are these dogmas and sacraments only stimuli for action, stories and symbols subtly swaying us to do what is truly important: foster-ing the construction of a socially just and ecologically sound world, creating the. kingdom of morality? Is the resurrection just a story whose real cash value is all those smaller resurrections which can occur in a society, in history, or in each human life? How is a religious congregation which centers so strongly on morality to be differentiated from such groups as UNICEF or the Which is more countercultural - to say we must strive ~ to save planet earth or to say we truly believe that the dead are with God because Jesus rose from the dead and that this makes all the difference ? ~dy-Augzlst 1992 537 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life and Religion A life steeped in prayer will produce something we may have lost: a solid number of holy men and women whose life clearly is centered on God. FAO wherein men and women devote themselves to humanitarian causes at times for wages far lower than they could obtain else-where? I know that, since Vatican II, theologians including Rahner and Schillebeeckx have highlighted the thesis that Christ is at work in the world wherever good is. being done and humane causes are fostered. I am acquainted with the theories that the work of building up the kingdom of God is primarily a matter of our present life in the world, that salvation is not only after death but begins here, that the glory of God is man and woman fully alive. I am in sympathy with such emphases, but must also admit that they do not set me on fire; and judging from the vocation statistics of "progressive" congregations, I know that they have not stirred the young. For in my heart I suspect that such emphases are quite incomplete and were (in part) born of a loss of faith in the transcendent. For me Christianity centers not on us but on God. It demands a different vision of the world and reality, which generates a humble gratitude to the God who is responsible for all that is. One of Christianity's concerns is our inborn tendency to distort our freedom, arising from what Luther called the "in-curvedness" of our will. Christianity is about God and sin and the need for God's grace-ful hand to help us make proper use of our freedom. Christian religion must be about God and our relationship with God not only implicitly but also explicitly. It is from a union with God in prayer that light will emanate on how we are to relate to God, the world, and each other. And if a life is to be devoted to religion in a special way, if it is to be a consecrated religious life, it must be lived primarily in view of this relationship to God, not only in ideal but also in structure. It must be structured in such a way that the life of,the group abets in its members this concern about each one's relationship to God and gives witness of it to others. Such a life steeped in prayer will produce something we may have lost: a solid number of holy men and women whose life clearly is centered on God. If this proves true, young people will surely again be attracted to this kind of life, not so much because 538 Review for Religious it is relevant or more interesting than the world, but simply because religious life so construed and so lived is what it purports to be--religious. Notes ~ What is Living, What is Dead in Christianity Today? (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1986), p. 39. -' See Patricia Wittberg SC, Creating a Future for Religious Life (New York: Paulist Press, 1991

Issue 49.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1990. ; REVIEW I:OR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational [nslilule of lhe Sociely of Jesus; Editorial Office; 360~ Lindell 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 onc year; $28.00 for two years. Other countrics: US $20.00 for one year: if airmail, US $35.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Ri~vn-:w FOR R~uc, ous: P.O. Box 60"/0; Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to RF:VlEW vok REI.I~;IOt~S; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Ol990 REVIEW voR REt.l~;Iot~s. David L. Fleming, S.J. iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor "~ Contributing Editor ~.~o' Assistant Editors Advisor\, Board David J. Hassel, S.J. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. Ma\'/June 1990 Volume 49 Number 3 Manuscripts, books fl~r review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW ro~ REt.l~aOt~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the departmenl "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprinls should be ordered from REVIEW VO~ REI.tC;IOt~S; 3601 IAndell Blvd.; St. I~mis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms Internalional; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M1 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write tn the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Questions play an important part in our biblical tradition. The first question presented in the Bible is the one which God directs to us hu-man beings, "Where are you?" In the gospels, Jesus" question, "Who do you say that I am?," demands a response from every Christian, per-haps more than once in a lifetime. "Woman, why are you weeping? Who is it you are looking for?" challenges us in our sorrow and our dis-appointments. "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" pricks the con-science of sinner and saint alike. Not all questions are neatly answered. For example, "how does one pray" and "how does one love" have pieces of answers which together make up a simple but intricate mosaic that stretches as far as human ex-perience can reach. Jesus, in trying to share with us his experience of God, seemed to be most at home in everyday images of the living world around us and the parables which capture some basic human experience writ large. Who does not remember a woman sweeping a house for a lost coin? That is the way God searches out each of us in our lost moments. Who has not been touched by a story of a person, robbed and left half-dead by the roadside, and the various passers-by among whom there is one who cares? From such a parable, we all know a little better what it means to be neighbor. Stories, symbols, and images become so often the prisms whereby we gain new or fresh insight into some of our deepest human and divine realities. Some of our authors in this issue are directly led into their reflec-tions by a question. "What is a priest?" led Richard Hauser, S.J., to his considerations on the "Spirituality of the Ministerial Priesthood.'" Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., is making a report on the Religious Life Futures Project as he looks at the question "Where is Religious Life Go-ing? . Whence Come the Candidates?" stirs Gabrielle Jean, S.C.O., to focus once again on the instrumentation for the screening of candi-dates for the priestly and.religious life vocations. William Mann, F.S.C., raises the question "Brothers, Do We Have a Future?" and enters into his own religious life experience to provide a response. If I could make five wishes for a new novice director, Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D., asks, what would they be? Her answer to that ques-tion is her article "Wishes for a 'Novice' Novice Director." Mary Polu-tanovich, D.C., faces the questions, "do the poor need the artist'? does 321 322 / Review for Religious. May-June 1990 the artist need the poor? how is Christ served and the gospel preached by this charism?" Her reflections are captured in her article "More than Bread: Art, Spirituality, and the Poor." Religious imagination unveils how God may be working in "The As-sociate Movement in Religious Life" according to Rose Marie Jasinski, C.B.S., and Peter C. Foley. Thomas F. McKenna, C.M., seeks out meta-phors as he tries to stimulate our thinking about "Images for the Future of Religious Life." Correcting some metaphors may be important in our understanding of "Obedience and Adult Faith" as presented by James D. Whitehead and Evelyn Eaton Whitehead. Other authors in this issue suggest creative ways to pair a deeper un-derstanding of violence and ministry as a response, the connection be-tween the stages of conversion and the gift of tears as imaged in the spiri-tuality of Catherine of Siena, naming experiences that represent the sur-rendering of ourselves to the Divine Other, discovering the gifts and the pitfalls of praying through a tradition which is non-Christian, and re-flections on the historical sweep of foreign mission involvement and its effect on the renewal movement in women religious congregations dur-ing the past quarter-century. It is true that questions sometimes only lead to more questions. But questions also lead to ways of responding that affect the direction of our lives and our ministry. Some questions can truly affect our relationship with God, with our fellowmen and women, and with our world. Perhaps our authors will raise some of those questions and also provide us with some of those images which will call forth such a personal conversion. The God who asks questions is also a God of surprises. Our Pentecost prayer: recreate in us your own Spirit, Lord. David L. Fleming, S.J. Spirituality of the Ministerial Priesthood Richard J. Hauser, S.J. Father Richard Hauser, S.J. is Chairman of the Theology Department at Creighton University in Omaha. Nebraska. His last article in Rv.\,lv.w FOR R~.L~(;IOUS was pub-lished in July-August, 1986. His address is Creighton University: California at 24th Street: Omaha, Nebraska 68178. [~uring a recent board meeting of the Emmaus Priest Renewal Program I had a disconcerting experience. The discussion moved to the question: what is a priest? For the next hour we worked in vain to come to a con-sensus. In exasperation someone said, '~No wonder priestly morale in the United States is so low. We don't even know what it means to be a priest?" At that point the Emmaus board commissioned me as their theo-logical consultant to put together a five-day retreat on priestly idefitity and spirituality. Immediately I found myself resisting the task, claiming ignorance of the topic. This resistance was even further disconcerting. Since I have been a priest more than twenty years and writing on spiritual topics for almost as long, why wouldn't I have something to say on the spirituality of the priest, supposedly my own spirituality? Gradually I realized that my hesi-tancy had many roots. First I was self-conscious about my identity as priest because rightly or wrongly as a priest I have felt under attack by two very important movements in the Church, the lay movement and the women's movement. As a result I have inadvertently downplayed this aspect of my identity so as not to occasion criticism from these groups. Further as I reflected on the documents of Vatican II, I became more aware that they gave thorough treatment both to the roles of the lay per-son and the bishop in the Church but have said very little about the role 323 :324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 of the priest. Though Vatican II did set some new directions for a recon-sideration of the identity of the priest, it did not develop this theology to any great extent. Finally I saw that many currents in the Church have subtly made me hesitant to reflect on the area: the debates on priestly celi-bacy and married clergy, the prevalent--and inadequate--theology of the priest as the "holy man" set apart in a separate caste to "mediate" grace to the laity, the tendency to "clericalize" most ministries in the Church, the ecumenical movement. I should also note that as a priest from a religious congregationl had defined my spirituality almost solely by the charism of n~y order and therefore neglected aspects of spiritual-ity related to my role as priest of the universal Catholic Church. In this I suspect I am typical of many religious order priests. The following reflections are an effort toward a theology of priestly identity and spirituality. I believe the lack of such a theology has had dele-terious effects both on morale of many current priests as well as on re-cruitment of future priests. The American bishops in their statement is-sued 1988 "Reflections on the Morale of Priests" agree that there is a morale problem: " . . it is aiso clear to us that there exists today a se-rious and substantial morale problem among priests in general. It is a prob-lem that cannot be simply attributed to one or another cause or recent event, but its profile and characteristics can be clearly described, and its presence needs to be addressed directly." It is my conviction that one of its causes is an ambiguity about what it means to be a priest. These reflections attempt to address that problem using guidelines from Vati-can II as well as recent documents from the Priestly Life and Ministry Committee of the American bishops. All Christian spirituality flows from incorporation into the Body of Christ through faith and baptism. The priest's spirituality is no excep-tion. Basically, then, priestly spirituality is Christian spirituality. How-ever, since the priest has a special role in the Body of Christ it is appro-priate to discuss how this role specifies the practice of Christian spiri-tuality. But an integral examination of priestly spirituality must first situ-ate the priest within the Body and only then discuss the aspects of spiri-tuality proper to the priest as priest. This article is concerned with priest-hood in the Roman Catholic Church; hence the terms Body of Christ and Church have primary reference to this community. Body of Christ: Priest as Member Priests are members of the Body of Christ. Their dignity as mem-bers of the Body has frequently been obscured by treatment of their spe-cial role within the Body. The Decree on the Ministt3, and Life of Priests Ministerial Priesthood / 325 from Vatican II clearly situates the priest's leadership role through ordi-nation within the priest's membership in the Body through the sacra-ments of initiation: "Therefore, while it indeed presupposes the sacra-ments of Christian initiation, the sacerdotal office of priests is conferred by that special sacrament through which priests, by the anointing of the Holy Spirit, are marked by a special character and are so configured to Christ the priest that they can act in the person of Christ the head" (par. 2). Membership and leadership must be seen together for comprehensive understanding of priestly identity and spirituality. It is significant that Vatican II chose the image of the Body of Christ to discuss priestly identity and ministry. This image highlights both the equality of all in the Body as well as the difference of roles in the Body. The equality of all members within the Body is clear: "There is but one body and one Spirit, just as there is but one hope given all of you by your call. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all, and works through all, and is in all" (Ep 4:4-6). Equally clear is the difference of roles within the Body: "There are dif-ferent 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" ( I Co 12:4-7). Furthermore Paul's image of the Body of Christ highlights the Spirit as the source of all life within the Body. Membership in the Body flows from the Spirit received through faith and baptism. Specific roles (charisms) within the Body flow from the special gifts given by the Spirit to different members of the Body for the sake of the entire Body, Finally, the Church as the Body of Christ shares Christ's mission. This mission so clearly presented in all the Gospels is serving the king-dom of God. Each member is called by baptism to assume a share of re-sponsibility by accepting ministry according to his or her specific charisms. This ministry is oriented to serving the kingdom of God both within the Body of Christ itself as well as beyond the Body in the world. The example is, of course, Jesus himself. Jesus ministered to his disci-ples; the washing of the feet in John's gospel is the most dramatic exam-ple of his role of service to his disciples. Still this concern for his own in no way lessened his ministry toward those outside his community of followers; his preaching, healing, and love extended to everyone he en-countered. These reflections presume that the priest's basic identity is that of a member of the Body of Christ and consequently the priest's ba-sic spirituality will be living that identity. 326 /Review for Religious, May-June 1990 Body of Christ: Priest as Leader As members of the Body of Christ priests have received the Spirit incorporating them into the Body and giving them charisms for the ser-vice of the Church and of the kingdom. What, then, differentiates the priest's identity and spirituality from that of other members of the Body? Most agree that ministerial priesthood in the Church implies a permanent office flowing from charism and formally recognized by the Church. The very important statement of 1977 from the Bishop's Committee on Priestly Life and Ministry "As One Who Serves" expresses the consen-sus well: "In summary, the holder of an office in the Church would be (1) a person endowed by the Spirit, (2) with personal gifts (charisms), (3) called to a public and permanent ministry, and this call is formally recognized by the Church" (par. 20). The fact that this office implies a role of leadership in the community is also agreed upon by the magis-terium and by most theologians. Yet there remain theological disagree-ments on the relationship of the priest's role as head of the Body (always with the bishop) to the Body itself. The discussion is focused on a pas-sage from The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church from Vatican II: "Though they differ from one another in essence and not only in de-gree, the common priesthood of the faithful and the ministerial or hier-archical priesthood are nonetheless interrelated. Each of them in its own special way is a participation in the one priesthood of Christ" (par. 10). Since this article is concerned primarily with the spirituality of priests as leaders of the Body--an identity that is acknowledged by most--it does not seem necessary to treat the doctrinal disputes. Christian spirituality flows from response to the Holy Spirit, the sanc-tifier. Priestly spirituality is simply the priest's effort to respond faith-fully to the Spirit in living the priestly identity as defined by the Church. The Church teaches that ordination establishes the priest in three new, distinctive, and permanent relationships: with Christ, with the Church, and with the world beyond the Church, This identity today includes-- for both diocesan as well as religious order priests--a call to observe the evangelical counsels. Since observing these counsels affects the living out of the three basic relationships, they must be discussed with them. It should be recalled again that this discussion focuses on those aspects of priestly spirituality that distinguish the priest as priest; it does not fo-cus on aspects of spirituality common to all Christians through baptism. Priest and Christ: Person-Symbol of Christ the Head of Body Through ordination the priest is established in a new, distinctive, and permanent relationship to Christ: the priest becomes the person-symbol Ministerial Priesthood / 327 of Christ, the head of the Church. Priests receive an anointing of the Spirit which enables them to act in the name of Christ the head. Thus priests are empowered to act in persona Christi. "As One Who Serves" makes the crucial observation that priests can be the person-symbol of Christ the head of the Body only because of their membership in the Body: "It is only because of the Church that the priest can be said to act in persona Christi. He is called to be an effective sign and witness of the Church's faith in the reconciling Christ, who works through the Church and through the one whom the Church has sent to be the steward of its gifts and services" (par. 22). It is the Body of Christ that is holy through the presence of the Spirit. The priest, as the preeminent head of this Body, becomes the symbol of the holiness of the Body. And as head of this Body, priests can now act in persona ecclesiae and so also in per-sona Christi. Through ordination the priest is established in a special relationship to Christ. As head of the Body, the priest becomes an "effective sign" or sacrament of Christ's authoritative presence in the Church. All aspects of priestly spirituality flow from this relationship. Since it is the role of a symbol to make present what it represents, the priest is called by the Church through ordination to awaken Christ's presence within the com-munity in all service for the community. Consequently all priestly min-istry to the Church must be done in a way that awakens faith within the community. This awakening of faith in others is possible only if the priest has a deep relationship personally with Christ. The biggest chal-lenge of priestly spirituality is becoming internally the Christ symbolized externally. To a great extent the effectiveness of priestly ministry flows from a heart transformed by the Spirit and then ministering to others. All Christians desiring to follow Christ fully are called to observe the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience within their own state of life. The priest is no exception. However, the priest's ob-servance of the evangelical counsels is orientated toward conforming the priest more closely to Christ and so increasing effectiveness as the person-symbol of Christ the head of the Body. The priest today is called by the Church to celibacy and so to meet personal affective needs in ways con-sonant with the celibate state. Christ is the model of priestly celibacy in his relationships with the Father, his community, and his apostolate. Above all the celibacy of Christ was founded on his relationship to his most dear Father, Abba. From within this intimate and often solitary pres-ence before his Father Christ's entire life flowed. Christ's relationship to the Father is the model for the priest's relationship to Christ. As 328 / Review jbr Religious, May-June 1990 Christ's heart flowed instinctively to the Father, so does the priest's heart flow to Christ and the Father. Love unites without obliterating personal distinctiveness. As Christ was able to say "The Father and I are one," and as Paul could say, "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me," so the priest prays to become equally one with the Father and Jesus. By em-bracing celibacy the priest imitates Jesus in allowing sufferings of fail-ure, loneliness, and isolation to foster even deeper intimacy with God and with Jesus himself. Christ is the model of priestly celibacy in his relationship to his com-munity. He looked to certain of his apostles and disciples for the per-sonal support he needed to sustain the failures and loneliness of his min-istry. So Christ is the model for priests in developing deep human rela-tionship, especially with fellow priests. Finally Christ's affectivity was also directed toward those he served. We recall how Jesus wept over Jerusalem because he was not able to draw the chosen people of God to himself as a mother hen draws her chicks to herself. In embracing the vow of celibacy the priest strives to imitate Christ in each of these three dimensions of affectivity and so become a more effective person-symbol of Christ as head of the Body. To be faithful to the call of today's Church to live this identity of person-symbol of Christ we priests must ask some basic questions. First, do I see my vocation primarily as a call to become Someone, Christ, and not merely as a duty to perform certain ministerial functions closed to others? The Church today is saying to priests that who we are is more primary than what we do; presence has replaced power. We are being called to be so configured to Christ that our actions radiate his presence and so awaken awareness of God's own love. Have I built into my daily life the rhythms necessary both to grow continually in knowledge and love of Christ and to allow this knowledge and love to permeate my ac-tions? And second, have I actively embraced my celibacy'? Do I cherish my celibacy as a gift intended to foster intimacy with Christ and the Fa-ther and thereby increase my effectiveness as a person-symbol of Christ in my leadership? DO I imitate Christ in meeting my affective needs pri-marily in my relationships with Christ and the Father and with my pres-byterate? Do I allow myself to be supported by and do I support my fel-low priests'? Do I allow the crosses of celibacy to deepen intimacy with Christ? Priest and Church: Servant-Leader of Body Through the anointing of the Spirit at ordination the priest is also es-tablished in a new, distinctive, and permanent relationship to the Church: Ministerial Priesthood / 399 the priest becomes the servant-leader of the Church, the "effective sign" of Christ the head of the Body. As the preeminent leader of the community the priest thereby acts in persona ecclesiae. This leadership of the Body is marked by four functions essential for the community. The priest is called to serve the Church by proclaiming the Word of God, by presiding at worship, by pastoral care of the People of God, and by fa-cilitating the different charisms within the Church. But the priest's lead-ership will take many differing forms depending on the talents of the priest and the needs of the community. The American bishops high-lighted the importance of sensitivity to varying forms of priestly leader-ship with which the Spirit endows priests: "All priests are endowed by the Spirit in various ways to serve the People of God. There are forms of leadership . The gifts differ and each must discern in the Spirit how he has been gifted. No one has all the gifts. Some seem to disap-pear in the history of the Church; some are transient even in the lives of priests" ("As One Who Serves," par. 32). Christ is the model for the priest's leadership of the Church. Just as Jesus' love of the Father impelled him to live for the Father's kingdom, so does the priest's love of Christ impel the priest to live for the Body of Christ. The priest wil.I, furthermore, exercise leadership in the same way Jesus exercised leadership--through service: "The Son of Man has not come to be served but to serve--to give his life in ransom for the many " (Mk 10:45). And through the special anointing of the Spirit in ordination Christ now stands with the priest empowering the priest to be an "effective sign" of Christ in all ministry to the Church. Thus the priest can fulfill the vocation to be the sacramental symbol-person of Christ actually awakening Christ's presence in the community through his .daily service. In a new way since Vatican I! priests are being called to facilitate service and leadership of others within the Church. The role has been com-pared to that of a conductor of an orchestra: "The conductor succeeds when he stimulates the best performance from each player and combines their individual efforts into a pattern of sound, achieving the vision of the composer. The best leader is one who can develop the talents of each staff person and coordinates'all their efforts, so that they best comple-ment each other and produce a superior collective effort" ("As One Who Serves," par. 46). In facilitating ministry of others the priest is not unlike Christ who prepared the disciples and then sent them off on their own. The priest recognizes that the Spirit in baptism incorporates mem-bers into the Body and simultaneously gives them differing gifts of min- 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 istry for the Body. Yet according to the above document the priest re-mains the one "in whom the mission of the Church, and therefore its ministry, finds focus and visibility" (34); thus the priest acts within the community preeminently in persona ecclesiae. To enhance the priest's effectiveness as a person-symbol of Christ, the Church calls the priest to evangelical obedience through the promise or vow of obedience to their bishops or ecclesiastical superiors. This prom-ise or vow of obedience places the priest in special union with the uni-versal Church and so enhances the ability to act in persona ecclesiae. The priest symbolizes the unity of the entire Church in Christ: the local parish or community, the diocese, the national Church, the universal Catholic Church. In addition, the priest symbolizes the continuity of the Church through the ages from the apostles and Peter to the present-day bishops and pope. It follows from this that the priest must fully own this position in the Church by loving, protecting, and defending it at every level and, even when called to prophetic criticism, by doing so with love. While acknowledging the Church's faults and foibles past and present, the priest still believes that it is the privileged place of the Spirit's activ-ity in this world for the kingdom of God: "I for my part declare to you, you are "Rock," and on this rock I will build my church, and the jaws of death shall not prevail against it" (Mt 16:18). The model for the priest's obedience is again Christ. Nothing stood between Christ and doing his Father's will. The priest's obedience is to God. The priest is convinced that the will of God is now revealed through the authoritative structures of the Church. In obeying these structures the priest is obeying the Father. The priest's obedience to the bishop or ec-clesiastical superiors gives eloquent testimony to the belief that Christ continues to work through the ages within the authoritative structures of the Church. By embracing the promise or vow of obedience the priest refuses to allow any personal desire not in accord with God's will as ex-pressed through Church superiors to determine actions. The sufferings of obedience to God's will are accepted and offered to the Father in the same manner as Christ's. To be faithful to living this identity of servant-leader of the Body we priests must reflect on our underlying attitudes toward ministry. First, do I truly see myself as servant to my community, that is, do I radiate the attitude of Christ who came to serve and not to be served'? Do I strive to be an effective servant-leader in each of the four major ministerial roles, that is, teaching, presiding at worship, pastoral care, facilitating gifts of community? Or do I find myself holding back in some particular Ministerial Priesthood / 331 aspects of my ministry'? Have I identified charisms of leadership that are unique to me and used these in a special way for the Church? Do I fully grasp that as a person-symbol of Christ in my leadership role I can trust that Christ stands behind each aspect of my ministry enabling me to be an effective sign of his presence'? Second, do I embrace my promise or vow of obedience? Do ! see it as a gift enhancing my effectiveness as a person-symbol of the universal Church, the Body of Christ'? Do I love the Church and protect and defend it at every leve~? If necessary to criti-cize, do I speak in love? Is my obedience ultimately to the Father? Do I allow the crosses of obedience to conform me more totally to Christ'? Priest and Society: Promoter of Justice in the World Through ordination the priest is established in a new, distinctive, and permanent relationship to Christ and to his Church. Contained in this iden-tity is a new relationship to the world beyond the Church. Because the priest now acts in persona ecclesiae and in persona Christi, the priest becomes the preeminent witness of the Church's and Christ's concern for the world. Vatican II and subsequent documents of the Church both on an international and national level have put increasing emphasis on this aspect of the Church's mission. The statement of the World Synod of Bish-ops in 1971 entitled Justice in the World is apt: ". action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully ap-pear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or in other words, of the Church's mission." The priest today is called to integrate this dimension into ongoing ministry. The American bishops echo this thrust by presenting their descrip-tion of the priestly ministry under four co-equal divisions: To Proclaim the Word of God, To Preside at Worship, To Serve the Christian Com-munity, To Serve Humankind. The last-named section begins as follows: "The Church is called to serve all of society: that is its mission and the hope of its ministry. While the priest may have a certain primary respon-sibility to the Catholic community which he serves, nonetheless he has been sent by Christ and the Church to all people who comprise the larger community in which the parish community exists. The concern for all people gives reality to the presence of the risen Lord" ('~As One Who Serves," par. 50). The priest has a double role in this ministry to humankind. As ser-vant- leader of the Body tile priest is called to be engaged personally in actions on behalf of justice to witness most effectively to the Church's concern. In addition, the priest is called to facilitate action and leader-ship by others for the transformation of society. Church teachings ac- 339 / Review Jbr Religious, May-June 1990 knowledge that time constraints may limitthe priest's personal involve-ment but also point out that the apostolate within society is also most ap-propriate for the laity: "The apostolate of the social milieu, that is, the effort to infuse a Christian spirit into the mentality, customs, laws, and structures of the community in which a person lives is so much the duty and responsibility of the laity that it can never be properly performed by others. In this area the laity can exercise an apostolate of like towards like" (Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity, para. 33). In addition to working for justice throughout society, the priest is called to have spe-cial concern for the poor: "Although the presbyter has obligations to-wards all persons, he has the poor and the lowly entrusted to him in a special way. The Lord himself showed that he was united to them, and the fact that the Gospel was preached to them is mentioned as a sign of his messianic a.ctivity'" (Decree on the Miniso3, and Life of Priests, par. 6). Again Christ is the model of the priest in this dimension of minis-try. Jesus' concern for others was not limited to his immediate commu-nity of disciples. He continually extended himself beyond his followers to others. His entire ministry is marked with personal compassion for any person who came to him in need. In addition to his one-on-one concern for others, Jesus also spoke out against society's injustices. At times the condemnation was marked by actual disobedience to laws when he viewed them as contradictory to the revelation he received from his Fa-ther. Indeed, his criticism was so threatening to the establishment that it eventually precipitated his death. And finally the Gospel reflects that Jesus had special care and concern for the poorest of the poor, the out-casts of society. The parable of the Last Judgment testifies to the cen-trality in Jesus' eyes of service to the hungry, thirsty, shelterless, impris-oned. To enhance the priest's effectiveness as a witness of Christ, the Church asks all priests to have special concern for evangelical poverty within their own priestly vocation, diocesan or religious. And again the model is Christ himself. Christ was poor. He let no material desire or possession come between himself and doing the Father's will. He was detached from possessions in order to be more free to serve. And Christ chose to live a simple lifestyle, perhaps to be more approachable by the poor or to witness to the sufficiency of the Father's providence for his material needs, taking his cue from the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. Through embracing evangelical poverty the priest refuses to al-low any inordinate attachment to food, clothing, shelter, possessions to Ministerial Priesthood / 333 affect service of the kingdom either within or outside the Body of Christ. With this inner quality of heart the priest thus becomes an even more ef-fective witness of Christ to the Church and world. To be faithful and responsive to the call of promoting justice in the world we priests must ask whether we have adapted to this rather new dimension of priestly ministry. First, does my ministry include leader-ship in witnessing to Christ's concern for the world both through actual "hands-on" service to promote justice in society as well as through fa-cilitating service of my congregation? Most especially am I an effective sign in witnessing to Christ's concern for the most needy and under-privileged of my parish and my society'? Second, what is my attitude to evangelical poverty? Do I desire to imitate Christ by adopting a simple lifestyle? Do I embrace evangelical poverty as a gift because it conforms me more closely to Christ and so makes me a more effective symbol-person of Christ in my leadership, especially in his concern for the poor'? Do I allow the crosses of poverty to deepen my bonds with Christ'? Ministerial Priesthood: Challenge and Consolation The challenge of priesthood is perhaps greater today than ever be-fore. In the ministry of leadership for the Church the priest is called to become the person-symbol of Christ and so live and serve in a way that awakens awareness of God's continual presence and love both for the com-munity and for the world. A recent document from the American bish-ops catches the immensity of this challenge putting it in the context of the role of the pastor today: "The pastor in the parish today becomes-- whether he knows and likes it or not--a religious symbol to his people. The pastor becomes a religious symbol of tradition, the keeper and speaker of the revealed Word in all of its rich expressions. He becomes the religious symbol of God's care for his people, expressing compas-sion for the wounded and outrage at injustice. He becomes the religious symbol of order, calling the community to an effective stewardship of its gifts and shared use of its resources" ("A Shepherd's Care: Reflec-tions on the Changing role of Pastor," 1988). But if the challenge is immense, so is the consolation. Through or-dination the priest exists in a new, distinctive, and permanent relation-ship to Christ, to the Church, and to society. But like all sacraments the sacrament of orders confers the grace it proclaims and signifies. There-fore, priests have the immense consolation of knowing that the Holy Spirit stands behind them enabling them to live this threefold relation-ship conferred at ordination. In their relationship to Christ, the Spirit en-ables priests to be configured to Christ poor, celibate, and obedient and 334 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 so be more powerful person-symbols of Christ. In their relationship to the Church, the Spirit enables priests to be effective servant-leaders in the fourfold dimensions of priestly ministry: proclaiming the Word of God, presiding at worship, caring for the pastoral needs of community, and facilitating charisms of the community. Finally in their relationship to society, the Spirit enables priests to be eloquent witnesses of Christ's care for.the world in promoting justice in society and most especially in serving the poor both personally and in their leadership of the Body of Christ. Priestly ministry, like all ministry, is a charism, a gift of the Spirit. The challenge for us priests is living in a way that facilitates the Spirit's action. We must take a serious look at our daily schedules and ask whether they, in fact, foster our living in tune with the Spirit, thereby growing in knowledge and love and Christ and so radiating a Christ-presence in all our ministry. Being fully effective sacramental signs of Christ demands daily attention to our physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. And this may require rearrangement of our schedules, especially to assure we have the leisure to grow in an ever deeper union with Christ whom we sacramentalize in our leadership. A recent document from the Priestly Life and Ministry Committee pointedly advises us that the crite-ria for the effectiveness of our ministry ought not be the quantity of our work but its quality: "One of the most probable causes of difficulties with spirituality in a priest'~ life today is simply his ability to find (or at least justify) sufficient time to spend in solitude and prayer. A consci-entious priest, especially when under pressure of incessant demands, can forget that the quality of his work is more important than the quantity. What people are looking for in him more than anything else is a spiri-tual guide and model who will help them come to know the Lord and find his peace. Thus he must be, first of all and above everything else, a man of God's peace. Regular time each day for prayer, meditation, and spiritual reading is a sine qua non for the unfolding in a priest's life of an authentic Christ-centeredness" ("The Priest and Stress," 1982). There are many ministries in the Body of Christ. The priest's is but one of these, yet it is distinctive. Only the priest is called by today's Church to a ministry of leadership whose essence is symbolizing Christ's presence. Hopefully a deeper appreciation of this calling will have its ef-fect on morale of current priests as well as attract many others to this vo-cation. Where is Religious Life Going? M. Basil Pennington. O.C.S.O. Father Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., is well known for his conferences and writings on centering prayer. His address is Assumption Abbey: Route 5: Ava, Missouri 65608. This is a question that is being asked with concern not only by religious themselves and the Church at large but even by the wider community. One significant indication of this is the fact that a secular foundation has recently given a secular university over a half million dollars to study the question. Lilly Endowment, Inc. has awarded Boston University a $575,000 grant to have its Center for Applied Social Sciences serve as the site to study the question "Factors Influencing the Transformation of Religious Life in the Catholic Church in the United States." This cur-rent research grant follows the successful completion of an earlier $100,000 planning grant. It is almost twenty-five years since the close of the Second Vatican Council which called for an adaptation and renewal of religious life. In that time the average age of members of many religious congregations and monastic communities has increased dramatically while the number of members has decreased just as dramatically. Many traditional works of religious have been called into question. New works have been un-dertaken and the whole understanding of mission reconsidered by some groups. The sense of separation from the laity is greatly diminished. Lay persons take a much greater part in the life and mission of religious and religious generally feel closer to the active lay Catholic. What does all this portend for the future'? More importantly, what must religious do in order to be truly renewed, adapted to the twenty-first century Church, so that they may continue to bring to the Church 335 336 / Review Jot" Religious, May-June 1990 and to society as a whole the gift that they are? The proposal submitted to the Lilly Endowment set forth six basic or broad objectives for the study: I. Identify the interpretative schemes used by reli-gious to describe the meaning structure of their commit-ment and their perceptions of the distinctions of religious life in relation to the other ministerial roles in the Church. The interpretive schemes will be examined from the perspective of the psychological, theological, and or-ganizational changes that have occurred over time, with special attention to the degree to which religious orders are becoming more or less distinct. 2. Describe and analyze the psychological, struc-tural, and organizational changes that have occurred and those yet to occur both in religious life in general and within congregations in order to predict the future shapes of religious life. 3. Identify individual religious who are perceived as the emergent leaders of religious life and explore with them systematically the changes that have occurred and must yet occur if religious life is to remain a vital social and ecclesial reality. 4. Describe and analyze some effects of change and perceptions of religious life on the commitment of in-dividual religious, former religious, and recent candi-dates to religious life. 5. Describe the environmental influences on re-ligious life in the United States, including cultural shifts that influence commitments, the supply and demand econ-omy for religious service, and the enhancement of the role of the laity in the Church within the historical con-text of theology. 6. Provide a paradigm for developing strategies of leadership that will enable leaders to move the pro-cess of renewal that was begun in Vatican II through a process of systematic transformation. The term "interpretive schemes" may not be familiar to many but it refers to a very important factor in religious life. Interpretive schemes are made up of the understanding the members of the group or commu-nity share in regard to the world and their place in it. They are primary Where is Religious Life Going? in drawing the members together, giving them a shared sense of belong-ing. These guide religious as they interpret their own past and look at their present environment, select their value priorities, and allocate their resources. Oftentimes these interpretive schemes are not explicitly articu-lated by a group. They are revealed rather in the metaphors the mem-bers use to describe their community, the stories they tell and the rites they celebrate. Transformation involves a shift in interpretive schemes. The pro-posal describes transformation as "qualitative, discontinuous shifts in organization members, shared understandings of the organization, accom-panied by changes in the organization's mission, strategy, and formal and informal structures." Transformation usually begins with a crisis that unfreezes dominant organizational members' current interpretative schemes by presenting a significant challenge to their validity. The Sec-ond Vatican Council did this to religious. But not the Council alone. The transition from the modern to the postmodern era, one of the three great cultural shifts in the history of humankind necessarily brought on a "cri-sis" for all human organizations. The next step in the transformation pro-ess is the development of alternative interpretative schemes leading to new types of action which in turn leads to changes in the structure of the organization. There is likely to be considerable conflict among the origi-nal and developing interpretive schemes and the subgroups espousing them. Leaders of the community will necessarily have a large impact on the process and its outcome. If they support only one perspective they are likely to decrease the potential creativity of the transformational pro-ess and the sense of belonging and involvement of the members whose perspectives have not been taken into account. If they try to separate out the different perspectives they are likely to perpetuate splints within the community. If they facilitate the interaction among the conflicting per-spectives they will increase the chances of paradoxical outcomes of trans-formation, of new and creative shared understandings, of a truly renewed and vital religious life. During the course of the process members will experience discomfort both with the ambiguities and the confusion. The conflict of understandings and those who espouse them will create ten-sions. But when (and if) a new synthesis is reached that is experienced by the whole group as acceptable, there will not only be a sense of satis-faction but there will be a new force in the community for life. In its study of the factors influencing the transformation for religious life, the study is going to give special attention to two: the environment, 338/Review for Religious, May-June 1990 that is, the factors external to the community that impinge on it in some way and can effect the transformation process by inducing the crisis and affecting the development of new interpretative schemes, and the lead-ership. Two types of leadership within the communities need to be and will be considered. There are formal leaders, those who are designated to see that the roles, resources, and necessary structures are maintained to provide for both the mission and the members. Emergent leaders are members who are generally recognized in the community as complemen-tary to the formal leaders, but distinct from them in purpose and func-tion. These often act as catalysts for new ideas within the community and, as such, are seldom selected by the membership to represent them. The study hopes to explore the underlying changes in interpretive schemes both qualitatively and quantitatively arid at several levels: within the social institution of religious life as such, within individual congre-gations, and within individual members of religious communities. This will involve questionnaires, regional meetings, and individual interviews to be carried out over the course of the next two to three years. The proposal sees as the outcome of the project: I. Identification of the normative beliefs about reli-gious life and how they will likely shape the future of re-ligious life in this country. 2. Build a national comparative data base of all male and female religious that includes current demographic data, membership information, existing and emerging structures, current member attitudes on multiple dimen-sions, and projections for the future. 3. Enable the leadership of religious communities to identify in the current context paradigms of planning that enable transformation, consolidation, merging, or extinc-tion. 4. Label the changes that must yet occur if reli-gious life is to remain a vital social and theological gift to the Church into the next millennium. The results of the study will, of course, be published and generally available to interested parties. But the researchers hope also to work with organizations and groups of religious to consider and further explore the findings. The principal researchers for the project are David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis. Father Nygren is a Research Associate at the Center for Applied Social Science, a unit of the Graduate School of Boston Uni- Where is Religious Life Going? / 339 versity. He has been a member of the Congregation of the Mission (Vin-centians) since 1968 and has served his congregation in many capacities over the years. He holds six academic degrees. Sister Miriam, a mem-ber of the Congregation of Sisters of Saint Joseph of Carondelet, is com-pleting a term as a Post-Doctoral Fellow at the Harvard Community Health Plan, Boston. She is a clinical psychologist by profession and has served as a director of the House of Affirmation in Hopedale, Massachu-setts. Besides the extensive facilities of the Center for Applied Social Sci-ence, the researchers will be aided by a National Advisory Board which includes Archbishop Thomas Kelly, O.P., the newly elected chairper-son of NCCB's Committee on Religious; Abbot James Jones, O.S.B. of Conception Abbey; Howard Gray, S.J., former provincial of the Detroit Province, five religious women, two brothers, a monk and two represen-tatives from the Lilly Endowment. The Advisory Board will meet regu-larly with the researchers to assess the results of their work and offer guid-ance to the pursuit of the project. The success of the project will, of course, depend largely on the col-laboration of religious, both as groups and as individuals. But the bene-fits that they can hope to reap from it are considerable, so such collabo-ration is well assured. However, they will not be the only ones to profit from the study. Reviewing the expected outcomes it is easy to see why the Lilly Endowment and a community oriented university are willing to make such a considerable investment in this study. If the study does suc-ceed in producing the results it projects, there can be little doubt as to the significance of the contribution it will make not only to the Church but to society as a whole by enlivening and promoting the social outreach which depends so heavily on the leadership and support of the religious communities. Whence Come the Candidates? Gabrielle L. Jean, S.C.O. Sister Gabrielle Jean, S.C.O., last appeared in these pages with her article. "'The Alcoholic Religious Woman," in September/October 1985. Her address is 715 Per-shing Drive: Silver Spring, Maryland 20910. Over the past several years, authoritative articles on the assessment of can-didates for the priestly/religious life have appeared in Catholic periodi-cals. Kraft (1978)~ clearly stated the differential role and competencies of the psychiatrist and psychologist relative to evaluation and treatment of religious personnel. While both professional groups are involved in therapy, the psychiatrist focuses on the abnormal behavior while the psy-chologist deals with a much broader range of human behaviors. The psy-chiatrist's forte lies in his medical expertise and pharmacological arma-mentarium; the clinical psychologist's educational background provides for research and evaluation of human behavior, especially personality as-sessment. Kraft strongly recommended that such professionals have a working knowledge and appreciation of the role of spirituality in the life of religious men and women. Values incongruent with those of the cli-ent could prove prejudicial to his or her ongoing spiritual growth. A more recent article by O'Connor (1988)~- addressed the appraisal of candidates with attention directed to the formation process, the test-ing of the applicant's spirit, assessment of his or her motivation and fit-ness for the chosen institute. The key elements lie in the interactional pro-ess of interview and dialogue. The present article focuses on the instrumentation for the screening of candidates, that is, the psychological tests selected for that purpose. It is intended to inform superiors, vocations directors, and formation teams of the rationale and philosophy inherent in the selection of instru- 340 Whence Come the Candidates? / 34"1 ments; a "model" battery will then be suggested. Do the candidates come from the general "normal" population or from a psychiatric pool? The choice of instruments such as the MMPI (Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory), TAT (Thematic Apper-ception Test) and Rorschach Inkblots reflect the latter since they are stan-dardized or normed on a psychiatric or dysfunctional population. Granted, they provide valuable information (in terms of impairment), but would it not be more helpful for the formation teams to know the strengths and weaknesses of the personality of their candidates? Would they not be in a better position to maximize the psychological and spiri-tual growth of their charges with a positive set of data on them'? If one begins the psychological screening process with scales normed on a psy-chiatric population, the results can only reveal the extent of the pathol-ogy found in that individual when compared to psychiatrically impaired individuals. The strengths of the personality are clouded by the pathol-ogy and the formation personnel are left to ferret for themselves the per-sonal resources of the recruits. Personality measurement is a typically American phenomenon; it originated in the United States and has evolved greatly, especially since the early 50s. Its scope includes both personality inventories (standard-ized on the general population) and instruments designed more specifi-cally to detect the presence and extent of behavior pathology. The re-spective personality theories provide the background for such instruments and caution the user relative to the holistic nature of the person. Because of the importance of the psychological screening process, further clarification seems warranted, especially since Vatican II alerted to the need of heeding the advances made in the behavioral sciences. So-ciology and psychology do shed scientific light on human behavior both as individuals and in groups. Purpose and Ethics Tests are standardized tools for the measurement of individual dif-ferences in intellectual, emotional, social, and motivational aspects of behavior. Personality assessment focuses primarily on the emotional ad-justment, social relationships, motivation, attitudes, interests, and val-ues of the individual. The American Psychological Association has codified ethical prin-ciples to govern psychological testing. Many personality tests are re-stricted to qualified users, and the qualifications vary with the type of test. The rationale is that test scores should be released only by and to persons qualified to interpret them. The candidate is entitled to know the 342 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 information he or she revealed in the testing. Knowledge of the test scores only may be emotionally disturbing to the candidate; they should be properly interpreted to him or her in a situation that allows for dis-cussion of the results. Many personality instruments and measures of emotional, motiva-tional, or attitudinal traits are necessarily disguised; the subject may re-veal characteristics about the self without realizing that he or she is do-ing so. It is of primary importance that the examinee have a clear understanding of the use that will be made of the test results, who will receive the report, and how long it will remain in his or her file. Quot-ing directly from the Ethical Standards of Psychologists: "The psycholo-gist who asks that an individual reveal personal information in the course of interviewing, testing, or evaluation, or who allows such information to be divulged to him, does so only after making certain that the person is aware of the purpose of the interview, testing, or evaluation and of the ways in which the information may be used." No report should be sent without the consent of the examinee through a "release of confiden-tiality" form. The receiver of such information is bound by confiden-tiality; the information is privileged; if the examinee agrees to release such information, it is because it will be handled as privileged commu-nication. Evaluation: Testing, Interviews, or What? There are many arguments for and against testing, and I wish to share my biases with you; I do so willingly because psychological test-ing is my area of specialization and, therefore, I feel better qualified to support them than I would be in other areas of psychology. The arguments I would advance in favor of a sound testing program are these. First, it serves to provide an appraisal of candidates who feel attracted to the religious/priestly life. Secondly, it can help the candidate gain insight into his or her own behavior. Thirdly, it can serve as a basis for counseling in view of overall personal growth. The reservations I would have to comprehensive testing are many; my remarks here pertain primarily to candidate assessment for the priestly/religious life. ( I ) Psychiatric screening should not be required of all candidates; if the findings on the personality inventory suggest more than average pa-thology, a psychiatric instrument could be used to determine the extent of the pathology. If psychiatric screening is required for all candidates, are we not suggesting that our pool of subjects lies in the "disturbed" group? However, I favor scheduling a psychiatric interview/evaluation Whence Come the Candidates? / 343 for applicants to monastic life. The withdrawal from the world implied in the lifestyle could attract individuals ill-equipped for social inter-course. (2) There is a danger of categorizing people for life, very much like the penal system where no room is allowed for growth and change. (3) In the hands of poorly trained people, these instruments are ex-tremely dangerous. Granted that most formation personnel would not ad-minister the tests themselves, there is still grave danger that reports will be misinterpreted. People with little sophistication in this area tend to put more faith in the instruments than is warranted. (4) The use of test information for acceptance/refusal makes sense only if the results are validated by information from other sources: let-ters of reference, observed behavior, and the like, No matter how good and competent that psychiatrist or psychologist is, the dynamics of grace elude measurement, and everyone involved in the assessment process must be mindful of this fact. (5) I would not advocate involvement in a screening program unless there is a willingness to share the information with the candidate. A good policy is to provide a feedback interview to discuss the test findings with the examinee. Should the evaluation be psychodiagnostic (with the use of psychiatric questionnaires), the feedback would then be provided by the therapist who would be in a better position to decide on the timing for such disclosure. In all such work, Catholic psychologists consciously strive for the fundamental attitude which Pope Pius XII advocated in 1953: 'Psychotherapy and clinical psychology must always consider man as a psychic unity and totality; as a structured unit in itself; as a social unit and as a transcendent unit, that is to say, in man's tending towards God.' ,3 Candidate Assessment We are reminded through the Second Vatican Council documents that the unity of the Church thrives on the variety of gifts in its mem-bers. In Perfectae Caritatis, it is explicitly stated that religious are to bring "to the execution of commands and to the discharge of assign-ments entrusted to them the resources of their minds and wills and their gifts of nature and grace" (PC, Art. I). The text is supported by Paul's I Corinthians: "All these gifts are the work of one and the same Spirit, distributing them separately to each individual at will" (I Co 12:l I). The decree on religious life was intended for all religious men and women, whether in the ranks or in authority. It must be admitted; how- 34"4 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 ever, that when it comes to acknowledging the "special gift of each," we are somewhat in the dark. The Superior/Director/Coordinator is ex-pected to be respectful of the Giver of gifts by avoiding arbitrary assign-ments. The religious man or woman may be an individualist who feels that one owes it to oneself to fulfill the self in the sense of using one's gifts for personal enhancement and satisfaction; a correct interpretation would lead one to regard all gifts as intended for service to the commu-nity and to the whole Church. A scientific way of arriving at a knowledge of these gifts is psycho-logical testing and evaluation. I would set as one of the primary func-tions of candidate assessment: the identification of the assets of the indi-vidual. There is room for screening out undesirable applicants but this aspect of screening should not supersede the screening in of those who have great gifts of heart and mind to use in the service of the Church. As a marginal note, may I add that it is usually enlightening for the vocation directors (or whoever requests the assessment) to subject him-self or herself to the whole process. It may be an eye-opener as to the anxiety-provoking experience of personality assessment. For some cli-ents, self-disclosure is a very traumatic experience, and counseling may be advised. For most who have been exposed to testing in all forms, the whole procedure is taken in stride. Criteria Used What are we looking for in a good candidate to the priesthood/ religious life? The criteria have generally been clearly stated by the vari-ous religious groups, rectors of seminaries, experienced masters in the formation of candidates, and vocation directors. In general, they can be grouped as follows. ( 1 ) Intelligence I think we are justified in looking for average intelligence or better; without it, a religious professional cannot grasp the import of his or her commitment to Church service within the framework of a religious life-style. During the assessment, the candidate's intellectual efficiency is con-sidered in the light of one's intellectual potential. Does the client oper-ate better in a situation where conformity is rewarded or where auton-omy and independence are viewed as positive behaviors? The individ-ual's cognitive style is also studied along with factors capable of reduc-ing his or her mental efficiency such as anxiety, perfectionism, compul-sivity, or poor thought control. (2) Personality Here, it is important to have inventories/questionnaires standardized Whence Come the Candidates? / 345 on a non-psychiatric population; the candidate is not expected to live in a psychiatric ward! Instruments are usually selected which address prin-cipally the personality characteristics important for social living and so-cial interaction. Attention focuses first on personal integration: the individual's self-concept as covered by such factors as social presence, sociability, self-acceptance, sense of well-being. The candidate's social maturity and re-sponsibility come under scrutiny in a cluster of scales tapping socializa-tion, self-control, and tolerance. Temperamental variables such as per-sistence, cooperation, aggressiveness, tact, moodiness, impulsiveness, and adaptability are given some attention. The motivational aspects of the applicant are usually considered in a separate scale covering the home environment, career, religion, social endeavors, needs, values, and in-terests. A social-religious orientation is usually a more favorable indica-tor of a true call than a political or power orientation. (3) Sexuality This area is considered critical for today's candidates who will com-mit themselves to a celibate life. Projective techniques (disguised tasks) are used in this case to assess the basic sexual orientation of the candi-date and impulse control. The leads provided by the test data are openly discussed with the candidate in view of verification of the findings and subsequent recommendations. Not all information gathered in the inter-view need to be reported; problems resolved earlier fall in this category. (4) Magisterium The candidates are also queried about their attitudes toward author-ity, toward the Church and her teachings, and toward the ministry or apos-tolate. Feedback The feedback interview can be used advantageously to cover impor-tant areas such as interpersonal relationships: at home, at school, and at work, and for the older candidates, relationship to the local church. The individual can be further interrogated relative to anger and hostility: what triggers his or her anger and how is it handled? Recommendations for the proper handling of st.tong emotions are usually in order. The area of sexuality is probed further: orientation, ~,ex education, if given (when, by whom), dating history, the applicant's understanding of celibacy/ chastity, and his or her readiness to make the commitment to a celibate life. The last area tapped in the interview pertains to "spiritual evolu-tion," or the applicant's personal spiritual journey. When was he or she first attracted to the Church, (rites, sacraments, music, service, and so 346 /Review for Religious, May-June 1990 forth) and how did that attraction grow (or lapse) in the course of his or her life? Conclusion It is obvious to whoever has read up to this point that the evaluation/ assessment of candidates is serious business and a time-consuming propo-sition. Is it not worth the effort for a lifetime of service to the Church? The full day of testing and the few hours needed for the feedback/ interview are little when one considers the benefits to be derived through a lifetime of dedicated service to others. It is a rewarding task tbr the examiner who is constantly confronted with the promptings of grace in the life of today's young people. NOTES ~ William F. Kraft, "'Psychiatrists, Psychologists and Religious." R~vw.w FOR RF.LIGIOUS, Vol. 37, (1978), pp. 161-170. 2 David F. O'Connor, "Appraising Candidates for Religious Life or Priesthood," Human Development IX (Fall. 1988), pp. 26-30. 3 Address of His Holiness Pope Plus XII, "On Psychotherapy and Religion," Fifth International Congress on Psychotherapy and Clinical Psychology (April 13, 1953). Converted i come into Your glorious presence Changed, Newly dressed In Your garments, Feeling strangely at home there. Delighted, excited, I am waiting . . . Longing once more For Your kiss of peace. Sister Columba Howard St. John of God Convent P.O. Box 14 SUBIACO 6008 Western Australia Wishes for a "Novice" Novice Director Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. is currently dividing her time between teaching and writing. She served as novice director for six years. Her address is Notre Dame Academy; Route One, Box 197; Middleburg. Virginia 22117. For six years I was novice director for my religious community. During those years, the number of novices I had was anywhere between nine and one. As I reflect back on my experience as novice director, especially now that I have a little distance from that ministry, I ask myself, "What advice would I give to a new novice director--to a novice novice direc-tor? What would I wish for him or her?" There are many things I could say, much I could wish for. But if I had to limit myself to five words of advice, five wishes, what would they be? My answer to that question is this article. Warning.t Self-knowledge. Beware.t And give thanks. In my second year as novice director, I made my annual retreat as usual. During my first one-on-one conference, the retreat director asked me what my min-istry was. When I told him I was novice director for over a year, he smiled and said, "Well, well! I bet you've come to a beck of a lot of self-knowledge this past year!" His words struck me. They encapsulated something I had been experiencing, but something I had not yet been able to name: formation ministry has a terrible and marvelous way of en-couraging growth in self-knowledge--and this growth is usually accom-panied by discomfort, confusion, or even pain. Prior to becoming novice director, I had been a successful teacher and free-lance writer. It was easy for me to begin to find a good meas-ure of security in my obvious successes in these two areas. Success has 347 348 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 an insidious way of leading us into a kind of "spiritual coziness." My success tended to give me the illusion that, indeed, God is in his heaven, I am in my classroom or at my typewriter, and all is well in the world. Formation work, which was both new and challenging, had a way of nudg-ing me (sometimes even shoving me) out of my complacency. I noticed my prayer becoming less pharisaical: "I thank you, Lord, that I am so successful!" and more "publican-ish": "Lord, now what do I do? Help!" As disconcerting as this growth in self-knowledge was at times, I see it now as a very real blessing for me. There is another reason why formation work was such a challenge for me personally. Both teaching and writing have goals and objectives by which one can, to an extent, measure one's success. Are my students learning? Yes. Are editors accepting my articles? Yes. The'n I am doing something right. I am a success. But formation ministry does not have such clear-cut ways of measuring success. In fact, by some measures, I was quite unsuccessful as novice director. Were novices flocking to our novitiate now that I was director? No. In fact, the formation team and I were not even accepting all of the few that did apply. Once they came to our novitiate, did they stay'? No. Some stayed, but many left. And, worse yet, some of the ones that did leave, ! even encouraged to leave. Formation ministry forced me to redefine success. More than that, it caused me to question how much l needed success in order to minis-ter. The ministry of formation challenged me to devote time, energy, and creativity to a work that, for the most part, did not give me the steady encouragement of measurable results. It called forth new kinds of strengths in me--such as patience, trust, letting go, and greater depen-dence on others who could help me. I needed such qualities which might otherwise have remained undeveloped because of apparent outward suc-cess. Decisions, decisions! Shortly after receiving my appointment as nov-ice director, I met my own novice director in the lunch line at our pro-vincial house. She had been a novice director for more than twenty years. Now, confined mostly to a wheelchair, she continues to serve the com-munity in the mailroom and archives. When she saw me in the lunch line, she took me aside, wished me well, and then said, "Just remem-ber: as long as you believe your decisions are right before God, that's all you've got to worry about." In those few words, my novice director had gotten to the core of for-mation ministry: the making of decisions. For me, the crux of being nov-ice director (and I use the word "crux" intentionally) was having to Wishes for a Novice Director I 349 make a decision that affected the future of another human being. Of course, I knew that I was not totally responsible for deciding whether a woman should remain in our novitiate or leave. The novice herself played a paramount role in that decision. I also knew full well that I had other people I could and did consult for valuable advice and input. I also realized that the provincial and her council ultimately were responsible for this decision. But despite knowing these things in my head, I still felt in my heart that the decision whether a novice should stay or leave was essentially mine. For me there was nothing ever easy about making such a decision--one way or the other. And there certainly was nothing easy about being the one to tell a novice that she could not stay--especially if she was unable to understand why. As I told my provincial superior onc+ after the council had decided to let a candidate go, "You're not the one who has to look into her eyes and tell her. I do." For me personally, this was the greatest challenge as novice direc-tor: trying to make the right decision for each individual. It meant I also had to face the possibility that, despite my conscientiousness and my good will, I could, indeed, make the wrong decision about someone. I had to ask myself, "Do I trust God enough that ! can be at peace with every decision I make? Can I entrust even a possible wrong decision to his love and creativity?" I never fully appreciated what a burden this was for me until I no longer bore it. After | left formation work, I was given other big respon-sibilities- among them was being local superior of a rather large com-munity. But, so far, none of these new responsibilities quite compares with the responsibility I felt as novice director: having to make a deci-sion that profoundly affects the future life direction of another person and a religious community. At the risk of sounding pious, this is a burden we cannot bear alone. As my own novice director implied, we make our decisions before God. I add: we also make them with God. With hoops of steel. In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Polonius gives some beautiful advice to his son, Laertes, before he sets out on his own. His words of advice should be given to every new novice director: Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel. l, iii One of the greatest needs of a novice director is friends. Hopefully, most novice directors enter their ministry with a "generous supply" of good and loyal friends. But even if this is the case, a novice director soon 350/Review for Religious, May-June 1990 learns that the ministry of formation has some built-in obstacles to the retention of friends. First of all, as novice director, I was in a ministry all by myself. No one else in my community did exactly what I did. As a teacher and writer, I had enjoyed the camaraderie of other sisters in my community who were actively engaged in the same ministry. We swapped stories, shared ideas, and encouraged each other in our com-mon ministry. But when I became novice director, I suddenly had no one. There is another reason for the sense of aloneness that novice direc-tors sometimes feel. Much of our ministry involves things we cannot talk about or share with others. Even our schedule may prevent us from so-cializing with our friends. For example, as a teacher I looked forward to weekends when I had a little time to "unwind" with my sisters and friends. But as novice director, my weekends suddenly became my busi-est time. That was when 1 had classes with the novices, I tried to see them individually, and I "socialized" with them. These factors cannot be allowed to become excuses fo~" losing touch with our friends. But they are challenges for us to find new and creative ways to "grapple" our friends to our souls "with hoops of steel." Eventually, I did find considerable support from novice directors in other religious communities. Sometimes when we got together, we tended to "talk shop." We found ourselves talking only about problems in formation and expressing to each other worries and frustration. This has its place, of course, but we soon realized we needed each other not merely to "gripe with" but also to "play with." As a new novice di-rector, find ingenious ways to hang on to your old friends, and be ready and eager to make new ones. The wideness of the sea. One of my favorite old hymns says this: "There's a wideness in God's mercy like the wideness of the sea." I think we could paraphrase those words and say. "There should be a wideness in a novice director's life like the wideness of the sea." A nov-ice director could be tempted to live in a very narrow world--a world no larger than his or her novitiate. Do not succumb to this temptation. It is important for a novice director to receive some professional prepa-ration for the ministry of formation. Yes. It is also vital for him or her to keep abreast of developments in the field of formation. Definitely. But we novice directors must not limit our input solely to formation. My ad-vice is to widen your world. Get involved with other groups of people, with issues besides formation and religious life. As novice director, for example, I taught a course in pastoral ministry at our college almost Wishes for a Novice Director / 351 every semester. The course met once a week in the evenings. Teaching that course was extremely healthy and beneficial for me. When I was not teaching a course, I was often taking a course. Some of these courses had nothing to do directly with formation. I also continued to write arti-cles for publication--the vast majority of them riot on formation. I know other novice directors who widened their world by being life guards at swimming pools, music ministers in parishes, volunteers in soup kitch-ens, or teachers in seminaries. As directors, we need ample time for a ministry of formation, true. Bui we also need time to extend our bounda-ries beyond the walls of the novitiate and our religious community. Let them love you. So far I have said nothing specifically about the novices themselves. As novice director, you must love your novices. Sometimes your love will take the form of gentleness and kindness. Other times it will assume the shape of firmness or even apparent hard-ness. Whatever form it takes, love is essential. This goes without say-ing. But there is a flip side to this fact that gets too little attention: allow your novices to love you. Be open to their love. More than that, encour-age it, welcome it. As directors we can become overly conscious of our role as director, as formator. We can shield ourselves from the give-and-take of relationships by setting strick boundaries with our novices. I am director, you are directee. I form you. I love you. Formation becomes a one-way street. When we do this, we are forgetting this great truth about formation: while we are helping to form our novices, they are also helping to form us. If we allow them. My novices helped form me in many ways--sometimes gently, other times almost roughly. They formed me by their honesty and humility-- especially in the one-on-one sessions I had regularly with each one. I was always amazed at how the novices were, for the most part, incredibly honest with themselves. By their honesty, they encouraged me to be more honest with them. During my six years, I found myself trusting the novices more and more. I had always basically trusted other people, I believe, but my six years as novice director only encouraged this atti-tude. The novices ministered to me at times in my need. One time a friend of mine in the community was dying of cancer. I left her infirmary room one night on the verge of tears. Shortly afterwards I ran into one of my novices in the hall. My initial reaction was to put on a cheerful front and hide my tears from her. After all, I was her director. In fact, I was the one who had dried the tears of this particular novice on more than one 359 / Review for Religious, Mav-Jttne 1990 occasion. But when I saw the concerned expression on her face, I was unable to hold back my tears. I cried, "Nadine's dying." Without a word, she took me in her arms and held me for a few minutes, comfort-ing me. In one way, it was a reversal of roles, but I still treasure the mem-ory of that moment when I allowed the novice to minister to me. Sometimes novices will love us in "tougher" ways--challenging our judgments, questioning our decisions, asking us to explain something we would just as soon leave unexplained. As novice directors, we must be open to that kind of love, too. My father, now retired, spends much time growing things on my par-ents' three-and-one-half acre plot of land. He grows apple trees, exotic grapes, peach trees, English walnut trees, and'the like. He once told me, "I get a kick out of figuring out how to help things grow." I would hope that every new novice director could say something similar: "I get a kick out of figuring out how to help people grow." My final wish for the "novice" novice director is this: May you figure out (often through trial and error--plus the help of God's grace) how to help (not "make" or "'force") people grow. And, in the process of your helping, may you yourself grow in faith, hope, love, and much joy! Retreat at Glenstal Abbey I have no preacher here but only quiet trees that pray one solemn silent so-be-it frown cell, from sap, from sinewed standing stem frown bough and branch from twig and sprig all said all summed in this brief silent now. The Master called and with the stars each answered to the limit of every limned lettered lace-like latticed leaf: "Here 1 am." Cothrai Gogan, c.s.sp. Naraiga Catholic Church Box 220 Limuru Kenya, Africa The Associate Movement in Religious Life Rose Marie Jasinski, C.B.S., and Peter C. Foley Sister Rose Marie Jasinski. C.B.S. is currently director of the associate community for the Sisters of Bon Secours and president of Bon Secours St. Joseph Hospital and Nursing Care Center in Port Charlotte, Florida. Peter C. Foley is presently working as a free-lance consultant and facilitator for religious congregations, dioceses, and parishes. Correspondence should be addressed to Associate Membership Office: Sis-ters of Bon Secours: 1525 Marrionsville Road: Marriottsville, Maryland 21104. The task of the imagination, specifically the religious imagination, has been described as naming, even "composing," the real. Another way of saying this is that the religious imagination unveils where God is at work among us. Stories of God at work, and of the unfolding of a real-ity whose scope and power have not yet been imagined were told in May 1989 at the Bon Secours Spiritual Center in Marriottsville, Maryland where more than 100 Directors of Religious Associate Memberships, and associates too, gathered to share the histories of their associate move-ment. It was the first such gathering of lay people and religious designed .just to explore how spiritualities or charisms of the Church, previously identified with particular religious congregations, were being assimilated by groups of lay people who claim the identity, history, and traditions of a particular spirituality as their own. The reality that emerged is that the traditional spiritualities are alive and well, even flourishing, but in ways we had not imagined. Most congregations reported more applicants to the associate program than to the congregation, and some associate members outnumbered the sisters themselves. But even more striking than the rapid growth of associate memberships was the intensity of the 353 Review for Religious, May-June 1990 commitment brought to them. These were not casual or sentimental re-lationships- it was clear that there was great personal significance in be-longing to an evolving spiritual community. This powerful movement has been quietly erupting within the Church for the last ten to fifteen years. Among the groups gathered to-gether in May we discovered associate members of women, men, sin-gle, married, of various professions, of differing faiths and even a few clergy and religious of other congregations. Associate membership tends to look and act differently within individual religious communities. The basic ingredient, however, is a strong emphasis on forming bonds be-tween laity and religious around a specific charism and mission; attempt-ing to live out that spirit and charism in one's particular lay lifestyle be-comes a significant piece of the "bonding" together. An area of richness that was shared by the groups in May was the expressed felt need and desire to journey together toward deeper spiri-tual growth. The word "together" here is significant and seems to be gaining in popularity. While indeed there still lingers the sentiment that "sister is better at this than I am" we discovered also that the notion that "the same Spirit moves among all of us" is gaining ground as well. Of course, this growing sense and desire for "bonding" also tends to blur the distinctions between laity and religious which is a challenge for some and a gift for many. Developing a sense of community was an important and, at times, a primary reason for approaching associate membership. For some it is the lack of community experienced in the local parish setting; for others it is the desire to deepen their prayer life that initiated the attraction. This sense of community and "bonding" that begin to take shape between the lay and religious members is encouraged and strengthened through regular times of coming together to share prayer, ritual, reflections, Eucharist, and other social feastings. Along with these activities the de-sire to have a "significant" role within the religious community is also exerting its influence among laity and religious. Participating in commu-nity decision-making, committee functions, chapter meetings and the like were not an uncommon topic at our May meetings. The area of service or ministry had a broad range of response among the groups. For some it was an integral part of the associates" role; for others it almost appeared as a distraction from the original intent of spiri-tual development; and still others seem to be on a progressive path of moving through spiritual development outward to "mission.'" This brings us to the progression of "gerierations" that is becom- The Associate Movement / 355 ing evident to those people who have been around this movement ['or a period of time. A pattern appears to be evolving within the associate move-ment. The first generation seemed to be people who wanted to be "filled up" spiritually plus a few who just could not say "no" to sister in those communities where the religious extended the invitation to join. In this generation the religious were looked to for the leadership. The second generation seemed to move more deeply into spiritual development in that the laity and religious have journeyed that path together as equals. The third generation emerges as associates become active in, or are in-vited into, various ways of participating in community life itself. Spiri-tuality as well as leadership is shared. A fourth generation seems to be spiritually motivated and supported by a faith community to go out in mission to share the charism. Throughout this progression of generations has remained a growing, though sometimes ambiguous, sense of commitment--ambiguous in that it is not always clear if the commitment is to the congregation, to the lo-cal community, to the associate community, or to individual sisters. And growing in that there are those rich experiences when associate members feel they have no choice but to live the charism--they have become so imbued it is as though "the charism has me!'" It seems most desirable for each group to grow in its own understand-ing and expression of, and comfort with, the focus of its commitment. While all groups expressed uncertainty about the long-term embodi-ment of their spirituality, they were equally comfortable with a sense of journeying together, accompanying ehch other in a life of prayer, shar-ing, and service. This was the area of greatest commonality among the participants. Otherwise their differences were so great that many of our assumptions about the associate movement were exposed and dispelled. Our first assumption was that a healthy associate program needed to be closely knit to the sponsoring congregation, starting with a strong for-mation program (conducted by the sisters), ongoing liaison with or lead-ership from the sisters, and some degree of monitoring of prescribed norms of behavior. Not so. Although many of these chara~:teristics were present in most programs, there were some that were not even started by the sisters, much less "managed" by them. A "healthy" and vigorous program depended more on the quality of the relationship between indi-vidual lay person and sister (living or dead) than on the sophistication of its organization and structures. The spirit or charism of the congrega-tion was passed on most effectively, it seemed, from person to person. In one group, the "formation" program consisted primarily of one-to- Review for Religious, May-June 1990 one storytelling on the part of the retired sisters with the prospective as-sociate. Another had an adoption structure, in which the associate and sister became family with each other. Another assumption was that there were sisters, on the one hand, and associates on the other. But for some, the associate membership con-sisted of lay people and those sisters who chose to join it including, in-terestingly, sisters from other congregations. These groups, obviously, had no trouble "getting sisters involved"--one of the more common problems expressed. The sisters were free to commit themselves to this other expression of their charism, or not. Another surprise was the range of expectations or requirements for associates to "keep up their membership." Many groups had calendars of annual events that included monthly meetings, annual retreats, "home-coming weekends" with all the sisters at the motherhouse, and some even offering weekly prayer meetings. But it was clear, due to geo-graphical movement of both sisters and associates, that the real and ef-fective criterion of memberships for some groups was the intention and commitment of the individual associate. In a movement like this there is a lot of giving and receiving. Who is giving? Who is receiving'? The obvious answer is that the congrega-tion is extending itself to others, including them, giving them something that they could not have by themselves. The opposite seems to charac-terize many of the groups reporting. The more the sisters listened to what was going on in the desires, dreams, and active faith life of their friends and dedicated collaborators, the more they received. Their own appre-ciation of their congregational charism and history was renewed and en-livened. Many sisters reported "receiving their charism back" from their lay associates. And, on a more pragmatic vein, the more the con-gregation included its associates in governance and community struc-tures, the greater the commitment of time and energy of the associates to the religious group. Finally, we had assumed, of course, that we were talking about per-sons of the Christian faith when we were discussing associates. Not so. A number of congregations reported including not only non-Catholic Christians in their associate programs, but also non-Christian persons. How could this be? We did not ask. If we had had the time, we would have asked three other questions: -What human behaviors facilitate the "passing on" of a charism from person or group to another'? -This seems to be more a women's movement than one The Associate Movement / ;357 commonly or equally shared by men and women. If so, how does it relate to the larger feminist or women's move-ment? And, also, how is it related to earlier women's movements in the history of the Church? -Are congregations that have a vital and active associate membership capable of having an equally vital and ac-tive group of "lay volunteers"? We ended the May meetings with no conclusions other than it was very good to get together and share what is happening; that some groups would initiate regional networks: and that we should all meet again in two years to hear the continuing story of the associate membership move-ment. As participants and observers we rejoice and hope to see the continu-ing openness to the Spirit-filled variety of associate memberships in the Church. A variety that may lead us to a fifth generation of associate mem-bers and "religious" sharing community: living together in a variety of many different ways, providing a variety of different services, praying in a variety of different styles--all through the power of one Spirit-- one baptism. Sunrise When the earth tipped its rim this morning, letting the sun in, filling itself with color and.light, You handed it to me; putting my mouth to the other side, I drank the dawn wind, the morning sun rising, dripping with glory. Then handing the cup back to You, I wiped the drops from my mouth, touching my lips again with Your light: Satiated with splendor, so glad of Your love. Sister Columba Howard St. John of God Convent P.O. Box 14 SUBIACO 6008 Western Australia Images For The Future Of Religious Life Thomas F. McKenna, C.M. Father Thomas McKenna, C.M., is an assistant professor in the theology department at St. John's University in New York. He has also served as novice director for the Eastern Province of the Vincentians. His address is Vincentian House: 101-25 104th Street: Ozone Park, New York 11416. One of the signatures of any age is the time-dimension to which it is drawn. At a given period, a culture is fascinated by past, present, or what is to come. For a number of interwoven reasons, religious life in this pres-ent age is taken with the future. The harder times it has fallen upon in filling up its thinning ranks and the upsetting wonder about what forms will take it into the next. century raise questions which only forward-looking answers will give. Add to this the growing appreciation that the origins and, therefore, the identity of religious life lie in visions precisely about what could be, and the reasons for concern about that future be-come all the more apparent. Often enough, these worries and hopes find expression in a search for what is termed "The New Image.'" That taken-for-granted inner land-scape which grounded the operations of a congregation for generations is less and less able to hold the center. Members realize that some new image is required, a different "root metaphor"~ which once in place will again provide that clear prism through which the apostolates, govern-ance, prayer styles, and, indeed, the very self-concept of the order can be freshly perceived. In his book on the meaning of history,2 Theodore White describes the precariousness of trying to peer into the future from the only van-tage point available, the present. He invites the reader into a small boat 358 Images of Religious Life / 359 bobbing up and down on the swells of the mid-Pacific, thousands of miles from any coast. Inside, the waves lifting and lowering the boat feel much the same, but in fact they are not all alike. Some are only surface ripples blown up for a few hundred yards or even miles. Others are surges left from mid-ocean storms out still farther over the horizon. They, too, will smooth out and die. But others still are the tips of deep running transoceanic currents. They were born in the river canyons of continents two thousand miles to the east and will crest on the shores of another coast four thousand miles westward. The historian is the person who thinks himself able to read which of the waves are shallow and so eventually will fade, and which reach to the floor of the sea and so will roll on into the future. While the bases for his judgments are not the kind which can serve up airtight predictions, they are rooted eno'ugh in pres-ent conditions to get him beyond clairvoyance. His knowledge of the cur-rents and tides enables him to give some backing for claims about what will continue beyond the horizon. This article intends to feel for some of those currents. While there are any number of root images which might be the synthesizing meta-phors on which religious life will be carried into the future, there are some which because of their ancient lineage in the religious movement on the one side and their attunedness to present society on the other show promise beyond mere guesswork--though, to be honest, not perhaps be-yond wishful thinking! The metaphors to follow can stand by themselves, but are more use-ful when anchored in the first. Connecting them sequentially allows for a certain priority but also for enough interaction that each can be a cor-rective for the others. The Religious Infiltrators of the Culture The scenario here is one body of people led forward by a common vision who insert themselves into the dead spots, so to speak, of the world of another group. They attempt to work their variant view into the places in the dominant culture which are spiritually empty and hunger-ing for freedom and new meaning. The sportscaster's phrase "in the seams" catches the idea. In a zone defense, players are assigned to cover certain sectors of the field or rink. The weakest points are along the bor-ders of zones because that is where confusions and even collisions be-tween the defenders are most likely to occur. The pass or shot is aimed "in the seams" between the zones; it is put "in the crease" at the edges of the coverage where the system most often breaks down. This analogy places religious among those believers who carry the 3BO / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 cause of Mystery to those border areas in a culture. Into those margins where the prevailing world view has lost its depth or has failed in nerve, religious bring the riches, appropriately enough, of religion. They are the outriders of the culture, the hikers along the margin where moder-nity has unraveled and is dealing death rather than life. The orders are among the entrepreneurs of the Mystery in a resistive society. This last figure brings out the assertive and perhaps even aggressive side of the image. Not intimidated by the muscular idols of the culture, religious purposefully seek out opportunities for evangelization and join with other groups who struggle to inculturate kindred values. They are convinced of the profundity of what they carry and so actively search out the soft spots in a society for chances to penetrate. Opportunistically, they move into the seams. In the description of the mid-ocean sailor, we spoke of the need to justify the use of a particular image. Why does this metaphor show more promise than another'? In this case, what signs of the times recommend the infiltrator over competitors'? Both negative and positive warrants come to mind. The negatives cluster around a foreboding sense of the spiritual bank-ruptcy of certain sectors in the modern world. By modern we connote here modernity, that whole ethos born in the Enlightenment and bred in the industrialized West whose place in history is slipping off its assumed highest perch to a level of one era among others, but one, indeed, whose effects are threatening to annihilate the gains of all the rest. Interestingly, this critique is being mounted by commentators who truly admire many of the accomplishments of the modern era such as freedom, communi-cation, labor saving devices, democracy, and so forth. They counsel not so much a nativist return to some pre-technological world, but rather a move beyond technology. To that end, they make the case that within the soil of the very blessings modernity bestows are sprouting the mostly unnoticed seeds of its own destruction. The most noxious plants on the American scene are being fed by the system of total capitalism. When left unchecked, they poison the very kind of moral character needed to sustain the democratic society in which capitalism flourishes. Among the more widely known critics are Robert Bellah and his as-sociates3 who have detailed the ways in which individualism threatens to remove its communal counterbalance, republicanism, from the ethi-cal arena in American life. A flattened self, the person as a "bag of needs" disconnected from other subjects and unable to collaborate from motives beyond self-gratification is the narcissistic prospect. Barbara Hat- Images of Religious Life / 36"1 grove's depiction of the "New Class" analyzes the ways which the spe-cializing and rationalistic tendencies of the baby boomer culture can shut down its own best possibilities.'~ In a more popular vein are the addresses of Franciscan preacher, Richard Rohr, who of late has been announcing "the death of the liberal agenda."-s An inability to cooperate with any-one besides an elite few, an idolization of personal feelings, and a per-fectionistic search for the fullest experience and/or the flawless process are some of the disturbing undersides he fears now beginning to surface. A more philosophical warning is being sounded by a group known as the Post-Modernists. Taking negative expression in its Deconstruction-ist variety,6 the critique is more optimistically stated by a group who call themselves, fittingly so, the Constructionists.7 Affirming the benefits of modernity, they also desire to move beyond its pitfalls and so join the assault on individualism. Their particular contribution is not only to have analyzed further its pedigree and progeny, but to have proposed means by which it can be overcome. There is an anthropomorphism in the culture, they contend, which immoderately subordinates the whole of creation to its human part. The attitude denies any "inwardness" to what is not human, thereby remov-ing nature's intrinsic value and laying it open to the worst kinds of ex-ploitation. The social counterparts of this dominative style are the patri-archal rules in society, assumptions which prevailed in all ages but get honed to their sharpest edge by the competitive, rationalistic, and ef-ficiency myths of the present.8 Powering everything are the twin dynamos of economism and con-sumerism. The blanket moral pardon granted the so-called side effects of the free market (steered by its invisible hand of self-interest) is ex-tended to all sectors of life. Social, aesthetic, moral, and religious issues are approached as if their ultimate bearings were also supply and de-mand. The pressures to define self by possessions, to regard the public good solely as economic wealth, and to eliminate concern even for one's posterity are some of the more chilling prospects when the profit princi-ple is transmuted into the universal moral touchstone. Such a world, in a Constructionist phrase, has lost its enchantment.9 Emptied of mystery and dulled to the wisdom of the best of its myths, it can no longer re-spond to the deeper hopes and so begins to feed on itself. Modernity's prospects: a superficial and morally spinning world set on a disastrous course that of itself modernity is powerless to change. If the infiltrator metaphor stayed only with condemnations, its indict-ments could have the ring of a culture-bashing fundamentalism which 369 / Review for Religious. May-June 1990 railed against the society but did not involve itself in it. Happily, these critiques are simultaneously stirring up a kind of religious revival or at least the beginnings of one. ~0 In the so-called secular disciplines for in-stance, there is a growing movement to sacralize the world. Proponents in the natural sciences for one, awed not only by the indeterminacy of things but also by their interconnectedness, are proclaiming a newly dis-covered mystery in creation. Various schools of psychology for another are reclaiming a spiritual base. Educational circles are feeling a surpris-ing pressure for more theology and religion courses at secular universi-ties. ~ These and other indications mark a widening search for values which are rooted in something other than the economic. This quest has a prag-matic ring to it inasmuch as the conviction is spreading that religiously grounded foundations are the only ones on which lasting social change can be built. Interestingly, the revival appears to have gathered greatest momentum among Roman Catholics. A 1987 Gallup poll names them as the denomination which feels most able to provide religious leadership in American society because of both the wide backing they accord their bishops' social teachings and because of the stronger communal bonds they enjoy. ~- In sum, there is on a number of fronts a growing unease about the spiritual vacuum in the culture together with initial signs of an initiative to fill it. Motivation for the renewal is not the self-righteous and con-demning sort, but comes from culturally sympathetic people who at the same time sense the dissonance between their own religious experience and the hollowness in key sectors of modernity. This analysis was done to indicate possible points at which religion could be inserted into the culture. Such intersections hold invitations for religious to join with other subgroups in society~3 in witnessing to firmer grounds of meaning. Carrying in their traditions such wisdom as the in-terrelationship between humans and the rest of creation, the universal dis-persion of spiritual energy, the immanence of the divine feminine, and the riches which cannot be packaged as a commodity and which flow out of the acts of loving and hoping, members of orders do not come empty-handed to those vulnerable seams. Nor do they come alone. The infil-trator is meant to work alongside of other servants of Mystery who are soon discovered to be, in Thomas Merton's phrase, "the monks' natu-ral allies in the world.''~4 If this line of thought sounds familiar to the religious reader, it is likely because something of the sacred time of his or her beginnings is hnages of Religious Life / 36:3 evoked. All founding persons were in effect entrepreneurs of religion in a culture. The desert journeys of the monks as response to the dying and brutal fourth-century society, the ingenuity of the mendicants in evan-gelizing a world of new city-states, the missionary fervor of the congre-gations of the seventeenth century reaching across from the Old World to the New--all these were tides taken at the ebb to penetrate a weak-ened and changing society. The crisis of meaning in American culture today and some initial responses to it present new windows of opportu-nity for would-be refounders. What special qualities are required of these so-called otitriders of re-ligion? In an essay on the future of spirituality, ~5 Karl Rahner addressed the situation of believers living in a time of sociological diminishment. Their faith must be sustained by what he termed "a solitary, immediate experience of God." They are to be new types of mystics whose con-viction does not come from any place other than the hearts of their own existence. Infiltrators are, therefore, marked in the first place by a per-sonal experience of God. Their second trait might be called culture-friendliness. Refounding persons exhibit that certain feel for the divine possibilities in society, that willingness to mix it up with the shapers of meaning in the wider world. While they are not uncritical of the age, their more basic desire is to engage it in order to move quickly into the spiritual openings it presents. But infiltrators also have blind spots. A common one is to so con-centrate on the strategy and practicalities of insertion into a culture that they lose sight of the sources of the salvation they bring it. Two further images, each able to stand on its own, speak more pointedly to ways of listening for the Word which religious carry to the world they would serve. The Navigator A type of spiritual sensibility long associated with the religious move-ment is at the core of this metaphor. To arrive at it, we add to Theodore White's image of the boat bobbing in the mid-Pacific the lore surround-ing certain revered individuals in Polynesian culture known as Naviga-tors. Now gone, these adventurers were the last repositories in their so: ciety of the secrets of open ocean sailing. Without modern navigational instruments, they could make landfall on a tiny dot of coral thousands of miles across the seemingly trackless Pacific. Anthropologists found their basic talent to be an ability to read the movements of the waves. Through a long and spiritually intense initiation, they learned to tell the crucial difference between the surface disturbances and the ocean- 364 I Review Jbr Religious, May-June 1990 spanning bottom currents which led in definite directions, changed head-ings with the seasons, and were deflected as they ran past the archipela-goes that speckled the Southern Seas. From their minuscule platform on the raft, they could judge which of the great ocean waves to follow and which to let roll past. In terms we will use, these were the special ones who could read in the present which movements had the long-range prom-ise and which would not reach the far shore of the future. Joseph Campbell speaks of an analogous phenomenon in other primi-tive societies which today might come under the title recruitment. While undergoing the long initiation to adulthood, one of the adolescents suf-fers a kind of nervous breakdown. He seems to take things too seriously. He does not see reality the way his peers do and is not in step with their pace and general rhythms. Observing this, the elders remove him from the group--and make him their religious leader! Their intuition, says Campbell, is that the youngster is picking up the contours of another world. He is reading signals from a different depth and perceiving a pic-ture of the way the tribe could be when at its very best. In the language of the previous example, this person becomes the tribal navigator, not just in sailing but in all things, because he can discern directions com-ing 'back from the future,' directions which the rest of the clan recog-nizes as valuable and even salvific. In this metaphor, religious are among those special ones with sensi-tivity for what of God's future is just over the horizon. Intuiting the source and goal of the divine good working in the world, their faith vi-sion focuses more on the da~vning of God's presence than on its fruition in the present. To paraphrase Karl Rahner, they are among the first to catch the glimmer of the morning light on the far mountain which will eventually turn into the brilliance of day. ~6 Following him again, these are the eschatologically inciined believers whose intimations of God's grace which comes from beyond the world creates the saving tension with those disciples whose more incarnationa[ faith celebrates the pres-ence of that grace already come. ~v Two signs of the times which in an obverse way recommend the Navi-gator are the sleek idol-making machines of secularism and materialism. To those driven by them, all observable ~:eality is explainable in terms of itself, and things (including persons perceived as things) hold the high ground of ultimacy. To counteract this massive message, there is great need for the relativizer, the individual who cherishes the good of this world but who also spots its incompleteness and inability to save. These are the ones who catch the presence of the world-to-come in the midst hnages of Religious Life / 365 of the world-that-is-here and so can accept the graciousness of the pres-ent while rejecting its different pretensions to absoluteness. Groups who can "name grace''~8 because they know the difference between groundings which are ultimate and penultimate help save a world which too indiscriminately mixes the two. And indeed, has it not always been one of the liberating functions of religion to lead people into places where, in one writer's imagery, "they can transcend the mazeways they have known to glimpse new visions of what may be"?~9 If this metaphor again seems an old friend, it is because it carries strains of both a classic description of religious communities and of a strong trait in the spiritual experience of their founders. Magisterial docu-ments depict religious orders as witnesses to the world-to-come, as fore-tastes of the kingdom's fullness, and as apostles of the transcendent.2° The innovative apostolic strategies of founding women and men sprang from their ability to see the world which hemmed in their contemporar-ies against the backdrop of the better one illuminated by the light of the coming kingdom. The ancestry of religious life is heavily eschatologi-cal. Witness to that faith-dimension is needed in every age but for the reasons discussed above crucially so in this one. The community which images itself as Navigator values discern-ment. As a group it not only spots the religious possibilities and then im-plements them, but lays explicit hold of the power and source of its vi-sion. It is a mobile group, able to roam free, and has a lower than usual need for the security and predictability of set roles. Its critique of the status quo will disturb those less attuned to the future and it will line up more quickly with other visionaries in the world and Church. For all its sensitivity, such a community also has its limits. Naviga-tors can so focus on the land over the horizon that they miss some of the places they travel through in the present. Eschatological types have their eyes on the better world ahead and tend to be impatient with the slow birthing process needed to bring that world to light of day. In the lan-guage of psychology, they can be perfectionistic, enamored of the ideal, and intolerant of development toward it. In theological talk, they are tempted to angelism, imagining they can detour around the process of history instead of laboriously going through it.2~ Often enough, naviga-tors need to be brought back down to the agitated ocean surface and re-learn the wisdom of the journey itself. Enter the next image, a specialist in the art of journeying. The Lean and Light Remnant The title draws the scene for this third metaphor. It is the Israelite 366/Review for Religious, May-June 1990 people on a long and ragged trek across the desert. Their march this time is not toward the new Promised Land but toward their old one, having just been released from their captivity in Babylon and now heading back to rebuild a ruined Jerusalem. They have little to carry because recent slaves do not amass many possessions. They rely on no social standing other than the dubious kind of the refugee. Most telling, because so many of their kin fell off the trail on the way to Babylon or chose to remain behind there, their numbers are hardly the kind to pose a threat to world order. For all that, they are grateful for their station because they have learned from their experience and their prophets that dispossession and pilgrimage have a way of opening hearts to Yahweh. They are the Remnant. Not lamenting their losses nor ashamed of their smallness, they are in some measure even glad for them because these deprivations have proved to be better teachers about what counts before their God than the power they wielded generations ago. These travelers have no preten-sions of overwhelming their world with multitudes or even talent. What they have to offer is what they are constan,tly aware of receiving, the di-vine mercy and sustenance. At best, they see themselves as catalysts, tiny enzymes in a large mass, invisible and unobtrusive. They are satis-fied on the circumference of society because their ordeal has convinced them that circumferences can often enough in God's eyes be near the cen-ter. The fit between Remnant and the orders of the 1990s is the obvious demographic one of diminishment. Not just on the way, smallness is al-ready here. To begin to extol the benefits of shrinkage at such a time could be written off as a kind but unreal attempt to console the dying, a thought which most likely occurred to Babylon-bound Israelites as they heard the same sentiment from their preachers. But to at least some of them, the truth of the claim proved itself over time. That proof is being given again today in a number of testimonies to the spiritual good which can come of vulnerability and powerlessness. One especially forceful witness is given by the liberationists who in their own pragmatic way have unearthed the riches at the margins. The poor evangelize the wealthy, the no-accounts unlock the Gospel's mean-ing for people of consequence, the small, ordinary, and forgotten ones are revealed as standing at the hub of the kingdom's activity. The very meaning of insignificant is transposed. Another more quiet testimony comes from Jean Vanier and his years of living with the handicapped.22 These sociologically most invisible of Images of Religious Life / :367 people have their own ways of making very visible the presence of grace in creation. The precariousness of their existence and their survival-need for the compassion of others lays bare the essence of how it is be-tween God and all of humanity. Such little people, when cared for and allowed to progress on their own terms, turn out to be large gifts to the caretakers. Gospels such as these are advancing the claim that diaspora time is the spiritually best time. Facing the onset of their own smallness, reli-gious communities could do worse than take to heart this winter spiritual-ity. In its bleakness they might come to see another kind of beauty and in its silence a call to a more anonymous style of influencing the world around them. Is this not the climate in which most all orders and con-gregations began? In the desert where smallness reveals itself as bless-ing by keeping the group real, minority status does not allow social and numerical superiority to figure in its estimation of success. Pilgrim com-munities of the coming decades will have both grieved the loss of high visibility and learned better to rely on their own inner experience as sus-tainer and guidepost. Like the tiny band of emigres approaching the out-skirts of Jerusalem, they will recognize their smallness as the lean and light condition which best suits them for the task of building their old/ new city. Scripture experts tell us that when the exiles entered the settlement, they found others already there, both their own who had been left be-hind as well as others who over the decades had wandered in. To move to our final metaphor, we add the following piece of imagination. Because the project of reconstructing the Temple and city would re-quire more arms than these pilgrims could supply, they realized they needed the help of the resident aliens. But the Jews also noted that these foreigners possessed building skills different from their own which might add much beauty to the final product. The New Jerusalem could better be built collaboratively. The last image is at hand. The Square Dance The picture here is of a swirling group, moving to the rhythm of the same tune and the shouts of the one caller. The dancers begin as a single couple, then join larger and still larger circles, change to other partners along the way, then come back to the original two--and repeat the cycle again and again. While at the beginning the steps and switches are a bit ragged and the caller's instructions hard to understand, the promenaders do not drop out because the energy spreading across the floor has caught them. They know best the partners they came with, but they also know 368 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 how much more dance there is when they can join hands with other cir-cles and be part of the bigger whirl in the room. They trade some of the freedom of couple-dancing for the chance to be part of something larger to which they now know they can contribute. The dance metaphor speaks of new ways for the religious communi-ties to be together, both with themselves and with others. Beginning within the circles of their own congregations, they move out to other prov-inces and communities, to laity, to their natural families, couples, friends outside their order, co-workers, to other Infiltrators, Navigators and Remnants both Christian and non. The image encourages them to listen for the rhythm which matches the cadence of their own religious experi-ence no matter where in society it is sounding. With a graciousness, they let go the hands of the community partners with whom they began so that these too are free to step off into the bigger enterprise. But they are also happy to welcome them back when the time for regrouping comes round again. Each member of the congregation sacrifices some independence, convinced that the overall cause is worth the initial unsettlement and risk. The sign of the times for Square Dance is quite simply its present existence. Many congregations have already moved the borders on their maps of inclusion. Associates, service corps, laymission extensions, in-terprovincial apostolates, joint ventures by men's and women's branches of the same order all testify to the shifting sense of what it means to be-long. If the initial enthusiasm for widening circles produced some overly fluid boundaries, it did enlarge perceptions of membership. This stretch-ing permitted groups to recognize certain natural allies outside their walls who were in effect anonymous carriers of the community charism. A more recent attempt to strike a better balance between centrifugal and cen-tripetal forces has sought to tie tighter but still flexible bonds between the members. One fine instance is the recent essay by George Wilson which tracks the sharp change in attitudes of Jesuits about inclusion.-~3 The image of a single closed circle embracing all the spiritual, profes-sional, familial, apostolic, and even recreational aspects of communal life has largely been supplanted by another of many smaller circles, some not connected to each other and most tellingly not to the Jesuit one. Be-longing no longer means fitting everything inside the one ring of total community but rather negotiating between the different circles (for ex-ample, professional societies, local living group, non-Society friends both male and female, the world Jesuit fellowship, and so forth), espe-cially between those of one's primary and secondary commitments. hnages of Religious Life / 369 Useful as it is on the intra-community level, a Square Dance model also serves the wider society, Any truly collaborative venture on behalf of issues other than the group's self-preservation is a prophetic word to a culture so tilted away from the ability to cooperate by the weight of individualism. And could it not also be that arguments within religious communities themselves against widening the circle (phrased at times as the loss of needed autonomy or dilution of our special spirit) are partially an echo of the privatist bias in the wider society? Whatever the case, the move to collaborate for reasons beyond self-interest is not only evangeli-cally countercultural, but hearkens back to that surrender to something greater which gave rise to the religious movement in the first place. People of the Square Dance have a mind for the communal. The op-posite of in-house types who require the safety of same-sex, walled-off environments, they still maintain primary loyalties to their own, Their toleration for fluidity in boundaries is high. They have opted to learn ne-gotiation between different memberships rather than to close ranks around the one. This insight that collaborative communities are in a position to infil-trate the individualistic culture completes the circle. The Square Danc-ers widen the Remnant's sphere of influence. Both look to the Naviga-tors for the source and direction of their projects. And all three join in the Infiltrator's attempt to bring the depth of the kingdom to the shallow places of the world. It is time to conclude. Conclusion Nearly twenty years ago when reflecting on the spirituality of the fu-ture, Karl Rahner predicted that whatever forms it takes, it "will remain the old spirituality of the Church's history."24 He meant that even though the relationship between the different parts of Christian existence will shift, its essential elements (for example, adoring the incomprehensible God, following the suffering and triumphant Lord, protesting the world's forms of wealth, power, and pleasure, living within the Church, and so forth) will remain. In a somewhat reverse way, the same holds true for the different images of religious life with which we have been playing. These paradigms do not submerge those components which the recent Vatican document termed "Essential Elements,''25 but they do recon-figure them. Communal living, for instance, is linked to mission in a much different way in a Square Dance framework than it had been in more tightly inclusive forms of the Augustinian one-heart-and-one-spirit tradition. It is precisely that repatterning which makes all the dif-ference. For it allows religious the suppleness not only to set new courses 370 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 by the waves of the future moving past them, but also to take conscious advantage of the momentum those waves contain. To return to Rahner, religious life will and will not remain the same. Its refounders are those people who through freshly imaging its possibilities will keep the reli-gious movement intact and at the same time reshape it into its most us-able form for the coming age. The overall interplay between the images seems an apt point on which to conclude. The Remnant calls the Infiltrator to remember the hum-ble conditions under which the message is given; the Infiltrator in turn cautions the Remnant against enshrining smallness as a value unto itself. The Navigator supplies the direction for the Infiltrator; the Infiltrator pow-ers the boat which the Navigator might be content only to steer. All three are vitalized by community living, but now expanded into its Square Dance form. Our attempt has been to suggest culturally relevant paradigms which might anchor 'newly emerging syntheses for religious life. If these par-ticular ones do not speak to individuals or communities, they might at least trigger the power of other imaginations to discover even deeper ly-ing metaphors which can again hold the center for this ancient and ever new blessing in the Church. NOTES ~ Thomas Clark, "Religious Leadership in a Time of Cultural Change," Religious Life at the Crossroads, David Fleming, ed. (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), p. 169. 2 In Search of History (New.York: Harper and Row, 1978). 3 Habits of the Heart (New York: Harper and Row, 1985). 4 The Emerging New Class (New York: The Pilgrim Press, 1986). 5 "Religious Life Of The Future," Origins, Sept. 22, 1988 (Vol. 18, no. 15) pp. 234-239. 6 For a general sketch of this school and its leading proponent, Jaques Derrida, see Religion and Intellectual Life, Wint

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 47.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published eveD' two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIG~OUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REwEw FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors July/August 1988 Volume 47 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rwv~v.w Eon RvJ.w.~ous; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rwv~v.w FOR Rv.~,w, lous; 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, M! 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. Jesus and Francis as Gospel Makers: An Experience in Kenosis Jude Winkler, O.F.M.Conv. This paper is adapted from lhe keynote address of the 1987 meeting of the Inter-province Conference of the Conventual Franciscans. Father Jude is slationed al St. Hyacinth College and Seminary; Granby, Massachusetts 01033. When one speaks of Jesus and Francis as Gospel makers, one is led to ask exactly what is meant by the term "Gospel." Probably the best way to respond to that question is to consider the formation of a particular Gospel. This will help one to determine which material the community considered to be so essential, so central to the message of Christ that it was necessary to pass it down to future generations of Christians. The starting point, therefore, is an individual Christian community: the com-munity which produced the first Gospel, that written by the evangelist Mark. Although there are other opinions, most scholars believe that the Gospel of Mark was written in Rome around 70 A.D. How could one describe Rome and the Roman Christian community of those days? Rome was the center of the Western world. Wealth poured in from the empire, which stretched from the English Channel to the Syrian De-sert. In certain ways the city was reaching the apex of its magnificence. The ruins from the great fire under Nero had been removed and much 0f the city was being rebuilt, this time in marble and not wood. A sense of the glory of Rome can be found in chapter 18 of the Book of Revela-tion, where John speaks of the many products that could be bought and sold in that city. Yet there was also a certain amount of instability in the Roman psyche in 70 A.D. The previous decade had witnessed the forced suicide of Nero and the two-year period during which three different em-perors ruled the empire. The civil war which ensued had been as bad as 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 that which had followed the death of Julius Caesar, and it had left the empire badly shaken. As often happened in the ancient world, instabil-ity in Rome had led to rebellion in the provinces. One example of this is the fact that the Romans were only now crushing a troublesome rebel-lion in Palestine. In addition to this, the social fabric of the city had de-generated over the past several decades. Large numbers of slaves had been brought to Rome following the conquests of new territories. Be-cause there were so many slaves to do work which had formerly been done by members of the lower middle class and the artisans of Rome, large numbers of people had been put out of work. These unemployed masses were fed by the public dole and kept occupied by the spectacles sponsored by the government (the proverbial bread and circuses). Thus, even though imperial power was great and the empire would soon reach its greatest expanse, there was something unsettled in the Roman char-acter. Essentially, the city was socially, morally, and spiritually bank-rupt. This is most evident in the fact that large numbers of Romans were participating in various mystery cults that had arrived from the east. They were looking for something which would give their lives purpose. And what of the Christian community of Rome? The community had been founded as early as the forties during the reign of Emperor Claudius, but it was not yet very large. The first missionaries to Rome were probably Jewish Christians from the Jerusalem community. This young church had suffered persecution: an edict had been issued by Claudius which expelled certain Jews (most probably the Jewish Chris-tians) from Rome because of difficulties caused by a troublemaker named Crestus (most probably a form ofChristus = Christ). Recently there had been the persecution under Nero in which both Peter and Paul are said to have died. Further complicating the situation was some internal dis-sent in the community: From what can be gleaned from Paul's Letter to the Romans, it is obvious that there was a bit of tension between those who had allied themselves with a more Jewish interpretation of the Chris-tian life and those who followed Paul's ideas. Add to that the fact that most of the new converts in the city were now coming from the Gentiles (and would thus be less likely to defend the old Jewish ways) and one can see that there was bound to be some confusion. And now, some forty or fifty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus, another crisis was facing this fledgling church: the apostles and the disciples who had known Jesus were dying. One after another the wit-nesses to the Christ event were passing from the scene. This would be especially frightening in a time of instability. For the Jewish Christians Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 41~3 of Rome, there was the confusion of the Jewish rebellion in Palestine which had resulted in the destruction of the temple. The building which they had called the dwelling place of God on earth was now a ruin, and the Jewish Christians did not know what to make of this. Would Juda-ism continue? For the Gentile Christians, there was the political and so-cial instability. For,the entire Christian community, there was the uncer-tainty of which direction the Church was taking. Would it remain a Jew-ish sect or would it become something radically new? What would unify the Church and give it stability? It was in this context that the Gospel of Mark was produced. Its author, whether or not he was actually the John Mark mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, wrote it so that the Gospel message of what Jesus had done and said, of how he had died and rose, might be passed down. His Gospel would become the ballast which steadied the course of the Roman church in those troubled times. ¯ Given all of this, one would certainly have some expectations about how this Gospel would present the character of Jesus. If the Gospel were intended for the Jewish-Christian audience, one would expect Jesus to be the perfect fulfillment of all the Old Testament prophecies. He would be the Messiah whose power was greater than that of the Romans. If the Gospel were intended for the pagans, then Jesus would have to be at least as great as the pagan gods. Mark would have to show, as did Moses and Elijah, that the God of Israel was far superior to the gods of the Gen-tiles. For either audience, this Jesus would have to manifest his power and authority openly, for the people needed a wonder worker, a great hero who would give them hope in these troubled times. And yet, oddly enough, this is the exact opposite of the Jesus pre-sented by the Gospel of Mark. While one would expect a powerful and glorious Messiah, Mark presents one who is weak and lowly, one who has embraced an emptying Out (kenosis) of his divinity, as Paul describes it in the Letter to the Philippians when he speaks of Jesus who had been in the form of God but who emptied himself by becoming human and even dying on the cross. This idea is presented ina number of ways in the Gospel, but the most evident is the so-called Messianic secret. Over and over again Jesus commands his disciples and the demons whom he has expelled to be silent concerning the fact that he is Messiah. Why should he do that when the entire purpose of the Gospel is to show that he is, in fact, the Messiah? The reason is that his audience has the wrong idea of what it means to be the Messiah. They want a political Messiah who will manifest himself in power. Jesus is not that type of Messiah, 484 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 and he refuses to be categorized in that way. Peter's profession of faith at Caesarea Philippi makes that clear. Je-sus has asked his disciples who people think that he is. Peter responds that some think that he is a prophet and others that he is John the Bap-tist. He then asks Peter who he thinks he is. Peter responds that he is the Messiah. Jesus commends him on this and then describes how the Mes-siah will have to suffer and die. When Peter hears this, he cannot be-lieve what Jesus is saying. He is sure that the Messiah will become a king and that he, Peter himself, will rule with him. Here Jesus is predicting defeat. This is too much for Peter; it is obviously a bad mistake. So Pe-ter takes Jesus aside and tells him not to say these things. Jesus responds harshly, telling Peter to get behind him .and calling him Satan, the tempter; This misunderstanding by the apostles is repeated again in later chap-ters when Jesus again predicts his passion. Once, as a response to the prediction, the apostles argue about who the greatest among them might be while another time James and John ask to be seated at his right and left when he comes into glory. He is telling them that he will die, and all they are interested in is to divide his inheritance. Why do the apos-tles and even the family of Jesus speak in such an inappropriate man-ner? Why do they have such a difficult time understanding who he is and what his being Messiah means? Basically it is because their entire con-ception of God is mistaken. They think that God will come in power on the Day of the Lord to defeat the powers of evil, such as the Romans and the Pharisees. Instead, Jesus defeats them in weakness. As John would later state, Jesus was the king who ruled from a tree, the cross. It was exactly in this emptying out that evil was defeated, for while the powers of evil clung to power and tried to exercise it over others, Jesus clung to love and wanted to share it with all. That is the point behind the temptations of Peter and the apostles as well as the temptation in the desert. Even the taunts with which the crowd jeered Jesus, that he should come down off the cross, are a call to power. If Jesus had come down from the cross, he would have shown himself to be God almighty, but since love necessarily involves a sacrifice of self, he could not have shown himself to be loving. The author of the Book of Revelation presents this same idea with the images of the lion and the lamb. In the Book of Revelation, that which one sees is that which is superficial while that which one hears is the spiritual significance. John sees a lamb which was slain, and he hears that it is the lion of Judah. This lion of Judah was one of the fa- Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 485 vorite symbols for the Messiah in the Old Testament. The lion of Judah was a symbol for power. A lion conquers by tearing apart its enemies, and this was what the Messiah was supposed to do--defeat his enemies with power. This particular lion is different, however, for it will con-quer by dying. This becomes evident when one realizes that this lion is also the lamb who conquered evil by allowing himself to be slain. In other words, all of the Old Testament prophecies concerning the Mes-siah in which he is seen as a powerful conqueror are turned on their head. He would not be a paradigm of power but rather of powerlessness. This is the greatest of the ironies of the Gospel message. This einptying out of oneself is not only intended for the Messiah, but it is an open invitation and a necessary prerequisite for a life of dis-cipleship. Unless you take up your cross and follow me, you cannot en-ter the kingdom of God. If you would save your life, you must lose it. Sell all you have, give it to the poor, and then come, follow me. The consequences of such a surrender are frightening, for it means a loss of control. It means living totally for and in another and never being sure where the life of discipleship will lead one, The foxes have their lairs and the birds (Jr the air have their nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. But he who had invited them to this life of radical faith was himself faithful. The very fact that he allowed his story to be told in this Gos-pel, the fact that his living spirit infused these human words with that which was divine, proved that he would never abandon his loved ones. For these words, the words of the Gospel, were inspired, and this inspi-ration was itself an example of kenosis. Theologians sometimes speak of inspiration as if the Holy Spirit were an executive dictating a letter to a secretary, the evangelist. But this image does not respect the human dimension of the process or the great love expressed by God in allowing his word to undergo a kenosis. Msgr. Edelby, who spoke at the Second Vatican Council, suggested another model: Just as the Holy Spirit entered into Mary and joined the eternal Word of God with that which was human and thus produced the Word made flesh, so also the Spirit inspired (breathed into) those who wrote so that the eternal Word of God entered into that which was hu-man, their human ability to write and their own talents and energy and purpose, and they gave birth to the word made flesh, this time the Gos-pels. In other words, the divine word of God became enfleshed in hu-man words with all that that means. It was st~bject to the weakness of human expression. One example of this is the horrendous literary style 486 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 of the Gospel of Mark. Unlike the other Gospels, it is a pasting together of various preexistent sources that barely become a narrative. One would almost think that it was written by a high school freshman writing his first term paper. He went and photocopied twenty or so articles (or, in this case, preexistent sources), cut out the important sections, and stuck them together with his glue pen. And yet this Gospel contains the eter-nal word of God. What greater sign of love could God give this commu-nity, what better way to guide them in this time of confusion? God was clearly showing the community that he would work in and through weak-ness. And the miracle of God's love does not even end there. Just as the eternal Word of God joined with that which was human in Mary and be-came the Word of God made flesh, and just as the eternal word of God joined with that which was human in the literary talents of the evangel-ist and became another manifestation of God's kenosis, so his word, the Gospel message, joined that which was human, the individual Christian of the community, to become a new manifestation of God's presence, his body, the Church. The community, insofar as it cooperated with the grace of God, became a continuation of the IncarnationS:'~ What are some of the consequences of this fact? One of the most im-portant is that, in combining with the human, the word of God necessar-ily assumed the weakness of that condition. God did not reject the hu-manity of the believers as the Gnostics and Docetists would have it, but he transformed that humanity so that it was to be that which God in-tended it to be. A practical application of this principle is to spirituality. We are not so much called to be perfect as to be faithful. If we were to seek to be perfect, freed from all weakness, we could very well be try-ing to control our own destiny and to show God that he owes us some-thing, that is, love, salvation, and so forth. In trying to be faithful, we admit our weakness and rely upon God's mercy and love, which enables us to do what we really cannot do on our own. Which raises a second consequence: In order to manifest God's pres-ence, we must surrender. Let it be done to me according to your word. Each believer is called to empty himself of that which is selfish, that which bespeaks control, and to place himself in the Lord's hands. We are to undergo metanoia. As was said before, that can be frightening, for we would like to know where we are going. We like to think that given the right formula, given the right therapist, and so forth, we could do it (a subtle form of Pelagianism). But the crucial message of the Chris-tian experience is that the believer really cannot make it, that sooner or Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 41~7 later we will hit the wall and realize that we are all fundamentally weak, broken, unable to save ourselves. When we finally admit that we are anawim, the lowly ones, and we reach out, it is then that we will allow the Spirit of the Lord to inspire us (to send his life-giving breath into flesh which was all but dead). Finally, one of the most disturbing consequences of this process is the fact that we are so human, even as a faith community. Who of us would not prefer to live among people who were more spiritually ma-ture, who would support us in our weakness and be perfect companions for the journey? Instead, what do we get--all too often we are the blind leading the blind. To the human eye, this community of ours barely looks like Christ incarnate, but to the eyes of faith it is obvious. Consider Mark's portrayal of Jesus and the apostles' difficulty in recognizing him as Messiah--it is the same difficulty we have in seeing Christ in our com-munities, which are so often so fleshly. And yet he is there, and if we put aside our prejudices and we become weak, we will see him. The New Testament saw this process of becoming a manifestation of the kenosis of Christ and speaks of it at length. Paul calls the believ-ers ambassadors of Christ in 2 Corinthians. The Acts of the Apostles serves as the second volume of the Gospel of Luke to show how this con-tinuation of the Incarnation provoked a response of faith among those who would listen. And then there are the Johannine writings, which are even more intimate. Everyone knows that love is one of the central themes of the Gospel of John, but some of the richness of that message is sometimes lost be-cause one fails to recognize all of the symbolic messages contained in the Gospel. For John and the author of the Book of Revelation, Christ is the bridegroom and the Church is his bride. Each follower of Christ, as a member of that Church, is to produce heirs for Christ. An example of this emphasis is the story of the woman at the well. This well story is actually a clever use of a leitmotif. A leitmotif is a set literary pattern that one finds throughout a literary work. One example is the set pattern that one would expect to find at the end of a western movie: the hero rides off into the sunset. The well stories are a leitmotif of the Old Testament. One meets one's spouse at a well. Isaac meets Re-bekah there (through Abraham's servant), Jacob meets Rachel, Moses meets Zipporah, and Ruth meets Boaz. Furthermore, one can tell what is important in the story by small changes in the set pattern. The normal pattern is that a man comes to the well, meets a woman who offers him water, and they decide to marry and live happily ever after. In the Jacob 488 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 story, however, Jacob must first uncover the well, for it is covered by a heavy stone (a sign of his difficulty in being able to marry her). With Ruth, it is the man who offers the woman water, for she is a foreigner and is being invited into the people of Israel. What of the Samaritan woman at the well? Sheis intended to be a symbol for the bride of Christ, the Church. Like the Church (and Israel), she has been married five times before, chasing after any god who offered her what she wanted. The woman offers Jesus water, but he offers her a different water, one that signifies the spiritual life that he would give her. They would not cling to each other in human form (as did the Jews in Jerusalem and the Sa-maritans on Mount Gerazim), but would live a spiritual marriage. Their marriage would be fruitful, for she would become a spring which would overflow (a spring or well being a symbol of her'womb which would pro-duce many children for the Lord). A second series of text.~ carries this message under the form of vo-cabulary taken from the Song of Songs. The Song of Songs is an Old Testament work which speaks of a very sensual love between a man and a woman. Even in Old Testament times it was interpreted as represent-ing the love of Yahweh for his people Israel. Two pericopes in the Gos-pel of John use that vocabulary extensively to remind the reader of that love. The first is when Mary anoints Jesus with oil in chapter 12 and the other is when Mary Magdalene searches for her beloved, the Lord, in chapter 20. Again, the message is clear in both: The women represent the Church which would be united to Christ in a spiritual marriage (that is, the order to Mary Magdalene not to cling to him for their marriage is not physical). Finally, there is a series of texts based upon the Old Testament levirite marriage institution. This institution was an attempt to ensure a progeny for a family. If a man died and had not produced a male child, then his next of kin would marry the widow and the first male child of this union would be named after the deceased husband. If the next of kin refused to marry her, she would take him .before the elders of the city and untie his sandal and spit in his face, saying that this was what a man deserved who would not give a descendant to his brother. John the Bap-tist, when asked whether he was the Messiah, responds that he is~not wor-thy to untie his sandal. This is not only a proclamation of humility; it is a message that he has no right to marry the widow (Israel, which had treated God as if he were dead). Jesus is the next of kin, and he will pro-duce an offspring. In fact, John speaks of how he rejoices at the voice of the bridegroom and he speaks of how that bridegroom must increase. Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 489 The word used when he speaks of how Christ must increase is the same word as that used when God tells humans to go forth and multiply in the Book of Genesis. In other words, John the Baptist is giving the best man's toast at a wedding, for he is wishing that Jesus have many chil-dren. But does Jesus have children? He really does not have any children during his lifetime, which explains another scene. Jesus tells his mother that John is to be her son, and he tells John that Mary is to be his mother. He is adopting John so that he (and the apostles) may bear children in his name (for they would, in fact, be called Christians). And when does Christ marry the Church? There are three possibili-ties. One of them is Pentecost, when the Spirit gives life to the Church. The Fathers of the Church also speak of two other possibilities. One of them is the Baptism of Jesus, when the Spirit comes upon Jesus in the form of a dove. Why a dove? Because it is a sign of love ("my little turtledove"). This is the love of Jesus and his Church. Still a third pos-sibility is on the cross. How do the first man and woman (Adam and Eve) marry? God took a rib from his ~side and formed woman. And the sol-dier pierced his side with a lance and immediately blood and water flowed out, the signs of his sacramental love for his bride, the Church. This message that Christ is our groom is sometimes distasteful to some males. Yet the image is not only operable but is profound as long as one leaves the image a bit vague. When we allow Christ's Spirit to enter us, we become one with Christ. Isn't that, after all, the purpose of the Eucharist? We take his flesh and make it one with our own. And the two of them shall become one flesh. In other words, the Eucharist is making love with God. And that union has to be fruitful, producing many offspring. Jesus: the union of the eternal Word of God and created flesh. The Gospel: the union of the eternal word of God and human lan-guage. The community: the union of the eternal Word of God and weak in-dividuals, each becoming a manifestation of Christ's presence. And what did all of this mean for Francis of Assisi? Francis was born in an age in which the kenosis of the eternal word of God had been deem-phasized. Historians speak of two major reasons for this deemphasis. The first has to do with the Arian heresy, which overemphasized the human-ity of Christ to the detriment of his divinity and which refused to recog-nize Jesus as the equal of God the Father. As a reaction to this heresy, many in the Church centered in upon the glory of the eternal Lord Je- 490 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 sus. A second reason for the situation was the social conditions of the time: the feudal system. People tended to pattern their God upon the po-litical reality of the day, and so they made Christ into a feudal Lord who was to be obeyed, and not so much loved. Francis himself was a product of his age. This can be seen in his first futile attempt at conversion when he had a dream that he was to serve a great lord. He naturally interpreted this as a call to fight in one of the many wars for the cause of the Lord occurring in his day. He saw this call as a call to po~ver. It was only when he came to know his Lord that he realized that the call was actually one to powerlessness. It was no accident that his con-version is intimately tied to his vision of the crucifix speaking to him. In coming to know the Lord who empties himself of power and glory, he was able to recognize the need to surrender to the will of that Lord, to become smaller and humbler. As in the days of the origin of the Gos-pel of Mark, the opposite would have been expected. There were great upheavals o.ccurring in the world: political, economic, and religious. Fran-cis could have been expected to search for a model based upon a great emperor or a successful burgher or even the lofty Holy Father, but he chose none of them. He chose instead a Lord who became flesh and let that flesh be nailed to a tree. And because his Lord had emptied himself of power, Francis felt him-self called to do the same. He would strip himself of his father's clothes so that he could belong to the Lord alone. He would lay aside even those most deeply rooted prejudices such as his loathing of lepers and see them as children of God. Bonaventure reports: "Francis now developed a spirit of poverty, with a deep sense of humility and an attitude of pro-found compassion. He had never been able to stand the sight of lepers, even at a distance, and he always avoided meeting them, but now in or-der to arrive at perfect self-contempt he served them devoutly with all humility and kindness, because the prophet Isaiah tells us that Christ cru-cified was regarded as a leper and despised. He visited their houses fre-quently and distributed alms among them generously, kissing their hands and lips with deep compassion." In this surrender Francis went beyond the service of an ideal. He was not so much striving after perfection as being a man in love, for Francis had fallen head over heels in love with his God. He, like John the Evan-gelist, interpreted the kenosis of his Lord as an act" of unreserved love, and he wanted to respond in a like manner. He recognized, too, the con-tinuing kenosis of our Lord in his word and in the sacrament of his body Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 491 and blood. He had great devotion to the presence of God in his word. He wrote the following to a general chapter of his friars: "I urge all my friars and I encourage them in Christ to show all possible respect for God's words wherever they may happen to find the.m in writing. If they are not kept properly or if they lie thrown about disrespectfully, they should pick them up and put them aside, paying honor in his words to God who spoke them. God's words sanctify numerous objects, and it is by the power of the words of Christ that the sacrament of the altar is conse-crated." He believed that this word was effective, for he knew that it was a manifestation of the eternal word of God. As 2 Celano reports, "he often said that a man would easily move from knowledge of himself to a knowledge of God who would set himself to study the Scriptures hum-bly, not presumptuously." Likewise, knowing that the sacrament of the Eucharist is a continu-ation of the Incarnation and thus of the living kenosis of his Lord, he held it in greatest esteem. He admonished his friars over and over again to honor and respect that presence. His letter to all clerics is a good ex-ample: "We clerics cannot overlook the sinful neglect and ignorance some people are guilty of with regard to the holy body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. They are careless, too, about his holy name and the writings which contain his words, the words that consecrate his body. We know his body is not present unless the bread is first consecrated by these words. Indeed, in this world there is nothing of the Most High him-self that we can possess and contemplate with our eyeslexcept his body and blood, his name and his words, by which we were created and by which we have been brought back from death to life." Francis, being thus in love with his Lord, did not limit his recogni-tion of the presence of the Lord to these signs. Bonaventure states that in everything beautiful he saw him who is beauty itself, and he followed his beloved everywhere by his likeness imprinted on creation. He saw a worm and thought of how the words of the suffering servant of Yah-weh were applied to Jesus, "I am a worm and not a man." He saw a lamb and remembered the lamb of God who died for his sins. He saw a bird or a fish and felt compelled to preach to it. Being one with his Lord, he saw him everywhere and in everything. And being one with his Lord, he shared his goals. Bonaventure re-ports that "enlightened by a revelation from heaven, Francis realized that he was sent by God to win for Christ the souls which the devil was 499 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 trying to snatch away. And so he chose to live for the benefit of his fel-low men, rather than for himself alone, after the example of him who was so good as to die for all men." And like all loves, that of Francis and his Lord was fruitful. As John the Evangelist had done in his Gospel and its matrimonial symbolism, Francis exhorted the friars to produce offsprin~ for the Lord. He states' this in his letter to all the faithful: "We are to be servants and should be subject to every human creature for God's sake. On all those who do this and endure to the last, the Spirit of God will rest; he will make his dwelling in them and there he will stay, and they will be children of your Father in heaven, whose work they do. It is they who are the brides, the brothers, and the mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ. A person is his bride when his faithful soul is united with Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit; we are his brothers when we do the will of his Father who is in heaven, and we are mothers to him when we enthrone him in our hearts and souls by° love with a pure and sincere conscience, and give him birth by doing good." The love affair of Francis and his God went even beyond this most intimate moment, though, for Francis was seen not only to produce off-spring ~or his God, but he came to be seen as a living sacrament of the presence of God. This is especially true in his stigmata. Bonaventure re-ports, "The fervor of his seraphic longing raised Francis to God and, in an ecstasy of compassion, made him like Christ, who allowed him-self to be crucified in the excess of his love. Then one morning about the feast of the exaltation of the holy cross, while he was praying on the mountainside, Francis saw a seraph with six fiery wings coming down from the highest point in the heavens. The vision descended swiftly and came to rest in the air near him. Then he saw the image of a man cruci-fied in the midst of the wings, with his hands and feet stretched out and nailed to a cross. Two of the wings were raised above his head and two were stretched out in flight, while the remaining two shielded his body. Francis was dumbfounded at the sight, and his heart flooded with a mix-ture of joy and sorrow. He was overjoyed at the way Christ regarded him so graciously under the appearance of a seraph, but the fact that he was nailed to a cross pierced his soul with a sword of compassionate sor-row." He was lost in wonder at the sight of this mysterious vision. He knew that the agony of Christ's passion was not in keeping with the state of a seraphic spirit, which is immortal. "Eventually he realized by divine inspiration that God had shown him this vision in his providence in or- Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 493 der to let him see that, as Christ's lover, he would resemble Christ cru-cified perfectly not by physical martyrdom, but by fervor of the spirit." And Bonaventure later adds, "True love of Christ had now transformed his lover into his image." It was no wonder that when Francis appea~-ed after his death to some of the friars, they asked each other whether it was Christ or Francis, for, as Celano reports, it seemed to the brother and all the great multitude that Christ and Blessed Francis were one and the same person. And so, as with the apostolic community, the early Franciscan com-munity was founded upon and became a manifestation of the kenosis of Christ. It celebrated his kenosis in his incarnation and passion; it es-teemed highly his continued kenosis in the sacraments of his body and his word; it became itself a manifestation of Christ's kenosis. Francis and each member of the community recognized that they were weak and lost, but when they were filled with the life-giving Spirit of God, they became fruitful and even sources of life. Having emptied themselves of pride, they never attributed that new life to themselves, but were always con-scious of how God had worked a miracle of love in them. They were so in love with the Beloved that they became his image. That is today's challenge. When we look at the example of Jesus and Francis and how each embraced a kenosis, we realize what we are to do. We are to empty ourselves of that which closes us off from God and each other. We do this by our own kenosis through listening, understanding, and challenging. We are to allow the life-giving Spirit of God to unite with our °weak and fragile self so that we may be healed or, even more precisely, be recreated in his image. We want that union of spirit and flesh to be fruitful as it was in Christ and Francis so that we can invite, so that we can make children for Christ. Finally, one of the most important ways of engendering children for the Lord is to tell our stories to each other. If we remember how the ap-ostolic community became a manifestation of Christ's presence, as did Francis and his followers, then we will fully appreciate the sacredness of sharing our experiences and our vocation stories. Our lives, insofar as we have cooperated with the grace of God, in spite of our great weak-nesses and very often through those very weaknesses, are manifestations of the kenosis of God. He has entered us and we have become one with him. Telling our stories, then, is not just an exercise in group dynamics. It is an anamnesis, a recalling and a re-presenting of sacred history. And in our sharing of our stories and our unveiling of the mystery of God's action in those stories, we make the word visible again and we permit 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 the spirit to enflesh itself in the memories of our sisters and brothers. A warning needs to be given, though. This all sounds wildly opti-mistic, especially for those who have experienced the disappointments that seem almost inevitable when one lives in a Christian community. It really is not unrealistic, though, if we approach our stories with the eyes of faith. Just as the apostles had a difficult time accepting the di-vinity of Christ hidden under his human form and in Francis's day many had difficulty seeing God under the form of a host, so we might become cynical and look at our stories with eyes of flesh. The only way that we will be able to avoid that is by embracing a kenosis. We must empty our-selves of our pride and preconceptions and allow the Lord's grace to be seen. If we do that, we, like John and Francis, will prove ourselves to be men and women madly in love with our God, for we will be truly one with him. The Call: Basic Law of the Religious John M. Hamrogue, C.SS.R. Father Hamrogue preaches parish missions and gives retreats to priests and religious. He may be addressed at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Rectory; 526 59th Street; Brooklyn, New York 11220. In entering upon religious life, each of us promised to live up to the rule of our particular institute. We may be living out that promise happily or unhappily. The religious rule itself may pose very little problem on pa-per, especially since it probably sounds much less legalisti.c and more in-spirational than it used to. Still, we all have to cofiae to terms with this, that it catches us in a web of relationships inside and outside the com-munity, of duties, of places in which we must live and work, and of peo-ple we must live with and try to love. Very often we have little control over these things. So the religious rule still stands painfully for law, for what often comes into our life unbidden, for what we must accomplish and accept--for an alien brother or sister. But we all entered religious life in response to a Call, a conviction each of us had that we were entering this religious community because this was my life, because in choosing these convents or rectories or mon-asteries, because in freely giving ourselves over to our duties, we would find ourselves and our joy. We clutched a personal promise we thought we heard: that we would be holy, that our lives and works would mean something. But now we may be living with a frightful question: "Surely I was not deceived, was I? Surely someone made a promise to me!" The question may come of our own personal failures, but it may also arise out of a feeling that our religious rule and our community has failed us, in changing so much, or in changing so little. "Surely I have not made a big misiake with my life, have I?" 495 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 All human beings ask questions like that about their lives, as they try to make sense of them. In trying to come to terms with our religious life, with how our dreams and projects have gone for us, we probably cannot do better than to direct our reflections to the call that brought us here in the first place. This is God's call, of course, a law that we con-tended with before we knew any religious rule. It is a call that has cre-ated us, has made promises to us, and has taken charge of writing our individual stories. This call, this law, is the grace of the Holy Spirit in our individual lives. The Call that Creates Out of his study of the Scriptures, Father Francois-Xavier Durrwell, C.SS.R., says this about our God: "The-one-who-calls-you" is his name. Maybe I Peter 1:15-16 best expresses the import of this naming of God: "Become holy yourselves in every aspect of your conduct, af-ter the likeness of the holy One who called you; remember, Scripture says, 'Be holy, for I am holy.' "~ Though he is no careless scholar, Fa-ther Durrwell's citations of Scripture rather more evoke meditation than establish a tightly reasoned case. He recalls our hearts to truths we have long cherished: that God always loves first, that he seeks our response to his love, that he made and makes promises to a people and to every single human being, .that he keeps his promises. We should remember about Jesus that God called him his Son, his beloved, when Jesus was baptized by John. In Mark's Gospel, this call-- this sense of his identity--is described as Jesus' own secret. Only he sees the sky open and the Spirit descend (1 : I 0). He knows who he was, where he has come from, and where he will return. In this connection Paul preaches that Jesus has been raised from the dead: "We ourselves an-nounce to you the good news that what God promised our fathers he has fulfilled for us, their children, in raising up Jesus, according to what is written in the second psalm, 'You are my son; this day I have begotten you' " (Ac 13:33). The Father has proved faithful to his call of Jesus. The early Christians had a clear notion of their identity; they saw their life as a calling. Their life challenged them, but a call supported them. Paul told them, "He who calls us is trustworthy, therefore he will do it" (1 Th 5:24). He reproached them in terms of the call. "I am amazed that you are so soon deserting him who called you in accord with his gracious design in Christ, and are going over to another gospel . Such enticement does not come from him who calls you" (Ga 1:6; 5:8). He told them they partook of the call of Jesus Christ: "God is faithful, and it was he who called you to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ The Call / 49"/ our Lord" (i Co 1:9). Mary Magdalene first grasped the sense of this promise when the Risen Christ called her name: "Jesus said to her, 'Mary!' " (Jn 20:16). Who he was and who she was in relation to him had changed to something she could never have dreamed of. Paul, too, heard his name called. "Saul, Saul, why do you perse-cute me?" (Ac 9:4). His whole sense of himself and his work is rooted in his call. He opens the Letter to the Romans this way: "Greetings from Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart to proclaim the gospel of God . " He identifies himself in the same way at the opening of 1 Corinthians: "Paul, called by God's will to be an apostle of Christ Jesus . " For the call it was that made him an apos-tle. What brought each of us to religious life, what event, what dream, what fascination? Each one of us has a story of a call, though it is prob-ably not so exotic as that of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque. She wrote that at the age of four or five "I found myself saying something I couldn't unde, rstand: 'To God I give my purity, and vow perpetual chastity.' " In later years our Lord told her: "I chose you for my bride . We plighted our troth when you made your vow of chastity. That was my doing . ,,2 Our call, too, has always been his doing. For those, then, who try to follow Jesus, God is "the-one-who-calls" (I Th 5:24; Ga 1:6; 5:8), .just as he is "the-one-who-raised- Jesus" (Rm 4:21; see I P 1:21; 2 Co 1:9; Ga I'1) and "the-one-who-brought- Israel-out-of Egypt" (Ex 20:2; Jg 6:8). "The-one-who cails-you"~ is his name (I Th 5:24; I P 1"15; 2 P 1:3).3 The Call that Makes a Promise Every call includes a promise; there is something in it for the one called. When God called Abraham to go up from Haran to the land of Canaan, he made him a promise in terms that anyone would immediately and thrillingly understand. He would make of Abraham a great nation, a man in whose very name all the communities of the earth would find a blessing (Gn 12:1-3). Of course, Abraham could never have dreamt how it would all turn out--and the story is not yet finished. How could he have known that in our day the religious communities of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam revere him as a father? But he heard God's prom-ise in terms of lands and children. That he could clearly grasp. God prom-ised him, in his childlessness, that his life would matter, that someone would remember him (Gn 15). Is there anything else that any human be-ing ever wanted out of life? True, Abraham thought only in terms of a personal life with God that ended with the grave. Only much later did 4911/Review for Religious, July-August 1988 the Jews arrive at a belief in a personal life after death. Yet Jesus too, who preached and promised a life without end, also spoke of the call in terms of the great values of this life: brothers and sisters, land and home, spouse and children (Mk 10:28-31). Those of us who take on the classic renunciations of religious life are not throwing life away like yesterday's newspaper. For each of us this life--the only one we know--this life will matter. And we will be remembered for hav-ing lived it. How, we do not know. But neither did Abraham. We cling to the call, knowing God has made us a promise. To repeat, God's promise concerns earthly life and the worth of the labors and sacrifices his servants make for love of him. It is not as though we receive eternal life in exchange for anguishing our way through a bar-ren existence, a human life that really has no meaning in it, that at best is only a contrived testing ground. A jeweler often sells watches by ad-vertising for junk: hand in a useless old watch and get a discount on a new one. But God does not see a human life as a trade-in. For all that anyone knew on Good Friday, Jesus had failed in everything he had given his life to. His disciples had fled; he had died a criminal. But by raising him from the dead, the Holy Spirit also has played the revealing light of tongues of fire on his earthly life for us who contemplate it in the Gospels. We remember that life of his. How we remember it! It mat-tered. The Call that Writes a Story With the call and the promise to Abraham in the Book of Genesis, the Bible begins to talk about history in the usual sense--people and events to which we can assign a particular time and a particular place on this earth. The whole long tale of the Scriptures hangs from God's call to Abraham and from Abraham's putting his faith in him. We are merely the actors now pronouncing the lines and pacing the stage of the ongoing drama of God's faithfulness to his promise. The other side of this story of God's faithfulness is that of our unfaithfulness, our sin. Jeremiah the prophet one day glimpsed God's resourcefulness in the face of our unfaithfulness as he watched a potter at work. God had told him to visit the potter's house, where Jeremiah saw the craftsman's in-tentions sometimes turn out badly. Some pots just did not go well at all. "Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again, making of the clay another object of what-ever sort he pleased" (Jr 18:4). In leading his prophet to the potter's house, God was reading him a lesson on the divine patience in waiting for the conversion of his peo- The Call / 499 pie. But he also was telling Jeremiah that conversion rested on God's res-toration and re-creation of a life and a situation that his people had often totally wrecked by their unfaithfulness. We should ponder the potter's care and intention as he sees the clay elude his skill and the design he had in mind for it. Somehow it is misbegotten. But the potter has an-other idea, another chance for the clay. He will try something else--a different shape, a different vessel. As we look at the story of our life, it may seem that we have not turned out as we should, and we might be right about that. We have all been unfaithful. But the call and the promise mean that God always has something else in mind, something new to create as he continues to shape our life. Although we may have wasted years and energy and talent, al-though we may have weakly or willfully thrown off our religious voca-tion altogether, we still remain within the work and the motion of his crea-tive hands. He still has something else in mind, even if it is only our con-trite acceptance of a littered past, which we yield totally to him as part of a broken self. Psalm 51 provides the words to celebrate God's having his way with us at last: "My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit; a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn" (v. 19). The Law of Our Life: The Grace of the Holy Spirit We have seen that the most basic law of Christian life is the call of God, which is played out in the stories of our lives. For stories are pow-erful laws, often in their way more piercing than laws in the strict sense. Which, for instance, do we find more unsettling when we come upon a stalled car along the highway, or a fallen derelict on a city street--the command to love our neighbor as ourselves or the story of the Good Sa-maritan? Which makes it harder just to pass by? Maybe we have had the privilege to hear religious or priests talk about their wrestling with their vocations. Even if they have to speak of infidelity, they talk in terms of their stories rather than of laws and rules in the ordinary sense. They often weep as they tell their story; for it con-tains the law and the call they cannot escape, and really do not want to escape. We find a crucial chapter of Paul's story in Acts 9. If the call is the grace of the Holy Spirit, then this scene portrays this grace most vividly. For Paul on the road to Damascus did not meet the earthly Jesus, the friend of Peter and the other disciples. Paul never met him, never knew him. He hardly ever speaks of him at all, though he had to know very much about the life of Jesus of Nazareth. But Paul met Jesus Risen, this same man resurrected; he fell in love with the Jesus raised by the power 500 / Review for Religious, July-1988 of the Spirit; he knew Jesus in the Spirit.4 His call then was the grace of the Holy Spirit. This grace of the Holy Spirit made him. It was the law and impulse of his whole life thereafter. We too meet Jesus as Paul did--in the grace of the Holy Spirit, in the story of our life. A Call to Communion Rather Than to Observance In emphasizing the primacy of the call, Father Durrwell notes that Paul did not recognize the absolute character of any law imposed from outside the person. He preached that Christian life was a call to a free-dom surging up from within us. This limitless new law of life made space for our souls: "The law of the spirit, the spirit of life in Christ Jesus, has freed you from the law of sin and death" (Rm 8:2). Since this Spirit is the love of God poured into out hearts (Rm 5:5), in surrendering to it Christians yield to what they love. No one could be more free.5 We must learn, then, to love the law, to find that it has become part of us or that we have been taken up into its secret life. Rabbi Abraham Heschel discourses on this mystery when he speaks of the Jewish tradi-tion of kavvanah. The music in a score is open only to him who has music in his soul. It is not enough to play the notes; one must be what he plays. It is not enough to do the mitzvah; one must live what he does. The goal is to find access to the sacred deed. But the holiness in the mitzvah is only open to him who knows how to discover the holiness in his own soul. To do a mitzvah is one thing; to partake of its inspiration is another.6 But who writes the music in the heart so that we may live out the very soul of written notes and law? St. Augustine would answer--the fin-ger of God. By the finger of God we learn to find delight in the law. He says that we learn "to keep Sabbath in the spirit" through the Holy Spirit poured forth in our hearts (Rm 5:5).7 Father Durrwell acknowledges that the New Testament does not ex-plicitly identify the Holy.Spirit with the call. But the Scripture does speak of the Holy Spirit as an anointing (2 Co 1:21), as a seal upon one's in-ner life (2 Co 1:22), and as a promise of final redemption (Ep !:14).8 In Paul, and also in John, we see an emphasis on an available expe-rience of this life in the Holy Spirit, one that tells us that within this very ordinary life something else goes on. So Paul preaches: "God is the one who firmly establishes us along with you in Christ; it is he who anointed us and has sealed us, thereby depositing the first payment, the Spirit, in our hearts" (I Co 1:21-22). John also preaches: "As for you, the anoint- The Call / 501 ing you received from him remains in your hearts. This means you have no need for anyone to teach you. Rather, as his anointing teaches you about all things and is true--free from any lie--remain in him as that anointing taught you" (1 Jn 2:27). In reading these Scriptures we have to conclude that this anointing-- this interior impulse and promise--amounted to a real presence for these ancient fellow believers of ours. Paul and John were appealing to their people to look to their hearts, to their experience. What has happened, then, to us? Where has the awareness gone? Nothing has happened! The awareness has not disappeared. We have known the same things, felt at least sometimes the surprise of God's peace and joy in a desperate situ-ation. We have lived by the light of a secret promise that told us we could and would be better, that we could make our world better. St. Augustine reflected on this with his people as he preached on the First Letter of John. Note how he gives up trying to talk and appeals to what the people knew--the anointing. ¯ . . What is the promise given us? "We shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is" [3:2]. The spoken word has done all it could; the rest must be pondered in the heart. In comparison of him who "is," what could John say, and what can be said by us whose desert is so far below his? We must go back to the anointing of which he has spoken, that anointing which teaches inwardly what passes utterance; and since as yet you cannot see, your work must lie in longing. The whole life of the good Christian is a holy longing.9 As Father Kilian McDonnell, O.S.B., points out to us, the experi-ence John considers is the gentle, ordinary conviction of God's loving presence that we all have known, as the early Christians knew it. No need to be put off by our usual guardedness against sensational experi-ence and display. ~0 The Scriptures are urging us to trust to a patient and faithful longing for the completion of what we know has begun in us and in our world. A Woman of the Spirit Jean-Marie Cardinal Lustiger is Archbishop of Paris. He oversees a church suffering far more desperately than most others. What does he preach to his people? In homilies worthy of a Father of the Church, he stirs them with questions like this one: "Are Christians the masters of Christianity, deciding what it should be, or is it Christ who, through his Spirit, takes hold of you and leads you where you do not want to go'?" ~ And he places before the eyes of his people the image of Mary stand- 509 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 ing at the foot of the cross. They must pray, he tells them, "for the Marian grace of silent patience and long waitings in faith.''~2 So must we pray. As St. Augustine put it, the life of the Christian is one long and holy yearning. We know that. We have always known it, even though we may sometimes have too little appreciated the peace that has come along with living out our longing. This peace and this power is the anointing that Christians have always known. NOTES ~ Francois-Xavier Durrwell, C.SS.R., "Vous avez gtd appelds . " Studia Moralia 15 (1977): 345. z The Autobiography of Saint Margaret Mary, trans. Vincent Kerns (Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1961), 4, 18. 3 Durrwell, 345. 4 Yves Congar, I Believe in the Holy Spirit, 3 vols. (New York: The Seabury Press, 1983), I: 30. 5 Abraham Heschel, Between God and Man: Art Interpretation of Judaism (New York: The Free Press, 1959), 165-166. 6 Augustine: Later Works, ed. John Burnaby (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1955), The Spirit and the Letter, -#27, 216. 7 Durrwell, 352, 357. 8 Durrwell, 356. 9 Augustine: Later Works, Fourth Homily, -#6, 290. ~0 Kilian McDonnell, O.S.B., "A Trinitarian Theology of the Holy Spirit," Theo-logical Studies 46 (1985): 223. ~ Jean-Marie Cardinal Lustiger, Dare to Believe: Addresses, Sermons, Interviews, 1981-1984 (New York: Crossroad, 1986), 16. ~2 Lustiger, 226, 228. Superiority of the Religious Life Brendan Knea/e, F.S.C. Brother Brendan is an associate professor in a great books program and can be con-tacted at Box H; Saint Mary's College; Moraga, California 94575. One of the reasons why religious life is not attracting vocations is, no doubt, a failure to emphasize its superiority. In fact, vocational leaders and their literature tend to deny that there is any such superiority. Such a failure, it seems, must be counterproductive. Traditionally, of course, the opposite view prevailed. Recall the famous lines attributed to St. Ber-nard indicating a clear superiority: The religious 1. lives more purely, 2. falls more rarely, 3. rises more promptly, 4. walks more cautiously, 5. is graced more frequently, 6. rests more securely, 7. dies more confidently, 8. is cleansed more promptly, and 9. is rewarded more abundantly. "More" than who? Clearly St. Bernard means, "more than those in secular states of life." Does the teaching of Vatican II confirm this view? Even a cursory reading of the documents shows that it does. Not only do the official statements twice refer to the religious life as "a state of perfection," but in several places the language uses, like St. Bernard's "more," various comparative terms. 503 ~i04 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 Vatican II Thus, in Lumen Gentium 42 we read concerning the evangelical coun-sels of religious, "Outstanding among them is that precious gift of grace which the Father gives to some men (see Mt 19:11; I Co 7:7) st-" that by virginity, or celibacy, they can more easily devote their entire selves to God alone with undivided heart (see I Co 7:32-34)." And, "Since the disciples must always imitate and give witness to this char-ity and humility of Christ, Mother Church rejoices at finding within bosom men and women who more closely follow and more clearly dem-onstrate the Savior's self-giving by embracing poverty with the free choice of God's sons, and by renouncing their own wills.''~ In the chapter of Lumen Gentium devoted specifically to the vowed life we find a summary stotement, again in the comparative language "greater": "These religious families give their members the support greater stability in their way of life, a proven method of acquiring per-fection, fraternal association in the militia of Christ, and liberty strength-ened by obedience."2 A direct comparison with other Christians is made in the next section, where the text notes about the vowed religious, "is true that through baptism he has died to sin and has been consecrated to God. However, in order to derive more abundant fruit from this bap-tismal grace, he intends, by profession of the evangelical counsels in the Church, to .free himself from those obstacles which might draw him away from the fervent charity and the perfection of divine worship. Thus is more intimately consecrated to the divine service. This consecration gains in perfection since by virtue of firmer and steadier bonds it serves as a better symbol of the unbreakable link between Christ and His Spouse, the Church." The same section goes on to say, "Furthermore, the religious state constitutes a closer imitation and an abiding reenact-ment in the Church of the form of life which the Son of God made his own . Even the language of superlatives is used here: "Finally, everyone should realize that the profession of the evangelical counsels, though en-tailing the renunciation of certain values which undoubtedly merit high esteem, does not detract from a genuine development of the human per-son. Rather by its very nature it is most beneficial to that develop-ment . The counsels are especially able to pattern the Christian man after that manner of virginal and humble life which Christ the Lord elected for himself, and which his Virgin Mother also chose."3 It is well known that Vatican II was a pastoral council concerned, therefore, with changes in discipline, not doctrine (though for pastoral Superiority of the Religious Life reasons it changed the wording and emphasis of some dogmas). Hence, Vatican II does not contradict the Council of Trent. In particular, it did not withdraw its teaching about the superiority of the religious state. The earlier council anathematizes those who would place all Christian "states" on the same level. Specifically, it condemns those who say "that it is not better and more blessed to remain in virginity and celi-bacy than in the matrimonial bond" (Denz. no. 1810). Hans Urs von Balthasar notes one reason for this doctrine: "Marriage does not cross the threshold of the eschatological realm (Mt 22:30), and a person who wishes to live eschatologically should therefore renounce marriage if he can (Mt 11:12; 1 Co 7:8).''4 In a scholarly work, as part of his chapter on "Christian Voca-tions," Father John Lozano, C.M.F., has remarked, "The Council's in-sistent use of comparatives is such that theologians must, of necessity, fix their attention upon it." His own analysis (carefully nuanced and, I believe, erroneous) leads him to abandon comparatives and to vote against the traditional view, which he describes as follows: ". Chris-tian people have always considered monasticism as being, objectively, the more blessed (beatius) situation.''5 If we look at the special Decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae Caritatis) issued by Vatican II, we find that the religious state "is of surpassing value" (section I), though we are not told overtly what other values it "surpasses." Section 5 observes about religious, "They have handed over their :entire lives to God's serv-ice in an act of special consecration which is deeply rooted in their bap-tismal consecration and which provides an ampler manifestation of it.' ,6 It is true that an "ampler manifestation" of one's baptismal graces is expected after confirmation, and penance, and marriage, and after all moral choices--but the context of the passage, and the background of the whole tradition, require us to read "ampler manifestation" (and other comparatives) in accord with Trent's clear anathema (even if to-day there seem to be several writers who fall, inadvertently, under that anathema). Inferiority We should pause here to note that the religious life is also inferior. The religious state cuts a very poor figure in the context of a capitalist and consumer competition, and in the realm of biological reproduction, and in the area of political power struggles and status seeking. Indeed the three vows are instruments designed precisely to keep a person as in-ferior in these secular arenas as he or she is superior in the religious 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 arena. In the worlds of finance, medicine, the military, and so forth, there is no reason to ascribe superiority to the religious state. In the world of holiness and the sacred, there is. After Vatican II Official documents subsequent to the council enable us to read with proper understanding its intent. In 1971, for example, an Apostolic Ex-hortation on the Renewal of Religious Life came from Rome with some pointed recommendations. It continued to push the language of perfec-tion and comparatives: "more closely conformed" to the life of Christ (sec. 2); "follow Christ more freely and to imitate him more faithfully ¯ . . with greater fullness" (sec. 4); "to derive more abundant fruit" and be "more intimately consecrated" (sec. 7); "your obedience is more strict" (sec. 27). It quotes Lumen Gentium: "The Council consid-ers 'a proven doctrine of acquiring perfection' as one of the inherited riches of religious institutes" (sec. 37). Finally,, it assure us that "by the threefold renunciation of your religious profession [you] realize the greatest possible expansio.n of your life in Christ" (sec. 55).7 The present pope--certainly an expert on Vatican II--freely speaks of the superiority of the religious state. In his exhortation Familiaris Con-sortio (I 98 i), he makes it a point to say so even when his theme is fam-ily life. In section 16 he quotes with approval St. John Chrysostom's words on the superiority of consecrated virginity to sacramental mar-riage: "What appears good only in comparison with evil would not be particularly good. It is something better than what is admitted to be good that is the most excellent good." John Paul goes on to say, ~'It is for this reason that the Church throughout her history has always defended the superiority of this charism to that of marriage . ,,8 The follow-ing year Pope John Paul spoke to a representative group of sisters and said, in part, Most of all, the recommendation I would want to give you is this: pre-serve and foster a correct and lofty concept of religious life and conse-cration, according to what the Master always taught and still teaches. The Church today certainly encourages secular and "lay" forms of re-ligious life which if properly understood are of great blessing for the Peo-ple of God and for the world. The Council made clear the dignity of the earthly values and the spirituality of the laity. Nevertheless, the same Council, stressing the unique value of the religious vocation, takes care not to depreciate it with distortion of a misunderstood secularity, for-getting that the religious life achieves a perfection beyond baptismal con-secration . Superiority of the Religious Life / .507 The superiority of the religious state certainly does not depend on the Christian's final end, which is the same for everyone: blessedness in God . [There are gifts] which as such are superior to those de-riving from baptismal consecration sufficient to characterize the secular or married state . 9 Perhaps the Holy Father was recalling here the words of Adrienne yon Speyr, a wife and mother who became a well-known spiritual writer under the aegis of Hans Urs von Balthasar: If rightly chosen, the married state can be lived to perfection in a fam-ily life that is in complete accord with Christian faith and with a posi-tion in the Church, community and state . Nevertheless, there are certain limits [in married life] that cannot be moved and that simply re-lateto the finiteness of the human person . The evangelical state, whether active or contemplative, gives evi-dence from the beginning of a stronger preoccupation with God . In marriage, the individual must forgo these helps proper to the evan-gelical state. If it were possible to compare at the end of their lives two individuals who, at the moment of choice, possessed exactly the same qualifications, the same education and knowledge, the same piety and readiness to follow Christ, and of whom one chose the married state and the other the evangelical state, the advantage enjoyed by the latter would be plainly visible . Although there is a level on which the ecclesial states [including sacramental marriage] stand side by side as possible modes of Christian existence that are both good and willed by God, there is also a hierarchy among the states that clearly reveals the greater ex-cellence of the evangelical state. ~0 Later, in 1984, Pope John Paul issued a special Apostolic Exhorta-tion on the Religious Life addressed to religious themselves, Redemp-tionis Donum. He starts off in section I saying about the universal voca-tion to perfection, "While this call concerns everyone, in a special way it concerns you, men and women religious, who in your consecration to God through the vows of the evangelical counsels strive toward a par-ticular fullness of Christian life." In section 4: "This way is also called the way of perfection," a claim repeated in section 6. At the same time he twice uses the expression "state of perfection" but leaves it in quo-tation marks, and one can tell that he does so out of deference to the con-temporary sensitivities, not out of rejection of the doctrine. Also in 1984 the new Code of Canon Lawwent into effect. Careful wording characterizes it. The part devoted to religious life begins, "Life consecrated by the profession of the evangelical counsels is a stable form of living by which the faithful, following Christ more closely under the 508 /Review for Religious, July-August 1988 action of the Holy Spirit, are totally dedicated to God . " Contemporary Misapprehension How is it that this superiority is denied by many well-informed Catho-lics? We find in the influential and reprinted book Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (1985) by Cada, et al., the following passage: "At the start of the Modern Era the Council Fathers of Trent promulgated the teaching that the state of consecrated virginity was inherently better and holier than the married state. At the end of the Modern Era the Council Fathers at Vatican II taught that the religious life was no more a state of perfection than the Christian life in general" (p. 49). It is difficult see how the authors can take such a position, especially since the coun-cil documents explicitly refer to the religious life as "a state of perfec-tion," and Pope John Paul, as cited above, says just the opposite. Read-ers of this journal will be familiar with other texts, often written by vo-cation ministers, making clear disavowals of superiority. The negative psychological impact of these misreadings of Vatican II on the work of vocation ministry should be obvious. These authors no doubt worried about the invidiousness of claiming personal "superiority." They should have recalled what Thomas Aqui-nas had already pointed out in the Summa (I1-II, 186, I ): that we are speak-ing figuratively. We call all members of an order "religious" even when some are not, and we call their state one of "perfection" although none of its members may be perfect. The figure of speech we are using, he tells us, is called ~'antonomasia." We can illustrate it by the example of our calling a king, antonomastically, "His Majesty" even when is not majestic. It appears that there are two reasons (~)ne of which has just been al-luded to) why such misrepresentations of Catholic doctrine have oc-curred. (!) There has been a strong egalitarian, anti-elitist mood in most the Western world for many years. This same appetite for leveling found when one speaks of churches, even non-Christian ones. Thus, with regard to the Catholic Church, contemporary society wants her to avoid "triumphalism" and therefore to avoid claiming superiority over other religions, since "all religions are equal," Try arguing, even amon.group of Catholics, that their religion is "superior," and see, in our egali-tarian age, the resistance you meet. Similarly, members of religious con-gregations today tend to suppress the superiority of their state, even when giving vocational advice--thereby, of course, reducing the attractiveness of that state. SuperioriO, of the Religious Life / 509 (2) There is a chapter entitled "The Call to Holiness" in Lumen Gen-tium which seems, on superficial reading, to support the modern appe-tite for equality. But the chapter simply recalls that Christ summoned all people, secular and religious, to "be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect"--hardly a new doctrine in pastoral theology. In every state of life Christians have the sacraments, prayer, apostolic opportunities, and self-denial (see section 42) to help in the universal vocation we all have to perfection. It is natural to conclude (although long habit made even the fathers of the council keep the usage) that "the state of perfection" is not a title that ought to be arrogated to the religious life alone: it has been too easy for people to relegate other states to "imperfection." We certainly want to~ avoid that imputation~, and so a pastoral concern leads us to stop emphasizing~that the religious state is the state of perfection, even though it is clearly a superior state for the purposes of religious per-fection. Likewise, since we live in an ecumenical age, we do not go about saying the Catholic Church is superior to others, even though, as an instrument of salvation, it is. If, out of pastoral concern for giving emphasis to the religious value of secular and lay states~ we avoid stressing the superiority of religious and clerical states, we should not at the same time forget (or fail, at ap-propriate times, publicly to recall) that superiority. Thus Pope John Paul, as noted above, did not hesitate--even in a document about the dignity and worth of family life (Familiaris Consortio)--to remind us of the su-periority of the religious state. To disavow it is nbt humility; it is fal-sity. The accusation of elitism can be met in the same way that colleges and universities meet it. The best schools claim to be superior as instru-ments of higher education, and they are--in virtue of their curricula, their faculties, their social opportunities. Indeed the best institutions as-sure excellence by hiring the best faculty, and admitting and supporting the best students, regardless of their social status. Moreover, they do not claim that all the students and courses at other places are inferior. Ex-cellence does not demand putting others down or denying the principle of human equality. But it certainly does not require the best colleges and universities falsely to deny their own superiority, especially when seek-ing new faculty and students. Neither should the religious state in seek-ing new members. This analogy is quite forceful: the religious state is like a superior university--people seeking a "higher education" try to find suitable "instruments" for that purpose. Some of these "instru-ments" are superior to others, namely, the best universities and colleges. 510 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 It is in this sense that St. Thomas (Summa, II-lI, 184, 3 and 7) speaks of the religious state as instrumental to perfection; it is "the state of perfection" in that way, not in some invidious way. Among secular persons there are often some closer to perfection than many religious are. Chesterton has said somewhere, "Alone of all superiors the saint does not depress the human dignity of others. He is not conscious of his su-periority to them, but only more conscious of his inferiority than they are." When we call attention to the superiority of an instrument, we do not thereby claim superiority for the user of that instrument. When St. Paul in I Co 12:28ff. set up a ranking of charisms, he did not intend to offend anyone. Thus, in saying that bishops have the high-est vocation, that their state is the superior one, he was hoping to attract, not repel, vocations. St. Paul, a good vocation minister, ended by urg-ing us to "be zealous for the better gifts." God indeed hath set some in the church: first apostles, secondly proph-ets, thirdly teachers; after that miracles, then the graces of healings, helps, governments, kinds of tongues, interpretations of speeches. ~l'here are similar rankings at Romans 12:4 and Ephesians 4: 10. Conclusion As an aid to vocation ministers we should update and add to St. Ber-nard's list of comparatives. By way of a partial extension, we might say of the contemporary religious that he or she: 10. witnesses more eschatologically, (Religious vows are greater eschatological signs than are offered by secu-lar lifestyles.) I 1. serves more apostolically, (Corporate efforts at ministry multiply through space and time the work of a single individual.) 12. lives more theocentrically and Christologically, (Opportunities in re-ligious community for retreats, liturgy, meditation, silence, self-denial are abundant.) 13. operates more freely, (Support in religious life reduces financial, domestic, and decision-making chores.) 14. reaches out more ecclesially. (An international religious order extends one's circle of friends and pro-vides a worldwide family for its members.) Superiority of the Religious Life NOTES ~ Abbott, W. M., S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican H, America Press, New York, 1966, p. 71. 2 Ibid., pp. 73-74. 3 Ibid., p. 77. 4 Von Balthasar, H. U., New Elucidations, Ignatius Press, San Francisco, 1986, p. 180. 5 Lozano, John M., C.M.F., Discipleship: Towards an Understanding of the Relig-ious Life, Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, Chicago, 1980, pp. 55ff. 6 Abbott, p. 471. 7 Flannery, A., O.P., ed., Vatican Council II, Liturgical Press, Collegeville, 1975, pp. 680ff. 8 Origins 11, no. 25 (December 3, 1981): 443. 9 Consecrated Life 9, no. 2, pp. 214-215. ~0 Von Speyr, A., The Christian State of Life, Ignatius Press, San Francisco, 1986, pp. 81-84. Mary and the Announcer So many questions you leave unanswered That 1 would ask: why it is 1 Who am chosen, when will this happen, how Shall I know it happening, what am I To tell the kind man to whom I am bonded. Tell him nothing? And already you gather Yourself for departure; the dark tower Of your presence stands a shadow On the floor, unfolding long Skirted pinions, lifting them higher. If I lifted my eyes, I would see light, Where you have stood. Where I am standing Now in light brighter than windows, the dance Of it is like rings at my fingers, Like bracelets adorning my ankles, a lightness Crowning my hair. Harmless as I am, No harm can come to me of standing In light where I cast no shadow Yet am overshadowed, where again ! hear The calm announcement: Mary, do not fear. Nancy G. Westerfield 2914 Avenue B Kearney, NE 68847 Celibate Loving Rosemarie Carfagna, O.S.U., Ph.D. Sister Rosemarie's "Spirituality of Suffering" appeared in our March/April 1988 issue. She is in the Philosophy and Religious Studies Department at Ursuline Col-lege; 2550 Lander Road; Pepper Pike, Ohio 44124. Can two women from the late Middle Ages have anything to say to con-temporary religious women about their efforts at celibate loving? Al-though the times and the circumstances have changed, the central issues involved in celibate loving have not. This article will look at the writ-ings of two spiritual mothers for practical guidance about the conduct of religious in love relationships. Teresa of Avila was a sixteenth-century Spanish Carmelite. Margaret Mary Alacoque was a seventeenth-century Sister of the Visitation in France. Both women wrote poignantly about the experience of learning how to love. Both women learned from hu-man love lessons that led them to divine love. Their wisdom and their advice can be helpful for religious women and men today. The Desire for Affection In her classic work The Way of Perfection, Teresa speaks to her sis-ters about their efforts to love. She is aware from her own experience of the danger and temptation of looking to human beings for the ultimate satisfaction that can come only from God. Teresa herself needed to learn about detachment and transcendence, so it was with humility and sim-plicity that she could refer to the desire for affection as blindness. She tells her sisters, "I sometimes think this desire for affection is sheer blind-ness . When we desire anyone's affection, we always seek it because of some interest, profit or pleasure of our own." ~ It is the self-interest underlying the desire for affection that alerts Teresa to the imperfection of the love. As she matured in love, Teresa began to see through its more 512 Celibate Loving / 513 superficial forms. Speaking about the subversive effect of self-interest on love, she writes, "Of course, however pure our affection may be, it is quite natural for us to wish it to be returned. But, when we come to evaluate the return of affection, we realize that it is insubstantial, like a thing of straw, as light as air and easily carried away by the wind."2 Teresa wants more than this for herself and for her sisters. She realizes that the call to celibate love offers greater, more permanent rewards. How-ever, these gifts are deeply hidden. Mature religious are sensitive enough to know where to look for them. Describing the deeper vision of holy souls, she writes: ¯ . . the things which they see are everlasting. If they love anyone they immediately look right beyond the body, fix their eyes on the soul and see what there is to be loved in that. If there is nothing, but they see any suggestion or inclination which shows them that, if they dig deep, they will find gold within this mine, they think nothing of the labor of dig-ging, since they have love.3 The kind of love Teresa is describing is a purified and noble love. It is a kind of love she came to know because she was led to it by the Spirit. It is purified through a gentle and continuous process of detach-ment. Detachment Margaret Mary Alacoque learned about celibate loving directly from Jesus, whom she acknowledged as her Spouse. Her Thoughts and Say-ings record the instructions she received that guided her spiritual and emo-tional development and brought her to the fullness of love. The follow-ing message was addressed to her in prayer: "Know that if you wish to possess Jesus Christ and to dwell in his Sacred Heart, you must have no other desire and be content with him alone.' ,4 These are puzzling words for beginners in the spiritual life. Speaking of contentment in the same context as such radical detachment appears paradoxical at first. Perhaps Margaret Mary experienced a degree of consternation, too, when she heard these words. Her instructions continued in the same vein. How-ever, she was assured that Jesus her Spouse would teach her and help her become accustomed to purified love. She recorded the following mes-sage that she received by way of encouragement: May he teach you what he desires of you, and may he give you the strength to accomplish it perfectly. If I am not mistaken, this in a few words is what ! think he chiefly requires of you: He wishes that you should learn to live without support, without a friend and without saris- Review for Religious, July-August 1988 faction. In proportion as you ponder over these words, he will help you to understand them.5 The message may seem harsh if we focus only on the radical detach-ment it implies. Who among us finds the prospect of living without sup-port and without a friend attractive? But a second look at the meaning behind the words can sustain us. Rather than taking away the help that we need, Jesus is offering himself to us as helper, lover, and friend. Mar-garet Mary was told: Our Lord would fain be your sole Support, Friend and Delight, provided you seek neither support nor delight in creatures. Nevertheless, you must not be ill at ease or constrained in your intercourse with your neighbor, but always humble, bright, kind and gracious in your manner. The Sa-cred Heart of Jesus gives you these holy aspirations through the ardent love he bears you, which makes him desire to possess your heart whole and entire.6 Having this kind of intimacy with Jesus makes detachment easy. All other love relationships fall into place when our hearts are focused on him. Those experienced in celibate love know, however, that coming to such intimacy with Jesus is a gradual process. They are familiar with tri-als and temptations. They know that growth in celibate love is a constant effort at putting God first. Putting God First Both Teresa and Margaret Mary would offer advice to religious to-day, as they did to their own sisters. The unifying theme found in the writings of both of them is the importance of putting God first in the or-der of our love and of having a faithful spousal commitment to Jesus. They might say that as it is in any state of life, the religious life will have its share of trials and temptations. This is to purify and test the soul for worthiness to heaven. Only in heaven will the soul be free of suffering and only in heaven will the soul be filled with delights and satisfaction. Because these spiritual mothers were human as well as holy, they would admit that it can happen in religious life that there are attractions and even sexual arousal to one of the opposite sex or even of one's own sex. This is not wrong in and of itself. What does offend the good God is when the religious, especially the religious woman whom Jesus con-siders to be his own bride, succumbs to these attractions and sensations and knowingly and willingly seeks the intimacy with another that one would seek with a betrothed or wedded lover. It is not wrong to love or even to be in love with another when one is a religious. What is wrohg is seeking one's own selfish ends rather Celibate Loving than putting God first in one's heart and behaving seductively and ador-ingly to one's earthly beloved. No soul on earth can ever expect to find peace or happiness unless God is first in one's heart and one wills to be-have faithfully to God according to one's state in life and according to vows taken. Purified Love Loving another person in the temporal realm means loving him or her spiritually and from afar sometimes. Sexually arousing contact, be it eye contact, physical proximity, flirtation, or any seductive behavior that intends to arouse sexual passion in the other, is highly offensive to God. It would be better for the religious to leave the community than to behave so, for this can only lead to unhappiness. If one finds oneself in a love relationship and if the relationship has God's blessing, it will be peaceful and characterized by friendship, equal-ity in status, pure affection, chaste intention, and discretion in intimate behavior. Behavior toward any others will be spiritually beneficial and charitable as a result of this love. If, on the other hand, the love rela-tionship originates from one's own inordinate desires, it will be charac-terized by behaviors which seek sexual arousal and aim at sexual con-summation. There will also be exclusiveness, possessiveness, and ob-sessiveness, leaving the heart in a profoundly miserable state.7 Only, as Augustine has said, when one's heart first rests in God will it be happy and be pleasing to God. It is only in willing to please God first that the soul can find the love and satisfaction it seeks. This is especially so for a religious whom God holds responsible for shepherding his flock. The primary concern of the religious is to glorify God and to save souls. All other relationships are to flow from this holy and serious duty. May the example and the wisdom of women like Teresa and Margaret Mary help us to grow today in our efforts at celibate love. NOTES ~Teresa of Avila, The Way of Perfection (New York: Image Books, 1964), p. 70. ~-Ibid. 3 Ibid., p. 71. 4 Margaret Mary Alacoque, Thoughts and Sayings of St. Margaret Mary (Rockford, Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, Inc.), p. 73. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid., pp. 74-75. 7 See Teresa's descriptions of spiritual versus sensual relationships in The Way of Perfection, pp. 54-59, 67-81 (i.e., chap. 4 lall but the beginningl and chaps. 6 and 7). Hope for Community: A Kingdom Perspective Kristin Wombacher, O.P., and Shaun McCarty, S.T. Sister Kristin, a licensed clinical psychologist, was a writer for the Pontifical Com-mission on Religious Life in th~ United States and is presently Prioress General of the Dominican Sisters of San Rafael. She resides at Siena Convent; 4038 Maher Street; Napa, California 94558. Father McCarty, of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, teaches in the Washington Theological Union and is a staff mem-ber of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. He resides at Holy Trinity Mis-sion Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Since Vatican II both have been extensively involved with programs of renewal for relig-ious communities of women and men, lay and religious, especially in the United States. In response to Vatican II, religious congregations have made changes in their lifestyles and structures in order to open themselves to renewal. A key area of concentration during this time of adaptation and renewal has been a desire to improve the quality of community life. The initial focus on community life following Vatican II centered pri-marily on local living situations and was largely problem-oriented. It em-phasized quantitative changes in existing structures, for example, chang-ing schedules, modifying prayer styles, and minimizing rules. As help-ful as these changes have been, the overall fruits of such a focus have been limited. What gradually has become clear is the need to shift the focus of community life, to broaden the horizons of "community," consider community not only within the context of religious life, but also within a broader Christian context as related to the life, work, and mis-sion of all God's people. This shift in focus calls us from a more intro-spective view of community life to an enhanced vision of community as related to Kingdom. 516 Hope for Community This article will be an attempt to explore "community" within the horizon of the kingdom of God. We will deal with the past development, present challenge, and future promise of community as viewed within this perspective. These observations are based on some fairly extensive experiences since Vatican II of working with a variety of religious groups, of women and men from various denominations, especially within the United States. Some Preliminary Understandings (1) Kingdom of God: This term attempts to express something of the mystery of the corporate vision of the People of God, that is, God's reign that embraces values such as love, freedom, peace, justice, unity, and fellowship. There are several perspectives of Kingdom, none of which exhausts the symbol. Kingdom is larger than any one of them. There is a sense in which the Kingdom is behind us, ahead of us, within us, and among us. The Kingdom is behind us in that it was the principal theme of Christ's preaching and was enfleshed and inaugurated in his person. The Kingdom is ahead of us in that it will reach consummation as a "new earth and a new heaven." In the words of Vatican lI's Pastoral Consti-tution on the Church in the Modern World: ". God is preparing a new dwelling place and a new earth where justice will abide and whose blessedness will answer and surpass all the longings for peace which spring up in the human heart" (n. 39). The Kingdom is within us in that it describes inner fellowship with God in mystical union and points to a human yearning for the living God that is deeper even than the hunger and thirst for the justice of God. The Kingdom is among us now in that it is already present among people who honestly seek to follow God's call and who live justly with others. This perspective refers to growth towards wholeness in the collective life of humanity--its laws, customs, institutions, works, politics, art, and so forth. It summons people now to the work of cultivating (or perhaps "uncovering" is more apt) the Kingdom "to give some kind of foreshadowing of the new age." (2) Future: In speaking about future hopes, distinctions need to be made between different kinds of futures: There are possible futures-- those which might be, limited only by the horizons of imagination; prob-able futures, those which are likely to be, indicated by present trends and tendencies; preferable futures, those which should be, in accord with sys-tems of values; and plausible futures, those which can be, capable of be-ing practically realized. Our focus here will be on a future vision of community within King- Review Jbr Religious, July-August 1988 dom perspectives that can shape attitudes, indicate behaviors, and mus-ter energy for further uncovering the Kingdom now. Our contention is that religious today are called to explore the possible, to assess the prob-able, to proclaim the preferable, and to implement the plausible. It is our further contention that such vision is essential to God's call to cocreate our future, to renew, indeed to refound community. Any community with-out a vision is moribund. (3) Community: In this context we are speaking about religious com-munity primarily, that is, intentional ecclesial groups of Christians who are called together in faith and bonded by memories of a shared past, hopes for a shared future, and commitments to a shared present. To-gether, members carry out a specific mission in service of the kingdom of God according to the unique charism of the group and by using their gifts for ministry in a concerted way. As with individuals, the commu-nity itself is called to ongoing corporate renewal in response to the Gos-pel, the charism of the group, the signs of the times, and the graced in-itiatives of its members. Community as Theological Imperative The origin of everything--the world and its people, all creation, the entire cosmos--is a God who is Trinitarian. The life of God, by its very nature, is relational, societal, communitarian--a perfect union without confusion, distinction without separation. The ultimate destiny of the whole of creation is the kingdom of God, which is also at its core communitarian, a perfect communion of all hu-mankind, the world and its history. As R. P. McBrien says: The initial experience of God's renewing and reconciling presence, which is the kingdom of God, evokes our theological quest for under-standing and excites the hope that one day our union with God and with one another will be realized to its fullest, when God will be all in all. ~ Communitarian, societal, relational life, then, is both the origin and the destiny of all creation. As disciples of Jesus we live in incarnational time that originates with the Trinity and finds completion in the fullness of Kingdom. Christ came in the flesh to show us that the way to God is through membership in the Kingdom, the principal sign of which is unity--oneness with God and with each other in Christ. Jesus' parting prayer for his disciples was: "May they all be one, just as, Father, you are in me and I am in you, so that they also may be one in us. that they may be one as we are one. With me in them and you in me, so may they be perfected in unity" Hope for Community / 519 (Jn 17:21-23). The Christian way to God is in and through community. Community, then, is not just a dimension essential to religious life; it is an invitation shared with all people, indeed, with all of creation. All are called to com-munity that, together with Christ, they may seek and proclaim the king-dom of God. The theological imperative of community is clearly enunciated by Vatican II in its Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World: God did not create man for life in isolation, but for the formation of so-cial unity . This communitarian character is developed and consum-mated in the work of Jesus Christ. For the Word made flesh willed to share in the human fellowship (n. 32). Community as an Evolving Reality in Human History The need to belong, to be part of a larger whole, is a basic human need. The experience of community has evolved over time. Families at first came together into kinship groups of tribe and clan primarily for sur-vival. Eventually tribes and clans grew into villages. Over thousands of years the tribes/clans/villages grew into cities/states/nations. Today the nation is the predominant human grouping. But already further changes seem to be moving towards what is referred to as the "global village" (interdependent world communi!y). We become members of these groupings by birth. Formerly living closely together over a lifetime in tribe/clan/village provided an unques-tionable sense of belonging and membership. In addition, such member-ship provided a clear sense of identity, values, and life-purpose. While life in the city/state/nation continues to give some sense of belonging and membership, it is less tangible than the former. Today nationality, for most, primarily shapes neither identity, values, nor life-purpose. All must struggle to find their own. While some people today would claim membership in the "global village," this certainly is not yet a univer-sal experience. One movement in this evolution of human community seems to be towards increasing fullness, beyond any single nation, race, or culture-- towards a community of humankind in this "global village." To Chris-tian ears this would seem to have a "Kingdom" ring that Teilhard de Chardin heard better than most: As the centuries go by, it seems that a comprehensive plan is indeed be-ing slowly carried on around us. A process is at work in the uni- 590 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 verse . Through and thanks to the activity of mankind the new earth is being formed and purified and is taking on definition and clarity.2 Sociologists suggest that with the development of broader "born into" human groupings has come a proliferation of intentional groups which have provided a more tangible sense of belonging/connectedness. People choose to join such groups because they share a common purpose; for example, cause, interest, profession, problem. Intentional groups re-quire that members already have identity, values, and life-purpose. It is the shared purpose that brings people together concretely and gives them a sense of felt membership and connectedness. In these intentional groups, membership and connectedness are sustained by collaborative ac-tion as well as by personal presence and support. What we seem to have, then, evolving alongside the development of "born into" human group-ings, is the development of intentional groups. This evolutionary tracing makes clear that while communities (hu-man groupings) are constant human realities, the dynamics and processes of such groupings have been changing over time. Today the evolution of "born into" groups is moving toward more of an interdependent world-community. Rather than village or nation, the world itself is coming to be viewed as a single worldwide community in which we all are members. The obvious interrelatedness of world peace, world hunger, global economy, and so forth is an indicator that, as members of the planet earth, we share a common destiny. The devel-opment of intentional groups also illustrates the importance of shared pur-pose which brings individuals together and provides them with a sense of membership and connectedness. Changes in Religious Life Community Since Vatican II During the last twenty years, religious community has gone through many changes. One of the greatest impediments in the struggle to expe-rience true community, perhaps, is an obsession with local living as the focal point of community. In order to be free to look at community in terms of creative options, there is need to take another look at local liv-ing- what it can or cannot do now. In the past there seemed to be three factors that enabled local living situations to provide a strong sense of community: (I) Group living for many was an efficient way to support ministry. (2) It provided for most of the basic needs of the members, for example, physical (food, cloth-ing, shelter), relational (acceptance, support, companionship), spiritual (common prayer, liturgy, retreat day). (3) It gave each member a sense Hope for Community of relatedness and a strong sense of belonging due to commonly shared experiences and a clearly defined authority/obedience structure. At pre-sent these factors no longer seem operative in the same way and for the following reasons: (1) Because of increasing diversity in ministry, de-creasing involvement in corporate apostolates, and larger geographical distances, local community living is not always the most efficient arrange-ment to support ministry. More and more religious are living alone, in small groups, and with other congregations. (2) It can no longer be as-sumed that local living can adequately meet individuals' basic needs. This is due in part to an increasing diversity of lifestyles, prayer prefer-ences, work schedules, and so forth. In addition, increasing numbers of religious have discovered personally enriching relational and spiritual re-sources and experiences outside local living and even congregational life. (3) The experience of local living no longer automatically guarantees a sense of belonging/relatedness/membership. This is due, at least in part, to the decrease of commonly shared experiences and the minimizing of authority/obedience structures. In fact, for some the experience of local living has become alienating. Trying to force it seems only to make things worse. What then can people in a local living situation realistically do in terms of (I) finding support for ministry, (2) basic need satisfaction, and (3) nurturing a sense of belonging/relatedness/membership? Would it not seem to call for a change in expectations of what local living can pro-vide? In terms of finding support for ministry, might this not be more re-alistically supplemented by others with whom one is involved in the same or similar ministries both inside and outside the congregation? In terms of basic need-satisfaction: (a) Concerning physical needs, those who do live together must have some minimal compatibility; for example, as to what constitutes simplicity of lifestyle. (b) Concerning relational needs, the degree of required compatibility will depend on the degree of relationship expected. It may not be valid to expect intimacy (innermost, confidential, close relationship) or friendship (warmth, depth of feeling, affection). But it does seem valid for religious living together to expect a sense of companionship (living on good terms with one an-other). (c) Concerning spiritual needs, there must be moderate compati-bility in gathering for common prayer and basic respect for individual expressions of spirituality. As with relational needs, one cannot expect every local living situation to provide opportunities for deeper, more af-fective forms of prayer; for example, personal faith-sharing. 522 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 In terms of membership (belonging/relatedness), living together does not automatically yield a sense of belonging. Reasons for living together tend to occur more on the basis of ministry or, in some instances, on the basis of personal preference. It may be that the experience of member-ship is not dependent on living together or daily presence. Perhaps more significant, yet less frequent, coming together may be more conducive to a sense of belonging in religious life today and in the future. But there is a need for some kind of congregational structures through which mem-bers can experience belonging to the whole. Belonging in community goes beyond socializing, meeting, living, and finding comfort with one another. Community is primarily the re-sult of bondedness around a common mission. This mission is some as-pect of Christ's mission--proclaiming the kingdom of God, according to the charism of a particular congregation. Community, in this perspec-tive, means belonging to a group that continues to call members to more, to stretch, to sacrifice, to move beyond themselves. It means going more deeply into that core relationship of commitment and belonging, of be-ing able to share, support, and challenge each other at that level. It means looking beyond individual development to group development. The time may have come to make more qualitative, attitudinal as well as structural changes in order that members can identify and experience what com-munity could/should be about. Today, looking at the communal dimen-sion of our lives, we would suggest that mission can guide us in identi-fying how religious can come together so as to have a matrix from which to be sent out to serve. Religious need to feel, sense, experience mem-bership in their congregations and exercise it in interdependent (rather than dependent or independent) fashion. Psychological Development Accompanying Changes Since Vatican II As already indicated, the initial changes that followed Vatican II were primarily external adaptations; for example, changes in dress, time, and form of prayer. Still these external adaptations opened the door to more significant changes. Soon efforts moved beyond the adaptation of externals to more substantive issues of renewal. This appears to have oc-curred in three general phases which can be viewed also as stages of matu-ration. The first phase consisted of a search for congregational identity (identity statements). Contrary to earlier practices, at this phase there was an attempt to engage the participation of the entire membership. This so-licitation of individual opinions helped catalyze the disassembling of re-ligious congregations as collective entities and evoked movement toward individuality on the part of members. Hope for Community / 523 At the second phase, there were many attempts to foster personal shar-ing (for example, house meetings, prayer groups, and small-group liv-ing) and the greater development of interpersonal relationships. Although this search for intimacy took place within the local living situation and in the workplace, both in and outside the congregation, the emphasis was primarily a within-the-congregation experience. In the third phase, attention turned to writing "mission statements." During this period energies were directed more externally with greater emphasis on ministry and service to others outside the congregation. The changes which occurred in these three phases were much more significant than the external adaptations mentioned earlier. These three phases in religious life are not unlike Erikson's fifth, sixth, and seventh stages of human growth and development: Identity Formation (in ado-lescence); Intimacy (in young adulthood); and Generativity (care and serv-ice of others in adulthood).3 Viewed in this perspective, the movement of individuals and congregations through these three phases can be seen/ understood in terms of maturation. For many religious this was a neces-sary maturing process which challenged them to greater personal growth and increasing individuality. This process of maturation enabled great numbers of religious to move from earlier patterns of passivity, compli-ance, and dependency towards becoming more active, assertive, and in-dependent. Each moved through this process along her/his own path, which was appropriate because the task was increasing individuality. But the movement towards active, assertive, and independent living only paved the way for additional movement and further change. Now many religious seem stuck, stagnant, experiencing, if you will, a "stalled generativity." True generativity demands that religious con-tinue to mature and become interactive, resonant, and interdependent. But such movement cannot be executed alone. In order to make this next step, religious will need a renewed sense and experience of co~nmunity. Present Inadequacy of Local Community Living We would contend that community, as we have known it, is no longer adequate because it has been based too largely on local living. Lo-cal community living, for many, no longer has the capacity as a struc-ture to provide members with a sense of community. Whether one's liv-ing situation is positive, neutral, or negative, there remains among many religious women and men a lack of connectedness to a group which at present can challenge, inspire, provide a vision significant enough to con-tain the religious commitment of one's life. It is becoming clearer that local living situations can more appropriately address the daily basic 524 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 needs of religious members, but that they are inadequate in providing the context for their life commitment. In other words, community member-ship/ connectedness comes primarily from a sense of belonging to the larger whole. Alvin Toffler in projecting community for the future says it well: "Community is more than emotionally satisfying bonds. It re-quires strong ties between the individual and the organization. Commu-nity is absent because there is little sense of shared mission.' ,4 He con-nects the absence/loss of a sense of community with the lack of a shared sense of mission. So what can be done? How can religious meet their needs? Find sup-port for ministry? Reestablish bonds of belonging (membership)? Rather than problem-solve, as has often been done in the past, by focusing on how to "fix" local living, perhaps there is a need to step back and look at the goal of community as described earlier. Again, the purpose and path for all Christians is the kingdom of God as disciples of Jesus. Many have moved from dependence to independence and now need to move towards greater interdependence. In short, what we are suggesting is not so much structural change as a shift in perspective which can enable in-dividuals and groups to see community primarily in service of the King-dom. This, in turn, requires interdependent relating, both in order to pur-sue the group's mission and to meet the needs of members. Next Step: "Upper Room" Experiences In order to experience better a sense of membership/connectedness to the larger whole, religious must gather to profess their common be-lief in the Risen Lord. Such was the gathering of the disciples in the up-per room (Acts 2). Here we find: a coming together in fellowship; as dis-ciples (men and women); in confusion, fear, and uncertainty; united in their memory of and belief in the Risen Christ and his promise of the Spirit; gathered in prayerful support of one another; and open to the power of the Spirit who comes as gift, creates them anew, and unifies and empowers them with a passion for continuing Christ's mission-- proclaiming the kingdom of God. Perhaps what religious communities need today is a quest for simi-lar "upper room" experiences in which members can gather for prayer, reflection, celebration, and support. Conditions for "Upper Room" Experiences The kind of experiences we are suggesting basicallyrequires events at which members gather not just to attend, but to participate in local, regional, and congregational events for significant exchanges around mis-sion and the means for pursuing it. Not only is the topic of mission ira- Hope for Community/525 portant, but so also is the process of gathering. It, too, should mirror the Kingdom. This calls for approaches that will enable people to pray/reflect/ interact in such a way that mutual experiences can become disclosures of God's actions and invitations to a further "uncovering" of the King-dom. This implies sharing prayer at deeper levels, prayer proceeding from the very experiences of life and ministry in this incarnational King-dom. It also calls for celebrations of life together--its joys and sorrows, successes and failures, hopes and fears. In short, what is reflected upon, prayed from, and celebrated needs primarily to relate to the larger per-spective of the kingdom of God. Common community events that already provide such opportunities include: renewal/retreat programs, convocations, chapters, regional meet-ings, professions, jubilees, funerals, missioning ceremonies, and litur-gical and paraliturgical services commemorating special feasts and events. Perhaps even committee meetings have Kingdom potential! In ad-dition, there are larger ecclesial, ecumenical, and civic events to which religious groups could bring and find Kingdom perspectives. These perspectives hopefully can point to attitudes, dispositions, val-ues for preferable futures that include: a passion for the Kingdom per-meating not just the matter covered, but also the manner of the sharing (with reverent honesty); a spirit of sacrifice and compromise that allows people to let go of fixed positions (not of principle or conviction how-ever!) that might impede plausible steps for now (discernment is a mat-ter of when as well as what!); a determination to love each other until all embrace the same truth; a hunger for justice and peace tempered by compassion; a profound respect for freedom with accountability; a per-sistent quest of unity while preserving diversity. "Upper Room" Dynamics Some dynamics for gatherings that might further the Kingdom would include: (I) commonly accepted agenda that concern significant issues; (2) "contemplative listening" that would value periods of silence and listening with the heart; (3) sincere reverence for the opinions and espe-cially for the experience of others; (4) sensitive sharing that helps per-sons speak the truth in love with the authority of their own experience, yet with a certain tentativeness and humility; (5) seeking to build con-sensus rather than deciding by vote, which tends to create division be-tween "winners" and "losers." Obstacles to "Upper Room" Experiences There are, of course, obstacles to such "upper room" experiences. 526 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 Most seriously obstructive to any effbrt towards greater interdependence in community is a certain immobility resulting from a loss of belief the mission and of hope in the future of community. Unfortunately there are those who have become victims of the inevitability of probable fu-tures and who are unable or unwilling to live into the Paschal Mystery in present diminishments as the prelude to new life. There are lesser resistances of varying degrees. On the one hand, there are some who desire to restore past forms of community life rather than to renew them. Those inclined this way tend to depend on others (usually in authority) to tell them how. These are often angry, depressed, apathetic, or passively aggressive in resisting change. On the other hand, there are those who have opted for more independent styles of living and working and who .are reluctant to forgo individual paths or alternate groups which have claimed prior allegiance of membership. Many of these not only are frustrated, but have become increasingly more alien-ated and indifferent to the community; some have a pervasive resistance to the accountability true interdependence requires. Then, of course, there are obstacles from the logistics of coming to-gether- with considerations of distance, expense, ministerial commit-ments, depletion of energy, and so forth. A formidable deterrent also is the memory of poor past experiences at meetings that have not only fallen short, but have also been destructive, of "upper room" experi-ences. Signs of Hope for the Future In seeking signs of hope for the future of intentional faith communi-ties, we would point to some significant developments that perhaps fall within the range of probable futures. Some are occurring outside religious life as such and even beyond the confines of the Roman Catholic Church. In general, there is a grow-ing consciousness of and desire for the "global village" especially among those committed to nuclear deterrence and ecological balance. Common causes of justice and peace (kingdom of God among us) have brought together various religious groups into organizations like the In-terfaith Center for Corporate Responsibility. What seems to be a wide-spread quest for deeper interiority (kingdom of God within us) has stimu-lated ecumenical attempts to nurture prayer and to train spiritual di-rectors; for example, Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, in Wash-ington, D.C. A particularly striking phenomenon is the emergence of "new com-munities" like Taiz6 and L'Arche which bear some common character- Hope for CommuniO, / fi27 istics including: inspiration from existing spiritual traditions; the follow-ing of Christ as proposed by the Gospel; equality among the members as regards sex, state in life, and ministry; ecumenical membership with-out loss of confessional identity; cordial relations with Church authori-ties; a place for couples and children; a strong sense of presence among others; a readiness to adapt to changing situations; commitment to com-munity linked to commitment to each person's ministry; decisions by dis-cernment and shared responsibility; gradual movement towards perma-nent commitment with room for temporary association; a nonjudgmen-tal spirit; varying degrees of involvement in community; and a spirit of hospitality.5 Some developments are occurring within religious life itself. Evi-dences of these are intercongregational endeavors on a national scale like the LCWR (Leadership Conference of Women Religious), the CMSM (Conference of Major Superiors of Religious Men), and Network. Lo-cally and regionally there are examples of collaboration like intercom-munity novitiate programs and union theological schools. Along less formal lines, intercommunity and even interdenomina-tiona~ support groups are emerging among people involved in ministries like spiritual formation and spiritual direction. Within congregations themselves, internal support groups (of mem-bers from different local communities) seem to be increasing, as do pro-grams of lay affiliation and the utilization of lay volunteers. Conclusion The future belongs to those who dare to hope and who are willing to commit themselves to help shape it. Some questions that members of religious communities might ask themselves in fashioning such a future are: To what extent is our life together focused on the Kingdom? How can our gatherings be more like "upper room" experiences? What atti-tudes/ behaviors/dynamics do we need to make them so? What obstacles hinder it? What signs do we see (inside or outside the congregation) of the Kingdom being uncovered? Where do members feel nudges towards further corporate transformation (conversion) in moving in the direction of a greater Kingdom-orientation? The concluding lines of Lillian Smith's Journey6 articulate some questions perhaps pertinent for those who would help shape the preferable futures of community life: A century from now, what shall be said of our journey in these times? And who shall the shapers have been'? . . . Who shall have shaped the future more? The hopeful dreamers who were strong enough to suffer 528 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 for the dream? Or the fearful pessimists who were convinced that dream-ing and hope are for sleepers only, not for those awake to the age? A century from now, shall hope and humor been strong enough to enable living with unanswerable questions? Or shall the pain that a tran-sitional age necessarily brings have caused a retreat to old answers that no longer acknowledge new questions'? A century from now, we shall have indeed journeyed . . . backward or forward. Direction can no longer be given by circumstance; real journeyers know that the direction is always chosen by those who make the journey. Who shall choose the direction? ¯ . . So the question is still the same . A century from now, what shall be said of our human journey in these times? And who shall the shapers have been? NOTES ~ R. P. McBrien, Catholicism (Minneapolis: Winston, 1980), p. 907. 2 p. Teilhard de Chardin, Hymn of the Universe (New York: Harper and Row, 1961), p. 93. 3 E. H. Erikson, Identity: Youth attd Crisis (New York: Norton, 1968), pp. 128- 139. 4 See A. Toffler, The Third Wave (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1980), p. 384. 5 New Beginnings (Reprint from Bulletin 92, Pro mundi vita, spring 1983; Washing-ton, D.C.: Religious Formation Conference). 6 Lillian Smith, The Journey (New York: Norton, 1954). Finding Prayer in Action John R. Welsh, S.J. After a considerable career in high-school work in the South, Father Welsh became a pastor in New Orleans and then in Brazil, where he has also given retreats and par-ish missions. At present he is the director of the Apostleship of Prayer for the arch-diocese of S~.o Paulo. He may be addressed at Patio do Col~gio, 84:01016 S~o Paulo, S.P.; Brazil. The most abiding challenge to those who direct the prayer life of people in "active" apostolates or engaged in pastoral activity has to be that of indicating the relevance of prayer within the context of apostolic action. "Relevance" may not be the most apt word to denote that vague, haunt-ing feeling that somehow the period of my formal prayer ought to "say something" or "bear upon" all the rest of my day, devoted to activity. I use "relevance" rather to connote through an association of images, instead of trying to define precisely what we all sense: that prayer and action, certainly as an ideal, are conjoined. On the other hand, in offering these reflections of a method for con-sciously uniting our activity with our prayer, I prefer to use the language of precision and definition. Supposing agreement that in day-to-day prac-tice we rarely advert to definitions and hardly at all do so with any pre-cision, I hope in what follows to awaken in readers a sense that "I'm already doing that"; then, through some precision, to help them to at-tend more reflectively on its advantages in prayer-action dynamics. In other words, this article has no pretensions of describing a brand-new method, but only of setting out in a descriptive way the interaction or relevance of prayer and apostolate. Circular Interaction The interaction may be imagined as circular, starting with (a) prayer, 529 530 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 (b) going on rounds of activities, and (c) closing the day with reflection. True, these three "instants" are well known and practiced widely. What makes of them a dynamic is the interconnection, the uniting, of each "in-stant" with the others and thus a closing of the circuit, so to speak. It is on the value of this "fitting together" of prayer-action-reflection that I am focusing. (a) The "prayer" I speak of is simply the time of formal prayer at the start of the day, the morning meditation or set of prayers or readings which are often done in common, either as preparation for the Eucharist or within the Liturgy of the Hours. It comprises both "hearing the word of the Lord" and "pondering on it in one's heart"; listening to the Lord and responding as that word motivates and arouses sentiments in my heart. As a simple illustration, I fix attention in morning prayer on a chal-ice on the altar as a symbol of my daily offering to Christ in union with the Holy Sacrifice offered "from the rising to the set of the sun." (b) "Activities" include all the occupations of the day, be they study, raising children, teaching, nursing, directing, counseling, travel-ing, attending planning sessions, doing business, or keeping house. Here it is vital that the sentiments evoked in prayer "overflow" and stream into the kind of person who is performing the tasks of the day. To put it another way, the one who prayed earlier should be saturated in the af-fectivity or the spirit that the prayer stimulated and in this spirit continue thinking, feeling, and deciding; and, of course, he or she should act and judge and treat others in that same spirit. Continuing the illustration above (the chalice on the altar), I set out for a meeting on the other side of my vast city, choosing the wrong bus, missing the interurban train, and arriving long after the appointed time, only to discover that I have come to a parish with the same name as another in the same sector and that the.meeting, now concluding, is at the other parish, a good two miles distant. Staying where I have arrived, I visit the staff of a recreational program for children, which is modeled on a type common throughout the city. Though frustrated, I sense I have made an important contact for my work, one more useful perhaps than the meeting I missed. (c) The "reflection" at the close of the day may come in many forms: examination of conscience, recitation of Evening Hour, commu-nity night prayers, an evening Mass, or a private review of the day. In this moment one passes in review the significant moments of the day's activities, letting what is "significant" come to the fore spontaneously: an image deeply impressed, a personality encountered, a conversation whose very overtones I recall, or the salient emotional tone of the day, Finding Prayer in Action ! 531 such as anguish, euphoria, anger, frustration, or quiet satisfaction in un-folding events. Reverting to the illustration I have been using: late at night I look back on my day. Th~ sentiments of frustration tinged with resentment somehow evoke the Lord's challenging words to the two "sons of thunder": "Can you drink the chalice that I will drink?" And I think, this is the chalice I saw on the altar when I prayed my daily of-fering, but through the day's events now it is a chalice of frustration and incomprehension, like the one Jesus chose in union with the Father's will. Now I have, in deed and in fact, just such a chalice to complete the offering I made to the Father through this morning's words of offer-ing. Visit to a Bairro and Back Coincidentally, on the very day I was planning what to say in a con-ference on "prayer and action" to lay ministers of an impoverished com-munity on the outskirts of an important urban center in northwest Bra-zil, the events I recount below took place. My day began with a reflection on the situation of the great majority of families living in this bairro spread out all over this dry, unproduc-tive area, whose only "in

Issue 41.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1982. ; REVIEW FOR REIolGIOI.IS (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOLIS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO, © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI,IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscfip!ion U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $1"/.00 for two years. Olher countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Eou RELIC.IOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Sept./Oct., 1982 Volume 41 Number 5 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence wilh thc editor should be sent to REVII.:W FOR R~:I.,(;~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl Io Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuil Community; SI. Joseph's University; Cily Avenue at 541h SI.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~ou REL~(aOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Letters of Gratitude Robert F. Morneau In this article, Bishop Morneau is attempting an experiment, the inspiration of which he explains in his introduction. If his effort responds to a sufficient desire in the audience, he has other letters to other authors already in mind. Bishop Morneau, Auxiliary Bishop of Green Bay, has an office at Ministry to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. How many of us, well-intentioned indeed, have been moved to express gratitude for gifts received but, lacking either sufficient discipline or crowded by pressing demands, have failed to properly recognize our benefactors. I stand self-accused! Though trained in younger years to promptly send thank-you notes, distance from gracious family policies has allowed this excellent habit to diminish ,and finally disappear. This present collection of thank you letters, though long overdue, attempts to make restitution; it seeks to halt my proclivity to take things for granted. Several stimuli have served as prods in this present endeavor. One was Flannery O'Connor's The Habit of Being. l found in her collected letters a style of discourse that might be labeled "heart .talk": simple, direct and highly personal Listening in to her conversations with a variety of persons proved to be for me enriching and inspiring. A second stimulus came from a reflection of Henri Nouwen in his sensitive autobiographical piece The Genesee Diary: Meanwhile, it remains remarkable how little is said and written about letter writing as an important form of ministry. A good letter can change the day for someone in pain. can chase away feelings of resentment, can create a smile and bring jo.t, to the heart. After all, a good part of the New Testament consists of letters, and some of the most profound insights are written down in letters between people who are attracted to each other by a deep personal affection, l~tter writing is a very important art, especially for those who want to bring the good news (p. 70-71). A third and most important stimulus comes from a personal desire, i.e., a longing that others might meet some of the people who have touched my life. 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Their wisdom and gifts are too valuable to remain on shelves, collecting dust while our spirits remain famished. These jottings of mine are means to an end. They attempt to draw the reader to lovingly pursue the .full text of each author addressed. The passages 1 have included are merely hors d'oeuvres; the main course lies in the books themselves. Our libraries contain a wealth of material that boggles the mind How to be selective in such a rich mine; what gems to carry out and which to leave behind? The choice, like all choices, causes us joy in the books withdrawn, sorrow at what must be foregone because of our limitations. But then there are other seasons for further reading and future generations to ponder other authors. Three letters are contained in this series. The first is written to Julian of Norwich (b. 1342 - d. 1416). In her masterpiece of spiritual literature, Showings, Julian articulates how God revealed himself in her life. Her work is marked by clarity and depth, compassion and keen sensitivit.v, theological precision and accu-racy. The work is a deep personal witness of how the human heart is touched b), divine love. The second letter is addressed to Simone Weil. She lived from 1909 to 1943. She was a brilliant mathematician and philosopher and became deeply involved in social and political issues. Though attracted to Catholicism, she never was received into the Church. Her writings show deep sensitivity and keen intelli-gence. Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American essayist and poet, is the recipient of the third letter. He lived from 1803 to 1882. His essays are filled with poetic insight and challenging convictions. He was a gifted man who articulated well the inner journey. Hopefully, these letters will draw us into a deeper appreciation of three who journeyed before us. Hopefully, too, we will be challenged to read the primary sources. Julian Norwich, England Dear Julian, I write in gratitude for your spiritual journal which has touched the heart of the human condition in many ~vays. For those who are skeptical of private revelations, and I am one of them, your writings indicate that such workings of God are authentic when received and expressed in grace. I would like to share now some of the themes and reflections that touch my spirit. Your God! Courteous, accessible and familiar! At the heart of such a theology is your intense awareness of a God whose love is personal, a God who waits and longs for us, his people. I noted that you used the adjective "courteous" of God well over fifty .times, driving home the point of his graciousness and intense affectivity. How attractive this is: to be drawn by love to God rather than to be exposed to harsh attributes of anger and wrath. And what a struggle you had to Letters of Gratitude / 645 find the compatibility between wrath in God and his rich courtesy. Yet your sense of sin and the necessity of mercy permeate all your writings. Sin is offensive to God indeed; yet his love comes to our sinfulness in mercy and healing. The God you experienced is indeed the God of Scripture. You are now famous, you know, for calling God "mother." More specifically, you applied this term to Jesus because it is through him that we are reborn and nurtured in our new life. He carries us, as a mother does her child, in fruitful pregnancy. Based on this analogy of birth, nurturing and pregnancy, the only fitting term is "mother." Hopefully, this beautiful image will not be lost because of myopic imagination or airtight theologies. In your life of seclusion, the charge might be made in our age of high social consciousness that you lived a truncated spirituality. However, your reflections constantly call people to virtue, the practical living out in specific ways the love of God experienced in prayer. Moreover, you often use the expression "fellow-Chris-tians" which indicates that you were deeply concerned about all people. Thomas Merton once stated that he never felt so close to God and his fellow pilgrims as when he was in solitude. That paradoxical experience was also part of your life and you shared it with us well. Speaking of well-ness! A constant refrain is that "all will be well." Time and time again you drive us back to the mystery of providence and the demand for trust in the Lord. The great deed of God will be to bring about total healing of .history and creation. We stand too close to pain to realize this but you had. the faith to believe in the darkness. Indeed, faith is the ability to say "I know that you know." Yet in the darkness of our pain and frailty we want all to be well now, unable and unwilling to accept the woe that comes our way. Again you call us to a central spiritual truth: well-being or woe is not the heart of the matter, rather it is doing the will of the Father. In this lies all holiness and peace. You are a good teacher. Through the analogy of a hazelnut (183), you draw together the mysteries of being created, loved and preserved; the image of a knot (284), points out the tremendous bonding between God and ourselves; at the bottom of the sea (193) you remind us of God's continual presence; in the magnifi-cent image of the city (337) you point out how God dwells forever in our inner abode; in the analogy of the king-servant (188ff) we are present with the familiar and personal working relationship between the Creator and his creature. Add to these pictures of wounds, a purse, the ground, a gardener, a citadel, and you bring us through images into insight. These delightful mental "buckets" help us to retain a wealth of truth and theology. Romanticism gives way to realism because you lived constantly in the shadow of the cross and the experience of suffering that such discipleship entails. You longed to taste.the sufferings of Jesus, your Beloved. Thus your spiritual life was a mixture of consolation and desolation; you accepted this as your Savior did in his life. Very helpful is your description of the alternating movements of the spirits and the constant challenge to accept either with equal peace of mind. Our natural inclination is to flee pain, poverty and deprivation; grace allows us to endure and 644 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 participate in this dark side of life and thereby make great spiritual progress. Attitude of mind is crucial; grace is necessary to train us in proper disposition. The fact that we have little or no control over the alternating spirits deep within adds its own unique cross. Acceptance of this fact is a key to spiritual maturity. In what lies happiness? What is heaven? You respond to these questions with directness and simplicity. Heaven is Jesus: happiness is found in personal relation-ships with our God and his creation. Having things is replaced by being possessed by Love. Being is more significant than doing, though the latter will follow freely when love is embraced. Further, God's bliss is in us--we are his delight, his bliss, his crown. What magnificent mutuality here! God's countenance never changes, his eyes are always filled with love, his smile is graciously upon us. A God who delights in his creatures--you have repeated well the message of the psalmist. Central to our relationship with God is prayer. I really enjoyed your distinction between higher and lower contemplation (339), the former focusing on God's love and causing spiritual joy and delight, the latter gazing upon sin and keeping us in reverential fear and holy shame. What a beautiful balance, a trait that is discernible throughout your writings. Indeed, without contemplation we begin to distance ourselves from our subjective experience and thus from the Lord. Yet he remains ever close; we must be disposed to hear and respond to his slightest touch. Two last points are of great interest to me: the constant reference to divine indwelling and the seeking/finding theme. God has, in his inscrutable providence, decided to make his home within our being. From this flows an incomprehensible dignity that we are challenged to attend to. With such a guest, how reverently we should live! It is because of our blindness and insensitivity that we fail many times to live within this presence. Then too, Julian, you speak of two movements that are of great importance: seeking the Lord and finding him. For you indicate that in the finding we receive consolation and deep joy; in the seeking, the Lord is pleased and delighted. Both are good, yet what is central is the Lord's will. Thus if we are to find the Lord, then we should rejoice in such a grace. Come what may, it is recognizing and doing God's will that determines sanctity. For your lightness of touch, for your sharing of faith vision, for your modeling of prayer, for your gentle humanness, I thank you. With deep affection, RFM Happiness Contentment For until I am substantially united to him, I can never have perfect rest or true happiness, until, that is, 1 am so attached to him that there can be no created thing between my God and me. (183) For this is the loving yearning of the soul through the touch of the Holy Spirit. from the understanding which I have in this revelation: God, of your goodness give me yourself, for you are enough for me, and I can ask for nothing which is less which can pay you full worship. And if I ask anything which is less, always I am in want; but only in you do I have everything. (184) Letters of Gratitude / 845 God's Will Relativity Pleasing God ¯. and therefore we may with reverence ask from our lover all that we will, for our natural will is to have God, and God's good will is to have us, and we can never stop willing or loving until we possess him in the fullness of joy. And there we can will no more, for it is his will that we be occupied in knowing and loving until the time comes that we shall be filled full in heaven¯ (186) But the reason why it seemed to my eyes so little was because I saw it in the presence of him who is the Creator. To any soul who sees the Creator of all things, all that is created seems very little¯ (190) And this vision taught me to understand that the soul's constant search pleases God greatly¯ For it cannot do more than seek, suffer and trust. And this is accomplished in every soul, to whom it is given by the Holy Spirit. And illumination by finding is of the Spirit's special grace, when it is his will. Seeking with faith, hope and love pleases our Lord, and finding pleases the soul and fills it full of joy. And so I was taught to understand that seeking is as good as contemplating, during the time that he wishes to permit the soul to be in labor. It is God's will that we seek on until we see him, for it is through this that he will show himself to us, of his special grace, when it is his will. And he will teach a soul himself how it should bear itself when it contem-plates him, and that is the greatest honor to him and the greatest profit to the soul, and it receives most humility and other virtues, by the grace and guidance of the Holy Spirit¯ For it seems to me that the greatest honor which a soul can pay to God is simply to surrender itself to him with true confidence, whether it be seeking or contemplating. These are the two activities which can be seen in this vision: one is seeking, the other is contemplating. Seeking is common to all, and every soul can have through grace and ought to have discretion and teaching from Holy Church¯ It is God's will that we receive three things from him as gifts as we seek¯ The first is that we seek willingly and diligently without sloth, as that may be with his grace, joyfully and happily, without unreasonable depression and useless sorrow. The second is that we wait for him steadfastly, out of love for him, without grumbling and contending against him, to the end of our lives, for that will last only for a time¯ The third is that we have great trust in him, out of complete and true faith, for it is his will that we know that he will appear, suddenly and blessedly, to all his lovers. For he works in secret, and he will be perceived, and his appearing will be very sudden¯ And he wants to be trusted, for he is very accessible, familiar and courte-ous, blessed may he be. (195-196) And in this my understanding was lifted up into heaven, where I saw our Lord God as a lord in his own house, who has called all'his friends to a splendid' feast. Then I did not see him seated anywhere in his own house; but ! saw him reign in his house as a king and fill it all full of joy and mirth, gladdening and consoling his dear friends with himself, very familiarly and courteo.usly, with wonderful melody in endless love in his own fair blissful countenance, which glorious countenance fills all heaven full of the joy and Citations are reprinted from Julian of Norwich, Showings. trans, by Edmund Colledge, O.S.A., and James Walsh, S.J., © 1978 by The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New York, used by permission of Paulist Press. 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Dryness of Spirit bliss of the divinity. (203) This vision was shown to teach me to understand that some souls profit by experiencing this. to be comforted at one time, and at another to fail and to be left to themselves. God wishes us to know that he keeps us safe all the time, in sorrow and in joy; and sometimes a man is left to himself for the profit of his soul, although his sin is not always the cause. For in this time I committed no sin for which I ought to have been left to myself, for it was so sudden. Nor did I deserve these feelings of joy, but our Lord gives it freely when he wills, and sometimes he allows us to be in sorrow, and both are one love. For it is God's will that we do all in our power to preserve our consolation, for bliss lasts forevermore, and pain is passing, and will be reduced to nothing for those who will be saved. Therefore it is not God's will that when we feel pain we should pursue it in sorrow and mourning for it, but that suddenly we should pass it over, and preserve ourselves in the endless delight which is God. (205) And when we fall back into ourselves, through depression and spiritual blindness and our experience of spiritual and bodily pains, because of our frailty, it is God's will that we know that he has not forgotten us. (307) For our courteous Lord does not want his servants to despair because they fall often and grievously: for our falling does not hinder him in loving us. (245) Our Lord wants us to have true understanding, and especially in three things which belong to our prayer. The first is with whom and how our prayer originates. He reveals with whom when he says: I am the ground: and he reveals how by his goodness, because he says: First it is my will. As to the second, in what manner and how we should perform our prayers, that is that our will should be tuned, rejoicing, into the will of our Lord. And he means this when he says: I make you to wish it. As to the third; it is that we know the fruit and the end of our prayer, which is to be united and like to our Lord in all things. (250-251) II Simone Weil France Dear Simone, l write in gratitude for your essays touching on a wide range of experience: God's presence in our human condition, the plight of the worker, the meaning of affliction, the purpose of s~tudy, the struggle for justice, the future of political and economic systems. You speak from felt experience, keenly analyzing the causes and effects of human proclivities and aberrations. Provocative, inspiring, challeng-ing all, your reflections have touched many minds and hearts; your sensitive spirit has provided both theoretical and practical implications that continue to have impact on our times. Letters of Gratitude A trait that strikes me deeply is your candidness in addressing personal and collective issues. In regard to your spiritual life, you were drawn toward Catholi-cism but felt that you could not accept that stirring because in so doing you would remove yourself from large segments of the human family. While failing to see the logic of your conclusion, 1 respect your unwillingness to compromise, your com-mitment to principle. Your courage is impressive. Besides personal honesty in terms of your own life-style, you take on systems that oppress and exploit the fundamental rights of people. A deep sense of responsibility toward the common good and a powerful vision of human solidarity made you cry out wherever the dignity of people was threatened or.injured. Human respect did not paralyze you; you were willing to pay the price in your hunger and thirst for justice. A related but distinct theme is your profound insight into the philosophic patterns of means-end. The ultimate evil is to reverse the order of reality: turning means into ends (138). This principle explains so much of life. Other authors concur with your observation but from slightly different angles: C. $. Lewis warns of getting caught on Christianity (creeds, codes, cults) and' forgetting about Christ; he notes elsewhere how writers begin to focus more on how they say things rather than the truth which is the end of all discourse. Pope John Paul 11 speaks about techhology enslaving the person whenever humans fail to exercise their proper responsibility over the instruments that they have created. All in all, exploitation and manipulation are the consequences of failing to allow'the goal to govern the process. Such a failure fosters death, not life. By profession you did spend some time teaching. In writing about this most noble vocation you articulated a thesis that all study, by its very nature, is directed toward the love of God and is a preparation for that love. The inner dynamism of the process contains the power of contemplation, that human act of loving atten-tiveness that puts us into intimate contact with reality. All study is an exercisein attention; attention is a form of contemplation: contemplation is essentially a union with reality whose ultimate source is God. In faith we bglieve that all creation in some way manifests the Creator. Thus your thesis has a firm theologi-cal basis. Regardless of the discipline, be it anthropology, sociology or literature, attentiveness to the reality exposed by these studies is indirectly preparing the alert student to love of God. What joy this is for the faith-filled teacher; what a surprise to the atheist who unwittingly leads the searching student into the embrace of God. Shakespeare once wrote: "Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel." You worked in a factory and understood from experience many of the trials of human life. From the inside you struggled with need and pain, small joys and unhappy compensations. Choice, not necessity, drew you into this world. To the extent that you did not need to remain in the w~rld of wretches, possessing the necessary resources both intellectually and materially to exit at will, there was a tinge of unreality in such a choice. Not all the strings were cut. Regardless, you tasted the full range of boredom, anomie and meaninglessness that result from situations in which people are no longer dealt with as persons but are treated as objects or machines. It was from this posture that you prophetically demanded reform in 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 systems that impinged negatively on the hearts and dignity of people. Your words continue to challenge our generation, caught by a vast technological network that threatens our freedom and enslaves our spirits. A special influence in your life was a poem by George Herbert entitled "Love." While concentrating with great effort on the inner meaning of this distant, sensitive man's beautiful verse, you encountered the Lord. Drawn into the dialogue of the poem your heart was captured and held fast. The intimacy and indwelling articu-lated by HerbertAake us to the heart of faith: a deep personal relationship with God that provides a basis for discipleship. The struggle expressed between the invitation to be with God and one's sense of unworthiness, between resting in the Lord and being busy with one's duties and responsibilities, between allowing God to be God and trying to control the flow of lives--all these apparently were part of your existential experience. In a single short poem, crucial life issues were raised and given a resolution: to live in his presence. Eternal joy is contingent upon our individual responseto this challenge. The ways in which God touched your life were as many as the ways in which he used you to influence others. Your awareness of this sensitive process is de-scribed by the term "instrumentality." Through various persons, seen precisely as channels of grace, the Lord made his presence felt: Fr. Perrin acting as friend-counselor transmitted a sense of faith; Homer writing in The Iliad shared a scope of reality and human interaction that enriched your sense of meaning; close friends, intervening at key moments in your life, made visible divine love in word and deed. Having known the divine presence, you in turn shared, through your finely honed gifts, your interpretation of that experience. The Creator and creature in dynamic mutuality! St. Francis' prayer experienced and lived! All of us who have read your works know firsthand the power, meaning and joy of this instrumentality. Sincerely, R.F.M. Friendship Fear But the greatest blessing you have brought me is of another order. In gaining my friendship by your charity (which 1 have never met anything to equal), you have provided me with a source of the most compelling and pure inspiration that is to be found among human things. For nothing among human things has such power to keep our gaze fixed ever more intensely upon God, than friendship for the friends of God. (19) Everybody knows that really intimate conversation is only possible between two or three. As soon as there are six or seven, collective language begins to dominate. That is why it is a complete misinterpretation to apply to the Church the words "Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Christ did not say two hundred, or fifty, or ten. He said two or three. He said precisely that he always forms the third in the intimacy of the tete-a-tete: (23) As always happens, mental confusion and passivity leave free scope to the imagination. On all hand~ one is obsessed by a representation of social life Letters of Gratitude Prayer Joy Presence Unhappiness Expression which, while differing considerably from one class to another, is always made up of m~,,steries, occult qualities, myths, idols and monsters; each one thinks that power resides mysteriously in one of the classes to which he has no access, because hardly anybody understands that it resides nowhere, so that the dominant feeling everywhere is that dizzy fear which is always brought about by loss of contact with reality. (37) The key to a Christian conception of studies is the realization that prayer consists of attention. It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God. The quality of the attention counts for much in the quality of prayer. Warmth of heart cannot make up for it. (44) The intelligence can only be led by desire. For there to be desire, there must be pleasure and joy in the work. The intelligence only grows and bears fruit in joy. The joy of learning is as indispensable in study as breathing is in running. Where it is lacking there are no real students, but only poor caricatures of apprentices who, at the end of their apprenticeship, will not even have a trade. (48) Not only does the love of God have attention for its substance; the love of neighbor, which we know to be the same love, is made of this same substance. Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one's attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing: it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. Nearly all those who think they have this capacity do not possess it. Warmth of heart, impulsiveness, pity are not enough . The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ~What are you going through?". This way of looking is first of all attentive. The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he is, in all his truth. (51) Nothing is more difficult to know than the nature of unhappiness: a residue of mystery will always cling to it. For, following the Greek proverb, it is dumb. To seize its exact shadings and causes presupposes an aptitude for inward analysis which is not characteristic of the unhappy. Even if that aptitude existed in this or that individual, unhappiness itself would balk such an activity of thought. Humiliation always has for its effect the crea-tion of forbidden zones where thought may not venture and which are shrouded by silence and illusion. When the unhappy complain, they almost always complain in superficial terms, without voicing the nature of their true discontent; moreover, in cases of profound and permanent unhappi-ness, a strongly developed sense of shame arrests all lamentation. Thus, every unhappy condition among men creates the silent zone alluded to, in which each is isolated as though on an island. Those who do escape from the island will not look back. The exceptions turn out almost always to be more apparent,than real. (64) No thought attains to its fullest existence unless it is incarnated in a human environment, and by environment I mean something open to the world around, something which is steeped in the surrounding society and is in contact with the whole of it, and not simply a closed circle of disciples Citations are reprinted with permission from the book The Sirnone Weil Reader. edited by George Panichas, © 1977. Published by David McKay Co., Inc. 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Silence Suffering Joy Instrumentality Idea Suffering Failings around a master. (84) The whole of space is filled, even though sounds can be heard, with a dense silence which is not an absence of sound but is a positive sound object of sensation; it is the secret world, the world of Love who holds us in his arms from the beginning. (87) I am convinced that affliction on the one hand, and on the other hand joy, when it is a complete and pure commitment to perfect beauty, are the only two keys which give entry to the realm of purity, where one can breathe: the home of the real. But each of them must be unmixed: the joy without a shadow of incompleteness, the affliction completely unconsoled. You understand me, of course. That divine love which one touches in the depth of affliction, like Christ's resurrection through crucifixion, that love which is the central core and intangible essence of joy, is not a consola-tion. It leaves pain completely intact . for anyone in affliction, evil can perhaps be defined as being everything that gives any consolation. (92-93) We know that joy is the sweetness of contact with the love of God, that affliction is the wound of this same contact when it is painful, and that only the contact matters, not the manner of it. (107) It is more suitable for some thoughts to come by direct inspiration; it is more suitable for others to be transmitted through some creature. God uses either way with his friends. It is well-known that no matter what thing, a donkey for instance, can be used as agent without making any difference. It pleases God perhaps to choose the most worthless objects for this purpose. I am obliged to tell myself these things so as not to be afraid of my own thoughts. (110) Now, everybody knows from his own experience how unusual it is for an abstract idea having a long-term utility to triumph over present pains, needs and desires. It must, however, do so in the matter of social existence, on pain of a regression to a primitive form of life. (150) ¯ . . for the understanding of human suffering is dependent upon justice, and love is its condition. (181) In private life also, each of us is always tempted to set his own failings to a certain extent, on one side. relegate them to some attic, invent some method of calculation ~hereby they turn out to be of no real consequence. To give way to this temptation is to ruin the soul; it is the one above all, that has to be conquered. (187) III Ralph Waldo Emerson New England Dear Mr. Emerson, I write in gratitude for the brilliant essays that have flown so freely from your generous pen. Few subjects escape your incisive gaze and contemplative spirit. Letters of Gratitude / 65"1 History, personalities, nature, culture, education, politics, religion have all elicited your comments and artistic revelation. Lecture halls in America and Europe still reecho with the sound of your voice; the mind and heart of many a transcendental-ist quiver with awe at your observations. Even the woods and hills of New England have never been the same since your vision of their very essence. The inward journey! If for no other reason than this, your writings challenge our achievement-oriented generation and activistic culture to reexamine its values and life-style. Prime time and energy must be budgeted for personal interior renewal. You model well for us here. Interiority was a way of life which you evidenced by the depth of your writing. Your words come from a source far beyond your own power; one can sense this in the tone of your discourse. Your contemplative stance presents a viable option for many of us desirous of a life-style radically different from the one offered by our culture. Another world that is not primarily concerned with productivity and external achievements is available to anyone who desires it. Your life makes present such a choice and, though fear of the interior life remains, your courageous entrance instills hope. "Self-Reliance" is a most powerful essay. You state that the divine spark resides in all of us and tends to be activated in sporadic moments. All have the potential in varying degress for genius--those with developed artistic skills express that genius in some visible-audible manner. My understanding of your meaning of self-reli-ance is not that we are called to some solitary, stoical, individualistic self-suffi-ciency; but rather, that we are motivated to get in touch with our deepest self, far beyond the superficial narrowness of our surface self and find therein a wealth that is wedded to the life force (what we call in theological terms, God). Such an analysis would imply that not to have self-reliance would be to cut oneself off from the source of existence. Your abhorrence of conformity and false consistency is well taken at this point. A failure to live from internalized values carries the price tag of no personal identity, a price paid by too many. Healthy and authentic self-reliance fosters true identity and its accompanying freedom. Initially, I struggled with your style--philosophic, at times highly abstract and tight. Profundity and clarity are seldom happily married because of the mysterious nature of reality. The closer one is to truth the more difficult becomes its expres-sion. Simplicity gets covered by human discourse. The mental challenge to reach beyond any style is well worth the effort. Your writings contain a spirit of deep tension between the individual and collective whole, between personal freedom and authoritarian structures, between self and institutions. You are clearly committed to the first value in each set, i.e., the individual, freedom and self. This seems so obvious that the advantages and importance of the common good are not given full weight, the necessity of some structures containing an authority is not fully appreciated, the role that a given institution can play in fostering life fails to be properly valued. Your own expe-rience of leaving the institutional ministry may have had much to do with your outlook. Perhaps the delicate balance between complementary sets of values can-not be maintained by a prophetic spirit such as yours. An implicit principle of 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 nature indicates that the development in one direction of our giftedness entails the underdeveloping of others. Such is reality. Thus the experience of your own genius would not allow outer pressures to thwart its expression. The negative and re-straining forces within institutional structures, the decisions of authority and the challenges of social concerns--all thirsting for precious time and energy--weighed so heavily in your judgment that their advantages had to be forfeited. Your piercing intellect cut through what is extraneous in human experience into its heart, the essence of things. In succinct, pithy phrases, you captured principles and patterns of universal significance, thus shedding light on complex experiences and bringing joy to the spirit which perceives but lacks words to articulate its insight. In a single essay many such phrases reside, awaiting discovery by the thirsting soul. For example, in "Compensation" we read: Nature hates monopolies and exceptions. There is a crack in every thing God has made. Fear is an instructor of great sagacity and the herald of all revolutions. Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass. It is the nature of the soul to appreciate all things. How unfortunate that many have not stopped at your well of late. As a beneficiary of your life-giving water, ! express deep gratitude to you. Your legacy is vast and varied: intellectual excellence of the highest quality, challenging us to develop the rich potential of our minds; historical perspective promoting a contextual vision of life; critical analysis of incisive accuracy, drawing us out of naivete into a sense of healthy criticism; personal integrity as a key goal of growth, demanding that we be true to our own giftedness; enthusiastic living of life, abhorring stagnation and the living of others' scripts; literary expertise ranging from the classic prose to the most lyrical poetry, inviting us to revisit the verbal gems of distant ~pilgrims. These qualities have influenced many: Henry David Thoreau, Emily Dickinson, and countless others. The legacy has not been forgotten. Sincerely, R.F.M. Revelation Perspective We distinguish the announcements of the soul, its manifestations of its own nature, by the term Revelation. These are always attended by the emotion of the sublime. For this communication is an influx of the Divine mind into our mind. It is an ebb of the individual rivulet before the flowing surges of the sea of life. Every distinct apprehension of this central com-mandment agitates men with awe and delight. A thrill passes through all men at the reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great action, which comes out of the heart of nature. In these communications the power to see is not separated from the will to do, but the insight proceeds from obedience, and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception. (269) The field cannot be well seen from within the field. The astronomer must Letters of Gratitude / 653 Hope Beauty Poet Words Beauty Wisdom Expectation Action Presence have his diameter of the earth's orbit as a base to find the parallax of any star. (285) But the man and woman of seventy assume to know a[[, they have outlived their hope, they renounce aspiration, accept the actual for the necessary and talk down to the young, Let them then become organs of the Holy Ghost; let them be lovers; let them behold truth: and their eyes are uplifted. their wrinkles smoothed, they are perfumed again with hope and power. (289) Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not. (309) Too feeble fall the impressions of nature on us to make us artists. Every touch should tbrill. Every man should be so much an artist that he could report in conversation what had befallen him. Yet, in our experience, the rays or appulses have sufficient force to arrive at the senses, but not enough to reach the quick and compel the reproduction to themselves in speech. The poet is the person in whom these powers are in balance, the man without impediment, who sees and handles that which others dream of, traverses the whole scale of experience, and is representative of man, in virtue of being the largest power to receive and to impart. (321) Words and deeds are quite indifferent modes of the divine energy. Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words. (322) Wherever snow falls or water flows or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds or sown with stars, wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets into celestial space, wherever is danger, and awe. and love--there is Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou shouldst walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition inopportune or ignoble. (341) To finish the moment, to find the journey's end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. (350) I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that ! begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods. (351) Therefore all just persons are satisfied with their own praise. They refuse to explain themselves, and are content that new actions should do them that office. They believe that we communicate without speech and above speech, and that no right action of ours is quite unaffecting to our friends, at whatever distance; for the influence of action is not to be measured by miles. (358) Why should 1 fret myself because a circumstance has occurred which hinders my presence where I was expected? If I am not at the meeting, my presence where 1 am should be as useful to the commonwealth of friend-ship and wisdom, as would be my presence in that place. I exert the same quality of power in all places. (358) Reprinted from The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson edited by Brooks Atkinson. Pub-lished by Random House, Inc. 654 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Truth Joy Life Renewal Faith Avarice Truth is the summit of being: justice is the application of it to affairs. (368) On the other part, rectitude is a perpetual victory, celebrated not by cries of joy but by serenity, which is joy fixed or habitual. (370) Life goes headlong. We chase some flying scheme, or we are hunted by some fear or command behind us. But if suddenly we encounter a friend, we pause: our heat and hurry look foolish enough: now pause, now posses-sion is required, and the power to swell the moment from the resources of the heart. The moment is all. in all noble relations. (378) The criticism and attack on institutions, which we have witnessed, has made one thing plain, that society gains nothing whilst a man, not himself renovated, attempts to renovate things around him: he has become tediously good in some particular but negligent or narrow in the rest; and hypocrisy and vanity are often the disgusting result. (455) The disease with which the human mind now labors is want of faith. (458) A canine appetite for knowledge was generated, which must still be fed but was never satisfied, and this knoffledge, not being directed on action, never took the character of substantial, humane truth, blessing those whom it entered. It gave the scholar certain powers of expression, the power of speech, the power of poetry, of literary art, but it did not bring him to peace or to beneficence. (459) Address: The Contemporary Spirituality Of the Monastic Lectio by Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Poverty, Time, Solitude: A Context for a Celibate Life-style Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem. Brother Wieczorek's ~Parables and Paradigms" appeared in the July/August issue. He resides presently at the Holy Spirit House of Studies; 4841 South Woodlawn Ave.; Chicago, IL 60615. Celibacy is a dimension of a religious way of life. To be understood, therefore, celibacy must be seen in the context of religious life. The meaning of celibacy arises out of its relationship with the complementary vows of poverty and obedience, as well as out of the significance of communal life, prayer, and basic Christian virtue. Seen out of the context of all these elements, celibacy suffers a deprivation and a distortion. From the outset, it is important to be reminded that celibacy is not simply an ethic. Taken out of its context, celibacy is often reduced to being a moral direc-tive-- a negative moral directive. Celibacy is much more than a set of specific sexual mores; it is an extension of Christian virtue, a continuation of it. The sexual demeanor proper to celibacy rests upon Christian virtues and values such as respect for human dignity, single-heartedness, the sacredness of human life, a deep appreciation for what friendship and love can be, compassion, selflessness, and service. A discussion of celibacy must begin here. Before a decision can be made about living celibately, the question must be considered: What does it mean to live a Christian way of life? Am I willing to live with the restraints and limitations imposed upon me, not by celibacy, but by basic Christian values? Only after a person is willing to try to understand, accept, and live a Christian way of life can the matter of celibacy be addressed. Without this prior realization and commitment, celibacy has no context, no depth of meaning, and is left to be nothing more than just another "Thou shalt not . To see at least some part of the richness and potential of celibacy, it must be 655 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 viewed as a dedication to poverty, a devotion of time, and a dependence upon solitude. Celibacy as a Dedication to Poverty The vow of celibacy stands nearest to the vow of poverty. Hence, it is an understanding of poverty that sheds the most light upon an understanding of celibacy. If poverty as a way of life cannot be embraced, neither can celibacy. Poverty is precisely a way of living. It is much more than not having the money to buy something .To be poor means to be without many of the everyday options and opportunities that people who are not poor have. To be poor means, among other things, to live in a constant situation of restriction and limitedness. A poor person has not the option of going to a movie or a ball game, of eating apple pie or cherry, of going to one restaurant rather than another, of wearing these shoes or those, this coat or that. Very often poor people do not have these options because they do not have the physical resources that allow for them. Yet despite being deprived of these "necessities" the poor can live happy and holy lives. The fact of poverty, the force of its physical reality, compels people who are poor to live according to needs and not simply wants. Poverty can "cleanse" us of the unnecessary. It can put us into a situation where we are able to more clearly distinguish between a need and a want. Poverty can liberate us from the bondage of wants, leaving us free to pursue our true needs, those things without which we cannot fully live a human life. Poverty can be humbling by forcing us to face our needs but it can also teach us that happiness lies not in having every want satisfied but in having our true needs satisfied. Seen in this light, poverty is the paradigm for celibacy. Celibacy is not simply a deprivation, it is a way of life. Therefore, it must be a way of relating. While we can be impoverished in some ways of expressing love, we can be rich in others. After all, intimacy does not depend upon sexual expression any more than a meaningful gift depends upon price. The very restrictedness of our expression can heighten the value of a poem or letter or a simple touch or smile. Celibacy, like poverty, can teach true gratitude for the beauty and preciousness of relationships. Celibacy has the potential to "cleanse" us of what is not essential and let us see what we truly need to both give and receive from people--the trust, the sharing, the dreaming. Celibacy does not demand that we repress our needs. Rather, it points them out in bolder relief and challenges us to distinguish between the frustration caused by the deprivation of needs and that caused by the depriva-tion of our wants. It sometimes requires just as much creativity to live celibately as it does to live in poverty. Do I have the grace to express myself creatively to others? If the limitedness of deliberate impoverishment can be willfully chosen and reason for gratitude in one's life still be found, if one can be satisfied to have needs fulfilled even if wants must go unsatisfied and yet remain appreciative and joyous, then perhaps such a person truly has the grace, the call to live celibately. A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 657 Such a call is a gift. It is the nature of gifts to be both given and received. Therefore, it is quite possible to refuse the gift of celibacy. One of the most common ways of refusing celibacy is by being filled with self-pity. It is not uncommon to hear celibates of all ages bemoan their celibacy the way an amputee bemoans the loss of a limb. Like some amputee victims, celibates can easily become lost in the conviction that they are only half human, that they are not whole. The way to overcome such feelings is not by trying to prove manliness or womanliness. Rather, the challenge is to find worth and dignity in who we are, in the deeper and more lasting qualities of humanness like compassion, the ability to listen, to laugh, to be grateful, to stand outside ourselves at the service of others. Our humanness depends upon our ability to love. That we love and are loved is a need. How we love and are loved is a want. Celibates live in the poverty of not having all their wants satisfied. Celibacy means distinguishing between needs and wants, accepting what cannot be. and finding satisfaction, thanksgiving, and peace in what is. Celibacy as a Devotion of Time One thing that poverty does provide in abundance is time. Being bereft of options does free up large amounts of time. Celibacy likewise provides an abundance of time. The challenge is how that time is to be spent, what our time is to be devoted to. Celibacy, for example, frees us from the time it takes to raise a family, but what does it free us for? Ideally, perhaps, we are freed for prayer, reading, study, even the opportunity to take time to see and wonder and dream. Celibacy also frees us to serve, to be available for people. Yet if all we do is remain available for work and devote little or no time to prayer and reading, we are distorting celibacy by removing it from a critical dimension of its context. A big danger for both celibates and non-celibates is that they give themselves more to their jobs than to God and their families or communities. It is this issue, the proper use of time, that causes one of the biggest consternations for celibates. The tendency toward entrenchment in work can be an escape from intimacy, but it is also true that many of the occupations engaged in by celibates are extremely time-consuming and energy draining. Moreover, it is work which simply must be done. The tension between giving time and taking iime is not lessened by the fact that most celibates do recognize the necessity for being present to community and for entering into solitude with God. A celibate life-style that does not allow for time not only to recreate but also to read and reflect cannot give life to the celibate. Such a life-style will consume that person instead. One of the challenges and disciplines of celibacy is the proper use of time. While celibacy ought to provide time, in practice it often does not. Here, too, celibacy shows a connection with poverty. The poor guard and dispense their resources carefully, So too with the celibate's dispensing of time. Workaholism is as much a threat to celibacy as sexual licentiousness--perhaps 6511 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 even more so. Our consciences are sensiiive to the issue of sexual restraint but not to making mistresses out of our work. Our culture emphasizes efficiency, produc-tivity, and frowns upon anything that hints of wasting time. Therefore, celibates who find even a little free time quickly and perhaps unconsciously fill it in by doing more. Yet celibacy as a life-style requires time to be set aside not for doing but for being. Time is a gift many celibates refuse to accept because in part they are afraid to take it. Time only makes the loneliness echo more loudly. Time takes away excuses. It confronts us, Yet time in a celibate life-style is essential, for it provides the panorama that enables us to see what we are to move toward. It gives us the opportunity to see and address our needs. Time must be part of every celibate's life, for without that time celibacy loses its context and the solitude that nourishes celibacy cannot be obtained. While celibacy ought to provide time, it is a commod-ity which so few celibates seem to have. Yet time is an essential resource for the celibate for it alone can acquire solitude for us. Celibacy as a Dependence Upon Solitude Celibacy cannot be endured, let alone lived, without the time to enter into solitude with God. Only by freely and gratefully embracing solitude can a person find life in celibacy. Solitude is not loneliness but aloneness, time apart to be alone with oneself and with one's God. Solitude for the celibate is essential for several reasons. Solitude teaches surrender. It strips away the illusion of wants. It is a confrontation with what is real. of what is essential, of what is true. Solitude teaches sight. In the stillness of solitude we see what we would ordinarily have overlooked, assumed, or taken for granted. Through solitude, we are taught to appreciate, admire, and wonder. Solitude teaches sensitivity. Compassion comes from seeing with another's eyes. Solitude makes one hungry to enter into another's life deeply, personally, respectfully, and ge~atly. But often celibates do not embrace solitude. Instead we try to fill in our time with possessions, work. television, and peripheral friendships. Yet it is essential that celibates in particular spend time in solitude so as to spend time with God. In sqlitude we take time to share in God's aloneness. It is in solitude that we can more deeply fall in love with God. If a celibate does not put an effort into being at peace with solitude, into making a friend of solitude, not only does God become a stranger, but we become strangers to ourselves, and celibacy becomes an empty taunt and an ache. Solitude is so important for celibacy because solitude is a quiet moment with God in the privacy and intimacy of one's own heart. Solitude is the backdrop for the silence we need to hear the Word of God. Solitude is the setting for prayer.It directs our life back to God. There is some-thing about solitude that draws us back to center. If we are afraid to spend time with ourselves in the aloneness of our center, we will not come to commune with the silent places of God. The prayer that comes from solitude is the celibate's life blood. Without prayer, celibacy will not. cannot, endure. Without solitude spent with God we become A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 659 strangers to him and so to prayer. Prayer may lead us out of a celibate life-style, but without prayer the apparent emptiness and futility will drive us out of it. Solitude, far from removing us from relationships, prepares us for them. In solitude we have the setting in which to know ourselves, to see ourselves truly, to hear ourselves honestly. To enter into solitude is to venture into the truth of ourselves--be that what it may. With that knowledge we are free to interact with people as persons. With a sense of our own depths we can move toward the depths of others and together with them enter in faith into the depths of God. Conclusion For a full understanding of what celibacy is, it is important that a person move beyond the initial frustration and unnaturalness of living a life of Christian virtues and enter into the discovery of the real mystery and beauty of celibacy. Celibacy centers around accepting solitude, welcoming time, and living in gratitude. It is such things as these that make celibacy seem unnatural. It is not acceptable or typical to be poor, to have time for oneself and for prayer, or to enter willingly into the solitude of one's own soul. To so many, the "unnaturalness" of celibacy is reduced to sexual denial, the deliberate refusal to marry and raise a family. Yet these are only peripheral issues. The seriousness of these issues, however, under-scores the deeper difficulty of celibate life. Celibacy is not only an orientation away from family and spouse (which is hard enough), it must be an orientation toward poverty, time, and solitude. Celibacy itself is neither the sacrifice nor the offering. What we do with celi-bacy is. The beauty and fulfillment in celibacy is found not in what it moves us away from but in what it compels us toward. To find peace and sanctity in celibacy, it is not so important what we purposely and deliberately deny. Rather, it is much more important what we willingly and lovingly embrace. The Celibacy Experience Stephen Rossetti In May, Stephen Rossetti, author of "Psychology and Spirituality: Distinction Without Separation" (July/August, 1981), was awarded his M.A. in Theology from Catholic University, where he plans to continue in the graduate program. His mailing address is: 26 Reed Pkwy., Marcellus, NY 1310g. He who remains in Zion and he that is left in Jerusalem Will be called holy (Is 4:3). Consecrated celibacy is in crisis. The resignation of priests, sisters and brothers, many of them highly respected members of the Church, is no secret. Fear ripples through the ranks of those who have remained, as their closest friends leave to get married. A painful self-analysis naturally follows: Do we really have to be celibate? Why am I the only one left? Will it happen to me? Is celibacy only a vestige of an outmoded spirituality? Why am I still left? Some say the crisis is waning. The Diocese of Buffalo recently reported that its loss of priests and sisters from 1976-81 was only 8.1% and 4.6% respectively, compared to 21.2% and ! 7% from 197 !-76.~ While it seems that fewer are leaving, there are still fewer left in the ranks to do the necessary tasks. It is questionable whether relief is in sight. The continuing decline in priestly vocations in the United States indicates that the crisis is still with us. This past year there has been yet another decline (8.8%) in the number of U.S. theology students studying for the priesthood. These are less than half of the number of the peak years of 1966-67.2 The exodus of priests and sisters is a mult: faceted problem which is more than ~John C. Given, "Buffalo Diocese: Fewer Priests, Nuns Leaving Religious Life," Syracuse Herald- Journal, 30 December 1981, p. A-3. 2"Seminary Enrollment Drops," National Catholic Register, 20 December 1981. 660 The Celibacy Experience / 661 just a crisis in celibacy. However. the internaliTation of celibacy must be seen as a key element in any discussion of the problem. In the first half of this article, i will raise the modern problems with celibacy and look at contemporary attempts to solve this crisis. In this first section, 1 will include such key issues as the essential relationship between mysticism and inter-nalized celibacy, the lack of support for young celibates, a critical look at current discussions about celibacy, and then the important issue of intimacy in a celibate life. In the second half, 1 will attempt to resolve the modern problems with celibacy by returning to the context of mysticism and positing an approach to the subject which is both existential and scriptural. Celibacy and Mysticism In The Psychology of Loving, Ignace Lepp says that the chastity of those consecrated to Christ must be "counterbalanced by a genuinely mystical life." If it is not, there is the risk of psychic damage: The libido cannot be channeled in a different direction without injury to sexuality unless it finds itself entirely consumed in the service of higher psychic activity? There must be, then, a necessary connection between celibacy and mysticism. In our use of the word here, "mysticism" does not refer to extraordinary phenome-na such as visions or locutions, nor does it refer to the highest states of union with God. Rather mysticism, here, means a "genuine though mediated experience of encounter and communication with the personal God."4 In this sense of mystical, the experience is direct and conscious, and it involves God as person. The experience is also mediated. The word mysticism derives from the Greek word mueo. which means to initiate (as into a "hidden" mystery). The mystery can be hidden under, or mediated by, any aspect of life. However, a preeminent place must be given to the classic Christian mediations--which include Scripture, prayer, tradition, and the sacraments--most of all the Eucharist. Hidden within our ordinary life experiences is the presence of Christ. The "mystical experience" is one in which this personal encounter becomes more and more conscious. This encounter becomes stronger as the years pass and celibacy is internalized. The mystical life allows the channeling of sexual and some emotional needs into "higher psychic activity" which results in a mature celibacy. On the other hand, if the mystical life is permitted to atrophy, then a mature celibacy, if not the entire celibate life, will suffer with it. William McNamara, in his latest work, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology, believes that the mystical life is indeed atrophying, despite some evidence to the contrary: Hgnace Lepp, The Ps.vchology of Loving. trans. Bernard B. Gilligan (New York: A Mentor Omega Book, 1963), p. 213. 4Karl Rahner, ed., Encyclopedia of Theology: 7he Concise Sacramentum Mundi (New York: A Crossroad Book, The Seabury Press, 1975), p. 1009. 662 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 It is obvious that we are presently witnessing a psychical revolution, one. in many respects. that has won the approval of science (biofeedback. body consciousness, metapsychiatry. neuroscience, paraphysics, etc.) and one that could, if properly guided, improve our human condition, and expand our human consciousness immeasurably. There is little evidence. however, that a spiritual-mystical renewal is going on. despite Vatican 11 and the subsequent changes in the Church.5 If McNamara is correct, celibacy will be lost. A truly internalized celibacy, that is, a mature celibacy, requires this mystical life. If celibacy does not become mystical, if it does not grow into a mystical vision, then "God's grace" alone will not uphold the celibate. Grace builds and makes possible an authentic Christian-mystical life; it is not a supernatural substitute for our humanity. Celibacy without mysticism may degenerate inlo mere asceticism, which would be ultimately self-destructive for lack of love. McNamara goes on to say that "man is naturally contemplative. But his mystical powers, left unexercised for so long, are seriously atrophied."6 This is a serious loss for all believers since it has a direct impact on the vitality of their faith and on the development of their full humanity. However, for the celibate in particular, this situation is fatal. With an atrophied mystical life, he is likely to reject celibacy for the sake of his "sanity": he will slowly die to ministry: or he will sublimate his sexual desires in non-productive ways. ls McNamara correct in saying that we have let our mystical powers atrophy and thus we have lost an internalized celibacy? The exodus of consecrated celibates points in that direction. At any rate, in the light of the past twenty years, we can slarely say that in the present state of crisis the depth of our commitment is being tested. In previous years it might have been possible to survive in celibacy by relying on secondary supports. Today it is just not possible. Within this crisis, celibates must develop a mature, internalized love of celibacy based first and fore'most on their own mystical vision and growing encounter with the risen Christ. The state of the Church and Western society makes this absolutely necessary. Little Support for Remaining in the Celibate State Our Western culture offers little support for celibacy. In fact, it is, in some ways, the most discouraging culture possible for a celibate. It ignores religion. Our culture is essentially a-Christian (without Christianity). It would be easier to main-tain a celibate commitment in a culture that is hostile to Christianity--as in the days of the early Christians. At least one could then take heart amidst persecution and 'join" on~self to a tightly knit community of brothers and sisters totally dedi-cated to Christ while fighting an obvious, common antagonist. But today's West-ern culture ignores religion and the celibate. Heroism is more difficult in the face of 5William McNamara, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1981), p. 20. 61bid. p. 22. The Celibacy Experience disinterest than of hatred--and celibacy is a heroic life. It receives inspiration from a culture which applauds those who live it. And it flourishes when it is persecuted. But when it is ignored, it is most sorely tried. On a deeper level, however, it is not quite accurate to say that our culture is totally oblivious to Christianity. The words of the Gospel ring true: "He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters" (Lk 1 !:23). In the final analysis, it is not possible to be neutral to the message of Christ. In whatever form it is presented, explicitly or implicitly, the message of salvation will either be accepted or rejected. Our culture is no exception. Underneath its appar-ent unconcern with Christianity is a subtle barrage of counter-invitations. There are constant overt and subliminal innuendos that cannot fail to tug and tug at the Christian's sexual drives. Our society manifests a sort of cultural passive-aggressive behavior, one that seems tolerant of Christianity but is subtly waging war on its norms. Without Christ, our society loses touch with its deepest need for meaning. According to psychiatrist Viktor Frankl: What is behind the emphasis on sexual achievement and power, what is behind this will to sexual pleasure and happiness is again the frustrated will to meaning. Sexual libido only hypertrophies in an existential vacuum. The result is an inflation of sex . 7 This "inflation of sex" in our society sorely tests the strongest of celibates. The uncommitted are likely to be entrapped. Not only does our culture attack the value of celibacy, new Western attitudes also undermine previous supports for the celibate. There is a new attitude towards authority and tradition: a child-like obedience is not acceptable to the modern mind. As Victor Frankl says, "in contrast to man in former times, he is no longer told by traditions and values what he should do.'~ Likewise, those in the Church accept less and less the fact of canon law and magisterial teaching as being reason enough for remaining celibate. This changing attitude towards authority and tradi-tion is encouraged by the great upheavals within the post-Vatican II Church. The opportunities within such a freedom are great, yet there is also a concomitant increase of danger. Within such a freedom celibates are required to make their commitment their own, with little support from the culture or Church tradition. Concomitant with this rejection of authority and tradition, there is a shift in our concepts, theologies and spirituality. Words such as obedience, sacrifice, ascet-icism and sin are used less frequently. A new model has been substituted which 1 will call the "human growth" model of spirituality. This modern growth-model uses existential concepts such as freedom, human development, holistic growth, and personal responsibility. It understands development in the spiritual life as growth in love and intimacy. It stresses the importance of psychology, self-knowl- 7Viktor E. Frankl, The Unconscious God: Psychotherapy and Theology (New York: Simon and Schuster. 1975), pp. 85-86. ~ Slbid., p. 91. 6 ~4 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 edge, wholeness and all that is authentically human. This model is no doubt a positive, legitimate step in the progress toward a twentieth-century spirituality. It reacts strongly against a previous tendency to reject humanity in favor of some angelic spirituality. Nonetheless, the model has serious shortcomings, e.g., a failure to relate a mature, self-sacrificing obedience to human freedom. And with the transition from earlier models of spirituality to the human growth model, a problem has developed in our theology of celibacy. On the basis of this model it is not so easy to provide an understanding of a celibate life. Love, marriage, children are all an integral part of what it means to be fully human. Without the sharing of the deepest levels of intimacy, as between husband and wife, it would seem that the human growth of.a celibate must be stunted. Our former theology had several ways of dealing with this lack of full intimacy for celibates. For example, repeating an oft-cited idea on celibacy, the Council Fathers of Vatican I1 stated that celibate priests thereby evoke that mysterious marriage which was established by God and will be fully manifested in the future, and by which the Church has Christ as her only spouse.9 There is a theological truth in these and similar statements, but to the modern mind they seem to mean little. How can a "mysterious marriage" deepen my intimacy? To some it sounds like "magical grace." Such theological categories do not mesh with the modern mind which thinks in terms of intersubjectivity, inti-macy, personal self-gift, loving response, and the importance of concrete, interper-sonal relationships for spiritual growth and for ushering in the kingdom of love and peace. This change in mentality requires a change in theology as well. Some New Approaches to Celibacy In Sacrarnentum Mundi Leonhard Weber says: In the formation of priests and in their further development, many of the supports of celibacy which were hitherto relied on will fall away, having proved themselves unreal or erroneous. They must no longer be appealed to. In their place theologically valid arguments must be used, and new aids which correspond to present realities.~0 Many modern spiritual men and women have grappled with the absence of such new arguments. They generously tried to rework an outdated theology of celibacy to correspond to the needs of today--with limited success. For example, much energy is going into showing that one's sexuality is not stunted by celibacy. This is done by making a distinction between the terms genital and sexual. This is a redefinition of categories according to which the word "genital" is applied to what was usually meant by the word "sexual," and then "sexual" in its broadest sense is taken to mean maleness or femaleness. Thus, modern reflection can say that the celibate is still a fully sexual being--but without genital expression. And so a nun could have a close relationship with a priest, and call it a "sexual" relationship-- 9Walter M. Abbott, gen. ed., The Documents of Vatican.H (Chicago: Follett Pub. Co., 1966), p. 566. ~°Sacramentum Mundi.p. 183. The Celibacy Experience / 665 but denying to it "genital" expression. This definition rightly admits that the celibate is not a neuter being but always remains truly male or female. And so at least it should help to keep celibates from attempting to become sexless angels. But however true the first step, saying "a celibate is still male or female," may be, the next statement, "a celibate is fully sexual but not genital," conveys mean-ings and values that are not as evidently proper. The latter statement blurs the important distini:tion there must be between male-female friendship and male-female romantic intimacy. Just as a married man may have female friends, a nun and priest may indeed be friends. But they may not have a romantic intimacy-- even if they do not engage in "genital" activity.~ The distinction between genital and sexual may do more harm than good if it becomes a permission to cross the line of prudence in relations between celibate men and women. Using the excuse that "our relationship is not genital" stems from a legalistic approach to celibacy which in turn endangers true friendship. In addition, any short-term benefits of the principle will be overshadowed by the further fact that it will only justify the kind of obsession with sexuality that is already present in the Church and in society. To focus on the sexuality of the celibate, in fact, obscures the true nature of celibate witness--which should be to point to the primacy of God's kingdom over passing, though good, temporal values. A better approach would distinguish between intimacy and celibacy more strictly. Modern thought in this area is trying to show that the celibate has the same opportunity for intimacy as the married person. This has become especially important in the light of the 1972 NORC study that found that the American priest in general is an "emotionally underdeveloped adult." This has been cause for alarm in the contemporary spiritual milieu which so closely associates spiritual development with human development. What is often forgotten, however, is that the study pointed out that this makes the priest "much like his fellow citizens on the scale of psychological growth" since the average American male also tested out as emotionally underdeveloped.~2 Nevertheless, this new area of reflection, the relationship between intimacy and celibacy, is also having very beneficial results. Celibacy cannot be used as an excuse for refusing to enter into deep human relationships, relationships that are often painful yet necessary for any human growth. Celibacy cannot be seen as representing an excessively other-worldly piety that shuns human affections as unworthy of a spiritual life. The 1971 Synod of Bishops recognized the importance of such human relations in the life of a celibate when it recommended "human balance through well-ordered integration into the fabric of social relationships: fraternal association and companionship with other priests and with the bishop."~3 ~See Paul Conner, "Friendship Between Consecrated Men and Women?" Review for Religious. Vol. 40 (Sept-Oct 1981), pp. 645-659. I:Ernest E. Larkin and Gerard T. Broccolo. eds., Spiritual Renewal of the American Priesthood (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference. 1973), p. I. 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Pope Paul VI, in his letter, "Sacerdotalis Caelibatus, "likewise stressed the impor-tance of the celibate relations with the laity. In a moving section of his fatherly letter, Paul VI says: By their devoted and warm friendship [the laity] can be of great assistance to the Church's ministers since it is the laity . . . who are in a position, in many cases, to enlighten and encourage the priest . In this way the whole People of God will honor Christ. promising an assured reward to whoever in any way shows charity toward those whom he has sent (Mt 10:42).~4 In a similar way, the community of the individual religious must supply this same much-needed human warmth and intimacy. The 1980 Plenaria for the Sacred Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes stated that the religious community is itself a theological reality, and object of contemplation., it is of its nature the place where the experfence of God should be able to, in a special way, come to fullness and be communicated to others?5 There is no excessive supernaturalism here. The celibate is a person firmly planted on the earth and relating with others in a shared community life. Thus, this modern movement in spirituality which ties celibacy to human intimacy can make a positive but limited contribution to a new theology of celibacy, as well as to the humanity of celibates. But, like the distinction between genital and sexual, this attempt to show that the celibate can be as fully intimate as his married counterpart is not totally convincing. The approach may confuse as much as it helps--as, indeed, I think it has done. There is a qualitative difference between the human intimacy possible in a marriage and the :human intimacy permissible for a.celibate. Paul VI commented on this type of love: "And love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting."~6 A human marriage, in its final perfection, is such a close bond that "they are no longer two but one flesh" (Mr 19:6). For the celibate this is not permitted. A marriage relationship, if fully realized, has an exclusivity and a totality of self-giv'- ing which is just not available to the celibate. Indeed, if a celibate were to have such an exclusive relationship with another person, regardless of whether it was genital or not, he hardly could be considered celibate. The great witness of centuries of consecrated celibates must lead us to conclude that another kind of ultimate depth of intimacy is possible for a celibate. But our theology has not yet completely uncovered the depths of this celibate intimacy. Communion Is More Than Communication As the pro.blem of celibacy and intimacy and of other celibate issues continues ~31971 Synod of Bishops, The Ministerial Priesthood; Justice in the World (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1972), p. 24. ~'~Pope Paul VI, Encyclical Letter on Priestly Celibacy--June 24, 1967 (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference), p. 39. ~S"The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life," L'Osservatore Rornano, 26 January 1981, p. 14. ~6Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 1 I. The Celibacy Experience / 667 to be discussed, the debate on the relevance of celibacy in the modern Church continues. This debate often swings between "lyrical panegyrics and one-sidedly negative criticism."~7 Part of the conservative faction believes that the priest must be celibate. No doubt such a vision of Church and faith would be shaken without a celibate priesthood, despite the tradition of the East. Thus, this position clings to such external forms for security--a need which is especially intense during the post-Vatican II upheavals in the Church. Some of the liberals, on the other hand, blame celibacy for destroying the humanity of priests and sisters--a fact which may have validity in a few cases but which glosses over the dynamic witness of a long history of celibacy within the Church. For example, one priest told me that if he ever started to "die" in the ministry he would get out. This is precisely the image some have of the pre-Vatican II Church. In their eyes, it was a church that so stressed an other-worldly piety that it killed the humanity of its people. This section of the liberal faction traces our celibate theology back to Greek philosophi-cal dualism which is said to dismiss worldly values and exalt spiritual ones: others trace celibacy back to Old Testament law which stated that sexual acts made one ritually impure. There are other ways theologians have accounted for our previous tradition of celibacy. The obvious way out is to maintain one's humanity through human intimacy. Seeing the emotional deadness and brokenness of some of their predecessors, many stress the importance of human'growth for spiritual development. Thus, the stress today is on celibate intimacy and communication. And there is a significant attempt within our religious houses to develop a community intimacy, often with good results. Certainly this is a good thing and should be continued. However, is community enough? Does it answer the heart of the problem? We communicate with others to achieve intimacy and wholeness. At times there is an almost compulsive need to lay ourselves bare in a search to maintain or recover our humanity. Admittedly, a certain amount of this is healthy and necessary for any human life, especially a celibate life. This mutual sharing, this intermediate level of intimacy will indeed help our humanity and thus our spirituality. But it is not the final answer, and it is becoming apparent that it is not enough for an authentic celibacy. Of itself, it does not lead to a mature celibacy. Psychiatrist Conrad Baars (who died last October) also believed there is too much communication and not enough communion. In his basic work, Feeling and Healing Your Emotions, he says: Interestingly. wherever members of a community--religious, prayer group, covenant--use the term [affirmation] most freely and glibly, there seems to be the least amount of true affirma-tion. Such places depress one with their bustling activity--planned togetherness, meetings. expected modes of behavior and participation, carefully scheduled recreation, etc, There seems little opportunity for just being--even less for being different or for wanting to be alone. Underneath the new freedom of behavior is often a hidden agenda of new co~7l'ormism . The sign of "new heart living" is communion; yet. there is still too much cornmunication to ~TSacramenturn Mundi. p. 181. 6611 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 permit communion and authentic being.~s This sort of excessive communication places a burden on friendships that such relationships should not, cannot carry. We are sharing more and more to satisfy the deepest Iongings of our heart, but in the final analysis we are in danger of silencing these longings with a mass of words and superficialities. In fact, such an approach is contrary to real humanity. To share everything easily actually reveals a lack of intimacy. The work of psychiatrist Viktor Frankl shows the nature of true intimacy: The quality of intimacy so characteristic of love is no less characteristic of religion. It is intimate in two senses: it is intimum in the sense of innermost, and second, it is, like love. protected by shame. Genuine religiousness, for the sake of its own genuineness, hides from the public . The mistake is often made of confounding such shame with neurotic inhibition. Shame. however, is a perfectly natural attitude.~'~ It is not normal nor is it healthy to share the deepest intimacies of love, or of faith, in a casual or even friendly way. To keep such things private, except from the most intimate of soul friends, or from one's spiritual director, is a normal and healthy action. It is a sign of true intimacy. Such an attitude maintains the sanctity of the human person. To violate this sanctity is a grievous affair. This violation would ultimately impair the growth of intimacy by destroying some of the conditions necessary for its growth, such as respect for the human person and the need for individual solitude. During a 1978 lecture to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, Henri Nouwen commented on this close link between solitude and intimacy: Solitude leads us to a new intimacy with each other and makes us see our common task precisely because in solitude we discover our true nature, our true self, our true identity. That knowledge of who we really are allows us to live and work in community3o It is precisely this depth of intimacy which is the sign of a mature celibate and it is this depth which should enliven and nourish all the other relations a celibate has, just as the intimacy of marriage should ground and nourish the other relations a spouse has. Is Optional Celibacy the Answer? Optional celibacy seems to be emerging as the moderate position in the Church. For pastoral reasons, and in order to recognize cultural diversity, its concession may be required. This change would be theologically easy, given our present understanding of celibacy as distinct from, and not essential to, Orders. But this distinction, though affirmed in modern times, does not take fully into ISConrad Baars. Feeling and Healing Your Emotions (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1979), p. 221. ~gFrankl, Unconscious God, pp. 47, 46. 2°Henri J. M. Nouwen, "Solitude and Community," lecture presented to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, 4 April 1978. p. 20. The Cefibacy Experience account the reality of the place of celibacy in the Latin Church. With the rise of historical and existential theologies, we are coming to a fuller understanding of the place of the whole human person in our theologizing. Thus, while celibacy is only a canonical duty, it figures as an important element in our "collective memory," or our "story," or again, our western Catholic "identity." Concepts that are appearing in the new theology should make us more hesitant to favor optional celibacy too quickly. Celibacy is more than just a discipline. Rather, it has been woven into our history and thus into our collective memories. In the midst of a Church already suffering a severe identity crisis, the impact of optional celibacy on our "story" should be carefully considered. In addition, a case could be made that in no time of history is celibacy more necessary than today. At first glance the statement seems absurd, but when placed into the total context of the times, when one observes the signs of the times, it gains in its appearance of truth. As stated earlier, our people are under a sexual siege by advertisers, movies, TV and other elements of society. In an age when people are trying harder and harder to become liberated from Christian sexual mores, we are becoming more and more enslaved to sex. Such is precisely the nature of sin and evil. It promises the opposite of what it gives. Our society has promised sexual liberation and has produced just the opposite. The value of celibacy as a sign that shows the relative value (while not negating its intrinsic goodness) of sex is never more needed. Also, given the unity of all in the Mystical Body of Christ, it has likewise been never more important for a few to persevere in the struggle against sexual license in a heroic way for its spiritual aid to all people who are struggling with sexual difficulties within their own vocations. Paul speaks of this union of all in Christ when he says to the Corinthians: "If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members share its joy" (I Co 12:26). Nonetheless, the pressure is on the Vatican for optional celibacy. While such a compromise may be necessary, I doubt that it will truly alleviate the problem. (Perhaps rather than making celibacy optional, it would be more to the point for the Vatican to announce that marriage is mandatory for all priests and religious! Then when a select few would flee to the mountains and the deserts, there to listen more intently to the "still, small voice," and thus refuse to marry, these are the ones who should be ordained.) Compromise, while often necessary, can fall into tepid-ity, failing to see that, for the celibate, the Christian message is nothing if not radical. "I am Come to cast fire on the earth and what will 1 but that it be kindled" (Lk 12:49), or again, "But because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth" (Rv 3:16). Without such a radical, total commitment, there is no deep intimacy--for the celibate as well as for the married person. Deepest Intimacy Is in Mystery This intimacy is completed only in the deepest levels of the person. This depth is beyond the spoken word; it is beyond verbal communication. It can only be 670 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 called mystery--a mystery which marvelously opens itself up in the communion of love. Thus the depths of intimacy are experienced as mystery, and as love, for both the celibate as well as the married person. This is the deepest level of personal growth and the truest level of self-knowledge. Some commentators on this deepest level of the person have cited the efforts of Nietzsche. They say that Nietzsche saw this great depth which he called "nothing-ness" and yet he was a courageous man to continue to face his "nothingness" and carry on bravely. This may be courage but it also may be a disguised fear--a fear to really experience this "nothingness" or depth of mystery. Nietzsche stood at the brink of the ocean of mystery and summoned the courage to remain there and look. The Christian is called to go one step further--to dive in! Viktor Frankl put forth a similar idea using the image of a summit surrounded by fog: On his way to find the ultimate meaning of life, the irreligious man, as it were, has not yet reached the highest peak, but rather has stopped at the next to highest . And what is the reason the irreligious man does not go further? It is because he does not want to lose the "firm ground under his feet." The true summit is barred from his vision: it is hidden in the fog. and he does not risk venturing into it, into this uncertainty. Only the religious man hazards it.2~ This depth, this "diving into the ocean" or "climbing through the fog to the highest peak" is open to a married couple united in faith. Such an unspoken depth to their relationship allows the mystery of one to be opened and joined to the mystery of the other, the ocean of one to the ocean of the other. This mystery therefore cannot be opened by the effort of one; it requires two to open it. Love requires union, and this deepest mystery is a union of love. At first glance, this would seem to exclude the celibate because the necessary love is, recalling the words of Paul VI, "total, exclusive, stable and lasting." This love seems denied the celibate who has no partner! Within such a quandary, our theology of celibacy is too often opaque, making little sense to the modern person. We could foist the problem onto "grace," and thus expect a solution from some magical power to hold our humanity in abeyance until the end-times. But this would be a denial of the real nature of the Christian message and a misunderstand-ing of the true nature of grace. Christianity is not essentially a negative religion. If it denies, it does so only to affirm in a more profound way. If God asks for any sacrifice, it is only to return the gift a hundred-fold. And, it seems to me, this is the problem with which modern thought on celibacy must deal--a problem that is especially difficult to solve if we use the growth model of spirituality. Celibacy and Theological Distancing To this point, we have merely opened up several problems in our theologies of celibacy. There seems to be a real difficulty in relating the depths of intimacy and celibacy, despite some modern attempts to do so. The older approaches with their 2~Frankl, Unconscious God. pp. 55-56. The Cefibacy Experience / 671 reliance on grace threaten to skip over our true humanity. What is perhaps lacking in both approaches, what may be largely responsible for the crisis in celibacy today, is a proper starting point. An accumulation of theologizing and reflection has developed an elaborate theological understanding of celibacy, but may have lost contact with its simple yet radical starting point. Paul Ricoeur's warning of cultural distancing may apply to our case: Cultural distance is not only the altering of the vehicle, but also the forgetting of the radical question conveyed by the language of another time. It is necessary to undertake, therefore, a struggle against the.forgetting of the question, that is. a struggle against our own alienation in relation to what operates in the question?2 We may, indeed, have forgotten the "radical question" which underlies the very existence of celibacy. This question must come as an existential question which demands a radical human response. The existential question involves an expe-rience that gives rise to the unusual phenomenon of celibacy. This experience I call the celibacy experience. Theological reflection can help make this experience understandable. It can explain its fruits and it can even help prepare someone for it. But theological reflection cannot impart the experience itself. Celibacy must spring from an expe-rience which begets a radical and total response. In the experience, a radical question is asked, and a radical answer must be given--though the response will have to grow in actualization with time. What we need is an existential model of celibacy, one that starts with human experience. This model must be able to address the concepts of intimacy and humanity in a convincing way. These concepts, though, can only be understood when viewed in the light of the beginning section of this article, when we wrote of mysticism, the internalization of celibacy, and higher psychic functions. An,"Existential Scriptural Approach To find such an existential approach, it is necessary to cut through centuries of cultural and theological distancing and return to Scripture. But our approach should not be to use Scripture. in the usual way of the conventional theologies of celibacy. In these approaches, citations are made of such Pauline passages as: The virgin--indeed any unmarried woman--is concerned with things of the Lord. in pursuit of holiness in body and spirit. The married woman, on the other hand, has the cares of this world to absorb her. , (I Co 7:34). Or again, To those not married and to widows, I have this to say: h would be well if they remain as they are. even as I do myself: but if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry (I Co 7:8-9). These and other such passages, though, are not the celibacy experience itself, a-'Paul Ricoeur, "The Language of Faith," in Charles Reagan and David Steward, eds. The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur (Boston: Beacon Press, 1978), p. 224. 672 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 but only reflections on the experience. It is the mystical encounter with God in Christ that results in these inspired theological reflections. Paul's embrace of the life of consecrated celibacy stemmed primarily from his encounter with Christ. He refers to his own celibacy experience: Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? And are you not my work in the Lord? (1 Co 9:1). To the community at Corinth, Paul claims a direct vision of Jesus which grounds his apostolate; it drives him almost compulsively: Yet preaching the gospel is not the subject of a boast; I am under compulsion and have no choice. 1 am ruined if I do not preach it! (I Co 9:16; see 2 Co 5:14). This experience of Paul was not really one experience, but many: "I must go on boasting, however useless it may be, and speak of visions and revelations" (2 Co 12:!). It is only in the light of such experiences that Paul's celibacy makes any sense. He saw everything else as being of secondary importance compared to his being "grasped by Christ" (Ph 3:i2). Paul says, even more forcefully, "1 have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ" (Ph 3:8). And it is precisely in this light that Paul recommends celibacy as being a way to devote oneself fully to the things of the Lord--just as it was for him. The authority and very existence of his apostolate depended on these experiences, and they became such a driving force in his life that celibacy was a result of it. Traditional celibacy-literature also quotes a passage from the Gospel of Matthew: Some men are incapable of sexual activity from birth: some have been deliberately made so; and some there are who have freely renounced sex for the sake of God's reign. Let him accept this teaching who can (19:12). This teaching, which supplies the theory to Paul's practice, focuses on celibacy "for the sake of God's reign." Notice again that there is no attempt to show that one should be celibate because Christ was, or that celibacy reflects the marriage of Christ with the Church, or even that celibacy is good because one is more effective for ministry. These are all later theological reflections, no matter how true they may be. They do not ground anyone's celibacy. The),' are not the celibacy expe-rience. Rather, as the Matthean Gospel points out, marriage is renounced "for the sake of God's reign." The passage implies that there is a direct experience of the reign of God. Otherwise, it would be impossible to dedicate oneself to it. In fact, the reign of God became a direct reality in the lives of many of those early Christians, enough of a reality to cause them to renounce a fundamental of human life--marriage. This, then was a powerful experience. This in-breaking of the reign of God is an eschatological experience. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, or last times, into people's lives. Paul's experience was also truly an eschatological one since in his vision he saw the risen Christ who is himself the Reign of God. This is precisely what a mystical experience is, although it can take many different forms. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, the reign of The Celibacy Experience / 673 God, the risen Christ into people's lives. There is no mysticism without eschat-ology-- an eschatology that proclaims that the kingdom is already present among us, though in a hidden way. Eschatological Fervor And such an eschatological, mystical experience totally changes one's life. It creates such a powerful force and conversion that it can make one cry out, as it did with Paul, "I am ruined if 1 do not preach [the Gospel]." With this conversion comes a new vision--a mystical vision. This experience gives rise to an eschatolog-ical fervor which makes it easy to believe that the end is at hand. Such was often the case with the prophets who, upon experiencing the greatness of God, saw the depths to which God's creation had fallen, and they cried out for repentance, claiming that God's just punishment was near. In the book of Isaiah, for example, the prophet has a vision of the temple of the Lord. He is overwhelmed with the holiness and power of God while the seraphim cry out, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. ! All the earth is filled with his glory!" (6:3). Isaiah immediately felt his own sinfulness in the face of such holiness: "Woe is me, I am doomed! For 1 am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips"(6:5), lsaiah's new vision of the holiness of God and the sinfulness of the people leads to his message of the imminent destruction of Israel by God: "lf there be still a tenth part in it, then this in turn shall be laid waste" (6:13). It was in this same eschatological fervor that Paul believed the kingdom of God to be an imminent reality: I tell you. brothers, the time is short. From now on those with wives should live as though they had none: those who weep should live as though they were not rejoicing: buyers should conduct themselves as though they owned nothing, and those who make use of the world as though they were not using it. for the world as we know it is passing away (I Co 7:29-3 I). This eschatological fervor was the result of Paul's experience of the risen Christ. This was a mystical experience which resulted in a new vision of life, a mystical vision. However, it is obvious to us, and even Paul came to understand, that the time is not short. Two thousand years have passed and Christ has still not come in his glory. But to take this approach, that is, to discount the fervor of the early Christians because their belief in the imminence of the second coming proved to be wrong, is to miss the significance of their times, and the truth of their experience. The early Christians experienced the reign of God breaking into their lives. They were baptized in the Spirit and such a baptism was at times a mystical experience which produced this eschatological fervor. As it is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles: The Holy Spirit came upon [the Gentiles]. just as it had upon us at the beginning. Then I remembered what the Lord had said: "John baptized with water but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit" II 1:15-16). They may have misinterpreted this mystical vision, this new perception of reality: they may have believed that Christ was coming soon. But this is often the case with intense mystical experiences. St. John of the Cross spoke of these 674 / Review for Religious. Sept.-Oct., 1982 dangers with extraordinary mystical experiences; they are often interpreted on too concrete a level, when they are intended for a higher, more spiritual plane. Perhaps this was the case with the early Christians. They experienced the closeness of Christ and his kingdom. The words of Jesus were passed along to them which pointed to his coming, and they may have interpreted such signs literally. Regardless of the reason for their mistaken view of the second coming, we should not dismiss their eschatological fervor because of it. This fervor is the proper response, just as it was for Amos: The lion roars who will not be afraid: the Lord God speaks who will not prophesy? (Am 3:8). It was this fervor that contained within it the phenomenon of celibacy. Without this experience, celibacy makes little sense. Later theological reflection can try to explain the celibate state, as Paul tried to do, but it cannot recreate the experience itself. But what happens when the fervor wears off'? Paul began to realize that he, too, might die before Christ comes again. The initial celibacy experience that gave rise to the fervor for the reign of God and caused the early Christians to renounce marriage can fade as the years wear on. What does the modern mistress of novices do with her charges once the initial fervor of vocation begins to wane, as it always does? It is then that moderns begin to wonder about their humanity. Will celibacy kill it? The earlier mystical vision fades, and the reality of celibacy as a loneliness without spouse, sex and family presses on the celibate. The stress on intimacy today makes it even more difficult, and there are plenty of TV shows and adver-tisements to remind the celibate of what he is missing. Celibate Intimacy With Christ This initial fervor must be followed by a desert experience, an absence of fervor, as mystical theology points out. But it is precisely within this period of dryness that the mystical vision is secretly growing. It is then that youthful fervor must yield to a new experience that reaches deeper into the person. This new experience is reflected best in the Gospel of John, "the disciple whom Jesus loved": A third time Jesus asked him, "Simon. son of John, do you love me?" Peter was hurt because he had asked a third time, "Do you love me?" So he said to him: "Lord, you know everything. You know well that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep" (21:17). In these spiritual reflections of John's Gospel do we see hinted at a deeper intimacy with Christ. The servant, and friend becomes lover and beloved. Thus we see introduced a new element: the love of Christ. The compulsion to preach is giving way to a deeper relationship with Christ, a relationship of love. The ground of Peter's ministry is this love of Christ. The early eschatological fervor has to give way to this intimate love of Christ, The Celibacy Experience / 675 and this is only possible because Jesus first offers his love. When he asks Peter if he loves him, iris implied that Jesus is first offering his love, and is asking if Peter will respond. Such is the existential approach of Scripture: God offers through Christ, and we must respond. Peter did respond, to the fullest extent. He had exclaimed to Jesus: "We have put aside everything to follow ~,ou!" To this Jesus replied: I give you my word, there is no one who has given up home, brothers or sisters, mother or father, children or property for me and for the gospel who will not receive in this present age a .,hundred times as many homes, brothers and sisters, mothers, children and property--and persecution besides--and in the age to come, everlasting life (Mk 10:28-30). This earlier response of youthful fervor should grow into a mature love. "Although you have never seen him, you love him" (1 P 1:8). Such an unseen love, then, is directly connected with faith. There can be no love of an unseen object unless faith prepares the way. It is the youthful fervor and the later desert expe-riences which produce a faith strong enough to support such a love. It is a faith offer and response of love. This does not make the offer and response, nor the love, any less real. The reign of God has come among us. Christ is still offering the love of God in a real though hidden way. The radical question which underlies the mature celibate experience is still being asked: "Do you love me?" This is real grace--not magical grace. God, in Christ, offering himself to the world--Person to person. Grace is the theological concept which denotes this real exchange within human history. If, as Paul VI said, there must be "a wise sublimation of the psychological life on a higher plane," it is because our sublimation and needs will be met within human history; God's kingdom has come!23 Though we cannot see the object of our exchange, this exchange is nonetheless real. Such is the nature of a faith-love. It is only within such a faith-love context that we can understand the true nature of celibate intimacy. In this offer and response with Christ, the celibate should eventually come to experience, either explicitly or implicitly, the deepest level of love and intimacy, recalling, the words of Paul VI: "Love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting." The mature celibate, the one who has internalized his call, has come to respond in this total and exclusive way to Christ. Such is the total self-gift in a marriage; such, too, is the total self-gift in the intimacy of the celibate. It is no accident, then, that later mystical theology came to describe such a relationship as a "spiritual marriage." It is a relationship~ which includes the deepest union. Yet this total and exclusive intimacy between the celibate and Christ does not exclude other relationships. In fact, it depends on other human relationships to make it possible. At the same time, celibate intimacy provides the possibility for the full fruition of these other relationships. However, one cannot completely identify one's intimacy with Christ, with the intimacy one has with others. And without a real intimacy with Christ, these other relationships tend to become 2~Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 22. 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 warped, possessive and destructive. Such an intimacy grows out of the celibate experience. It is not something that is once and for all, but a chain of real encounters that renew and strengthen the individual's original response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" The original, novitiate, eschatological fervor is transformed and strengthened in the desert. Fervor is exchanged for love, and the compulsion to preach is exchanged for peace. The celibate experience is, then, a growing life-experience in and with Christ. It is not necessarily a "Mystical" (big "M") experience, some kind of extraordinary revelation--such as those of Paul who saw the face of Christ. Rather, the celibate experience is a "mystical" (small "m") experience. It is a direct encounter with Christ in which the radical question of love is asked, but it is an encounter that is hidden within the ordinary. McNamara sees that this immediacy of mysticism is nonetheless mediated: It is God whom mystical knowledge perceives immediately and experientially in the historic revelation of Christ~ the sacramental life, and the ecclesiastical organism. It is not contradic-tory to unite indissolubly the immediacy of mystical knowledge to all the Christian mediations.24 Thus the celibate in today's world must be a mystic but not necessarily a Mystic. This mystical relationship, of course, remains beyond words; it is beyond clear, verbal definitions. In it the mystery of God touches the mystery of the human person, and in this touch, the depths of the human person are opened, and he attains to a vision of reality that is mystical. Do You Love Me? It is this experience and the resulting vision which ground the celibate's aposto-late. The celibacy experience, which eventually grows into a total response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" provides the charter and gives life to his or her ministry. Without this growing intimacy with Christ, the celibate's ministry is without an anchor and will drift with every theological and psychological breeze that comes along. Again, McNamara has an excellent insight: People are fed and sustained by a mystical theology; they are amused and confused by any other. Yet they are being led thoughtlessly from one vogue to another. It's so tempting to be faddish, accommodating; to leave our solitary, silent stance before the source of wisdom and become washed out in the 'sauce~ of endless meetings, parties~ dialogues, lectures, conventions.2~ Without a mystical vision the celibate is unlikely to remain celibate for long. Any ministry without a mystical vision is liable only to "amuse and confuse" the people. The people thirst for Christ. It is the authentic Christ they need, yet the temptation is always to grasp false messiahs, even though with the best of inten- 2'~McNamara, Christian Mysticism, p. 16. ~lbid., p. 24. The Celibacy Experience / 677 tions. Mother Teresa wrote a note that said: "Pray for me that 1 do not loosen my grip on the hand of Jesus, even under the guise of ministering to the poor.''~6 Even such a great ministry as serving the poor can become a false messiah without an intimate relationship with Christ. The time has come for Catholic celibates to renew their primary identity as Christians. It is only in a life centered on Christ that true celibate intimacy is realized. It is only thus that liberals, conservatives and moderates can become what the Gospel calls for--radical lovers. And without a radical response to the love of Christ there is no mysticism, and thus no internalized celibacy. The way is not easy. Though the kingdom has already come into the world, it remains hidden. The eschaton is not fully realized in human history. A celibate's relationship with Christ will reflect this incompleteness during this life. Just as "all creation groans and is in agony even until now" (Rm 8:22), the celibate's life must also have many moments of groaning, and a longing for the final fulfillment of God's kingdom. The call of Christ is again sweeping the world: "Do you love me?" Fewer are left: fewer are responding. But there are enough. There is enough leaven for the entire lump of dough to rise. And for the remnant that is left: No more shall men call you ~For~ken," or your land "Desolate," But you shall be called "My Delight." and your land "Espoused.". As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you: and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you (Is 62:4-5). -'~'Phyllis Theroux. "'Amazing Grace: Mother Teresa Comes to Calcutta." Washhzgton Post Magazine, 18 October 1981. p. 30. Preparing for the 1983 Synod Stephen Tutas, S.M. In explaining his point in writing this article, Fr. Tutas states: "As a member of the 1980 Synod, I am well aware that the success of the General Assembly depends to a great extent on how well participants reflect the mind of the Church throughout the world." This article simply draws attention to the ~'neamenta published by the General Secretariate of the Synod. Father Tutas, Superior General of the Society of Mary (Marianists) 1971-1981, is presently Director of the Marianist Formation Center; P.O. Box AC; Cupertino, CA 95015. Immediately after the 1980 Synod of Bishops, preparation began for the 1983 Synod. After a lengthy process of consultation, Pope John Paul II designated "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church" as the theme for the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which will be held in 1983. The General Secretariate of the Synod then prepared an initial presentation of the theme and sent this to the National Conferences of Bishops for their personal study. This first document is a fifty-four page study in the English edition pub-lished by the Vatican Polyglot Press this past January. The purpose of the docu-ment is "to stimulate reflection in the local churches, to receive information, advice and useful suggestions for the future synodal discussion; to provoke, as soon as possible, a movement of spirits and of prayer which disposes souls to the metanoia which is at the root of the synodal theme." For all these reasons it is very important for religious to take an active interest in the coming synod. It is interesting to note that the General Secretariate is encouraging wide consultation by stating that the publication of this first document "is without limits and not reserved." After analyzing the feedback from this first document, the General Secretariate will later issue a more extensive working paper. As religious we cannot afford to be passive as the preparation for the 1983 Synod moves forward. While the members of the synod have the responsibility of reflecting the mind of the Church throughout the world as they participate in the synod, the rest of us have the responsibility to study the theme of the synod as 678 Preparing for the 1983 Synod thoroughly as we can so that we can be well prepared to enter into the movement promoted by its celebration. Accordingly, in the hope of stimulating further reflection in preparation for the 1983 Synod, I would like to offer some thoughts about the theme that are prompt-ed by my personal study of the initial document. The theme of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church was selected from among many topics suggested for the Sixth General Assembly. Towards the close of the 1980 Synod there was a brief.discussion about possible themes for the 1983 sessions. Among the issues mentioned at that time was the Sacrament of Penance. After further consultation, this particular theme was even-tually developed into the much more comprehensive topic that is outlined in this document issued by the General Secretariate. As presented, the theme touches many other topics that had also been proposed as possible themes, such as youth, the Christian laity, the identity of the Church following the changes effected by Vatican I1, the evaluation of liturgicalrenewal, popular piety, spirituality, Catholic education, the training of priests, the role of bishops in the Church, ecclesiology, the future. The study of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church can also be viewed in relation to previous synods--especially justice in the world, evangelization in the modern world and catechetics, and of course, it has many implications for the mission of the Christian family in the modern world. The theme echoes many of the concerns expressed in pontifical documents of recent years. Among these, it is significant to recall Pope Paul VI's statement for the World Day of Peace, 1975: "Reconciliation, the Way to PeAce." The synod study is also related to the encyclical letter of Pope John Paul II, "On the Mercy of God" that was published shortly after the last synod. What I find especially attractive about the coming synod is that it is being ¯ presented as a development of the great themes of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Throughout the synoddocument there are remind-ers that this topic is not to be considered solely in terms of baptized Catholics, but that it is a topic of great importance "for all who seek meaning to existence." This theme is of great importance for the quality of the Christian life; it is also meaning-ful for the world in general. I found the intent of the initial document to speak a message of hope to the modern world very heartening. There is no denial of the injustice in the world today and in the hearts of so many people. The section describing this is particu-larly well expressed. The document speaks of the reality of today's world in contrast to our understanding of God's plan for us and our own response to this plan in our efforts to build a better world. Given the wars, violence, terrorism of our time, the conclusion is that the dominant characteristic of our era seems to have become that of tensions and divisions. It would be quite easy to give in to the feelings of helplessness in the face of the complexity of the problems facing us today. But it is quite clear from the document that the great expectation is that the synod itself will speak a message of hope to the Church and to the world. 61~1~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 Much of the theme deals with the basic human need for personal reconciliation with God, with each other, and with ourselves. But what impressed me above all was the emphasis given to the promotion of justice and peace in the world through the call to reconciliation and penance. The document suggests that the synod face the complex reality of tensions and divisions in the world today with confiderlce that there is an answer. We Christians cannot lose hope. In recognizing that the Church is the sacrament of reconciliation, the Church has a new understanding of its pastoral mission in the modern world. 1 am also intrigued by the proposed study of the meaning of change in our lives. The word penance used in the synod document is meant to include the meaning of repentance, understood as conversion. The synod topic offers us an opportunity to focus on the change of mind and heart that Vatican II called for, and on the continual change to which we are called as Christians. The appeal to conversion understood as a change of direction, return, practical change in the way of living, interior change of mentality, metanoia, is clearly and forcefully pre-sented. The Church is seen as "holy and formed of sinners," holy, but always in need of being purified, incessantly pursuing the path of penance and renewal. The message of hope that Christians are called to proclaim in today's world is God's love for his people. It is God who forgives and liberates in order to reconcile all men and women to himself, with each other, with all creation. The dream of a new creation is once again proclaimed, a new creation where there is interior unity and true liberty, where there is a new relationship with other men and women, a new human community founded on justice, a new sense of God living and working in history. The General Secretariate of the Synod, in publishing this first document in preparation for the 1983 Synod, insists that the statements made are "provisional in character and limited and thus it would be useless to make a critique of them or to attempt to perfect the text." But it is an invaluable starting point for all of us as we prepare for the 1983 Synod. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions--II Patricia Spillane, M.S. C Our last issue carried the first part of this article. In the current issue, Sister Patricia concludes her study of the process of internalization. Sh'e continues to reside at the convent of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart: 428 St. James Place: Chicago; IL 60614. ~n Part I of this article, we considered how to live more authentically the life we proclaim: i.e., how can our constitutions be planted deep within us, written on our hearts (see Jr 3 !:33)? We reflected on our attitudes toward these constitutions, and on ourselves as the source of attitudinal decisions--spiritually, philosophically, psychologically. If nothing else, by now we should have arrived at an appreciation for the complexity of the problem: that arriving at a true internalization of what is written calls indeed for foundations of rock, and that much labor and struggle are required to build over that! Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them., is like the man who, when he built his house, dug, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on rock: when the river was in flood, it bore down on that house but could not shake it, it was so well built (Lk 6:47-49). In the following pages, I will try to indicate some directions which could aid in this foundation-setting for interiorization within religious communities. Of their nature, such foundations are conceptual and theoretical, the underpinnings from which must proceed programs of action once the principles have been clarified. Such foundations need to reflect adequately our reality, a reality that is at one and the same time spiritual, anthropological and psychological. Efforts at internaliza-tion will be hampered without such an integration. Premises already exist in each of these areas since Christianity has been propos-ing such principles for centuries. Respective constitutions incorporate these and give them a unique flavor. 681 61~2 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 But we each have our own concepts of, and attitudes toward theology, philo-sophy and psychology, both conscious and unconscious. We need to examine our own assumptions in these areas to see how they contrast with what we are called to. Furthermore, with clear premises and principles we can better grasp still further implications: where do we go from here? We can move more securely from the theoretical to the concrete, both individually and collectively, without haphazard experimentation and without facile reaching for faddist solutions. A. Theological Foundations The very word foundation conjures up something solid, firm, lasting, not the ephemeral, fantastic, passing. It is obvious that any theological foundation for the internalization of Christian living must have indeed "Christ Jesus himself for its main cornerstone" (Ep 2:20), the Christ of revelation and of the gospels, as pro-claimed by the Church. What is needed is a theology that integrates both the transcendent and the incarnational, both vertical and horizontal dimensions, both interior life and exterior action. Consequently, we are talking about a Christologi-cal, ecclesial foundation of objective, revealed values that are both normative and attractive, values that can propose objective and inspiring criteria with which we can collectively and individually evaluate and challenge ourselves. Our vision of God must begin with the God of revelation and Scripture, as authentically reflected to us down through the ages by the Church and sacred tradition. Equally essential to this theological vision is its concept of our humanity called to a unique relationship with our Creator as the peak of creation, elevated to unimaginable new possibilities in Christ, yet withal vulnerable and capable of betraying our Creator and Savior. Called to respond, we are still" free to say "no." Therefore, the triplet of grace, sin and concupiscence can never be overlooked (more will be said along this line in the anthropological section below). Such a theology will see the spiritual life as the arena of interaction between nature and grace, the call to personal and enduring transcendence in the name of Christ that begins with baptism and reaches its fulfillment in the Beatific Vision. Such free cooperation with grace is at one and the same time the highest activity to which we are called, that which makes us most truly human and that which ultimately brings us true self-fulfillment as a result of our self-transcendence. However, we do not incarnate such principles in a vacuum. We live in a world of increasing theological pluralism, of the rapid dissemination and impassioned defense of new ideologies--in short, in a world of theological ferment where discernment, critical thinking, and a clear vision of the fundamentals are more essential than ever. As Christians and religious, we must be able to sift and see in what way our, theological thinking may have been infiltrated by certain current trends which can bias and distort the foundation for our attitudinal decision. Discerning Theological ,Trends A group of Christian theologians (including Avery Dulles, S.J.) from nine denominations engaged themselves in precisely this kind of sifting a few years ago From Tablet to Heart in Hartford, Connecticut, resulting in the clarification and designation of thirteen pervasive ideas which they considered to be "false and debilitating."t 1 have grouped some of these into three areas so that it will be apparent how an ade-quately integrated theological foundation implies a counter-cultural stance that is in opposition to each of them. I. Religious language refers to human experience and nothing else, God being humanity's noblest creation . Jesus can only be understoo~l in terms of contemporary models of humanity . An emphasis on God's transcendence is at least a hindrance to, and perhaps incompatible with, Christian social concern and action. Here is clearly seen the polarization of a theology of the supernatural with the theology of secular humanism. According to the latter, "man and world have in themselves an ultimate value'~--a prime example of Frankl's objec!ification of persons and subjectification of values mentioned in Part 1, with the result that we must become our own source of meaning, and evaluate ourselves by subjective criteria. This subjectivism, in turn, gives rise to experientialism: lacking objective guidelines, we can only use our emotions to ratify our experience. God's existence is inferred from subjective religious experience. That which should be effect becomes, instead, the cause of belief and the fountainhead of religion. Von Bal-thazar's comments are appropriate here: It is not that man has to have an experience of God: it is more that God

Issue 38.1 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. 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 January, 1979 Volume 38 Number 1 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW Fort R~LICIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, 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. Review for Religious Volume 38, 1979 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108" Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, SJ. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1979 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Stewardship, Justice and the Religious Purpose in Education William J. Byron, S.J. Father Byron is President'of Scranton Univergity; Scranton, PA 18510. ere are three ideas°ar'ound which I would like toor, ganize this essay. The first two., stewardship and justice, will be relat~ ely brief. The tfiird notion concerns ou~" religious purpose in edu'cation. I holSe to develop it'in~ a way that will make a case for the educ~itional apostolate as'an +xercise of stewardship arid an instrument of justice. Stewardship It has been interesting to obser~ve in the 15as! several°years a renewed' interest in the notion of s~eWardshil5°in the Catholic 'community. We are discove'ring (or rediscoverifig) that"riOt ~0nly is stewardship a simple term, it is also an uncbmplicated~solutioh to significant portions "of some major s~ciai prolSlems. In practice, stewardship is an instrument of social justice. Reflo~ztiOn°ofi'ste~a~dghil~ might begin with the first verse of the Twdfity-fourth Ps~l~a: '"The earth is the Lord's iind"the fulhess thereof." All of material 6reation, as Well as all wealth flowing from it, b~longs to God. Wealth possessed ~r~produced by human persons is owne~ by' God. We own nothing abs0iut~ly; all We have we hold in trust. Thi~ is the ffiith foundation of th6 stewardship perspective. As composites c~f body and soul, we include our intellectual and spiritual resources as part, of the basic endowment which belongs ~to the Lord: Our use of both ~nateri~l and immaterial r~sources is intended to be an exercise of ste,.wafdshio.~ , .~ 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 All we have we hold in trust for other~for those who inhabit this planet with us.now, and for those who will live here in the future. Stewardship has inescapable societal obligations. Why do I say all we have is held in trust for others? Why not owned by God and held by me for my personal use? Why the social dimension? Possession of a particular share of created resources may be private, but that private share cannot be used without regard for others. There are two considerations here: one of equity, the other of responsibility. On the equity side I have to ask, "Is my share a fair one relative to the needs and claims of others?" Put another way, does my share represent an unfair gain taken at the expense of others?" The equity issue quite obvi-ously relates more immediately to the possession and use of material re-sources rather than to those that are spiritual and intellectual. It is not necessary for someone to .know less mathematics so that I might know more. My food supply, however, may be held at the expense of someone less fortunate than I. Broadening the equity consideration from the individhal person to a larger group (as, for instance, one's race or nation) one can ask the equity question this way: does my group's share represent an unfair gain taken at the expense of other groups-? The responsibility consideration looks to the future. Are resources being used now in a way that will provide for future generations a secure basis for their existence? Again, this is easier to see with respect to material re-sources. If we depli~e our oil supplies, will they have an alternative source of-energy? If we pollute our lakes and streams, will they have ffater to drink? If we fail to sustain our soil, will they have bread to sustain their lives? What we refer to as "our" resources are also theirs, for they, like us, are sons and daughters of the sole owner, the Lord, who has entrusted his creation to our care and for our use. We are stewards. We own nothing absolutely. All we have we hold in trust. As inhabitants of this earth at this time, we religious educators, like our feilow~ on this planet, have stewardship responsibilities. As members of a religious community, moreover, we possess a tradition, a history, a style, some physical assets and an impressive array of spiritual and intellectual resources. We own none of these absolutely; all of these we hold in trust. We are stewards of this collective religious-community endowment. We face, therefore, considerations of equity and responsibility as we manage our collective endowment. The equity donsideration relates directly to justice and will be discussed in the next part of this article when we have to ask ourselves whether our share of these resources represents an unfair gain taken ai the expense of others. The responsibility consideration looks, as I suggested earlier, to the future. Are we using our resources, particularly our intellec.tual and spir-itual resources, in a way that is likely to enrich the lives of future inhabitants Stewardship, Justice and Purpose in Education of this planet?°The steward is in charge ofla household he does not.own. Is that ho, usehold being maintained by us in a state of apostolic readiness for effective service now and in the future? The story in ,Luke 16:1-8 of the "unjust steward" or "dishonest manager" serqi~s as a reminder that we can miSlase or misapply our heri-tage; we can indeed violate the trust that is ours. Failure to meet our responsibilities as stewards would mean failure to preserve a heritage that the Lord, the dominus, the owner of the householdmay well intend to have available for the service of future generations. To take my own Jesuit household as an example, I would include in my list of the central elements of the heritage that is now ours tb use and to preserve for the future these four: (1) The Spiritual Exercises, (2) development of the intellect, (3) service to the Holy See, and (4) apostolic flexibility. These four elements suggest that the Society of Jesus intends to foster in itself an embodiment of(1) holiness, (2)learning, (3) service to the Church, and (4)availability for necessary service ~an. ywhere in the world. ,~ Further specification of these elements rais'es four disturbing questions and one simple observation. The questions are these: 1. Does the prefer-ence .for poverty which characterizes The Spiritual Exercises also charac-terize the holiness of the Society today? 2. Does the emphasis on learning, present at the origins of the Society, remain an active emphasis in thisstage of the Society's growth and in all stages of the individual Jesuit's growth? 3. Does service to the Church of Christ and to the Vicar of Christ charac-terize our labors now as in the days of our origins? 4. Are we individually and collectively free to move our heritage and our resources in the direction of the greatest need, wherever that may be? The one observation I ~ould want to make in connection with the stewardship of the Jesuit heritage is this: formal education through the operation of schools, although part of the Jesuit tradition, is neither essen-tial to the heritage nor identifiable as an element that characterizes, the origins of the Society of Jesus. Similar reflection~, questions and observations can be directed toward the heritage and "household management" of any other religious commu-nity. " .~ o,~ 7 Justice Justice is symbolized by trays in balance on a scale. We speak of the "scale~ of justice." ~Vhen one tray yields weight to the other and imbalance occurs, the weights have to be adjusted to restore the balance. Imbalance symbolizes injustice; compen.sation makes adjustment (ad-just-ment), '~the achievement of justice, possible. Three years ago it was my privilege to address the New Orleans (Jesu'it) Province Assembly on th~ justice dimension of our apostolates~ In that paper I asked, "is ~our corporate apostolic service compensatory; are we 6 /ReviewforReligious; Volum~e 38, 197911. throwing our weight ~onto .the side of the oppressed?" I went on to say Symbolidally, justice is ~+l~resented by trays in balance on a scale.- The unbaladce of social injustice, where one group's advantage (th 'down tray) is taken at the expense .of another group (the up tray) calls for compensatory action.As a social group, we Jesuits should sh~ft our weight over to the weak stde. We see gaps between r, ch and poor, powerful and powerless, advantaged and disadvantaged. In exercising our min- " istry of justice, by whatever apostolic instruments, we sl~duld, it seems to me. trans- "' late the ideal of the Third Mode of humility into practice by choosing to be with Christ and as Christ---on the short side of all those gaps. Where do we throw our weight? Where do we throw our wealth, our income, our apostolic energy? One of the delegat6s to that assembly was the talented young lawyer-activist Alfred C. Kammer, S.J. In the question peribd following my talk, he expressed his personal view that the Society, as a group, occupier solidly and squarely the down tray in most" of the gap-comparisons that come to mind. In his recent contribution to Studies in the' Spirituality of Jesuitst Fr. Kammer~returns to my question, "Where d6 we throw our weight? Where do we throw our wealth, our income; our apostolic ener-gy?" and addresses it in these words: Th~ activist answers Father Byi'on's question by saying that the Society largely casts ' its weight with the "haves.'"with those who at best "don't care" and at worst are'the oppressors. He sees the institutional and personal weight of the Society lined up with the "haves" in such popular dichotomies as .these: white vs. black white vs. brown male vs. female U.S. vs. Third;World powerful vs. , powerless rich vs. poor . suburban vs. urban well-educated vs. poorly educated And, Fr. Kammer continues, "the,activist concludes that no matter how much Jesuits 'tinker' with their present .institutional commitments to facilitate the entry of some minority composed of the poor or disadvan, taged, th~e,.Society's weight is stii! .cgs.t overwhelmingly on the side of the well-off" (p~p. 10-11). I think Fred Kammer locates us Jesuits correctly. Weigh'ted do~v~ with the advantages of education, nutrition, health care, secure housing and all the other physical things necessary for our work, as well as those things less necessary but useful and convenient, we are on the down. tray, on the side of the well-off. Now_this raises many quegtions. What is the relatedness or relati0nship-between us and those who are less well off, those on the up tray, the disadvantaged. Are we Wher~we are because they are where they are? Has our gain been taken at their expense? With whom do we side when the issue ~" 'Burn-out' Contemporary Dilemma for the Jesuit Social Activist." Vol. X. No. 1, January 1978. Stewardship~ Justice and Purpos~e in Education is ,raised of redressing the balance? Without attempting to answer these difficult questions, I raise another that resurrects the,notion of stewardship. What are we do~ing ._with what we have? Do we manage it responsibly, share its, apply it,to the i,mprovement of life for others now and in the future? The Religious, CommUnity's Purpose in Education Many if,not most of us religious in America are stewarding our resources in an institutional educational environment. Will our stewardship-have anything .significant to contribute to .the promotion of justice? It may well be true that ~tinkering with our institutional arrangements will not shift our weight completely and existentially to the side of the poor and powerless. One need not conclude, however, that we must abandon our advantages. Nor does it follow that the down tray is necessarily the wrong place for' many religious to be. If we de=institutionalized our works, if wee gave away every physical asset we igossess ~nd went to live with the poor, poverty wo(dd be fieither relieved nor ~r~duced. We ar~ ~lo~t,lbcked 'into an adversary rel~ti6h~hip on the side ofth( rich againstth6 po6÷, 0n the side of whites against the blacks, on the side of a@ dominantgroup agaii~st any oppressed minoi'ity. We are in a position to'convert the "versus" linkages into hyphens find to forge connecting links of ~:econciliation between rich and poor, black and white, and other- di~,ided ~roups. A~dmittedly, many if not :most of us, a?e on the down tray. Admittedly, all occupants of the down tray will have to give somethingup if some semblance of balance is to b~.realized, and'most are unwilling to give up anything. And admittedly, the effort tO~'fi'chieve a balance between the trays is uphill and long range. But that is ttie.hatu're of the work we are called to do. Are we'free enough to do l~h~at i,v~b{k well? Central to an~ educational ~ork isthe develop~ment 0f"tiun~a~] potential. Human potential stretches into eternity;~the positive~side toward union with the Creatoi"bf that human p0t.e0[i-hl; the negative side points to the possibil: ity of eterh~i! alienation. , Formai education's inte{ests are coextensive with the entire range of positi~,e p~ssibiliti~s for human development. Recognition of this fact came early in Jesuit historY,. For more th~n four centuries now, we have been choosing formal education as an extr~brdinarily v~luable instrument for our work in the development of hum~.n potential. Many other religious in-sii'tutes have made'the same decision. ,:~ ,,~ ¯ At.this moment in our history, we Jesuits of the United States are faced with a.decline in numbers,'a fairly widespread loss.of nerve, some uneasi-ness ,about the appropriateness of our life-style and our ability, to live harmoniously and work effectively in companionship, and we are also faced with nagging doubts about.the apostolic value of what we are doing in,our schools. Our experience is.not uriique. In addition, we Jesuits have~lSeen challenged to redefifi~ ourselves~.and our mission.in terms of the service of 8 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 faith and the promotion of justice: Can this redefinition and concommitant rededication happen without abandonment:of our commitment.to formal educatiori? I think it can. Our Jesuit purpose in education is a logical extension of our stewardship and justice responsibilities.~And the same is true for many other religious. Formal education's interests are coextensive with the entire range of positive possibilities for human development. That is why religious communities choose formal education for their members, and choose to offer formal education to others. Higher education touches that ra.nge" of positive possibilities in a priv-ileged way. Wisdom is areal possibility at the stage of human development associated with higher education. At this level it is the privilege of educa-tors to group themselves into communities of inquiry which may become or beget wisdom communities,. The religious purpose in higher education is to move the minds and hearts of developing persons. The direction of this movement is Godward. The norm is truth. The outcome, it is to be hoped, is wisdom. And wisdom, we would all agree, is a gift from God. As the religious is a faith-committed person, so religious education is intended to be faith-commjttedactivity. If, as faith directs, everything depends on God, then wisdom would suggest that every'thing must be entrusted to God. If such wisdom is present with us at the beginning of religiously sponsored education, it may well be expected to reside with our students at the end of the edpcati0nal experi-ence. Any religious experience involves a search for God's will. This search, in the vocabulary of spirituality, goes b.y the name of discernment. And discernment, as we all know, is a wisdom characteristic. As any Jesuit knows, the Igna.tian way of discernment cannot be learned, from books. It can only be exp,grienced under the direction of a sensitive gpide. Hence, a special task, a privileged opportunity for Jesuits in higher education is to offer the e,xperience' of The Spiritual Exercises to those in .the learning community who want to grow spiritually. In the context o'f the Exercises, as in the classroom, learning should be directed by a motivator-organizer and assimilated by an active participant in the process. As a classroom educator or spiritual guide, the Jesuit, as an instrument of God's grace, is expected to assist the Spirit in moving the minds and hearts of those who want to grow. -' In the domain of higher education, there are many with the potential for wisdom. That is why Jesuits gather there to work. Their task is not only to teach and search for truth in all its forms, but also to share their founder's special grace with those who want to grow the Ignatian way. The Ignatian way toward wisdom is part of the heritage, the endowment over which every Jesuit exercises a stew~irdship responsibility. His antecedent respon-sibility; of course, is to have internalized the Ignatian way. His educational methods :will; not surprisingly, reflect it. Normally, his desire will be to live and work in companionship with others who are familiar with the Ignatian Stewardship, Justice and Purpose in Education way. And the Jesuit's hope, wherever he works, will be to share this way Or see it shared with others. That is responsible stewardship. It is also part of the Jesuit purpose in education. Parallel purposes, hopes and apostolic approaches characterize the work of other religious who are educators. There is much of a practical nature that (ould be said of education-for-justice efforts now underway in Catholic educational institutions. A lot of experience is accumulating. Rather than listing courses, projects and field experiences of demonstrated value, I would prefer to mention only one program that is designed to assist all educators in addressing the world hunger issue. Atthe 1974 World Food Conference in Rome, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger pledged the cooperation of the United States to work with other nations so that "within a decade no child will go to bed hungry" anywhere in the world. In hopes of facilitating contributions from educational institu-tions toward this goal, Bread for the World Educational Fund launched in 1976 a Decade of Commitment on World Hunger (DCWH). The program is designed for institutions of higher education. It provides conference oppor-tunities for administrators, faculty, campus ministers, career guidance counselors and students to share ways of placing and keeping hunger on the academic agenda. Emphasis is placed on four areas within which colleges ~:an deal with the hunger issue: curriculum, research, campus ministry and career choices made by students ("In the face of the world hunger problem, what are.you going to do with your life?").?~ Som~ of.the best work in justice-education is happening in secondary schools. Again I refrain from listing the specifics. I would, however, like to say a word about the person of the secondary educator. To put it more pr.ecisely, I would like to repeat a great theologian's reflections on the value of the person and importance of the work of the religious who is a high school_teacher. The Jesuit secondary educator is the man John Courtney Murray, de-scribed with admiration and affection as "The Schoolmaster." He spoke of the schoolmaster as the grammarian, the person who is knowledgeable in the elements of his subject, whose knowledge is, in this sense, elementary but certainly not superficial. The schoolmaster is devoted to the communi-cation of these elements as a lifetime work. Being a schoolmaster, said Fr. Murray to a Jesuit audience at Woodstock in 1961, is '~being on the growing edge of things, beca.use the growing edge is youth." "We are supposed to be Jesuit ministers of growth," he added, "'ad profectum animarum." "We are supposed to be men of tomorrow. One of "~The Educational Fund, which can also provide worship aids and high school course-materials on hunger, is a separate corporation closely related to the Christian citi~.ens lobby known simply as Bread for the World (207 East 16th Street, New York City 10003). Membership in Bread for the World (annual dues $10) will keep one informed, by means of a monthly newsletter and background papers, about the hunger issue. "10 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 our earliest undertakings was to become schoolmasters, schoolmen. Doc-trina exacta et solida is first the tradition of the Church; it is also the tradition of reason. We are committed to an intellectual apostolate--a min-istry of and io intelligence." The schoolmaster imparts the skills and guides the maturation process. The more fully the religious schoolmaster or schoolmistress has assimilated the basic elements of his or her religious, heritage, the more valuable is he or she as a role model in the 'midst of the young. The classroom teacher's task is largely one of method and motivation; the object is to move both minds and hearts. Inevitably, the response the teacher stimulates will be a response to himself or herself. This is a privileged relationship. If the sct~oolmaster (or the scholar, for that matter) is a person of justice, a sense of justice will be communicated to the students. If the institution-alized set of arrangements known as a school embodies in its procedures relationships of justice, then those who teach and learn there will, in vary-ing degrees, embody in themselves the principles of justice. The religious schoolmaster has, of course, a life outside the classroom. There are pastoral opportunities and citizenship responsibilities. The apostolic base, the school, can and should.be a place from which the religious reaches out to the Christian and civic communities for the service of faith and promotion.of justice. That outreach will, it might be expected, involve both witness and advocacy roles in 'the cause of justice as an expression of faith. Education for justice is a challenge we religious are capable of meeting. We should have no doubt about that. Whether we will. meet it or not is another matter. But we can, if we choose. The educational outcomes, the results of our efforts to educate for justice, depend on powers beyond our own. There is no reason to believe that the Lord will not raise up men and women of justice in our midst and in our times. I recognize that there is no bne method known now to be the most effective in educating for justice. The argument over method goes back to the Aristotelian notion that the one who does justice will come to under-stand justice; and back as well to Plato's view that the one who first understands justice will then act justly. In this important matter of educat-ing for justice, we Catholic educators have a laboratory system in our American schools and colleges. We can try different methods in different situations and compare results. The findings of our experiments in educa-tion for justice can be shared with other educators in other systems. We can make a difference here. As we do it our way, in the intellectual-educational mode, unjust, ex-pioitative, discriminatory and oppressive situations will remain in our world. But in direct proportion to our success in educating fqr justice, future world situations will have a reduced share of injustice. It is a Chris-tian characteristic not to give up on the future. Stewardship, Justice and Purpose in Education / 11 Father BenWren, a New Orleans Province Jesuit whose scholarly inter-ests include Eastern mysticism, tells me that there is a Chinese saying to0the effect that one who is concerned with planning for a year should plant rice; the person interested in planning for a decade should plant trees. But one who wants to plan for a century will surely want to educate people. There.is a religious purpose in education. That purpose is consistent, for example, with our contemporary Jesuit focus on the service of faith and the specification of that service in the promotion ofjustice. The activist impulse suggested by the word promotion is quite congenial with our purpose and style of education. Through education; we can touch both trays on the scalEs of justice. When we work with the advantaged, we should have the disadvantaged in mind. We can challenge ourselves and all others who occupy the down tray to dedicate ourselves in conscience to making life livable for the poorest of the poor. When we work directly with the e~onom-ically disadvantaged, we can assist them in developing the competencies that can help them move toward a better life. The earliest Jesuit schools were free. But never, so far as I can deter-mine, were Jesuit schools exclusively for the poor or exclusively for the rich. Today, we are with the rich,much more than we are with the poor in our educational work. Who can say that we cannot somehow, somewhere in the decades ahead bring our educational energies into more direct contact with the poor? Who can say that we will not, in the meantime, find new and effective ways of bringing the "haves" with wtiom we work to an accept~ ance of their obligations injustice toward the "have nots"? And who woul~l want to take responsibility for disengaging ourselves from the apostolate that makes either option possible? That last question, in my view, highlights the importance of personal and community life-style for those who work in the educational apostolate. We religious in America are perfectly capable of going soft. We can indeed insulate and isolate ourselves from the condition of the disadvantaged masses. We are capable of-violating our stewardship. If that should happen, justice will not be served and the religious purpose in education will have lost its salt. In The American Mind (Yale, 1950), Henry Steele Commager remarks that for Willa Cather, the past was significant for its moral qualities. Her long literary life was, according to Commager, an elaborate remembrance of things past--the past of the pioneers who had built the West, of the immigrants who had carried with them into the New World their sense of beauty and art, of those earlier spiritual pathfinders, the Franciscans and Jesuits, who had served their fellowmen and their God so selflessly. And all her novels and stories., were animated by a single great theme as they w.ere graced by a single felicitous style, the theme was that of the supremacy of moral and spiritual over material values, the ever recurrent but inexhaustible theme of gaining the whole world and losing one's soul (p. 150). Dealing, as she did, with the frontier as the setting for many of her 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 stories, Miss Cather apparently found inspiration in the frontier idea and saw it as a setting for clarification, and dramatization of moral issues. Hence, as Commager points out, the passing of the pioneer generation meant, to Miss Cather, the passing of all the old virtues, "and she was incapable of believing that there could be different virtues in a civilization whose standards were those of the countinghouse, whose habits were predatory, and whose rewards were social and ostentatious rather than spiritual and private" (p. 154). Commager cites a tribute to Nebraska writ-ten by Willa Cather in the early 1920's: We must face the fact that the splendid story of the pioneers is finished and that no new story worthy to take its place has yet begun . The generation now in the driver's seat hates to make anything, wants to live and die in an automobile, scudding past those acres where the old man used to follow the corn rows up and down. They want to buy everything ready-made: clothes, food., education, music, pleasure; Will the third generation--the full-blooded joyous ones just coming over the hill--be fooled? Will it believe that to live easily is to live happily.'? (p. 154). Two generations have passed since those words were written. Religious at work in Nebraska and elsewhere in America are prepared to admit that many of us in many different driver's seats have been fooled. Regrettably, some of us, by witness and word, have foolishly encouraged others to believe that to live easily is to live happily. The "new story" thatoWilla Cather was looking for in Nebraska,can be written anywhere in America by contemporary religious educators, if they choose to. I suspect that "the full-blooded joyous ones just coming over the hill" are not now being fooled; they recognize that if we want to live happily, we will want to do what we can to make life livable for the poorest of the poor. Schools alone cannot do it and they certainly cannot do it right away. But without the schools, it will not be done at all:. Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation Michael T. Winstanley, S.D.B. Father Winstanley lectures in New Testament Studies at Ushaw College, the Senior Seminary for the Northern Dioceses of Eng_l, and. He lives in the Salesian community attached to Ushaw College; Durham DH7 9RH; England. His last article, "'Jesus, Poverty and the Kingdom," appeared in the July, 1977 issue. Your vow to remain unmarried for the sake of God's kingdom will draw you into the loneliness of the cross of Jesus and reveal the basic loneliness of every man.1 In his,book The Calvary Christ Gerald O'Collins writes: "Too often a cloud of stale words covers Calvary. Theologians and exegetes can use a language remote from anything we feel. Conventional-religious art asks for our conventional reaction. Tendencies .towards evasion in all of us allow this art to continue and the dull language to grind on. We accept the old fo.rmulas, the familiar crucifixes and the ponderous pronouncements of scholars with a mixture of loyalty and mystification. We need to find and fashi6n ways of reflecting on the crucifixion which can let it speak to us again with. new power.'' How far this statement mirrors our feelings and experience, each indi-viduai must judge. I should like to suggest that one way of reflecting on the crucifixion which can indeed let it speak to us again with new power is to tRulefor a New Brother (London; Darton, Longman & Todd, 1973), p. 16. 2G. O'Collins, The Calvary Christ (London, SCM, 1977), p. ix. 13 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 38,~ 1979/1 take one evangelist's presentation of the passion of Jesus, to meditate on it, and to allow its impact to challenge our lives. For each of the evangelists narrates the story in his own way, with his own particular emphases, highlighting different aspects of the drama, f~cusing different facets of the person of Jesus,.communicating his own theological vision and understand-ing of the significance of the event. Unfortunately, the originality of each approach is often blurred, and the sharpness blunted by the comfortably generalized picture which most of us have. In this article I shall concentrate on one of the motifs which dominates the passion according to Mark, namely the loneliness of Jesus.3 It is this which constitutes his greatest suffering, far more than any physical pain. In fact, Mark, as indeed the other three evangelists, evinces little interest in the physical torments of the Master, laying little stress upon them. Mark's Gospel has been called a passion narrative with a long introduction. This reminds us to view the passion within the framework of the whole Gospel; consequently, in our consideration of some of the elements of the narrative, it will be necessary to refer back to earlier sections of the Gospel. The earliest passion narratives probably began with the arrest scene. "Suddenly, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, appeared, and with him was a crowd armed with swords and ~cudgels; sent by the chief priests, lawyers and elders." The man responsi.ble .for the success of the arrest is not one of those whose constant opposition had dogged Jesus' tracks, but "one of the twelve," one of his friends. Our minds flash back to an earlier scene in which Jesus "then went up into the hill country and called the men he wanted: and they went and joined him. He appointed twelve to be with him, to be sent out to proclaim the gospel, with a commis-sion to drive out devils. So he appointed the twelve .-." (3,13-16). Discipleship is primarily a personal call to the intimacy of friendship, a being "singled out" in order to "be with." It is one of these chosen ones who had shared his fellowship who is the traitor; and the sign of his treach, ery is the normal sign of respect and friendship: "When he reached the spot, he stepped forward at once and said to Jesus, 'Rabbi,' and kissed him. Then they seized him and held him fast." The verb Mark uses here means a particularly ~iffectionate kiss, a firm embrace. After a futile act of token resist~ince which served only to emphasize Jesus' defenselessness, "they deserted him and fled, every one of them," including the~youthful follower who narrowly evaded capture. , Mark recounts this Scene with a laconic matter-of-factness that is chill-ingly disconcerting. Earlier that evening, as they walked together from the supper room to the garden, Jesus had predicted their flight: "You will all fall from .your faith; for it stands written: 'I will strike the shepherd down and the sheep will be scattered.'" And Peter, not untypically, had insisted that he would die even, rather than disown Jesus. "And they all said the same" 3cf. Hendrickx, The Passian Narratives (Manila, East Asian Pastoral Institute, 1977). Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation / 15 (14, 26-31). Yet they were not Slow to seek their own safety and leave Jesus to face his fate alone. This flight and abandonment, the memory of which haunted the early Christians, was in fact the culmination of that failure on the part of the disciples both to understand and to accept the messiahship of Jesus which Mark traces throughout this Gospel, especially after Caesarea Philippi in Chapter Eight. On that occasion, in answer to Jesus' questioning concerning people's opinions about him~ and his further probing as to the views of the disciples, Peter, as their spokesman, professed Jesus' messiahship. Jesus responded by speaking openly about his passion for the first time, which provoked a bewildered attempt to dissuade him. At this time Jesus rebuked Peter in ~strong terms for his thinking as men think rather than as God thinks, and proceeded to outline the nature of discipleship: "~nyone who wishes to be a follower of mine must leave self behind, he must take up his cross and come with me" (8,34). A little later in the narrative, as they journeyed through Galilee, Jesus again spoke of his passion, "but they did not understand what he said and were afraid to ask" (9,32). And on their way they argued about seniority and importance and greatness. Jesus predicted his passion for the third, time on the road going up to Jerusalem in terms which were unmistakably clear. The failure of the disciples to understand is illustrated by the next incident, in which the two sons of Zebedee made a bid for the top jobs in the Kingdom. The rest were naturally indignant about this, a row broke, out, and Jesus, in patient frustra-tion, attempted to open their minds to the nature of his messiahship and of his kingdom, and to the real meaning of discipleship in terms of service (10,44-45). It is this inability or unwillingness to grasp and to accept what messiah-ship meant for Jesus when this proved to be different from what the twelve were expecting and hopiag for; this inability or unwillingness to embrace in vision and in lifestyle the kind of discipleship such a messiah demanded, which expressed itself so decisively in their garden choice not to be "with him," to care for their own safety (8,35), to forsake him and flee. The next scene in the passion drama, comprises Jesus' trial before the Sanhedrin and the denials of Peter; the~e two incidents are closely inter-locked in Mark's account. '~Then they led Jesus away to the High Priest's. house, where the chief priests, elders and doctors of the law were all assembling." Already Mark has clearly designated the Jewish leaders as the ones responsible for Jesus' arrest (14,43), and he indicates each section that made up the San.hedrin, the supreme religious and legislative body. For Mark, these are his real enemies. From the early stages of the public ¯ ministry they have consistently opposed him. In Chapter Two, when the paralytic is brought to Jesus, the doctors of the law consider his talk about 16 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 forgiving sins quite blasphemous, and Jesus vainly attempts to open their eyes as he cures the poor man. A little while la.ter, after the call of Levi, when Jesus is at table with tax-gatherers and sinners, the Pharisees com-plain~ to his disciples about the types he"mixes with; Jesus, on hearing this, retorts, not without a touch of irony: "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick; I did not come to invite virtuous people, but sinners" (2,17). Mark now records the Pharisees' criticism of the disciples for plucking corn on the Sabbath, a complaint which stung Jesus to challenge their basic tenets in enunciating the principle that people mattered more than sabbath regulations. This incident is followed by an episode which underlines the mounting hostility, the failure of Jesus to win acceptance of the religious ~lite. It is a sabbath and Jesus goes to the synagogue, where there is a man with a withered arm. "And they were watching to see whether Jesus would cure him on the sabbath, so that they could bring a charge against him." Aware of their malicious intentions, Jesus tries to draw them, to make them aware of the perversion of religion, the distortion of the image of God, that adherence to legalistic casuistry entailed. He encountered an obstinate and ominous silence, saddening and frustrating. "But the Pharisees, on leaving the synagogue, began plotting against him with the partisans of Herod to see how they could make away with hirh." Thereafter Jesus is obliged to live and to work under the shadow of this threat. The rift widens as the ministry continues, and eventually, as the conflict approaches its climax, Jesus takes the game into their own court, openly challenging them by expelling the money-lenders and merchants from the temple .precincts. On hearing of this, the chief priests and doctors of the Law "sought some means of making away with him, for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching" (11,18). Not long afterwards Jesus spoke that indictment-parable of the wicked husbandmen. The inevitable result was that -they began to look for a way to arrest him, for they saw that the parable was aimed at them; but they were afraid of the people, so they left him alone and went away" (12,12). As that fateful final week progresses we hear of the attempts by the Phari-sees and Herod's party to entrap him in regard to the Caesar tribute (12,13), and by the Sadducees in regard to the resurrection (12,18-27); and we hear Jesus word-lash the doctors of the Law (12,38-40). And so, finally, as the Passover feast approaches, "the chief priests and doctors of the Law were trying to devise some cunning plan to seize him and put him to death" (14,1). Now these men have Jesus in their power at last. From the commence-ment of the so-called trial or enquiry, their intentions are firm and limpid; with cynical singlemindedness "they sought testimony against Jesus to put .him to death" (14,.56). Mark paints the scene in a few, bold, vivid strokes: the balking incompetence of the false witnesses; the silent, dignified, isolated figure of Jesus; his foes bent unanimously on his destruction. Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation Swiftly the evangelist brings the matter to a head, as the high priest asks Jesus whether he is in fact the Christ. At Jesus' open affirmation, the high priest, with an elaborate dlsplay of passionate horror, accuses him of blas-phemy; and the gathering ends as planned: "they all condemned him as deserving death' '--again Mark emphasizes the unanimity of the opposition, and the utter aloneness of Jesus. Whilst, in an atmosphe.re of frenzied hate and delighted success, Jesus is beaten and mockbd and humiliated, Mark shifts our attention to the courtyard where Peter stands by the fire warming himself in the chill night air. We are familiar with the painful description of Peter's triple denial of the Master. Mark skiifully orders them in a crescendo pattern so that the third denial is the most intense, accompanied by curses and a solemn oath. Some scholars suggest that Peter, still under fire in spite of his first two denials, resorts to the strongest possible manner of dissociating himself from Jesus by actually cursing him; this is the force to be given to that staggering disavowal: "I do not know this man you speak of"--an even more emphatic restatement of his earlier rejection of Jesus' messianic way at Caesarea Philippi. Peter, singled out to be with him, decisively opts in public not to be with him. Mark heightens the effect of this by juxtaposing the incident with the trial .scene: Jesus, true to himself and his mission, affirms what he cannot deny, his messiahship; and he is rejected by the religious leaders of his own people and by his closest follower. Alone and in chains, he is led away and handed over to pagan power (15,1). The rejection and isolation of Jesus is further accentuated in the subse-quent scene when the ordinary people shout for his death. The fickleness of crowds, the fragility of public opinion, is a commonly recognized phe-nomenon. From the statements of the Pharisees cited earlier, it would seem that Jesus continued to enjoy a considerable amount of popularity with the masses. Yet their acclaim was always suspect. Quite early in the Gospel, Mark describes the wave of enthusiasm and excitement sparked by Jesus' miracles and teaching; the people flocked to him with their sick, and hung on his words. But their response went little deeper. For the most part, they misunderstood the nature of his kingdom, the,genre of his peculiar messia-nism. They were not won to faith; they were prone to disappointment and disillusionment, with the resentful antagonism that this engenders. Now, when Pilate in a desperate effort to release him, offered the mob the option of choosing "Jesus Barabbas," as he was probably called, a freedom fighter convicted of murder, or Jesus of Nazareth, the crowd, incited by the chief priests, clamored for the insurrectionist, and screamed for Jesus to be committed to the hideous torture-death of crucifixion. We should not allow our familiarity with the story to dull our sensitivity to the poignant pain of that scene, the dreadful irony as the nation whose whole history pointed to this moment, the nation chosen out of all peoples on the face of the earth to be God's own people (Dt 7,6ff.), disowned their 11~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 Emmanuel. Jesus stands there in the open, alone, the impassioned cries of the people that was his people ringing in his ears, as they chant his rejection. His bitter desolation is intensified by a sense of injustice. Even Pilate was convinced of his innocence: "Why, what harm has he done?" Thus he is abandoned tothe Roman soldiery. In his economic description of the crucifixion and death of Jesus, Mark emphasizes the solitude of Jesus by mentioning details which, because of our acquaintance with the versions of Luke and John, we are apt to over-look. After the passers-by had hurled abuse at him and mocked him in his helpless anguish, and the lawyers had jested and gibed, "even those who were crucified with him taunted him" (15,32). At the end the robbers, too, renounce his companionship; Jesus does not belong even with his fellow-sufferers. Similarly, it is only after the death of Jesus that mention is made of the women who had followed him from Galilee, and who "were watching from a distance" (15,40). At the foot of the cross there is no mother, no beloved disciple; Jesus died utterly alone. The searing anguish of his pain and loneliness arid failure is focused and captured in the loud cry from the cross: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" But he died "without a word or a wink from God to reassure him that, whatever the gawking crowd might think, he knew that Jesus was not only innocent, but valid where it mattered.''4 Jesus' sense of total rejection by men is compounded and intensified by his feeling abandoned by the Father,.by his experience of estrangement and alienation that be-longs to our sinfulness. The psalm that Jesus is citing is a psalm of uncon-ditional trust in God's love and ultimate vindication. The last words of Jesus are a radical expresSion of his loneliness, and a "radical expression of a devotion to God which endures in every adverse experience--a devotion which continues to claim God as 'my' God and will not let him go although he can be experienced only as the absent One who has'forsaken the peti-tioner.''~ It is this surrender in love and trust that is our window into the mystery of his personality, for it is the human expression of what.we have come to call divine sonship; it is this surrender in the brokenness of death which, like the buried grain, is the source of our life.6 It is, I believe, true that Mark's way of presenting the passion of Jesus can allow it to "speak to us again with new power," speak to us with hope and with challenge in the center of our experience. All of us know at first hand the meaning of loneliness. I still vividly remember my feelings of desolate helplessness on the occasion of my first day at school as mother walked out of the playground beyond the iron fence. Or years later, when, having spent three years in enclosed quasi-monastic surroundings, I went to sit my finals in London, sporting a large 4L. E. Keck, A Future for the Historical Jesus (London, SCM, 1972), p. 229. ~E. Schweizer, The Good News according to Mark (London, SPCK, 1971), p. 353. ncf. my article "Trust--the Life-Attitude of Jesus" in Doctrine and Life, Nov. "76, pp. 803 ft. Discipleship and Loneliness: A Marcan Meditation Roman collar at twenty-one; everything and everyone seemed to be telling me that I did not belong~°I recall also the numbing sense'of lostness that came over me as' the train hissed noisily to a halt in Wigan station the evening 'my father died. Loneliness has many forms: the jarring sadness of bereavement, the corrosive listlessness of loss and separation, the anguished alienation and shame.of guilt and sin, thedisappointment of failure, the isolation of intense physigal suffering or imprisonment; the d(structive discouragement and paralysis of non-acceptance and rejection, the pain of misunderstanding and estrangement, the gnawing emptiness of unfulfilled longing for intimacy and genuine cbmpanionship, the absence of~God. Loneliness is thic.kly woven into the fabric of our lives, it.is a facet of our human poverty, our poverty of being. But Mark assures us that it is an aspect of being human that Jesus-fully shared throughout his ministry and especially in hi~ final hours. Most of us are anxious to avoid pain, physical pain; our medical and pharmaceutical experts have mercifully developed many varieties of anal-gesic. Most of us, likewise, sedulously attempt to avoid the pain of loneli-ness; and our society has developed a wide range of would-be anaesthetics--from discos to little dog~--to soften the abrasive harshness of our experience. I, for one, am very grateful for the refuge and comfort afforded by the telephone! And yet I wonder whether Mark is challenging us as disciples of Jesus to Cope with our loneliness m. ore creatively. Whilst recognizing with thanks the extent to which he made the experience of loneliness his own, perhaps we are reluctant to recognize that he did what most of us, most of the time, seek to .shun. In spite of gripping fear and instinctive repugnance, he did not run away from it; and his steadfastness transformed it into a life-giving element of redemption. Perhaps it is here that Mark is speaking to us again with new power; perhaps the challenge for disciples of Jesus consists in transforming the pain of loneliness into a source of personal growth and of life for others. It is very important that instead of taking one of the numerous escape roads open to us, we learn to come to terms with our loneliness and listen to our own feelings and struggles, our aspirations and questions, and live themacceptingly. It is here in the unique my.stery'of our personal selfhood, in the depths of our being, that we must have the courage to allow God to find us. It is here that his call is to be heard: "Do not be afraid, for I am with you . " So often God seems absent for the simple reason that we are fearfully evading his loving presence. Loneliness is paradoxically a poten-tial source of enrichment, for it can teach us the meaning of poverty of spirit, which opens us to the gift of God's kingly rule through the Spirit poured into our hearts, that surrender in loving and trusting obedience which is the hallmark of the Master.7 rI'his is developed by Henri J. M. Nouwen, Reaching Out (London, Collins, 1976), pp. 25-101. 90 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 In learning to come to terms with our loneliness, we may learn like Jesus, to love more genuinely, more compassionately. Our going out to others will be legs oriented to answering our own needs for companionship and fulfillment, and will become an expression of authentic service which can liberate and heal and enliven. At Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asked Peter and the other eleven: ~' And you, who do you say I am?" He reiterates this question to each Christian daily. Peter was able to acknowledge J~esus as Messiah, but his response was inadequate, it did not involve a willingness to follow in his way; he jibbed at the implications of discipleship. Loneliness, failure, misunderstanding, rejection are always painful, very painful, and are a constant in our human experience; a constant, however, shot through with hope because of the paschal mystery of Christ. Our answer as disciples to the challenging ques-tion of Jesus must be expressed in our willingness to take up this cross and go "with him." A Lamb Looks Through the Fence (Where the grass appears to be greener) The grass is greener on the other side: At least, it seems that way. Shepherd, give me a heart content To praise, to server to stay. This is the pasture of Your choice, And lessons here await: Calm the longings of my heart And bid the storms abate. For fences also keep us safe, Hedged in with loving care, Provided for and protected from The lion and the bear. Teach me to trust--this humble prayer Removes the restless yen: Some day we'll see from a higher view How green our side has been. Vi~la Jacobson Berg 5 Roosevelt Ave. Malverne, NY 11565 Reflections of a Bishop on Religious Communities Leonard J. Crowley Leonard J. Crowley, Titular Bishop of Mons in Numedia, is Auxiliary Bishop of Montreal. He is Director Of the Office for English Language Affairs in the archdiocese; 2000 Sherbrooke St. West; Montreal, Que. H3H IG4; Canada. n the very fitting context of the Feast of Pentecost last year, two Roman Congregations (The Congregation for Bishops and the Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes) promulgated a very significant docu-ment on Directives for the Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Reli-gious in the Church. The statement is significant, for its very existence admits that there is room for growth in understanding between the episcopal office and religious communities. For far too long within the Church's often turbulent history there has been too little fruitful communication between the overseers of the faith and those specialists who have a particular and time-honored gift to share with the faithful. Th~ warning of John Cassian to his monks in the fourth century seems, even today, to express a deep-seated mistrust: "The two groups you must avoid at all times are women and the bishops." The Diocesan/Religious Rivalry This basic antipathy often shows itself as well in the ranks of those from whom the residential bishop is normally chosen in North America--the diocesan clergy. What some may naively call a healthy rivalry between religious and diocesan groups is often~ at root, a basic distrust of one another's real motives and abilities in the exercise of the apostolate. 21 22 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 This recent document addresses itself directly to this sorry condition where it exhorts that "efforts should be made to renew the bonds of fratero nity and cooperation between the diocesan clergy and communities of religious." It even suggests the context of "simple and informal" gather-ings "which serve to increase mutual trust, apostolic solidarity, and fra-ternal harmony" (37). The duty for seeing to it that such fraternal gattierings take place and grow in significance and depth is placed squarely, as it should be, on the shoulders of the bishop. Furthermore, it is the duty of the bishop to so blend the services of diocesan and religious groups that each recognize members of outstanding talent and together support their promotion to positions of service commensurate with their capabilities; for "the bishop should . . . exhort the diocesan priests to recognize gratefully the fruitful contribution made by religious to their Church and to approve willingly their nomination to positions of greater responsibility which are consbnant with their vocation and competency" (55). In basic fact, if we truly are to witness to the mystery of the Lord Jesus in our midst, then there should be no rivalry but only harmony in the service we render. The bishop and his diocesan assistants should rejoice in the presence of specialists who bring a particular talent to minister ina certain area to the People of God. In such a context, "bishops, along with their clergy, should be convinced advo-cates of the consecrated life, defenders of religious communities, promoters of vocations, firm guardians of the specific character of each religious family both in the spiritual and in ihe apostolic field" (28). As a matter of fact, it is the bishop's "specific office to defend consecrated life, to foster and animate the fidelity and authenticity of religious and .~o, help them become part of the communion and of the evangelizing action of his church, acc.ording to their distinctive nature" (52). ~ Difficulties of Identification But herein lies the crux of the problem. Many a bishop would be hard pressed to identify the "distinctive nature" of the religious groups en-trusted to his watchful overseeing. In many instances there seems to have ¯ been a loss of clear identity on the part of religious communities. The bishop i~ fully aware, in most instances, that "the very nature of apostolic action requires that [he] give precedence to interior recollection and to the life of prayer;" but he is also frustrated by the realization that some religious apparently have not taken to heart the realization that they must, "in conformity with their distinctive nature, renew themselves in depth and be assiduous in prayer" (23a). What a bishop must be seeking from religious who reside in or enter his diocese is a specific dedication and consecration to a form of spirituality and to an apostolic witness that is as clear and as vital as it was when the Ruleo that embodies that life was first written. The bishop must be concerned with the future of his flock; but he wants that future founded solidly in the values that have come out of the past. Therefore he must be in search of"religious Reflections of a Bishop on Religious Communities [who], even while showing a particular spirit of enterprise and foresight for the future, [are] intensely loyal to the intention and spirit of their insti-tute." (34). However, the simple fact appears to be that many religious groups have maintained a loyalty to their institute but have lost sight of both its intention and its spirit. The Second, Vatican Council has urged. The Adaptation and Renewal of Religious Life to begin with a sincere return to the spirit and the mind of the Founder and from that unique font to build anew a personal and communal zeal for the spread of the Gospel, in all its richness. It is obvious that many, if not all, religious communities have adapted themselves, their customs, their habits, to the contemporary condition--not without a great deal of soul-searching, painful compromise, and interminable meetings. But adaptation was the easier half of the challenge and directive laid down by Perfectae Caritatis. How many communities have gone on to embrace a radical renewal of their original spirit? For it is in the light of that question that one can honestly ask about the future relevance of religious life. Ignorance of Specific Spirit In many instances, individual religious find it all but impossible to dis-tinguish the uniqueness of their charism from that of other religious commu-nities. Beyond a loyal chauvinism for their own institute, many admit that their vision, their mission, their methodology is essentially the same as evi~ryone else's. The historical reasons that called: the original foundation into existence often are gone now, the needs alleviated, the witness fulfi!led, the expectations satisfied. The more specific the historical reason for the foundation, the more difficult becomes the task of pinpointing its relevance now in the latter part of the twentieth century. This quandary has caused much frustration on the part of dedicated and deeply concerned men and women who recognize the values of their traditions, see a need for apostolic zeal within the mission of the Church, but find it difficult to wed the two into an effective and realistic union within the contemporary con-text. What has happened in the minds of many young religious is to say, "Forget the past. Deal with the present and prepare for the future." But such an outlook definitely isolates one frbmthe ~rich traditions that give reason for the continuing existence of the particular institute. It truly ap-pears that too many religious today are ignorant of the spirit that enkindled the foundation of their community. They may know its historical back-ground; but they have done little to identify with .the charismatic zeal that gives them a uniqueness and an individuality so necessary in building up the full experience that is Church. For there appears today to be little difference between one religious community and another except in terms of an accident of history or geography. Beyond the clear distinctions offered by the stric~tly contemplative and monastic communities, religious orders and societies seem to have Ihid aside those distinctions that called them into 24 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 existence. Many individuals apparently responded to a vocational urging as personified in a particular individual: a teacher, a pastor, a chaplain, a family friend. The specific community to which that individual belonged meant little, except that it was the obvious context within which the indi-vidual was to pursue his vocation if he intended to follow the lead of his childhood hero. Thus many young men have gone in pursuit of the priest-hood, not as a diocesan priest or as a member of a religious community, but as a priest like Father Racine, or Father Joe, or Father O'Brien. Many young ladies simply continued their religious quest in the same context as the academy or the convent school to which they were sent by parents desirous of the best education possible for their offspring and knowing that the "good sisters" would provide just that. Symbol of Identity Of course, as the individual comes to identify with the community to which he has gone, to learn of its traditions and history during his years of postulancy and novitiate, he doubtless grows in love for and identification with the order or the congregation. That identity used to be symbolized .very powerfully in the reception of the religious habit. More than anything else, the habit had been the external symbol of an internal commitment. For many communities of religious women, the bishop was called upon to participate in this very important step in identification with the spirit of the Founder and the vision of the order. But, for many communities today, the habit stands as a symbol of the past. And the search for a clear, contempo-rary sign of identification whereby new members might feel a sense of oneness with the community has been a very frustrating one. Yet, in the beginning, it was not the habit that gave identity; it was the spirit and zeal of the Founder, as these drives inspired the community, giving a clear sense of purpose and single-mindedness to all who embraced the Holy Rule. It is that spirit which must be renewed in religious communities today if the symbols of religious life are to have any role to fulfill within the Church. The Problem of Stability Because many religious communities have been established for the ministry of the Universal Church and not for the local church alone, many within a diocese, often the bishop himself, tend to resent the fluidity of a religious community's commitment to a particular apostolic endeavor. For such persons, whose commitment to the local church is total, there is a very deep-seated hesitancy to entrust the fulfillment of a ministry to a group whose commitment often seems to be as long as its superior's vision is far-reaching. Such an anxiety seems natural and even fortified by the gospel parable about the hireling and the good shepherd. However, what many, whose commitment to the local church is so intense, fail to recognize or to acknowledge is that the purpose of religious exemption is "so that institutes Reflections of a Bishop on Religious Communities carl express their identity more adequately and devote themselves~to ,the common good with special generosity and on a wider scale" (22). If all who work together within the diocesan community have a proper appreciation of the exempt status as "a certain expression of that pastoral concern which unites them intimately with the Roman Pontiff for the universal care of all people," such an awareness "will promote greatly increased apostolic' ini-tiative and missionary zeal in every particular church" (22). ' Of course, every religious community that comes to ~erve the local church, even if it does beloia~ to an institute of pontifical right, "should feel themselves truly a part of the diocesan family" (18b). Therefore their com-mitment should be as deep find their solicitude as pervasive as every other apostolic witness within thediocese. However, in those situations where an institution finds itself "unable to carry on a given undertaking, its superiors should, in good time andwith~confidence; make known the factors hinder-ing its continuance at least in its actual form, especially if this lack is due to personnel. For~his part, ti~e local ordinary should consider sympatheti-cally the re~luest to withdraw from the undertaking and in common accord with the superiors seek a suitable solu'tion" (47). in other words, every local Church must always see itself as a vital organ of the universal People of God under the guidance of the Holy F~ther. None of us can afford to allow our apostolic vision to become so myopic as to blind us to the needs beyond our own backyard. Bishops~ especially, must realize that the zealous service of religious in his pastoral domain is always carried on'with a sense-of ministry to the Universal Church. Such a presence, then, is a blessing as it broadens the horizons of our apostolic perspective and helps us to appreciate more deeply the total concern of the Father for all his children. Thus as religious come and go within a diocese, neither the ordinary nor his diocesan assistants should resent their fluidity but shoiald see, in their willingriess to move as the Spirit calls them, a vivid reminder that we all are a pilgrim people on the move to the home that we can ohly begin to build toward in this world. The Church is larger and more loving than any of us. We must always st.rive to be of humble service to her needs and to free those who feel the ardent call to another vineyard, to another manifestation of the Spirit's solicitude in the midst of the people of God. Future Expectations Religious ~ommunities are ~:alled today to "devote themselves with full awareness and zeal to the task 0f incarnating and manife.sting in the diocese the specific witness and the genuine mission of their institute" (22). This is the value and the service that the bishops, are going to be searching for in the future, all the more so ,as they realize quite clearly that they "are entrusted with the duty of caring for religious charisms . [For] in this way;" by fostering religious life and protecting it in conformity with its own Review for Religious, Volume 38,~!~979/1 definite characteristics, bishops fulfill a real. pastoral duty" (9c). Thus the bi~hopJs going to be in search of and solicitous for those communities that. are responding in the modem day to the needs of the Church after the spirit and .with the zeal of their founders. Quite obviously, then, "religious supe-i- iors have a grave duty, their foremost responsibility in fact, to assure'the fidelity of the members to the charism of the Founder, by fostering :the renewal prescribed by the Council and required by the.times" (14c). The future of religious life will lie in the oab!ljty that each religious community has to move away from the mentali~ty of being an embattled camp; of~asse~ting, by quality of performanceoand depth of, solicitude, the recognition that "every institute exists.for the Church and must enrich her with its.~distinctive characteristics, according~to a particular spirit,and a specific mission" (14b). Eacho!n,stitute-is a shepherd, not a hireling-~.,~but only, ifoit speaks with the voice of its Founder who echoes the voice of the Good Shepherd. "The very charism of the founders appears a_s "an experi-ence of the Spirit' transmitted to their ,disciples to be lived, safeguarded, deepened and constantly developed by them, in harm~gny with the Body of Christ, continually in the process oLgrowth" (11). o. The future of the religious life de, pends, then, on a renewal that will be as much new as it will be re-. Besides a deep appreciation of the~historical origin and vision of one's community, each one,must se, ek innovative and creative ways w~ith which to bringthe wisdom an~t°~technology of contempo-rary society to bear upon the timeless values articulated, by the Lord Jesus and specifi.cally~ pursued within a particular religious context. The more clearly and more wholesomely we can make those value~"'li.~,e in our own day, the more relevant and essential becohaes the role we intend to.fulfillS' That is one reason why the renewal of the religio~us life remains ~such a crucial issue. However, that renewal is feasible only if each in~stitiate ,and every member is clearly aware that"it is necessary to preserve the identity of each institute so securely, that the danger of an ill-defined situation be avoide.d, le§t0religi,ous, failing to give .due consideration to the .particular mode of action proper to their character, become part of the ]if~"of the Ch.urch.in~a vague and ambiguous way" (11). ~_ Personal Reflection' As a bishop, I have been renewed by this document from the two ¯ Congregations, with a sense of the very serious responsibility that I have for the religious communities who minister to the people .I w.atgh o.ver.~I have always hoped that the religious who come into our midst would bring their special gifts and talents to' bea~- however or wherever thei.r apostolic pre~s-ence took them. Now I realize more clearlyothat, together wit.h my brother bishops, !' have a duty to help.directly and distinctly the religious commu~ nities in our midst to remain true to their founders' ideals and to fulfill ~their, specific mission in th.e w_ay that they alone °can do. In other words, 9s bishop, it is my duty to see to it that the apostolic commitment of each ~ ~ ~ ., ~ Refie~ctions.-bf a Bishop on Religigus Communities / 27 community is in keeping with and true to the spirit of their Rule. I must be available to help each religious entrusted to my pastoral care--and that includes every one in the diocese where I ministeruto be true to the specific charism of his or her community. It is my deep hope and confident prayer that religious, for their part, will serve each diocese in which they labor, not as general practitioners of gospel values (nor will: they accept ministries which would expect such an approach), but rather will share the fruits of their own foundations with the whole people of God in the particular and unique way that they are able. Admittedly such an approach demands a restructuring on the part of young and old alike. But that revamping is essential to the future flowering of the religious life and the future fulfillment of the Church. Unity Through Diversity In conclusion, the renewal of every religious community is eventually going to bring each congregation to the realization that we are all struggling toward the day when Jesus will be "'all in all," where there will be no distinct communities because the vision of every founder will finally be focused together in~ the one reality of the Lord Jesus. And there will be'no more religious communities because there will be only one religious Com-munity in the City of Goti; there will be, in the-~0rds of St.'Aug~astine, "one Christ loving himself." Yet, as we move toward that day of fulfillment, we musl move in the paradoxical fashion of human naturemfor~we move toward unity through .diversity. It is that great diversity of religious ingight and,~xp~erience which must be shared.with the Christian Community'in order that its unity might be achieved mor~ effectively and all-inclusively. In order to accomplish that objective; y,oung religious must take gr~at pride in the"tradition to which they ~ commit themselves, a pride that will make them zealous sharers, with all'God's people, of:the girls entrusted by the Spirit to their care. For ,those girls shall be, preserved only if they are generously commu-nicated to and'for the Church. And religious must learn to see in the bishop ,a source of support and solicitude, no longer the "'enemy,''-~but a loving brother, deeply concerned for their well-being and their growth. For the bishop clearly should understand that the future of religiousfife is the future life of the Church. - ~0 As the~Spirit shared the great diversity of his charisms on. that first Pentecost, magi the message that Mother Church has given to her ministers on this past Pentecost Sunday fill all of us ~4ith deep respect and concern for the building up of the girls entrusted to each of us for the life of the Church. Th, en.the grace of the Ho!y ,Spirit will fio~d fulfillment in us all as we bec~me truly one in Christ to the glory of God "the Father. From.""Ministry'' tO"Church Work" The.Fate of Tired Souls Paul Marceau, C.S.C.' " Father Marceau is a doctoral candidate in spirituality at the Graduate Theological Union, .Berkeley, CA. Presently he is on the staff of Moreau Seminary; Notre Dame, IN 46556. n the aftermath of the recen~ papal election a news commentator referred to one of Pope John Paul's distant predecessors who, after assuming the office, said that he spent so much time tending to the needs of others that he was in danger of becoming a stranger to himself. The problem of the threat of'being consumed by the demands of ministry is not a new one. Jesus himself seemed to recognize this danger and from time to,time would draw the disciples aside to rest (Mt 14:13f.). In this articl6 I~will sketch what 1 believe ~to be a particular form which that problem' takes 'in apostolic religious life today: the phenomenon of the over-burdened, under-cared-for religious who is being consumed by apostolic and community work and who, in the process, may be dying a slow and painful death as a human being, a minister, and a religious. As the life of such a person gets frag-mented by the constant demands of apostolic ministry there is a danger of losing one's personal center, and one's relationship with God becomes threatened in the process. Whenthat happens in the life of any minister in the Church I would suggest'that the apostolic activity of such an individual ceases to be "ministry" °and becomes only "church work." Most reiigious in apostolic communities have found (and continue to find) the early years of ministry an intoxicating experience. The apostolic life which they enter after their years in formation is challenging and de-manding. There seems to be so much to be done, so many needs to be 28 From ,"Ministry" to '~Church Work" attended. Within a short time the religious begins to feel needed and ap-preciated in ways that were unknown and perhaps impossible in the years of formation? There. develops a greater sense of self-worth as the person begins to do what he or she could only reflect upon or do only in a controlled and well-regulated way in the years of formation. There is a sense that one is finally fully immersed in ministry and with that comes the sense that one isat last doing something with his or her life, and not simply preparing to do so. A.new dimension of the personality develops and becomes more cen-tral: that of the hainister and apostle. The focus shifts from what ~was, in the years of fOrmation, substantially pr.eparatory, receptive, and to a large degre,e inner-directed and reflective to the active, the outward, the full immersion in ministry. The apostplate in these early years after formation makes heavy de-mands on self and time but most individuals are excited by this and would not want it to be otherwise. With the constant need and cpnstant demand of the apo.stolate, however, there come problems with the m.anagement of one's time and, ,indeed, of one's life. There is less and less time (and perhaps even desire) for leisure, for one's own concerns, for reflection upon one's life. Given the choice between the needs of others and one's "free time"0 (and there doe~ not alw.ays seem to be a choice), the religious often sacrific~es w.tlat .is the e~siest to sacrifice: personal time and space. Prior to the Changes in religious iife'which took place following Vatican I1, time for prayer and reflection was protected, at least in theory,2 by being built into~ the schedule. Such tim(for private ~'ea.ding, prayer, and refl+ction, how-ever, isnow no longer "given"; it has to be found and it seems ~ncreasingly difficult.to find it. Personal prayer and reflection gradually have come to be nudged out of the lives of many by the hectic ~nd busy pace of their apostolic.life. Indeed, there was a time in the past decade when such times aside f(om'ministry were rl.o.t only considered luxuries but were Iobked upon as 'selfish luxuries, as time stolen from the service of others in need. Perso'n~l prayer beco~n"e~, problematic, even for those with the best of intentions. Few, if any.~,fiaiike a conscious decision to give UP personal prayer; it gimply gets~ pushed out by the "more important" and more immediate concerns of Io~,e and service to others. It is a gradual process by which people's lives simply become so overwhelmed by the 9postolic and. qn the past. of course, apostolic involvement during the years of formation w~s minimal. Young religious were protected from such "outside" distractions. As a result, for people trained in such a context, immersion into full-time ministry,provided a shocking change from . their years of formation, The change is less abrupt today since significant apostolic involve-ment is seen as a critical part of formation. Nevertheless, the "full-time" ministry has a dynamic of its own which can really be experienced only in the doing of it, no matter how well one is prepared for it. zWhile time for meditation, spiritual ~'eading, examination of conscience, and so forth, may have been provided in previous schedules, there is certainly enough evidence to wonder to what extent such schedules were ac~tually honored--other than by those in formation. 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 community demands that there is simply no time "left over" for oneself., Finding time for' personal prayer becomes a terrible.struggle, the wagingof, ahopeless, losing war. For some, the loss of,,that dimension of their re-ligious life is easily justified by their appeal .to the demands of ministry; for others Such loss is--the Source of much shame and guilt.~ Foi" many, prayer has bedome a time squeezed into'fi hectic and already' cluttered day. It is ~so~ething to be fitted in between Walter Crorikite ahd'~ an evenin~g meeting, or between a dis~tressing hous~ meeting arid the celebration of the Eticharist.:These patterns of prayer-time tend to reflect their livegt prayer time itselfis'9 hectic and bdsy,°'often cluttered, time. Even when the time is fotindfor it, prayer is'filled with the concerns of 0ne's~ day. It is a time full of distractions, a very busy and unfocused time, filled~ with the hundreds of stimuli that the individual brings off ~he street with him: The time which one struggles to have alone'with God becomes a time to do a lot Of religious "business," a trine for pra~,ing for the concerns ministry, .for commending to ~he Lord all the. wounded who ha~d tbuched one's life that day. The time "aside" is really no time aside at'fill but simply a 'diffei-erit'fOi'um for doing what"one had been doing all'day long. " " For"others, the dynamic of personal prayer shiftg from "time aside" to prayer-on-the-i'un, a kind of "are you running ~vith me~, 'Jesus" format. There is sirrligly no 'time to tend to the'personal reli~gidoiums e"n °s i~o'n~ "o:f ~ o' n~e* :s~ ' life, and God is put on "hofoldr "~ n'"creas"~ °ngly lon"g ~er. "p~e ,r i.~ods of time. Not infrequently i'eligious m~ke little bargains with God, prom'ising to return to him at a latCr date when there is more time available: "I'm g?ing tO be very busy this s~'ineste~ and I reall3i won't have mucl~time for prayer ' but I'll get back t'~3ibu at Chris~tmasvacation or during the~summer when things let up a liitle." But Chrqst~n°~s o~:summer vacation corhes along, and when there ts finally t~me for prayer, such individuals find that they can no longer pray as they once d~d because they have fallen out of the habit of personal prayer. The closeness and the ~nt~macy ~s no longer there; God seems to be further away. The more personal, direct and intimat~'relationship~vith God that one might have known in quieter and mor~ peaceful ti~e~ is gone. There is a dis-ea'se about one's relationship to God, and the times alone with him are f0un'd~{o be somewhat strained and uncomfortable. The struggle to fi'nd some t~me aside does not, aftei- all, seem to' be quite worth it because thOre does not seem to be much pbint to it. " ~ Iwshort, given the difficulty of finding times for prayer,~ and the busy and hectic pace we experience,e.ven when they fire found, prayer time becomes~ more and more minimalT"and what there is becomes increasingly lesg satisfying. As a.result,, m~ore and more weight for the spiritual life comes to be put on community, or on "apostolic prayer." Liturgy and'common prayer become the focus and substance of the prayer life .of many to the exclusion of~all other forms. But with that, .there is often felt an, uncom-fortable dissonance between what one says in his~ministry and'what one' From "Ministry" ,to "Church Work" d0es.-,Thus~, although he may preach eloquently; celebrate reverently, discuss the gospel enthusiastically and be complimented and affirmed by his parishioners, students, and fellow community members as being a good priest andreligious, the spiritual dimension of apostolic and community I.ife seems to have no echO;in his ownolife: He believes the message and is sincere when he tblls others about it, but at times it seems very far frorfi what he himselffis experiencing. Neverthe!ess, sharing sacraments,and common prayer~with others is at least a lifeline for many. When there is a dis-ease and a discomfort about being too alone with oneself and with°G0d, one can often find solace in participating in the more formal, more .struc-ttired ,forms of prayer, such as the sacraments and Office, since slach f/arms allow 'one to approach God without being too alone before him. Just as p~ople must build up habits of pr.aYer with time and practice, so it is that they fall out of the habits of personal prayer. Thps, ~hen a pe,rson's life become~ overwhelmed and fragmented by a busy and hectic apostolic ministry, personal prayer becomes difficult not only because of time con-siderations but because the doing of it becomes an uns~itigfying thing. For one who has fallen out of the practice .of personal prayer, moments o~f aloneness can become very frightening, and so instead of struggling tofind such times of alonene'gs and of the oppo~:tunity to foc~us within, the religio0,s may eventually fipd h~mself strugghng to avotd focusing w~th~n for fear of seeing too deeply, with to6"~uch clarity, ~hat may be happening to his fraghaehted life. When tli~it' h~ppens, the 'i~dividual spends an enor~mous amount of time and psychic energy fleeing such moments, protecting him: self from God. P~rsons sensing this dis-ease a, bout the'Jr relationship with God may read about God, talk al~out God, may do'the works of the Church and~ma~ even°hpproach G~d. in the company of othersobut they are often unable to bear facing God' in their aloneness, to be ~ilent before him. If such.is.the fate of n.ot a few apostolic religious in the past decade (and I believe it has b, een), then the task for them, again, becomes one of the struggle t9 av.oid, such moments. The apostolate, itself a contributory cause to this state of affairs, becomes a welcome and easily legitimized.distraction from facing oneself. Religious can throw themselves into their_work and give themselves over to be consumed by the apostqlic need which, as a matter of fact, is always ~,aiting there to be cared for. But this is not the zeal of those early y~ears of their ministry; it is, in fact, just the oppqsite. The work, what one does, is now.no longer ,a way of sharing what is inside, but a way of avoiding it. Instead of zeal andenthusiasm driving one from within to sha~e what.~e .has pers.onally experienced and discovered about'life and about God,,there is flightto the work for its own sake, a flight away from the i,nterior self. ~with diminishing personal energies and resources.tq ~driye and sustain himself, he becomes willingly carried along by the demands of the apostolat~e, .and~ lifebecomes one busy apostolic distraction. When ihat .happen,s, when,a person becomes emptied inside and can live .only on'the 32 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 outside, then he is:no longer engaged in the doing of ministry but.is simply busy about doing what I would call simply "church work." The irony of all this is that a person may be, and very frequently is at this same time in life, just h!tting his professional stride, doing the kinds of things that he always wanted to do in ministry,~with all the requisite pro-fessional training, and receiving very reassuring feedback from others about his ministry--and yet the.re seems to be something terribly missing, and he cannot understand why~ He may be doing very good work, pro-fessionally satisfying, assisting others in. living their lives and yet feel that he.is not doing a very good job of living his own. He might say to himself: "I should be happy but I am not. What is the matter with me?" As one person expressed it to me: "I am good and successful at what I am doing. ! enjPy it and find satisfaction in it--but why do I feel like I am dying?" The constant concerns and needs of others (and the constaht need to be focusing outside oneself), the very things .which used to energize and sus-tain the person in the early years of ministry, now only drain energies and makes the indiviidpal feel th~it his whole life', by choice"or by abdication, is being consumed by the apostolate. The apostolate has become for him a thousand-tentacled monster, constantly making demands, never letting up, constantly draining him of diminished or even exhausted personal energies. For the weary church worker the apostolate becomes a.two-edged sword: it is a welcome distraction protectin.g him from looking too closely within and, at the same time, a drain upon his personal energies even to the point of exhaustion. There is a variation to the above theme ~f the one who allows his life to become c~onsumed by the apostolate~ in order to avoid what may be dying inside, and this variation is marked by the opposite of involvement: with-drawal. For this person the apostolate becomes an eight-hour-a-day (or less)job and he is quite capable of walking away from it in order, as he sees it, to preserve his own necessary personal time and space; Having created sixteen hours of personal time and space of the twenty-four, however, the task he faces then becomes One Of filling up his space and time so that he will dot be left alone with it. In order to defend himself from se6ing the void within, the individual will do anything to fill up that time, to be distracted. He will read novels and magazines for hours (this may be his'version of "'being alone"). He may spend evening after evening watching television without really knowing or caring what is on the screen. He may arrange a heavy social schedule.'He will do anything rather than face the emptiness and discomfort that is within him. The weary church worker's life has become overwhelmed and frag-mented by the consuming demands of today's apostolate. He may be a victim of the work but. in the end; he knows that b,~ ,.'s a willing victim. He m'ay even see himself in the role of a martyr, giving his all that the world rr]ay be saved (or at least a little'more saved). But underneath the hectic and clu~ttered life of today's church worker, there is the danger of building up F¢om "Ministry" to "Church Work" /,33 increasing levels of resentment against those whom he serves. The de-mands never let up and nobody will leave hi~n alone. He may be tired. There may be a lot of suppressed anger and resentment. But worse than either of these, as long as he seems-to be good and successful in his work, is the fact that nobody seems to care about what is dying inside him and how he feels about himself and his ministry. The problem, in fact, is that no one can see what is dying inside him. All the outward signs appear to be good. The iridividual is busy, involved, committed to the apostolate, and actually doing good work there. He is sociable and affable in community, relating well there. No one can see what is happening inside him because no one is allowed to see it. The individual may have a difficult time even bringing himself tO see it and there may be too much shame and guilt to allow anyone else to see it. All the while the person may be saying: "they (superiors, fellow religious, fellow ministers) are themselves too busy ministering to others and I cannot burden them with my problems; I know what I~feel like when one more problem comes my way and I don't want to be just one more problem for' them." There is a final, cruel irony in the situation of the apostolic religious who, by the process described above, has been turned into a busy church WorkeL There is a rehewed interest and concern for spirituality and praye~ in the Church today--and that is w~lcomed. Religious are once more con-cerned about their relationship with God. But, as often a~ not, that concern is a source of guilt rather'than a source of strength. Concern for spirituality and prayer--whether the concern is assumed or imposed~--isjust one more ~lemhnd placed upon the life oLthe already tired religious. Instead of one's i'elationship with God being the source of personal energy and an impetus to ministry, it can become just one more thing to worry about along with.all the others~ one more thing with which the religious has neither the timenor the energy to contend. Instead of being the place of rest where he no longer has to be doing and Working, his prayer becomeg just one more thing to do and to work at. Instead of his relationship with God being the source and center of life, it is thrown in with all the other things which clamor for attention in a life which has lost its center. Apostolic religious communities in America today are running the risk of producing amongtheir members merely weary church workers suffering from battle fatigue. In the long run, however, there will be a price to pay in human suffering and tragedy, as suppressed anger and resentment can be suppressed no longer and begin to surface, Often in indirect but destructive ways. Religious will retire too Soon from the battle, burnt out men and women who will no longer be driven or taken advantage of. They will unclutter their lives of hectic apostolic activity and then turn and fill them up with other more relaxing distractions; but whether busy with apostolate or busy with relaxing distractions, many will be leading lives of quiet desperation because their lives no longer have any focus or center to hold them together. Review for Religious, Volunie°38, 1979/1 There are alternatives, I think, to the way we live apostolic religious life and the way we do ministrytoday. Just ~as~we do no good for a.materialistic society if we ourselves get caught up in its materialistic ethos, likewise we do little good for a society that runs at an insane pace, fragmenting the lives of its people when we ourselves run at; that.~same pace, becoming quite as fragmented in our own lives. A different style and pace of apostolic religious life need not mean that apostolic ministry be less involx;ed, less concerned, or less whole-hearted than it is now. .~ . ~.," Finding the meaning of one's life in one's relationship to God and sustaining that relationship personally through reflection and prayermmany indeed "take time away from others" but it may also allow us to offer them something more than what had been our busy, overburdened lives. G~'ound-ing our personal lives outside of the work we do may both'free us from the apostolate and, at the same time. free us for it. We will be freed from the apostolate not in the sense that we will lose the apostOlic dimension of our life in favor of the comtemplative life but rather in'!the sense that the meaning of our lives, as individuals and as communities, would no longer be tied to this specific apostolate and this particular work. "We would be freed from the works of our own hands to pursue and minister to the needs of people wherever and whatever they may.be, On .the other hand, it may well be that we would be doing the same kinds of. things ,that we are ,doing now,. but the person doing them will be different: still busy, but less frantic, and bringing to those situations a life which is a little calmer, a little more rootedand peaceful. Our apostolic ministry might be less cluttered but, at the same time, more deeply involved; we might be less frenzied, but also more zealous about the things we do. Finding the focus and center of one's life in God and taking time to tend to that dimension of life will give impetus and focus to our ministry. It will take :nothing away from it but will, instead, make ministry all the more importantmand all the more possible. "Promises to Keep"' A Homily for Final Vows J.Peter Schineller, S.J. Father Schineller, ~ member of the faculty of the Jesuit School of Theology in Chicago (JSTC), shared with those who witnessed his final vows in the Society of Jesus the't~houghts and movements that were his then. He resides at 5554 s. Woodlawn Ave.; Chicago, IL 60637. While'I was visiting "my brother and sister-in-law over the Christmas hblidays, as oftenhappens with a new toy, an argument arose betweeh their two children. The younger boy was unwilling to let his big sister play with his new eiectriC helicopter. The conversation went something like this: "It's my t6rn! You'have to let me play ffith~it."" "I don't want to and 1 don't have to." "You have to, and you know you have to." "I don't ~have to,' and I ~on't." "You have to, because you promised!" "Well, OK." My five year old nephew was trapped. He was caught by his promise, and he kne~ it. He knew in his child's wisdom that a prom~ise is something special, something sacred, and not just any old word. Promises make a difference.' "The child in me made promises more than 18 years ago, not about toys, but about how to spend my whole life*; promises not to ariother pers6n, but promises to God, tlie Father of all persons. And here I am this ~evening, to *The Jesuit's "first vows," taken at the end of the novitiate, include the perpetual vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. (Editor)' 35 36 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 renew and to finalize those promises in my profession of "final vows," and to renew the promises with joy and enthusiasm. And so in these last few moments in which I am still a Jesuit scholastic, I would :like to share a few thoughts on 1) how I see these promises, 2) where the inspiration to make the promises comes from, and 3) how it is possible for anyone to make a profession of vows. First of all, what am I promising and vowing this evening? In one sense, it is nothing new, nothing beyond what I promised eighteen years ago, a life of poverty, chastity and obedience in the Society of Jesus. It is not a new turn, a grandiose new option, but rather a public statement of my choice tO continue on the road begun. Yet in another sense, it is a new choosing, because with eyes far more open than 18 years ago, I am saying, "This is the path for me, and I promise to take this path as long as I live." The promises I make tonight are promises that I can only make tonight, and could not have haade five, ten--or eighteen years ago. Much has been written about the meaning of the vowed life. i donit intend'to present a new theory, but let me say briefly how.I see what I am promising. In the vow of obedience, I am saying that I will not try to build ~a career for myself. Rather my life is a responding life in the Society of Jesus, a response to the call of God as seen in the needs of others. In chastity I am foregoing the joys, pleasures and anxieties of building a home and family and thus establishing family roots. My basic community will be the Jesuits I live, work, and move with. In this way I hope to be available for loving service, wherever the good news of God's love is called for. In poverty I am saying that I will look upon my time, talents, education as always God's gift to me, not for myself, but to be shared in the service of others. Finally, I promise to do all of this as a member of the Society of Jesus. That is much easier to grasp and to explain. For it means living, growing, working, enjoying life, and dying with many of the persons you see here. And it is quite a group: young and old, tall and short, from all over the United States, and even from around the world. What do w,e have in common? All of us are engaged in the serious convers.~ition and ctiallenges of Christian life and ministry, in the~.tradition of Ignatius and the many .great Jesuits of the past and present. We are trying-in many different ways to let the good news of the love of God break into this world. ~ Secondly, where do I get the urge or inspiration to make these vows and promises? If it comes simply from my own imagination, then I could make and break these promises without further ado. But years ago, in quiet and diverse ways, the idea crept into my head to be a Jestlit and a priest. The idea came fr.om reading books, from conversation; from the example of my family, parish priests, and from Jesuits who taught me, And so I responded. "Promises to Keep," A,Homily for Final Vows But it was a long time ago that the journey began. Today where do I get the inspiration to make this profession of final 'vows? It seems to me that the process is quite similar. You, so many here, and so many who couldn't be here, in your own ways, have kept ~the vision and ideal of being a Jesuit priest before my eyes. YOU have been sending me signals, challenging, pushing, leading m.e, ~and so I respond. You have been sending me signals,' as I read them, that indicate that what I am about is good, and is from God. Signals have come from the parish at Harvey, Where I help on Sundays, to friends and teachers at the University of Chicago; from Jesuits in New York to students I teach and learn with here at the Jesu.itSchool of Theology; from fellow faculty members, friends of Hyde Park, to those I live with at Jesuit House. And I have to rely on :these signals, signals which have given me hope, courage, and confidence .,that 1 am on the right path. There is one conviction that has grown over the years, that while the vows are finally from God and made to God, it is according to his plan and purpose that the desire and courage to take and renew the promises of vows always comes mediated through.human lives. I sensed today a new insight into, or application of the parable of the last judgment in Matthew 25. If I might dare paraphrase it, I would say, "what I prpmise or vow to you, the least ofGod's brothers and sisters, I am vowing to God himself." But thirdly, how it is ppssible to make and live such promises? Many would say that this way of life is inhuman, psychologically unhealthy, or even un-Christian. How can i be sure that this is truly the will of God for me? How can I avoid the danger of the vows, the danger of being un-loving, irresponsible, the danger of pride in thinking that I have chosen a "better w~y" than n0n-vowed life? How can I'choose or control the future, and say where I wish to be ten or thirty years from now? Am I not fighting against Christian freedom, the freedom of the Spirit? Finally, and most trouble-some, how can I promise to God what he alone can give true obedience, holy poverty, and perfect chastity? These virtues are his gifts, and so how dare I promise or vow them'before God? The answer to these difficulties and°dangers must be an answer in faith, hope, and loving trust. Let me explain: I used to think I could figure it out--and had figured it out. I had what I thought was an adequate view of God, a solid enough view.of myself and the meaning and possibiliti~es of human life. I thought that on the basis of this perspective I could pronounce and keep my vows. They made a lot of sense. Now I see it is ndt so easy. For I see that vowed life, in common with all life, is, to use Karl Rahner's phrase, "a surrender to the mystery and incomprehensibility of God." I can't give a complete and adequate rational account or grounding for vowed life, for myself or anyone else. But on the basis of expei'ience and prayerful reflection, I dare to say that this life is not only.possible, but it is God's will and graced way for me. Living the vows as I have been about and encoun- 311 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/'1 tering the mystery of God in and through them is. their only final justification. Th.ey have been, are, and I say tonight, will continue to be my way to meet God, to be myself, and to respond to the needs .of God's people., Just as the Jesuit-.style of life has shaped my daily existence, so, in a.mysteriou.s way, the vowed life has shaped and formed my faith-filled idea of God himself. The God, revealed to me through the vows is a God I can and must stand before in trust. He is the one. who gives joy, peace, fulfillment, and a sense of purpose and mission far deeper tha~ any that I could create or grasp on my own. Moving to the center of the mystery of the possibility of the vows, I dare to say in and through these vows that God, the incomprehensible one, is not distant, far-off, uninvolved, but rather he is somehow present and working as the one who makes possible these promises in the first place. I find I am almost forced to say that he, in his Holy Spirit, is making the vbws and promises in and through me. And go only on this basis.do I dare to promise what God alone can give as gift. For I am convinced that it is a response to his impulse and urge that pushes me to make this commitment. I began these reflections with the story of a child:s pr~mise at Christ-mastime. Let me conclude with a poet's words on promises. In the midst ofa busy Week in a snow filled winter in Chicago, a pocida of Robert'Frost is perhaps most appropriate, "Stopping by Woods on a Siaowy Evening." It is good that we are here together, pausing; ~stopping not by woo~is, but in the city i~f Chicago in Augustana Lutheran Church.Tlie poet, stopping with his horse and carriage explains, "The woods are lovely, d~rk and deelS." And ~peaking formyself, Isay, yes,the woods I have journeyed through over ,the past eighteen years have been lovely, dark and deep. The woods a~re lovely--exciting, encouraging, adventuresome and challenging years, with beautiful moments of joy and peace, so lovely that~ I gla.dly, freely continue down this path. The woods are dark--filled with the .unexpected, from a pre-Vatican II Church onward towards Vatican III, with the graced paradox of a Jesuit pronouncing his final vows in a Lutheran church. Final-ly, the woods are deep if nottiing else the years of th~ journey have been deep, far too deep for me to understand and explain all that led me here tonight,, and all that is involved in this celebration, far tro deep for me to adequa.tely thank all who have supported and e, ncouraged me. Yes, the woods have been deep--filled with the mysterious presence of God in one humari life. The,,woods I,have journeyed through have been lovely, dark and deep, and I am saying in effect tonight that I would not trade a~0ay this way of, life through the woods for any other way. I say this joyfully, and as strongly as I can. But we can't stop here and pause here too long in-snow filled Chicago. For as the poet reminds us,'and as his poem concludes: "Promises to Keep," A Homily for Final Vows / 39 The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. May God who is Father, Son and Spirit continue to strengthen and guide each one of us on our journeys in the miles ahead. 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 "CelibateGerhtality," W. F. Kraft . 50 "Celibacy and Contemplatio~n,'~ D. Dennehy, S.J . 30 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . 3.0. "Consciousness Exhmen," G: A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. . ~.50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Asch~ffbrenner, S.J . 50 "Institutional Business Administration & Religious," Flanagan and O'Connor . 30 "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation;' S.C. for Rel!gious . ~ . .~. . 35 "Prayer-of Personal Reminiscence," D. J,' Hassel, S.J .6.0. '~Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of .Disdernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J. ' . 50 "Psychosexual Maturity in CelibateDevelopment," P. Cristatitiello . . . ~ . 60 "Retirement or Vigil," B. Ashley, O,P. .~.3.0 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .7.5. "The Contemporary Spirituality of ihe Monastic Lectio," M, Neuman, O.S.B: . ~. . 50 "The Four Momeiats of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J .5.0. "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . . . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith,oS.J . :.° . .35 Orders for the' above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St~ Louis, MO 63108 Destructive Passivity Spiritual Direction in Judith Roemer Sister Judith is a member of the staff of the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth; Church Road; Wernersville, PA 19565. ecently, I have become aware of the work of Aar.on a.nd Jacqui Schiff on psychological aspects of passivity (T. A. Journal, 1:1, January, 1971). As I read some of their findings, I began to see applications to the situation of spiritual direction. I began to realize how important it is for directors to be more alert in detecting patterns of destructive passivity in their directees. I came to recognize how important it is not to foster such patterns. It.seems to me, then, that noting and examining the categories of these psychologists regarding negative passivity can be highly productive in improving the process of spiritual direction. ~ "Passivity" has long been esteemed in the spiritual life. For that reason, it seems necessary to distinguish clearly from the start precisely what is the subject of this paper. There definitely is a time for activity, and a time for passivity. What seems essential is that passivity, as a way of responding, be carefully chosen. When, after looking at a situation and being in touch with my faith, my intelligence, and my affectivity, I decide to do nothing, I have made good use of passivity. This paper is not about those freely-chosen, well-thought-'out, peacefully and joyfully chosen situations. On the con-trary, this paper is concerned .with a form of passivity which inhibits adult responsibility and substitutes an unproductive way of acting for a decision. Previously I had thought of passivity in terms of "'dging nothing," However, the unproductive types of passivity wear many masks. Along 40 Destructive Passivity in Spirit.ual Direction / lll with "doing. nothing," passivity can take the form of "over-adaptation," "agitation," "incapacitation," and "violence." Each form in turn has many other forms as the category is expanded. In writing about the situation of spiritual~direction, my assumption is that, for the most part, I am dealing with normal, productive adults. Hen~e~ without pushing Schiffs' original categories of abnormal behavior beyond their intent, I suggest that the destructive areas of passive behavior noted by them do have potential tendencies that are also to be~found ~n the situation of directing healthy adults. Both director and directee carl profit by being aware of them. Secondly, I want to show that the Spiritual Exer-cises of St. Ignatius contain some useful tactics for cou.nteracting destruc-. tive passivity. Using these tactics can be the occasion for providing quality decisions for the furtherance of the Kingdom. Doing Nothing In religious circles we often smile knowingly at the self-made martyr; we chide one another with the standard phrase, "Offer it up." We are indignant at the priest and levite who preceded the Good Samaritan and passed by the wounded stranger because it wasn't their business. We scoff at Cain as iii~ asks about being his brother's keeper. All of these are simply good exam-ples of the first category of destructive passivity, of doing nothing. Not quite so obvious is the example of a person who gathers data ad infinitum; waiting endlessly for the perfect insight, the perfect moment, before con-cretizing his dream in decision. Close to him is the example of the person who is caught in speculation to the point of paralysis. His personal intui-tions convolute beyond time and talent, becoming a threatening burden rather than a beaconing light. Substituting one a~tivity for another, washing the car instead of writing the checks, is yet another form of "doing nothing." A quite obvious form is plain indecisiveness. Not quite so easy to detect would be falling into a certain disproportionate balance of activity and passivity in prayer. One of the greatest struggles in prayer is knowing when to let go of activity in order to be quiet. As a person moves from a meditative stance to a contemplative stance, he is faced with the decision to choose or to resist passivity. Instinctively he would tend to resist whatever would challenge his depen-dence on word, fantasy, clarity or concept. In prayer, though, a person at some time is faced with the necessity of choosing the darkness of faith in place of his familiar dependency on thoughts and feelings. In the Exercises of St. Ignatius, the First Principle and Foundation (23) gives a clear direction against ~'doiflg nothingi': "The other things., are created for man to help him . Hence he ought to make use of them insofar as they help., and to rid himself of them insofar as they prove a hindrance." Later, in the Kingdom (91-98) the id quod volo (grace desired) is indicat- 49 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 ed in the petition to be "prompt and diligent., not to be deaf." Further on, the Three Classes of Men (149-155) portray sets of persons in the midst of decisions. At one extreme is the destructively passive man, who, filled with hopes, dreams, doubts, and attachments, comes to the end of~ his life uncommitted, not having "made use of any means." At the other end is the man of the ThirdClass who has developed a sense of freedom, a willingness to work with many options "to be better able to serve God our Lord." Many,, times people are unaware that there is any way out of their unproductive passivity, and thus see "doing nothing" as a way of survival. But this neednot be the case. A director who insists on careful discernment encourages his directee to find and develop many alternatives, thus lessen-ing the need for anyone to be locked into a single unproductive mode of ¯ acting. Over-adaptation A second, kind of passivity is over-adaptation; taking another's goal as one's own. Unlike the former category of "doing nothing," this one of over-adaptation appears to be busy and productive. Yet the exaggerated dependency role continues to operate and the results are destructive. Fear and "peace at any price" are common manifestations of over-adaptation in religious life. Yet it is often close to ordinary adaptation, which is a necessary~part of human existence. Hence over:gdaptation is difficult~to spot externally. However, careful listening to a directee can give a director many hints of how the directee is going to excessive pains not to cause trouble, to be nice, to be cooperative. Unfortunately it is not uncommon to hear of difficult or even impossible situations in which a person chooses to "sit" on his thoughts and feelings, to "adapt" rather than confront another person or a structure. The pain is often "offered up," and the unhealthy situation persists lest the individual be considered unmortified, or narrow-minded. Fear, too, can be used to mask over-adaptation. Especially among reli-gious women, being timid sometimes has an air of virtue about it. The timid woman wants to be rescued, preferably by a male spiritual director who will protect, reassure, and comfort her without suggesting that she move out of her unproductivity :and decide, with his help, what she is to do about it. Rather insidiously, this kind ofpassivity can be a mask for a deeper kind of aggression. It is difficult to challenge someone who is "trying so hard" to cooperate. Consciously or unconsciously, it doesn't take too long for the over-adapter to learn how much control can be gained in such a situation. Unfortunately, this kind of over-adaptation is often canonized as "docility." ,. Ironically, gaining control through over-adaptation often proves frus-trating. In the effort to mold, regulate and maintain the climate of safety created by over-adaptation, the directee often cannot hear the voice of the Destructive Passivity in Spiritua[ Direction Spirit. This kind of person has set up an atmosphere in which he does not have to give up his security. In clinging to safety he has substantially cut himself off from the world of inspiration and challenge. Directors often see this in directees who cannot believe that God could possibly be leading them beyond their self-made rules, beyond their self-made security and safety. Directees see this in directors who speak only of asceticism, never of mysticism, who prefer devotions and practices instead of fidelity to the Spirit. In some way those who claim they have no time for prayer as well as those who claim they cannot be involved with their neighbors both have fallen heir to passivity,in the form of over-adaptation. The former have let the rat race rather than their own head, heart and faith decide their destiny. The latter have refused to be molded by the poverty, particularity, and concreteness of the Incarnation.' Lastly, in our day, we often fail victim to concern for public relations. Our assumptions about what the bishop will think, what the lay teachers will think, what our community will think, what the Protestants Will think, what the children will think, and so on, endlessly, often decide the course of important events ?Further, they are used as a justification and motivation for over-adapting, for decisions which are unworthy of our faith experi-ence. Over-adaptation is an excellent example of how the "angel of darkness" comes disguised as an "angel of light" (Ex 332). We are all familiar with the monsters that have arisen in the guise of virtue under such "headings as availability, community, poverty, or blind obedience. Burning the candle at both ends, :navel gazing, stinginess, and the ill-use of human talents are all destructive~and.unworthy of the Kingdom. Those who have suffered these delusions might well look less to over-adaptation and more to considered responsiveness in their future decision-making. The Exercises are intended to be a celebration of one's gift of spiritual freedom. Key to that~disposition is ~ spirit of indifference. 1 can use things when I need them and put them aside when they hinder'rme. I canchoose the one or the other, not being unduly influenced by position, location or advancement. Such a stance demands a sense of presence: pres~ence to myself ag I accept the wonder and agony of who I am; and presence'to God as I accept the reality of Someone beyond'me who loves me, At the peak~ of the Ignatian ,experience, the exercitant becomes a cor~templative-in-action. Again and again, each one of the exercises faces him with the question: "What do I want?" He is asked to identify his desire and pray for what he needs. He is asked to face the reality of what he can do, what he needs to ask for, what he plans to do about it all. As though this were not enough, he is asked to order his de~i~es, prioritize his Iongings, lest he assume the posture of the man of the Secon~l Class (Ex 154), thus leaving himself open 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 to compromise and mediocrity, It is comforting to note that over-adaptation is often the easiest of the unproductive passivities to remedy. Most people who are negatively pas-sive have done a lot 0fthinking :to arrive at such a position. They are equally capable of assimilating new. information, though. For this reason, it would be a good thing for a director to confront such negative passivity directly. Thinking seriously about developing more positive options, a director and directee can develop new alternatives that lead to more creative results. Agitation The third category of unproductive passivity is agitation, the repetition of actions that have no meaning in terms of what the individual is seeking. In prayer this often shows itself in the kind of spiritual gluttony that ex-cludes the invitation to the darkness of faith. Most of us who pray consistently catch ourselves at times trying too hard, attempting to "program" a religious experience by learning the new-est techniques, and then clinging to the resultant experience as though it were God. Once an individual has fallen into this, it ultimately comes to him asa surprise to find that faith is~dark. His experience with this darkness then arouses anger, possessiveness, the demand that God come to him on his terms. His first experience with this reality often brings about more agita-tion in the form of worry, fretting, the gloomy exaggeration of his situation out of all proportion to its reality. Many persons tend to drop prayer at this point; "Nothing is happening," they say. Or they become over, involved in new techniques, in more interesting works, or in other people, rather than take the effort to learn to live comfortably with dark faith. Since religious people tend to be idealistic, they tend to strive for goals so high that the gap between the real self and the ideal self creates depres-sion rather than energy. Here is where good direction offers an opportunity for balance. Directors should be on the alert for extremes. Wild imaginings in time of prayer, quickly changing moods of sadness, exuberance, fear, or zeal need testing. It seems unlikely that experiences of being "bugged by God" about small ~hings or "being made to suffer" by God hold up in the pro.cess of good discernment. It is more likely that persons have allowed themselves the "luxury" of agitation as a replacement for the decision to accept fully the implication's of their call. Such a decision, lived, is sobering. Life with God becomes quiet, gentle, strong, and often hidden. One must be willing to give up the excitement of flurry, th.e pride of being a "martyr to the cause," the prestigiousness of extraordinary phenomena. The con-crete decision i.s amazingly simple, poor, and hidden, just as it was when the Word was made Flesh. St. Ignatius has many suggestions for coun~teracting agitation. In the Rules for Discernment for the First W~eek (313-327) he describes the behav-ior that is characteristic of those facing their own sinfulness. He warns Destructive Passivity in Spiritual Direction against secrecy, sadness, false reasoning, restiessness, frames of mind that lead to lack of faith, hope, and love. In the Second Week's Rules for Discernment (328-336) he describes the experience of agitation as "'violent, noisy, and disturbing." These, he counsels, are from the evil one. Again, [the course of thoughts suggested to us] may end in what weakens the soul, or disquiets it; or by destroying the peace, tranquility, and quiet which it had before, it may cause disturbance to the soul. These things are a clear sign that the thoughts are proceeding from the evil spirit, the enemy of our progress and eternal salvation ~333). Unfortunately, many enjoy their agitation. Not only does it substitute for their having to make a decision, but they can often find convincing reasons to suggest why it is actually accomplishing something. However, this would be a dangerous area to cultivate.Little that is long-lasting for the K~ngdom is accomplished through such agitation. Further, the'anxiety that I am arousing can move me into the more destructive aspects of passivity: incapacitation or violence. For the director, little or nothing is accom-plished by cooperating with the agitation ofhis directee. In fact, trying to dialog logically with a person in this state often brings the directee more deeply into a dependency role, delaying a good decision. In these cases an effort should be made by both director and directee to calm the agitation, moving it back to an over-adaptive situation where, temporarily at least, the director can give calm instructions that will provide a better atmosphere for the directee to think of alternatives and decide on more productive options. Incapacitation A more entrenched kind of passivity is the fourth type: incapacitation. 'One of the most common manifestations of freezing or incapacitation tn spirituality is stubbornness, an unwillingness to move one step further until I fully understand where I am going. This kind of stubbornness commonly occurs during the transition from meditation to contemplation. "I don't know what is going to happen, and I will not let go until I do," The result is that I stay where I am, often giving up mental prayer as a result. Hand-maid to stubbornness is scruple, a fear of doing something good lest I be wrong or at least somewhat ill-motivated, Much good can be left undone while a person worries about whether or not he is proud, vain, or ambitious, The Exercises answer this frame of mind. lfl such cases one should raise his mind to his Creator and Lord, and if he sees what fie is about to do is in keeping with God's service~, or at least not opposed to it, he should act directly against the temptation. According to St. Bernard, we must answer the tempter, "" I did not undertake this because of you, and I a.m not going to relinquish it~because of you" (351). Refusing to let go of an emotion, pleasant or agonizing, is another form of incapacitation. "'I can only pray provided it is a high experience." ""Io have grown comfortable with my anger (resentment, low self-image) and 46 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/1 the atmosphere I create helps me feel secure. I control my environment." Unfortunately, the situation backfires and shields the individual from life, i~ssenin'g the likelihood of his loving or suffering, rejoicing or crying with the rhythms of the real world. Having entrenched himself in his low self-image, he begins to project distorting 'images on God. God becomes the Great Controller, the Life-Taker, the Divine Exactor, rather than the Evoker of Freedom and the Loving Father. Lastly, incapacitation demon-strates itself as an unwillingness, an inability to look at one's blind spots. Fear of losing the security of his images often prevents the individual from being called beyond his own devices to the darkness of faith by the whispers of the Spirit. The Ex~rcises face incapacitation firmly by asking the individual to seek for the gift of knowing that he is deeply loved and ~knowing that he is at the same time sinful. Coupled with that grace is his growing realization of who he i~the wonder and the agonywthat leads him to grow comfortable and free with his own reality. In the protection of this new freedom the person does not.have to struggle for survival. He has experienced love. He knows that he is "precious in his sight" (Is 43:4). The Exercises would stir him out of his inactivity, bidding him to look at his secret stubbornnesses as a "false lover" who readily leaves as soon as he is discovered (326). In #325, I am admonished to face the temptation boldly so that it can be put to flight. My willingness to renounce my incapacitation reaches a high .moment when I honest|y put myse|f before Christ on the Cross "as one friend speaks to another" and hear myself own the answers to the triple question, " What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What ought I to do for Christ?" (53). Paradoxically, the most extreme kind of passivity is violence. In it I give up my responsibility for thinking and loving to vent my energy on destruc-tion. Among religious people the violence is often inward: psychosomatic illness, masturbation, guilt, tortured imaginings. These are a poor substitute for the ecstacy to which I am called. The individual prefers the certainty of destruction to the uncertainty of wonder. Even worse, ,he can cloak the mess he has created in a false rationalization of the Third Degree of Humil-ity (Ex 167),thinking that these passivities are his way of bearing poverty, humiliation, and scorn with Christ. Eventually the fruits of distress and frustration, both in himself and in those who have to live with him, will hopefully bring him to his senses. The fruits of true Christian suffering and a true participation in Christ's life always bring forth peace and joy in the depths of the spirit. Violence can also be outwardly directed. We religious may not throw a chair through a window, but we do impose verbal burdens

Issue 38.2 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; Psychotherapy: Its Potential and Limit Models of Community A Directory for the use of Scripture in Retreat Volume 38 Number 2 March 1979 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Depa:-tment of Theology of St. Louis University. 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 March, 1979 Volume 38 Number 2 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIC:IOUS; 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. Religious and Social Justice Mary Evelyn Jegen, S.N.D. Sister Mary Evelyn is an adjunct faculty member of Mundelein College in Chicago, and teaches in the Christian Spirituality Program at Creightori University in Omaha. She resides at 3000 N. Mango Ave.; Chicago, IL 60634. istorically we are still in an early phase of the age of the Second Vatican Council. The context of our call to collaborate in the work of human promotion is beautifully stated in the opening words of the Pastoral Consti-tution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et Spes). Here, in language that has the grandeur and immediacy of a psalm, is set forth the intimate bond between the Church and society, or more precisely, between the Church and all humanity: The joys and hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these too are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. When we specify the "joys and hope.s, the griefs and anxieties" of all our brothers and sisters, we find those signs of the times, those temporal sacramentals in which God reveals himself to hs, and through which he calls us forward to .freedom" in him. What, then, are the most visible "joys and hopes, griefs and anxi-eties" for our sister and brother religious today? We recognize in the reality of our religious life itself the most profound sign of joy and hope. There are reasons which transcend history, but there are also historical factors which today take on particular significance. It is a.prophetic sign for our times that religious life carries within it the seed and promise of that global community which transcends narrow nationalism. Today, in a way that has never been 161 162 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 true before, the very survival of the human race depends on the ability to transcend local and national loyalties without abandoning them. And reli-gious have some experience of this. Imperfect as religious life is, carrying the scars of personal and collec-tive sin, it also shines with the brilliance of the healing, redemptive love of Jesus. Because we each have our own congregation and local community, we forget that we also exist as a whole, that we are physically present in the world as a transnational community founded on a commitment to a radical following of the Way of Jesus. World civilization has reached the stage where.its continuation depends on the ability of all men to perceive and express in many ways their solidarity with a race that is fundamentally one. They must learn to experience the unity of the human family which has become increasingly interdependent. Physical and economic interdepend-ence is a fact. The oil-rich countries, if they choose, can paralyze the world. The food-rich countries can starve the world into submission. Neither would need to deploy a single bomb. In such a world, what must become a choice is love. We must love or perish. And how is that love to be expressed? In the words of.Pope Paul VI at the Eucharistic Congress in Bogotb.: "Justice is love's absolute minimum." Reflecting, then, on the nature of religious life as it both expresses and prefigures the necessary evolution of the human family towards unity, we begin to come to an intuition that our transnational nature should manifest itself in signs that can easily be read by others. This becomes even more clear when we turn to a reflection on the other griefs and anxieties of so many of the men, women, and children of our time. In Octogesima Adveniens (1971), Pope Paul called our attention to the "new poor," those on the fringe of society. In actual fact, the "marginal" constitute the vast majority of the human family. These are the ones who do not have access to an equitable share of the underpinnings of life. It is difficult for men to bring this home to themselves when they do not live in daily contact with such all-pervasive suffering. But they are kept at least minimally aware through religious, and others, who have physically cast their lot with the poor. Though there are many forms of human suffering today, two global manifestations of injustice are of such magnitude that the effect can be numbing. These two griefs and anxieties are hunger and the arms race. The first is the greatest actual killer of the innocent; the second is the increas-ingly dangerous threat to the continuation of the human race itself. And the two are intimately connected in a cause-and-effect relationship. Even if the arms are never used, according to a Vatican note to the Secretary General of the United Nations (30 April, 1976), the armaments race "is in itself an act of aggression against those who are the victims of it. It is an act of aggression which amounts to a crime, for even when they are not used, by their cost alone, armaments kill the poor by causing them to starve." Religious and Social Justice / 163 Hunger still condemns 450 million of our brothers and sisters to an earthly existence which is degrading and destructive. The spectacle of 5000 hungry people moved Jesus to active compassion. How are we called to respond to children gone blind for lack of vitamin A, to the grief of parents unable to provide food for their offspring? It is in this context that our Holy Father and the bishops in the 1974 Synod issued a statement on the human rights most threatened today. Under the title of the right to life, they specified the arms race as "an insanity that burdens the world and creates the conditions for even more massive destruction of life." They next specified "the right to eat" as "directly linked to the right to life," and they called upon governments, not merely individuals, "to undergo a conversion in their attitude toward the victims of hunger, to respond to the imperatives of justice and reconcilia-tion and speedily to find the means of feeding those who are without food." Within weeks of that statement, Pope Paul iterated the concept of the "right to eat" in an address to the delegates to the World Food Conference, November 9, 1974. He said: The right to satisfy one's hunger must finally be recognized for everyone, accord-ing to the specific requirements of his age and activity. This right is based on the fact that all the goods of the earth are destined primarily for universal use and for the subsistence of all men, before any individual appropriation. Christ based theju'dgment of each human being on respect for this right (see Mt. 25:34). He went on to make a recommendation linking, concretely two central issues of justice and peace, when he said, As far back as 1964, on the occasion of our journey to India, we launched an appeal to the nations, asking that, by a truly substantial commitment--the result mainly of a reduction in expenditures on arms~there be set up a Fund with the aim of giving a decisive impulse to the integral advancement of the less well-endowed sectors of mankind. Today the time has come for an energetic and bindin~ decision along the same lines. Will such a decision--not yet obtained by a sense of solidarity or rather elementary social justice, which consists not only in not "'stealing" but also in know-ing how to share--finally be imposed by the perils of the present moment? The link between violence and injustice, and therefore, between peace and justice, is. intrinsic. It is p.rophesied in Isaiah: "They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks." Today we cannot have food for the hungry unless we purchase it at the expense of preparation for genocidal war. The call to religious to become engaged in the work of human promotion may take many forms. Certainly the call to re.ligious who form a corporate body, a body transcending national boundaries, is a call to enter more deeply, prophetically, and sacrificially into the struggle for peace and jus-tice, a call expressed in the agony of human destruction through hunger and the agony that witnesses the escalation of preparations for war. Later in thispaper I will try to.suggest some concrete possibilities. "164 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Perceptions of Religious in Various Situations First, however, let us review the different situations of religious in our world, a world which is characterized by the joys, hopes, griefs and anxie-ties described above. In some places, religious perceive as their greatest problem and challenge an oppressive political regime which also stifles religious liberty, threatening the possibility of an authentic catechesis. These totalitarian regimes are related to ideologies of the "left" in Eastern Europe and some parts of Asia, and to the "right," especially in Latin America. In either case, any adequate analysis will reveal institutionalized fear at the rort of oppressive political structures. Ultimately, only the liberty of the children of God tan heal that fear, and we seem a very great distance from that liberty. In other places, Western Europe and North America, for example, religious perceive acutely a responsibility to resist many elements of their society which they see as unjustly exploiting the poor and the weak around the world. If the economic practices of the affluent nations do not always directly cause hunger and poverty, at the very least these practices do not vigorously seek to redress an unjust situation. The gap between the rich and poor continues to widen, as the rich have more goods and more power, even when this is at the expense of the vast majority who have relatively less--less even of the basic necessities of life, and less power over their destinies. That is why a macro-analysis of global economics which includes an examination of trade and financial policies (lending and foreign aid) and of the practices of multinational corporations leads inescapably to the con-clusion that no amount of individual generosity, though it is more in-dispensable than ever, can get at the root-causes of poverty and oppression in our world. Moved b~, the compassion of our Lord, we must turn our efforts towards nothing less than reshaping the political and economic institutions which control the lives of all of us. Surely this is what the Synod Fathers meant in 1971, when they said that "Action on behalf of justice and for the transformation of the world fully appears 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 oppres-sive. situation." Obviously, we must find ways of acting in concert with many others. To work in any other way would be to admit that either we do not understand the situation or that we do not care enough to become realistically engaged in the struggle for justice and peace. The Spirituality of Human Promotion We are all aware of the phenomenon of the person who burns himself out in activity related to social injustice. This points to the importance of finding the key to a spiritual dynamic which will sustain action without Religious and Social Justice / 165 destroying the person. We find such a dynamic in the reality of freedom or liberty. Freedom is both gift and prize; and, as prize, it is won not once and for all. Rather, it develops organically, as it were, once certain fundamental choices are made. In The Church in the Modern World there is a marvelous description of the external conditions of human liberty. Article 31 reads: Now a man can scarcely arrive at the needed sense of responsibility unless his living conditions allow him to be conscious of his dignity, and to rise to his destiny by spending himself for God and for others. But human freedom is often crippled when a man falls into extreme poverty, just as it withers when he indulges in too many of life's comforts and imprisons hi.mself in a kindof splendid isolation. Freedom acquires new strength, by contrast, when a man consents to the unavoidable requirements of social life, takes on the manifold demands of human partnership, and commits himself to the service of the hum&n community. Hence, the will to play one's role in common endeavors should be everywhere encouraged. This passage aptly describes the external situation of a free person, a person whose life is ordered, by commitment, to the service of the human community, to service by deliberate choice. As the passage points out, this kind of freedom is crippled when a person is caught in a situation where all energies must be expended in providing for survival needs. It is a kind of obscenity to talk about freedom to a person or a nation that is denied access to control over the means of production and distribution of basic goods. But freedom can also wither, and this is, too, the case, according to the passage just quoted, when a person "indulges in too many of life's comforts and imprisons himself in a kind of splendid isolation." This is the state of many people of the rich nations, who have only a foggy, shallow notion of the political and economic realities of most of the human family. We re-ligious must not avoid the continuing and painful examination that looks to see whether, and to what extent, we are among those whose spiritual freedom or maturity (the two are the same) is debilitated by a materially comfortable way of life. The 1971 Synod document, Justice in the World, asked for this ongoing corporate examination of conscience. Have we re-sponded to the call of the Lord in the pointed question (Article 48), " . . . [Does] our life-style exemplify 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 may be fed?" But what is the interior dynamic of a free person, a person committed to the service of the human community? Here, Justice in the World pro-vides a response, founded on a Pauline theology: According to Saint Paul, the whole of the Christian life is summed up in faith effecting that love and service of neighbor which involve thefulfillment of the demands of justice. The Christian lives under the interior law of liberty, which is a permanent call to man to turn away from self-sufficiency to confidence in God, and from concern for self to a sincere love of neighbor. Thus takes place his genuine liberation and the gift of himself for the freedom of others. "166 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 On the personal level, this interior law of freedom involves a call to shift the center of one's existence, or, in the more beautiful words of Jesus, to let the seed die, to lose one's life in order to find it, to lay down one's life for one's friends, knowing that only this is the full measure of love. Only those who are willing to die are free. For us Christians, this willingness can only be a gift, the gift of a growing identification with Jesus in his passion, death, and resurrection. The obstacles to the shift of one's center, or to living in the interior law of liberty, are fundamentally fear and selfishness. These counterweights to liberty are embodied in institutions as well as in the human heart. It is precisely where the process of personal conversion bears on the effort at structural change or conversion that we have a struggle, an "agony," an experience of the mystery of the Cross. Corporate Action for Human Promotion Having reflected on the exterior and interior dynamics of freedom in the Lord, we ask ourselves this question. Are there any ways in which religious across the world could act in concert in'the work of human promotion? The deepest value of concerted action, it seems to me, would be its power to prefigure and prepare for the new forms of transnational political, social, and economic life that are essential if the human family is to live in justice and peace. What are some forms that such concerted action might take? COuld we set an example by modifying our own budgets? Granted, there is a fundamental difference between a national budget and our own. We do not, happily, allocate funds for weapons of war. Nonetheless, we have our own funds for commmunity security and for personal and community goods beyond our basic needs. Are we not called to share these goods more liberally in our moment in history? In the early seventh century, pope St. Gregory the Great said, "Feed the man dying of hunger, for if you have not fed him you have killed him." The quotation found its way into Gaudium et Spes (Article 69). How would Saint Gregory apply that principle to our situation? We would miss a great opportunity, however, if we modified our com-munity budget in favor of children with shriveled limbs and swollen bellies, in favor of the 100,000 persons in Asia who go blind each year for lack of vitamin A, in favor of the malnourished of our own inner cities, and stopped there. We need to link our justified economy with the Eucharist. We could fast in solidarity with our poor brothers and sisters, who fast not by choice but by necessity. That fast could be in conscious preparation for our cele-bration of the Eucharist, the memorial of Christ's own giving of his Body and Blood to be our food. The money saved by fasting could be an exten-sion of our eucharistic celebration, our going together in peace to love and serve the Lord, the same Jesus who nourishes us, and who also hungers for us in his most distressing disguise. Religious and Social Justice / 167 If religious across the world joined together this way, we could antic-ipate our governments in creating the Great World Fund that Pope Paul was urging. We could use our experience to urge other societies to do the same--within religious life, from local community to province to generalate level; beyond our congregations from parish to diocese to na-tional conference. In all this we should remember the norm of Populorum Progressio, which echoes the constant tradition of the Church, that we are asked to share not only from our abundance, but even from our necessities. In this way we act in faith in our Father's providence, and we forge the bonds of loving solidarity with all members of our huma~ family. If Christians also learned to live this way, the climate would be prepared for moving our governments. Truth would indeed be speaking to power. We would experience a profound renewal of our eucharistic life, and our reli-gious life would know a new birth of deepest freedom in Christ Jesus, our Lord. It would, of course, be only a beginning of the ways in which we might celebrate our corporate life in the Lord. But ~iven the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the men and women of our time, it may be an indispensable beginning. Now Available As A Reprint The "Active-Contemplative' _ Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Psychotherapy: A Consideration of Its Potential and Limit Gillian Straker Doctor Straker teaches psychology at the University of the Witwatersrand in South Africa; she also has a private practice in therapy in the same city. Her address at the university is Jan Smuts Ave.; Johannesburg, South Africa. The purpose of this article is to outline the basic philosophies underlying some of the more popular psychotherapies currently in vogue. Its intention is to assist religious who have been, are, or will be in therapy to come to a more realistic evaluation of the potential and limits of psychotherapy as a facilitator of growth. Given that psychological and spiritual growth are interconnected, it is the thesis of this paper that psychotherapy can be a useful tool--provided its limits are clearly perceived by both the client and the therapist. This involves a realization by both that,while psychological and spiritual growth are related, they are not synonymous. Furthermore, psychotherapy should never be regarded as autonomous in its own right but should rather be seen as a possible means to certain goals. In the case of the religious, these goals have been set a priori. It is not the function of the therapist to attempt to alter theseends/goals or to provide alternative philosophies of life. A religious in therapy who feels that the therapist is more involved in trying to get him to alter his goals than in exploring reasons for his diffi-culties in achieving these goals, should consider terminating treatment and seeking help elsewhere. A therapist who attempts to change goals when a client has indicated a commitment to them, or who subtly devalues these goals by continually trying to explain them away in psychological terms, is 168 Psychotherapy: Its Potential and Limit / 169 indicating not only a lack of awareness of the boundaries of his area of expertise but also an unawareness of his personal limits. It should be clearly recognized that such a therapist is, in a sense, guilty of malpractice and it is such misuse of the practice of psychotherapy which should be con-demned rather than the practice itself. Having drawn the limits applicable to all therapies, it might now be of value to examine some specific therapies in more depth. As has been indicated, it is the personality and personal attributes of the individual therapist which play the most vital role in determining not only the direction of therapy, but also its success or failure. The school to which a therapist belongs is a very important factor, as his allegiance reflects something of his personal ideals and values. A recent survey in America revealed that at present there are more than one hundred and forty different kinds of psychotherapy actually being practiced.~ However, these types of therapy can quite conveniently be categorized under three main headings, viz., the psychoanalytically, be-haviorally, and experientially oriented approaches to psychotherapy. Each of these three schools has a different view of man, which then dictates its psychotherapeutic techniques. The psychoanalytic view subscribes to the idea that man is a victim of turbulent inner forces from the power of which he continually struggles to be set free. In the Freudian view, these inner forces are largely sexual in nature; but later analysts felt that these inner forces were not only sexual but reflected, for example, a will to power, or a will to superiority. In terms of this view man is seen as fraught with inner and unknown urgings and contradictory pulls. He is subject to, and resists against, a reservoir of impulses which are largely inaccessible to the conscious self. He thus is troubled by behaviors and symptoms which he often cannot understand himself and which seem resistant to control by a conscious act of will. The aim, therefore, of psychoanalytically oriented therapy is to give the individual insight into the forces against which he is battling, so as to help him gain more control over his behavior and to enable him to give expression to these forces in a more socially acceptable way. I do not think religious would dissent much with these stated goals. The idea of gaining insight into motives and trying to express impulses in more acceptable ways would probably accord well with the outlook of religious. The.re are some pitfalls however, as there is a tendency among psychoana-lysts to explain all behavior including e.g., a belief in God, as being merely an expression of repressed impulses. A further difficulty which the psychoanalytic approach might pose for religious is in terms of method. In order to encourage the expression of feelings by the individual, so as to facilitate an awareness of desires and ~Parloff, H., Twenty-five Years of Research in Psychotherapy, New York, Albert Einstein College of Medicine, October, 1975. "170 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 needs which have blocked his emotional life, the analyst creates an environ-ment of almost total permissiveness. Such a process which is essential in the analytic situation is surely disastrous as a way of life. Psychoanalytic principles, by their very nature, cannot relate to morality or define limits for permissiveness. Thus, if the client or the therapist perceives that this kind of therapy is to become a life-style, a modus vivendi, the end-point will be an overvaluing of the mind and the expression of emotion, and a failure to move beyond the emotional blocks once they have been uncovered. Nevertheless the value of the psychoanalytically oriented therapies in uncovering these emotional blocks should not be ignored. These therapies are specifically geared for this. Once the blocks have been uncovered, the individual should become free to work through and beyond them in what-ever framework he has chosen for himself. For the religious, Christianity would obviously be his framework, and it is within this that he would continue to work from where the therapy had left off. We turn now to the second major school of psychotherapy, viz., the behavioral school. This school does not see behavior as determined by internal conflicts but rather sees all behavior, both normal and abnormal, as a product of what man has learned. Behavior consists of learned habits reinforced either by the self or by the environment. Thus therapy consists of teaching the individual alternative modes of behavior which have to be practiced both inside and outside of the therapy situation. This school of therapy probably holds the least potential danger for the religious since it deals mainly with overt behavior and de-emphasizes affective issues. This school does not primarily concern itself either with issues concerning in-ternal motivations or with questions concerning ideals and values. However, this very defocusing from self-exploration which diminishes this approach's potential danger is also, in my view, the factor which limits its potential as a facilitator of growth. In addition, the view of man which underlies the behaviorist approach is a deterministic one. As such, it is opposed to the Catholic idea of free choice. Man is primarily seen as a product of his environment, in this de-emphasis on man's capacity for choice, the behaviorists are similar to the analysts, although they differ from one another in the reasons they give to justify this. Nevertheless if the referring problem of the religious is a specific and definite symptom such as a phobia, rather than something less definite, such as generalized interper-sonal difficulties, the behaviorist approach might be the treatment of choice because of its concern with discrete symptoms and overt behavior-patterns. The final main school of. psychotherapy which calls for our present attention is the experiential school. Of the three schools of psychotherapy discussed here, this is the one which in some sense comes closest to the ideals proffered by Christianity. But again, in some regards it is the most dangerous school within which the religious would seek help. Experiential-ists reject the view that man is predominantly passive, subservient to the Psychotherapy: Its Potential and Limit / 171 less conscious aspects of himself, or to the stimuli in his environment. The experientialists criticize the psychoanalysts and behaviorists for their com-mitment to science, and for their underplaying of man's ethical dimension, his will, choices and moral relations to others. This emphasis on man's personal responsibility is what leads the experientialist to seem most sym-pathetic to the religious. However, given that man is considered responsi-ble by the experientialists, the ihamediate question which comes to mind is: "Responsible to whom and responsible for what?" It is at this point that there would probably be some divergence in thought. On the whole the experientialists see man as responsible to himself for the actualization of his potential. This leaves unanswered the question of when one man's freedom becomes another's bondage. However, in partial answer to this vexing dilemma most of the experientialists put forward the view that man is basically good and thus actualization will always involve actualization to the good for himself and others. This is an assumption which lacks full support. Nevertheless, some of the intermediate goals of certain experientialists would not conflict with Christian ideas. Helping the individual to relate in a "meaningful way" is one such goal which the experientialists have. They define a fulfilling relationship as one in which the individuals have come to terms with the paradoxical nature of love, in which love and power are not opposed but complementary. In this kind of love "we find ourselves at our strongest and most powerful when we are able to transcend ourselves in communion with another.''2 This notion of love involving selflessness would accord with the Christian ideal. Similarly congruent is the idea that we are "less-than-perfect creatures who need to live with ourselves as we are, while still attempting to grow toward an unattainable vision.'''~ In terms of this it is the aim of the experientialist not merely to heal illness but to promote growth. However, many experientialists hold an implicit assumption which would conflict with views held by his religious client. This assumption is that man himself, as an autonomous being, has within himself the capacity to bring about his own actualization to good. There is no acceptance of the idea that man cannot bring about his own salvation. There is a belief that man himself can, via various methodologies, aimed at the promotion of dimensions such as self-determination, authen-ticity and creativity, bring about an ultimate integration of his body, mind and soul. It is from this idea that the basic divergence between the experien-tialists and the religious comes. The former believes himself to be respon-sible to himself and at times to society. There is no higher authority than himself, and he is capable of bringing about his own integration. This is totally opposed to the idea of the religious concerning man's dependence on 2Forish, B. "Fulfilling Relationships: The Vision and Reality," J. Humanistic Psychology, V. 18, No. i, Winter, 1978. 31bid. 172 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 God for the integrating gift of grace and salvation. In terms of methodology, this school has hazards because, in its thera-peutic approach more than any other, the personal attributes of the thera-pist are of paramount importance. This is because, on the whole, experien-tial schools renounce specific techniques as part of their understanding of human existence. The therapist is, for the most part, discouraged from applying techniques, although, in some of the more radical branches of this school, nonverbal techniques are used as a means of helping the individual to get in touch with his feelings. Generally, though, therapy is assumed to occur naturally if the therapist can, as far as possible, share the being and experience of the client. It is the mutual encounter between therapist and patient in which both attempt to communicate honestly with one another which is seen as the sine qua non of growth. The experiential therapist, therefore, does not have a contract with the client other than to interact as honestly as he can. Thus the therapist, in his own person, is the primary tool for change. Experientialists are probably correct in stating this and making their assumptions explicit. This means though, that a client entering into this kind of therapy must be aware that what he is contracting for is to be exposed to the person of the therapist. Thus the client must evaluate more than ever whether he has confidence in the therapist as a person, not primarily as a psychologist or trained expert who has something to offer. If the answer to this is negative, then it is best not to enter into the contract of such a relationship. If the answer is affirmative, this school could offer something very positive because its therapists are committed to being honest, making their own values, beliefs and assumptions explicit in a way which the psychoanalysts, for example, are not. Thus, in psychoanalysis, the influence of the values of the therapist are much more subtle, and therefore difficult to deal with. However, in some ways this disclosure of values is less important in a psychoanalytic situation because the goals of the approach are limited to freeing the individual from repression rather than the more extended goal of the experientialists to promote a "higher level of consciousness.''4 Of course it is for the individual religious to °decide what it is he wants from therapy. In my view, though, for the religious, therapy should perhaps end at the point of freeing the individual from his blocks, since religious should have available to him other and better means than therapy to promote growth. Nevertheless therapy can be extremely valuable as a means of putting the individual in touch with his emotional difficulties, as well as the needs and motives which may be controlling his behavior. Therapy can assist the individual in working through these, and, since working through things is surely a prelude to working beyond them, it would seem that therapy can indeed be a useful tool, provided both client and therapist clearly acknowledge its limits. 4Maslow, A. The Farther Reaches of Human Nature. New York: Viking, 1971. Resentment William F. Kraft Dr. Kraft is well known to our readers. His last article, "Nothingness and Spiritual Growth" appeared in the November, 1978 issue. He is professor of psychology at Carlow College; 3333 Fifth Ave.: Pittsburgh, PA 15213. I admit that I'm bitter. I resent the way she treated me. Just to see her irritates me. What really galls me is that she behaves as though nothing ever happened! It's like there's nothing wrong with her--the whole fault is mine. ! resent her for that. Sure, I have to admit that she really did help me. When l first met Sister, I was timid and shy, never really sharing with anyone. She listened, and encouraged m~i to give of myself. I guess i have to thank her for that. But when i really started to open up, and asked her to reciprocate, suddenly she seemed to become distant, not at all friendly as she once was. i asked her a couple of times what was wrong, and all she said was, "Nothing." I guess what I'm saying is that when i was lower and she was higher, things went well. But when we became more equal, our relationship changed. ! resent that. I don't like the way I feel. Even when I just think of her or hear about her, I get these strong feelings, l realize that they aren't doing me any good, but that's the way I feel. l just can't push a button to stop these feelings. I'd like to love. It would make life a lot easier. I'd like to forgive, and not feel the way I do. And I don't like hurting her, besides hurting myself, with this psychological cancer. But how do 1 stop feeling this way? Resentment is an experience that is completely foreign to very few peo-ple. We know that it is an intense, unpleasant feeling that can alienate even close friends, even brothers and sisters. Few, if any people, enjoy feeling resentful. But it happens all too often. We would rather be in love than at odds with one another; But things just don't work out that way. 173 174 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Still, love and resentment need not necessarily be mutually exclusive. Though resentment can be destructive and negative, it can also be positive. For example, I can resent your lying to me. I can resent your attempts at manipulating and scandalizing me. I may validly resent your rank-pulling behavior that violates my dignity. But we seldom think of resentment in terms of its being positive. Along with looking at experiences and theories of resentment, a clue to the meaning of resentment lies in its etymology: "to feel again." One of the peculiar features of resentment is that it is a feeling that we hang on to--or perhaps it hangs onto us. It is as though we are in a state of constant edginess, just waiting to be "triggered off." We also see that resentment is similar to anger and hostility, at least in the form of being aggressive and disapproving. In a sense, resentment points to a "no" that will not go away. Resentment is intense and highly personal. Rather than being oriented toward a peripheral or passing experi-ence, resentment tends to center around important values and especially around our own dignity. Resentment is persistent in that it tends to remain fixed. It is always "there" as a kind of warning. It also involves an indignant stand that protests insults or unjust acts that violate or threaten me. Finally, resent-ment incorporates disapproval--a "no" that proclaims that I will not con-done or sanction such action. Resentment involves an affective judgment that attempts to reclaim, maintain, or proclaim my worth. Thus, resentment refers to holding on to a feeling which serves as a warning to stop indignant treatment. In resentment, I say that I will never tolerate, accept, or condone such behavior. I say: "If you act this way, I'm ready for you." Resentment is a constant readiness to defend, protect, and protest. In light of this description, it is important to make the distinction be-tween the experience or feeling of resentment and what constitutes resent-ful behavior. How 1 behave or act on my resentful feelings is much more within my will than how I feel. The ideal is to listen to feelings of resentment so that I can act in a positive way. Let us first examine resentment in its positive form. Positive Resentment Positive resentment is a protest against a violation of my dignity. When my worth as a person, including who and what 1 hold most sacred, is violated, I have the responsibility and the duty to feel resentment; other-wise, 1 become less, or settle for less, than 1 really am. Not only am I insulted but also 1 insult myself. Furthermore, it is not fair to let others violate my dignity because ! am letting them be less than they are. Thus, my readiness to respond in indignant disapproval is a way of maintaining and promoting my own dignity and evoking the dignity of others. Resentment / 175 For example, people who pull rank on me, try to make me les's than l am, and make themselves more than they really are. My resentment can be in service of the truth that we should be (and ontologically are) brothers and sisters together rather than on different planes or in different worlds. My vigilant'and steadfast "No" to such manipulation can be a form of healthy resentment. I resent being used as a thing because I am infinitely more than that. We should feel resentful for being treated as second-class citizens. So, a woman should deeply resent sexist treatment because she is used and being treated as less than she really is. Being treated unjustly can also evoke resentment. For instance, a sister may feel resentment because she is always the one told to have phone duty or because she feels she is never appreciated. Unfortunately, a sister espe-cially if she is middle-aged may feel guilty over such reactions of resent-ment. Actually, the sister should "listen" to her resentment as a means of maintaining and proclaiming her dignity and as a gift that may motivate her to seek to change the situation. I should feel resentment if ! am used as the community scapegoat, always made fun of, only seen as a workhorse. My resentment clearly says that when you treat me as less than 1 am, you are not going to get away with it. 1 am going to protest, 1 am going to try to change the situation. I am going to manifest myself as more than you see. Healthy resentment, which it can be paradoxically called, is primarily a function of love. It emerges out of and is an expression of love more than of hostility or hate. In positive or healthy resentment, my intention is not to get even, to hurt, or to lower the other. My intention is to manifest and deepen my own dignity and the dignity of the other. In fact to condone behavior that violates my dignity is what would not be healthy. Indeed, 1 can accept and even understand people's acts of aggression, their insulting me, being unjust to me, exploiting or manipulating me. But I neither have to, nor should !, condone their mad behavior. Along with and sometimes beyond these purely psychological ap-proaches, I can also choose to act in a directly spiritual way. In fact, rather than being a matter of "intellectual gymnastics" or mere theological rhetoric, the spiritual resolution of resentment can also be clinically opera-tive. For example, if 1 am a ~:ommunity scapegoat who is manipulated and used unjustly, I should try to determine whether and how I may myself be responsible. I can ask myself, for instance, if ! have an unconscious need to be exploited, or if I have a compulsion to please. But even if I fail to cope healthily with my area of responsibility, or if I am psychologically naive, 1 can still transcend the experience spiritually. Experientially and behaviorally I can identity with Jesus Christ--the Supreme Scapegoat. Such an approach to transcendence need not be a sentimental, saccharine basking in pseudo-spirituality. 1 can actually dif-fuse and dissolve m.y resentment when its grounds are accepted (not wanted masochistically) in Christ. For instance, regardless of, and beyond, 176 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 psychological analysis, I can foster a "crucified love." In the Spirit of our Lord, I can choose to act on the grace which enables me to suffer for the welfare of those who persecute me. This is not pietistic masochism, suffer-ing for my own sake under the guise of love, but rather it is becoming a disciple of Christ. How realistically possible and frequent such a spiritual approach is for most of us is another issue. But it is possible to strive to practice the message of the Cross that redeems and heals. Negative Resentment Instead of emerging out of and in the service of love, negative resent-ment is fixated, closed, and retaliatory. In negative resentment, I try to hurt, to lower the other. My persistence is fixated rather than cieative. It is destructive rather than self-creative, selfish rather than life-giving, closed rather than open, hindering rather than helping. In negative resentment, 1 simply will not or cannot "let go." You--the resented one--haunt me so much that at times 1 feel that 1 would want you dead so that you can no longer hurt me. At least, I would like to cripple or lower you to the state of being powerless. I want to even the score. Such retaliatory fixation cuts offany future, it identifies you with the past. Rather than being open to new possibilities, 1 tend to identify you with what hurts me. To be sure, I feel indignant: my dignity has been hurt. But instead of responding creatively out of love, l try to make you hurt worse than I. 1 try to get the better of you so that 1 can control and manipulate you. l try to make you become less worthy than I feel. Of course, in trying to pull you down, ! lose my own dignity rather than gain it. My disapproval can too easily turn to hate or hostility. At the very minimum my intention is to make you powerless and me more powerful, and then maybe you will come to me for help. Actually, I am trying to make myself bigger and higher precisely because I feel smaller and lower. In making you helpless, I have the illusion of being higher, more powerful, and more valuable. Clearly negative resentment violates and can even destroy community. It fractures, fragments, and fixates the community. Rather than growing together in love, which can include some positive resentment, we hurt and alienate one another. Still, there is some sense in the apparent nonsense of negative resentment. Let us look at some of the more common reasons for negative resentment. Psychological transference can be a dynamic which produces negative resentment. For instance, I may resent my parents, perhaps for good rea-son, but then I transfer my feelings or displace them onto other authority figures. Though 1 may feel and behave well in most areas, I find myself resentful toward authorities, though I can find no particular reason to feel resentful. I have to realize that my resentment may be rooted primarily in the past rather than in the present. Resentment / 177 Similarly, if 1 am in a position of authority by virtue of my function as a superior, teacher or whatever, I may be confused and hurt with peo-ple who resent me. I sincerely feel that such people may resent me not primarily for what I am doing or even for who I am, but because I evoke past unresolved feelings that are now transferred or "dumped" on me. Of course, I have to discern honestly whether I have my own authority problems that evoke positive resentment that may or may not be com-pounded and blurred with transference. "Divinizing" can easily lead to negative resentment. When I divinize you (a friend, parent, or authority figure), I put you on a pedestal. 1 look up to you and expect you to be perfect. Perhaps you meet my expectation, or at least try to be perfect for me. But when you begin to show your imper-fections, 1 may feel cheated and hurt. Then, instead of divinizing you, I demonize you. Feeling let down, I angrily pull you off your celestial pedestal (of my own making) and perhaps put you in hell. To be freed from such a resentful bind, to be free for a forgiving love, it will help if I can discern why 1 initially had the need to divinize you. Did I humanly but foolishly become too dependent on you for affirmation and support? Why did 1 make you a god when actually you are essentially the same as I? Did I, and do I, sell myself short? Why do 1 need you either in heaven or hell rather than where you really are---on earth? Poor self-esteem and consequent insecurity is a frequent cause of resentment. For whatever reasons (which can be rooted in the first few years of life), I can too easily be insulted, lowered or threatened. Conse-quently I may feel compelled to have a divine love which will never hurt or let me down. Or, from another direction, I put you down in the futile attempt to raise myself; in short, my worth eventually comes from making you feel and look bad, at least in my eyes. In such a situation, I may not only resent what you did but also and perhaps more radically who you are. Your very being threatens me so much that 1 resent you just for being. It is not rare to place too much of one's self-worth in another. If I am too dependent on you, 1 can resent you when you hurt me. And if you deliberately and willfully hurt me, I should resent you. But if you hurt me because of your imperfections or limits, or because of some painful truth, my resentment may be only negative. Then, I can no longer face or trust you. I cannot "let go" and forgive, because my heart is broken. I am afraid I will be "wiped out." I am fearful of losing my dignity and sense of life. Resentment can also emerge out of and be combined with jealousy. In jealousy I feel compelled to minimize the worth of a third person because he or she threatens me; that is, the presence of the other means that I may lose your love and therefore my dignity. Too much of my security depends on our relationship and on your affirmation of me. Or, if our friendship ends, 1 may resent you for years, becoming embittered. Instead of being my friend, you are my enemy. Though losing a friendship usually is painful, too 171~ /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 much of my dignity had been dependent on our friendship. My resentment is a desperate attempt to maintain my dignity, but also a defense against my insecurity and lack of self-affirmation. Resentment can also be a way of controlling you so that the you will not hurt or humiliate me again. My resentment puts you on edge. It keeps you wary and at a distance. Though it is understandable that I do not want to be hurt, my resentful behavior cannot be justified. Ideally, 1 should not try to hurt you because you hurt me. Rather than manipulating you, I should strive to give you the freedom to emerge. Arrogance, too, can be at the root of resentment. When I am arrogant, I blow myself up out of proportion. I claim higher rank, greater dignity or more power than I really have. In arrogance I am likely to feel that 1 know better than others, that I am always right. So when you criticize, disagree, or threaten me, I may resent you as a way of affirming my arrogant self-concept and as a way of lowering and controlling you. When you do not give me homage, I resent you. In effect 1 say: "How dare you act this way to me. Don't you know that 1 am better than you are? I am too good for such treatment, and therefore 1 will make you pay for it." Different life-styles can be a threat to my worth. If I am so insecure that I need other people to affirm my ways of living and consequently cannot be open to their other ways, I can easily feel resentment. When I am insecure about my own way, other ways intimidate me, evoking resentment. For instance, if my life depends on watching or not watching television, people who are bored by television may evoke resentment. Or if my life depends exclusively on certain kinds of prayer, other modalities may evoke resent-ment in me. Ideally, I should be open to many kinds of activities or prayer, though I do not have to agree with, condone, or follow them. In the same way, if people force or embarrass me into doing "their thing," perhaps I should feel justified resentment. For instance, some people may uncon-sciously resent my "old-fashioned" ways and try to make me feel guilty for not following their "modern" methods. Of course, the opposite is also possible. How to I-leip The starting point of helping others is to help oneself. When you mani-fest resentment toward me, first I must try to understand myself. I must discern whether I have anything to do with causing your resentful feelings. For example, did I unconsciously encourage you to put me on a pedestal, or be too dependent on me? Did I think to try to fulfill the role and expec-tation of being perfect? Was I subtlely arrogant in my desire to be helpful? Did I imply that I was '~the way, the truth and the life"? After taking stock of myself, then I can begin to help you take stock of yourself. In feeling your resentment, I should not try to retaliate with bitterness, hostility, or withdrawal. Though withdrawal out of love may sometimes be Resentment / 179 necessary, withdrawal should not be a form of passive hostility, perhaps taking the form of the "ice water treatment." Thus, when feeling the fire of resentment, I should try not to burn in return. Ideally, I should be available in love. I should try to understand and appreciate your reasons for being resentful. When I can make sense of such apparent nonsense, I can help you affirm your true source of dignity. Though important, reasons and words are secondary to seeing and responding to your dignity no matter what you are doing. Rather than being overwhelmed with resentment and returning the hurt, the challenge is to affirm your dignity through your hostility and hate. No matter what, I can always "be for you" in love. The way I might confront you is primarily a function of our relationship. When confronting another, I must be willing and able to take the time, energy, and responsibility for the consequences. It is usually unfair and poor "pop" psychology to express feelings "honestly and sincerely" or to expose another's psychic nerve endings without working through, perhaps for weeks or months, what occurred and will emerge. To confront irrespon-sibly can justly evoke positive resentment. A primary goal is to forgive. Forgiving includes "letting go," allowing ourselves to become more than resentful. Forgiveness also points to a giving that is always there no matter what; I am always there for you regardless of how you or I feel. And, I can and should forgive myself. I cannot always immediately forgive, so that, at times, I may have to forgive my own lack of forgiveness. Forgiveness does not simply mean to forget. Indeed, forgetting may be unjust to both of us. Forgetting our resentment, for example, can decrease opportunities to learn fi'om our obstacles and increase the likelihood of being caught again in the same trap. But, forgiveness does mean not bearing a grudge or identifying you with your faults. My la(k of forgiveness often is a way of controlling and fixating you and myself. Whatever the reason, at base I cannot forgive because forgiveness makes us equally sinners struggling in love. Though I may have been hurt justly or unjustly, it is good to keep perspective and tO experience you as really more than just a hurting person. Even if you are evil, it is highly doubtful that your entire personhood and life are negative. More likely, you stand on the same ground as I do and are much more similar to, than different from, me. To abstain from identifying you with one of your functions or qualities helps to keep perspective and to foster a forgiving and compassionate stand. To be resentful in love is a saving grace. Though seldom can I determine completely the way I feel, I can be vigilant in staying in love. In love, I can embrace all of myself and you. Love heals our wounded and broken lives. Even though we may feel bitter, love allows and encourages us to see more than is apparently there. In love, we get a glimpse of what can be---of the Kingdom already begun on earth. The Stage of the Hidden Spring Carol Jean Vale, S.S.J. Sister Carol teaches English at Delone Catholic High School. She resides at St. Joseph Academy; Main St.; McSherrystown, PA 17344. What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well . ~ We stand today at a crossroad in the passage of time. Vatican II altered the course of the modern Church and, in so doing, changed the direction of all responsible Christian lives. The council demanded that all renew them-selves and, in conjunction with this dictum, many of our general chapters have mandated for us a real participation in renewal; certainly for the dedicated religious no option exists. Refusal to renew is tantamount to a direct refusal to correspond to the will of God. Such a renewal demands a radical conversion to the person of Jesus. It is a call to a unique type of selflessness and self-emptying. The twentieth century is starved for men and women who express by their lives the truth of the message they proclaim. Such a correlation between spoken word and lived reality comes within the realm of possibility only when Christ touches the human heart and turns it completely toward himself. Vatican II has asked us all to undergo such a spiritual revolution. In- .deed, Jesus came to preach a revolution; a revolution not of social values or political ideologies, nor of.scientific values or economic policies. The 1Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1943), p. 75. 180 The State of the Hidden Spring Lord came to effect the most radical revolution possible; to overthrow and free the heart of each person who would ever embark upon the adventure of living.2 To show us a Father's love, to make us new in that love, to recreate us in our real image is the reason for his coming. Difficulties will continue to arise in the pursuit of renewal. Being made fresh involves grinding down the rough edges of personalities, scraping clean the tartared remnants of sin, scooping out our full abundance of selfishness. It means allowing Christ to polish us until we shine as precious stones. "I will lure her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart" (Ho 2:14). That is precisely what Jesus wishes to do to each of us--take us with him to a desert place and there speak a new word known only toour hearts: a word that transforms self-consciousness into other-consciousness, a word that magnifies and evokes all our latent potentialities, a word that enkindles a fire capable of warming another's heart. Interior renewal is difficult because it asks that we journey into this desert with Christ and there face ourselves. This tryst heralds many significant repercussions. Although the Lord leads us as solitaries into the wilderness, he takes us there not for ourselves alone. The desert remains a proving ground, a training camp where we prepare and are prepared for others. Nothing is ever given for the self alone, but rather to be shared so that others might eat, be nourished, be healed, and in turn give to yet others from their new abundance. Our m6st intimate moments alone with the Lord reverberate with worldwide significance. We stand alone before God, but in God we stand together. I am at once by myself and yet a multitude, a solitary yet an assembly, an individual yet a community. I am; we are. We live in relationship, and there exists no exit where we can escape this fact. We are one in Jesus with one another. The desert teaches this fact undeniably. To meet Jesus Christ is to meet our fellow men and women. Success in the apostolate will be in direct proportion to our living out of this desert experience. In the desert, our praye~" life soars to new depths of intimacy with the Lord. A person can be transformed in minutes when touched by someone alive with Jesus. Without him, we can talk for a lifetime, spend human energy, use every gimmick available, and change no one. He alone can give the increase; and he works through us only in the measure to which he first is living within us. The world in which we live thirsts for prayerful men and women. It hungers for a transformation powered by the dynamic of understanding love, reverent gentleness, and uncompromised integrity. It starves for peo-ple who are committed to ideals and values that remain despite the fluctuations of time. Today's world craves persons who possess the power of the Spirit, for only this power turns hearts of stone into those of flesh. zCarlo Carretto, The God Who Comes (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1974), p. 143. 11~2 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Until new growth in the Spirit happens, until more of us grow into living enfleshments of Jesus and bid others do the same, there will be no peace; rather fear and hatred will continue to wreak their havoc on humankind. The religious person must combat the apathy, the hatred, and the cruelty of our times. We are summoned to be countercultural, different, to proclaim the values of the Gospel--values that never have been, are not now, and never will be popular. Christianity means the cross. The Resur-rection and Crucifixion may never be divorced. In America especially, the concept of an "Alleluia People" is being misconstrued to perpetuate a cross-less Christianity. Yet our joy is only as deep as the depth of the pain we have suffered. Suffering prepares the soil of our deepest persons for a harvest of joy. Suffering well-embraced, builds, not breaks the human spirit. Jesus is calling us now to suffer and to die with him. We are being graced as instruments for the redemption of the modern world. Redemption costs bloodbsometimes our own blood. The future demands of us the courage to pay such a price. With these thoughts in mind, then, let us ask why it is that, after more than a decade, religious communities are still struggling internally with the problem of renewal. If we believe in those concepts, what is it that still holds us back from becoming truly renewed? Perhaps the difficulty can be recognized as possessing two very interrelated dimensions. First, there exists the challenge of aiding those religious who seem totally incapable of bridging the gap between past and present. Second, there is the often unrecognized problem of the religious, who though in step with the changed pace of the Church, is still not manifestly credible or visibly authentic in his life's reflection of this change. These two types of persons responding tO the renewal effort generate confusion and uncertainty for all involved. Further-more, the latter, living a seemingly unauthentic response to the call of Vatican II, inadvertently perpetrates a negative response to renewal. This outward lack of credibility on the part of the ostensibly renewed is indeed at the core of the renewal problem today. Multitudes of words have been written concerning the first type of religious; therefore, let us concentrate for a brief space on those religious who have embraced the call of the Vatican Council to renew. Could it be that this renewal has been stalled or slowed because of the way it has been introduced and conducted'? Do those who are fearful of change see in the renewed religious a person of Christ-like depth? This is perhaps the central question that must be asked. If the religious does not first possess a heart converted to warm, compassionate love, to gentle, untiring presence, and to tender, forgiving concern, others will not see in him a model worthy of imitation. From the very beginning of renewal, there has been a firm distinc-tion between renewal and adaptation of life-style. This writer suggests, that while there has been much adaptation, there is still lacking a great deal of visible renewal. Yet this is th~ case through no one's conscious fault. The State of the Hidden Spring / 1 !13 Renewal is a basic conversion experience and lies at the very core of the Christian message. Metanoia comes as a gift from the Lord and cannot be earned or merited. It takes a long time to change a heart, and a longer time for that change to evidence itself in the behavioral patterns of an indi-vidual's day-to-day life. So much of human development and growth occurs in the dark, in the unseeable recesses of the inner heart. The journey from seed to even a small shoot is a long and arduous ascent. Frequently, this maturation process is hidden even from the person engaged in it. Only the gnawing hunger and unquenchable thirst for the ideal hint at the unfolding life within. In our journey on the road c~f renewal, we have come but a brief dis-tance. Often there exists a real gap between what we are saying and believ-ing and proclaiming and how we are living and loving and being. This is not because the renewal is not real, but rather because so much of the growth it has birthed is as yet invisible to the naked eye. The outward changes and adaptations manifest themselves in a visible form readily apparent to the most unperceiving human eye. However, it is much easier to take off a habit, change apostolates, and alter structures than it is to allow one's heart to be made flesh, to put on Jesus Christ, to become an empty vessel of the Spirit's fashioning. The former changes require weeks or months, the latter, years of even the space of a lifetime. Inner change and growth hide in the deepest chambers of the human person and grow ever so slowly to the light, while the outward adaptations flourish in the light and yet, paradoxically, must grow slowly inward to be understood and espoused by a heart-in-process- of-transformation. Adaptation and renewal must converge at some point within the center of the heart and there mingle, coalesce and become lost one in the other. This union between inner belief and outward practice will empower and energize the religious to live out in an ever fuller manner the true message of Jesus as proclaimed by the Second Vatican Council. However, it must be remembered that at this time, this dynamic is still in process of becoming a reality within the hearts of many religious. Perhaps such facts as these will help those fearful of renewal to under-stand why there is so often a disparity between the real and the ideal. Because of this dichotomy, the renewed religious must strive consciously and persistently to overcome such disparities, to be more loving in the face of a frustration that is but a fear of a dreaded unknown. Those who are fighting renewal are basically good, holy men and women. Fear and insecur-ity often cause them to be powerless .before a resistance within them that they cannot stem or control. All that they have known, loved and worked for seems to be in jeopardy of being eradicated permanently and without an understandable cause. Often they feel crushed or useless, weighed down by a burden too heavy for them to lift alone. Such anxiety can be assuaged only where there is selfless, warm, compassionate, sacrificial love. Those who are freer to be less fearful must also be freer to die in all those 11~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 ways that are not vital to the renewal. This dying includes taking the time to listen to the fears and anxieties of others without trying to force new ideas upon them before they have been allowed to know that they have been understood where they are. It is incredible how a listener changes when he finally begins to understand exactly how another feels and why he feels that way. Such a listener becomes more reverent and accepting of the pain and fear that choke someone into inaction or even active resistance. This dying means being willing to taste the pain of another's heart and to truly let that experience sink into and permeate one's entire being. It means compromising whenever and wherever possible no matter what the cost to self. It means going the extra milel giving away also the tunic, and turning the other cheek. It means loving with the whole of one's self---open, exposed, vulnerable, and weak. It means being so renewed that others will yearn to share the vision that draws such a religious on to ever greater heights of faith-lived love. Those who harbor a fear of the present and a dread of the future can be put at ease only by a person very much at home with his own weaknesses and failings, a person who is willing to share his own fears and dreads, a person who is not threatened by a truth different from his own. At the present many of those who are fearful of renewal are unable to reach out even halfway to the renewal effort. Therefore, the demand is often doubly difficult because time and time again, the renewed religious must be willing to go the whole distance. Yet, if we are willing to do this, we will gradually find that the miles are fewer and those with whom we are meeting, more willing to communicate. Perhaps the demand of renewal at present is to listen with a loving heart, say little, but be by one's presence a witness of all that is best in renewal. Those who question renewal must remember what was mentioned earlier--that growth is slow and that it takes many years for it to evidence itself. Renewal is yet young, and so there is often little outward manifesta-tion of transformation. This does not mean that growth is not there, but just that there has not been enough time for it to become visible. Patience becomes a demand on everyone's part. It must also be remembered that it is imperative to the future of religious life and to the future of our world that we accept.fully the challenge of the Council. If we do not, the twenty-first century will form itself without our aid. The result will.be destruction, if not physical,-then moral. Structures cannot be changed unless the hearts of those who build the structures are reformed and created new in Christ Jesus. These hearts will be touched only if we first let the Lord Jesus remold us into his image and likeness. Before we can affect anyone we must first renew ourselves. In community, we have one another as a source of strength and support for this renewal. Together we may begin to build new selves transformed in Christ. The very painful act of this growth to authenticity will be redemptive. To offer our The State of the Hidden Spring pain for the world is itselfa beginning of our participation in the redemption that our earth awaits. Our pain constitutes a saving difference. We are called to proclaim in our flesh the mystery of Jesus. We are summoned to give witness by our lives that true joy abounds when a person lives in relationship to the Lord. We are called to enable others to change, to be "Christ-ed." To baptize our earth in Jesus we must relinquish ourselves in "self" death. If we do not recognize this, if we do not allow Jesus to change us, then religious life itself will die; and with our death, who can even guess what other values will perish forever? For those fearful of all that this renewal asks because it seems to demand a break with the past, it is important to recall a few thoughts. The past is a part of us. We have imbibed, assimilated and integrated it into the reality of who we are. Our lives reflect the truth and vitality of all that has been as our present witness gives life to that reality in an ever-deepening dimension of being. Future seeds of life are at this moment being planted in us. Our past gives life to our present while our present nurtures all possibilities for the future. Indeed, the good of the past lives on in the present and creates the pattern for the future. All that we are and have been will continue to develop and mature into an ever fuller expression of the Person who we are as Church. Who we are will not change, but perhaps how we express who we are will be different. To stand at this crossroad--to live in a time of transition is both a curse and a blessing. It is a curse because of the tension and turmoil so innate to all change; yet a blessing because we are faced with the challenge of helping to make all things new in Christ. It is a blessing because the future rests in our hands and we are asked to shape it, mold it, form it into the reality that will meet the measure of tomorrow's need. At the moment, we move at a point of invisible growth. With regard to renewal we still must journey in the dryness of the desert, in the darkness of the night. A time of pain it is undeniably, but we have cause for a deep, resilient hope and a new, vibrant faith, for the path we tread is but "the stage of the hidden spring." One day the hidden water will gush freely and, at another moment in time, our thirst will be quenched with the vision of the beauty of the Church transformed. I will open up rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the broad valleys: I will turn the desert into a marshland, and the dry ground into springs of water. 1 will plant in the desert the cedar, acacia, myrtle, and olive; I will set in the wasteland the cypress, together with the plane tree and the pine, That all may see and know, observe and understand. That the hand of the Lord has done this, the Holy One of Israel has created it (Is 41:18-20). The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows Vincent J. Genovesi, S.J. Father Genovesi is an Associate Professor of Theology at St. Joseph's University. He resides at St. Alphonsus House; 5800 Overbrook Ave.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Peace I bequeath to you, my own peace I give you, a peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you (Jn 14:27). These words from Christ's farewell to us are unquestionably encouraging, but they are not the whole story. What is left unsaid but is necessarily implied here is this: "Peace is my challenge to you." I say this because peace, like any gift, must be received in order really to be a gift. To receive the peace of Christ, then, we are challenged to open ourselves to his life, we must struggle to be conformed to him, which means we must let Christ and his spirit take form within us. As Christians we have long known that salvation is not simply a matter of external obedience or of frenetic good works. No, salvation is a matter of life in and through Jesus Christ who frees us from the law, from sin and from everlasting death. Coming to life in Christ is, of course, more a welcoming of him and what he stands for into our lives and allowing the consequences to overflow into our actions, however surprising and costly this may prove to be. This is St. Paul's meaning in insisting that salvation lies in the "faith that expresses itself in love" (Ga 5:6). All the hope there is in Christians focuses here: that those who answer the Father's love with love will be raised up even as Christ has been, and they will be gifted with unending joy. If faith-inspired love, a personal, affirmative response to the 186 The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 1117 Father's invitation to enter into his life, is the dynamic of Christian living, so also is it the impetus behind life in religion, and so also is it the wellspring of Christ's living and acting among us. What I suggest in this essay is that if religious wish to live the virtues of the vows we must be people first of living faith, for such was Christ. It was his total commitment to the Father, his unique life of faith, which freed Christ to such preeminent love that it serves always and everywhere as the ideal and inspiration for Christian life. More specifically, Christ's faith allowed and persuaded him to give a particular shape to his love for the Father and to his involvement in the Father's work. In other words, Christ's faith overflowed into a love that took on the contours of voluntary poverty, celibacy and radical obedience. What do these contours reveal of the inner life of Christ, and to what do they challenge those in religion? Poverty As we attend to the issue of poverty a basic truth must be initially affirmed: much of the world's poverty is slavery, the result of external oppression, an unconscionable demand made by some of God's children upon their own brothers and sisters. This kind of poverty is a human contrivance, a stubborn trace of a resilient inhumanity in the face of our Father's unalterable generosity. -We are focusing on another kind of poverty, however--one which is a matter of godly conviction and choice. This is the poverty of God himself in Christ who was born poor and who made himself poor for the sake of his Father's kingdom. It is also the poverty of those who wish to be poor in Christ, and the poverty of men and women who voluntarily accede to Christ'.s admonition: "If you wish to be perfect, go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me" (Mt 19:21). What is the meaning of this kind of poverty that Christ himself assumes so that he does not hesitate to link the desire for perfection with the abandonment of earthly riches? Why is the choice of poverty met with the assurance of an eternal treasure?1 For some people there is no need to question what voluntary poverty means, nor is it necessary to know why Christ commits himself to such a life. The important truths are only that Christ freely lived poorly and that he invites others to do likewise. This mentality finds virtue in the imitation of Christ and his style of life without attending sufficiently, in my opinion, to the charge we have inherited: that we are to put on the mind and heart of Jesus Christ. While there is no propriety in criticizing the desire to be '~poor with Christ poor," I do believe that such grace-inspired ambition, left unexplored, allows much of the richness of chosen poverty, both in ~These reflections on poverty are a slightly revised and expanded version of my earlier article, "Christian Poverty: Sign of Faith and Redemptive Force," The Way, Supplement 32, (Autumn, 1977), pp. 78-82. "11~1~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Christ and in his followers, to remain unappreciated, and much of this poverty's challenge to stand unmet. What, then, might be the meaning of the poverty into which Christ freely entered? Let it be said at once that Christ's entrance into poverty is central to his message and crucial to his mission; Christ's poverty is of the very fabric of his being. Although divine, yet he "did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are" (Ph 2:6-7). Just as, in his incarnation, Christ truly divests himself of divine prerogatives, so, in his commitment to poverty, does he enter into a condition of worldly dispossession. In Christ, poverty is a continuation of the process of self-emptying and self-forgetfulness which began in his agreement to enflesh the word of his Father's promise to Israel. In entering into humanity among the poor of the earth, Christ prefigures and verifies a decision never to grasp after the things of the world. By embracing the poverty of Mary and Joseph, Christ gives flesh and human life to his faith in his heavenly Father, a faith which is so profound and so compelling that he comes to resist the temptation to establish and confirm his identity in anything but his Father's love. Having surrendered the privileges of divin-ity, Christ seeks no substitutes in the paraphernalia of wealth, power or social status. In his Father's love, Christ finds not only his strength to work, but also his freedom to forego the satisfaction of accumulating the products made available as a result of his labor. Christ's poverty, then, incarnates his personal openness to his Father's love and his trusting acceptance of his Father's plan of salvation. In choos-ing poverty, Christ in effect grounds and locates himself in the life of his Father, learning his love so that he can live and share it with others. Beyond this, Christ's entrance into poverty illuminates the inner disposition which must characterize all those who wish to be joined to the Father. Christ, freely poor, is the living sign to us of that faith which is necessary for salvation. He comes in poverty out of love so that we might know that salvation, precisely as the expression of the Father's love, is, like love, a gift that can never be earned but only earnestly desired, patiently sought and, in the end, gratefully received in handing self over to the Father in love and trust. Christ's decision for poverty is meant to deal the deathblow against the illusion that salvation is the reward of our labors, duly won; if self-righteousness reflects a deluded state of mind, no less does the attempt at self-sufficiency betray one's ignorance of life in the Father's love. The poverty of Christ is an inspir.ing challenge, for in anticipating a Messiah we would more likely have in mind a person of noble lineage or power, not a child so much, and certainly not a child of poor and unknown beginnings. Thus Christ's poverty tests us and encourages our response to a divine Father who uses his powerful love to surprise and confuse us, and to draw us to reliance more upon him than upon ourselves. The poor Christ calls us The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 189 to recast radically our thoughts and ways, for these are not the Father's. False gods and self-reliance are equally ineffectual for salvation. Only the Father's prodigal love which we accept and cherish in living faith finally explains our entrance into the joy of his kingdom. And so, around Christ's poverty and the attitude it embodies is centered much of the new and startling truth of Christianity. For this poverty seems to be connected to the introduction of a new law (of love), a new salvation (by grace through faith), and a new kingdom (offered as a gift to be freely and actively received). Just as the poor of the earth are essentially power-less in the economic order, so are all people without effective power in the order of salvation. Had Christ come in riches we might find this truth even harder to accept than we presently do. As it is, Christ's free acceptance of poverty proclaims that there is everlasting life in opening ourselves up completely to the rich hopes and love of the Father for us. The poverty of Christ shouts out salvation not through economic security, not through political processes, not through military might, but only through the kind of creative, serving and healing love which gives body to our faith in the Father of us all who has so generously blessed us. Only when poverty expresses concretely our acceptance of the Father's presence, power and saving action is it truly a value to be lived, for only then does it keep alive the virtue of poverty which the incarnate Christ lived and valued. So far we have looked at Christ's poverty as a chosen style of life illuminating an interior disposition of that faith which is essential for human salvation. But there is also a prophetic dimension to Jesus' poverty, by means of which his life proves provocative to poor and rich alike. In addition, then, to telling us something of the kind of personal relationship Jesus enjoyed with his Father, his poverty is meant to be a redemptive force for the lives of others. Christ's poverty must be viewed within the context of his life-mission; he walked the earth as servant of all people in need of the gospel of redemption; his desire is that everyone--poor and rich--will hear his good news, do p.enance and believe. I would suggest, therefore, that in the lives of those who choose today to be poor for the sake of the kingdom, poverty ideally expresses not only their own open abandonment to the Father's love, but also their earnest desire to extend the redemptive concern of Christ for all people. These people choose poverty for the sake of the poor and of the rich. They assist the poor in a practical way by using their talents on behalf of the poor, or by surrendering their wealth to them, or employing ~t for their benefit. The poor are served in still another way, however, on the level of the spirit, for those who undertake to live Christian lives of poverty signify their faith in the Father and his kingdom. Because they know that this world and its standards are not ultimate and will not prevail, those who are religiously mQtivated to live poorly die to the world's way of measuring success; in this way their lives are transformed into shouts of exhortation to the poor not 190 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 to be blinded into seeing and desiring nothing beyond the satisfaction of material needs. But the gospel is not for the poor alone. The rich also need its life-offering. Thus for the rich, no less than for the poor, the lives of those who choose poverty must carry redemptive significance, and they can in two ways: first, by the example of a simple life-style and by an informed exposition of the Christian principles of social justice, those who are poor in Christ poor may encourage the advantaged of the earth to human respon-sibility; secondly, those who enter into Christian poverty may humbly serve as signs of admonition to those who are well-off-~whether they be consciously oppressive, mindlessly ravenous, or simply incautious in their material accumulations and expenditures--that their lives must be tem-pered by God's perspectives lest they be charged with unjust stewardship and their laughter turn to tears because they will know only the happiness which they wrench from this earth, but not the happiness which is our Father's gift. Anyone who wants to enter into poverty with the spirit of Christ must know that the Father's desire is for universal salvation. The only important thing is that the conditions of possibility be provided by means of which all people--poor and rich--may be freed and encouraged to enter into the good life of God. All people need to be reminded that the deepest value of material welfare lies in its being a prelude to the welfare of the human spirit. Choosing poverty with Christ poor must involve, therefore, a concern not only for the material and spiritual welfare of the poor but also, and equally, for the spiritual welfare of the rich. There is always a danger that those who wish to be poor in Christ will become myopic and unchristian, that they will grow preoccupied with enhancing the material welfare of the poor, wresting wealth and power from their possessors, forcing indeed the hands of the rich, but all the while leaving their hearts untouched, unnoticed and even uncared for. The well-off, in short, might very well face the prospect of being left ill-disposed for receiving the Father's life. This, of course, is a most unsatisfactory situation, and one in which nO follower of Christ can be joyful. Although the point hardly needs emphasizing, let it be said simply that working for the material enrichment of the poor is not the sole or ultimate expression of the spirit of Christian poverty. Unarguably, any profession of love for the poor would be ungodly, senseless and deceitful were it to omit any effort to win release for the poor from the economic, political and social chains that keep them imprisoned both in body and in spirit. At the same time, however, it would misrepresent Christianity to suggest that, inqtself, liberating others from depriva.tion or oppression, with all their destructive implications for human living, either fully reveals or finally exhausts the riches promised by the Father. Christian love demands that the poor come to ~realize that their economic and human liberation is ultimately significant only in terms of that interior freedom by means of which they may be The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 191 fulfilled as their Father's children, gratefully receiving his love and heartful-ly returning it. When people choose poverty for the sake of the Father's kingdom, they choose it for the sake of the poor and of the rich--for all who need love's redemption. Being poor in and with Christ involves indeed a labor to relieve the burden of the poor, but it also essentially involves a commitment to communicate to all people a knowledge of, and a yearning for, the best and the most that our Father offers--his life and his love. If Christians must not betray the poor, neither must they abandon the rich; if the rich do not take the gospel to heart, we must wonder why and we must also increase our efforts and our pleadings that their hearts may be opened to the Father. If this occurs, not only will there be rejoicing in heaven but also on earth, for no one receives the Father except through the Spirit of the Son in whom all are brothers and sisters. Thus I suggest that the poor cannot help but be materially benefited by the entrance of the rich into the spirit of the gospel, because if any return is made to the Father it is made necessarily to those whose fullest dignity lies in being sons and daughters of our Father who gave the riches of the earth and wants them to be shared by all. If the gospel moves the rich to lose their hearts to the Father, it must also move their hands to refashion the earth, and to make room for the poor where they may come more easily to know the Father's goodness and more freely to taste his sweetness. - Our reflections suggest, then, that Christ's poverty illuminates his inner being; it speaks of his knowledge of his Father's goodness and it reveals the loving faith which frees him to seek first the Father's kingdom. But Christ's poverty is also a call to all people to enter into that spirit which allows them to acknowledge the Father as Father and to enjoy forever the best and the most that he offers. Today, people who profess voluntary poverty do so as a way of embodying an appreciation of the richness which is theirs by virtue of their calling as sons and daughters of God. These people struggle to translate the mind and heart of Christ into their actions so that they may live more fully as he did, forgetful of self, careful of all others, searching out especially those who are lost and hurt, striving to secure their rights and to ease their affliction. But the poor with Christ also have a hope: that their poverty will invite, challenge and free both the poor and the rich to join them in the cry of praise and love, "Abba, Father." Celibacy Having viewed Christ's poverty as a virtue which both gives us a glance into his spiritual life and illuminates the challenge facing those who desire to be poor even as he was, we may attend more briefly to Christ's celibacy and obedience. The issue of celibacy serves to focus a certain evolution which has occurred in the everyday perspectives of Christian living. One observer has expressed the change this way: in times gone by, religious 192 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 assured the laity that even though they married they could attain true sanctity and first-class citizenship within the Christian community; now, however, the laity seek to assure religious that even though they are unmar-ried they can achieve true personhood and first-class citizenship as human beings." If we in religion do in fact need this kind of reassurance it is an indication, at the very least, that we have fallen forgetful of the full human stature attained by Jesus Christ. He became a man and grew in wisdom, age and grace before God and men. And one of the ways in which this growth occurred was through his chosen life of celibacy. What, then, can be said of celibacy in Christ's life? First of all, Christ's celibacy, like his. poverty, is an outgrowth and expression of his profound relationship with his Father. It is, I suggest, by reason of his growing perception of himself as one inimitably loved by the Father and as one called to a singular loving response that Jesus makes the decision to remain celibate. Not only is he completely trusting in, and grateful for, his identity as only-begotten Son of his Father, but he is also keenly aware of his role as but the firstborn of a new nation, the head of a new creation. Both from his confidence in his presence to his Father as beloved Son and from his sense of responsibility to be at all times, in all places, and in every way available for the Father's work, Christ is impelled to forego the joys and obligations that invariably constitute the exclusive and permanent covenant of married love. His decision for celibacy is a decision for a complete commitment to the establishment and building up of the people of God who are being summoned to a new relationship with their Father in heaven. But there is, I think, something more implied in Christ's celibacy. It is the clarion cry that salvation is not a matter of being born "according to the flesh in any human family"; rather we must be reborn as children of the Father through the Spirit who has come from on high. Celibacy, then, appears as a challenge against any and every tendency to absolutize the values of human sexuality, familial ties, or national heritage? There are, then, these notes to Christ's celibacy: he makes himself utterly available for the far-ranging service of God and his people, he proclaims the universality of God's Fatherhood and he reminds all men and women that they are known and valued ultimately and most importantly by their being images of the Father who loves them and invites them to live forever. But, at root, Christ's celibacy speaks to us of the full and single-hearted love-relation-ship he enjoys with his Father. As we consider our calling to celibate love we must do so from within the context of realizing the magnificent vocation which is shared by everyone. God has issued a universal call to perfection; all people are to be as perfect and as compassionate as our Father in heaven. Given the bound-aries of human nature, however, each one of us can incarnate only certain facets of the infinite reality of God and of his love for humanity. For this 2Kilian McDonnell, "Religious Life in Low-Profile," America, (July l l, 1970), p. 16. nThomas E. Clarke, S.J., "Celibacy: Challenge to Tribalism," America, (April 19, 1969), p. 465. The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 193 reason, some people are called to witness to God and his love in the joy and tenderness of conjugal love and in the abandonment of self to meeting the immediate and constant needs of the precious people to whom they make a special response and for whom they bear a special responsibility. Other people are invited to testify to the expansiveness of the Father's love through their commitment of celibate love in which no a priori limitations or boundaries are drawn on their loving care for others. Regarding the invitation to perfection, however, one thing at least is certain: whether the call is to conjugal love or to celibate love, the noblest and best vocation for anyone is the one to which that individual is personally invited and directed by the Father. If Christ's celibacy is an expression of his deepest identity in and with his Father, so also must our celibacy express our identity in the Father through Christ if it is to be truly for and of the kingdom of God. And indeed our grounding in the Father is through the heart and Spirit of Christ in whom we come to appreciate, with confidence and joy, our singular presence to the Father. It is in and through our union with Christ that we are renewed in the fulfillment of our basic calling from the Father: that by virtue of our distinctive imaging of him each of us is invited and empowered to love him as he has never been loved before. Clearly, then, the celibacy which reflects the celibacy of Christ for the kingdom of God is a charism, a gift calling for our reception and response to God's initiative of love. It cannot be under-stood simply as a reality which we initiate; rather it is a grace-inspired expression of our desire to live single-heartedly for the Father and his people, even as Christ did and because he did. Celibacy, finally, proclaims our faith and hope in the powerful care which the Father shows us in his Son Jesus Christ to whom alone we look for the deepest and fullest giving and receiving of love, and who alone inspires us along the way of our return to the Father. Theological reflection reveals three levels of significance for Christian celibacy; they are the Christological meaning, the ecclesial and the eschato-logical. In terms of Christology, celibates for the kingdom of God find in this response of love a specific way of letting the spirit and action of Christ take form within them so that their mindg and hearts may be more fully respon-sive to the love of Christ and to his values and interests. In the context of ecclesiology, celibacy expres.ses the desire and willingness to retain sufficient flexibility so as to serve the Father wherever the needs of his people are greatest. Finally, in eschatological terms, the love of a celibate gives witness today to a quality of life which is properly characteristic of the final stage of God's kingdom, that end-time when there will be no marriage and when God ~vill be all in all, everything to everyone.4 Thus celibacy is a way of living and doing the future now. Celibates try to live as though the 4These ideas were developed by Pope Paul V1 in his encyclical letter, Sacerdotalis Coelibatus, June 23, 1967. 194 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 future of God were already fully present, but they also try to live in such a way so as to make that future present. Their hope is in fact to be of help in the building of God's future. In their loving, celibates find a way of saying that they hunger for our God and their hearts are restless until they rest in him. What celibates desire is that, through their loving, the reality of Christ may be further personalized in the lives of others who will be reminded that the holy joys of physical human love are only a glimmer of the delightful and filling love which awaits us in the house of our Father. Sometimes, of course, these desires are not realized. The testimony of celibacy is not heard. When this happens, we as celibates must look within for it is quite possible that the problem is our own. Chances are that our loving may have become more a matter of words than of deeds. It may be that we have become cold and unfeeling, withdrawn and unspirited; or it may be that we are attempting to love too much on our own terms or in keeping with our own timetable. If this is the case, then we have reneged on our commitment to celibacy and on our calling to Christianity, for at the core Of celibacy, as at the core of love, are the Christian ideals of other-centeredness and self-forgetfulness. If we take leave of these qualities, we surely take leave of the spirit of Christ ,and we depart from redemptive celibacy, for the deepest value of Christian celibacy is the specific form it gives to our love of God and his people. Out of love we are made for love, for self-giving for the sake of others. As Christ's celibacy testifies to his faith in the sustaining and enriching power of his Father's love for him and to his desire to be ever about his Father's business, so is.the life of Christian celibacy today a faith-event, a sign of our confidence and expectation that the love of God-in-Christ for us is bringing us to full life; out of the joy and strength of our "being loved" we are enabled to face the risks of living with others the good news of our Father who calls everyone to the fulness of life through love. Obedience If Christ's faith in his Father takes on the shape of voluntary poverty and celibacy, no less does it express itself in his radical obedience. Jesus' awareness of being on a mission, of being one sent by the Father, is pro-found. His profession of allegiance to the will and work of his Father runs like a refrain through his life and teaching. St. John's Gospel resounds with the protestations and reminders of Christ: ¯. what 1 was to say, what I had to speak, was commanded by the Father who sent me . . . (12:49). Yes, I have come from him; not that I came because I chose, no, Iwas sent, and by him (8:42). ¯. I have come from heaven, not to do my own will, but to do the will of the one who sent me (6:38). ¯ . . my aim is to do not my own will, but the will of the one who sent me (5:30). The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows My food is to do the will of the one who sent me, and to complete his work (4:38). As long as the day lasts I must carry out the work of the one who sent me (9:4). As these words of Jesus make clear, the purposefulness of his life is explained by his adherence to the Father's will; it is from his Father that his life derives strength and takes on direction; here, too, in the Father's will Jesus finds joy and peace for he knows that whatever the Father asks, he asks only and always out of his great love for him. In the core of his being Christ listens to the word of his Father; he hears and he obeys; his mind and heart and will are shaped in and by the Father so that in the life and action of Christ the Father's Word becomes flesh. It is not without reason, then, that Jesus reminds us: "To have seen me is to have seen the Father . You must believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (Jn 14:9-11). Living in accordance with the Father's will is not, of course, without its difficulties, even for Jesus, as his temptations at the beginning of his public life reveal. For here Jesus is confronted with perhaps his greatest challenge: to be other than his Father wishes him to be, to let his messiahship be cast more according to the pleas and pleadings of Israel than according to the plans of his Father. The temptation for Christ is real and strong to follow the course of political expediency, to exercise power and might, to bedazzle with miracle and mystery and thus to win a following of people whose ambitions and fantasies are stirred, but whose hearts are still untouched by love and whose minds still do not know the secret and wonderful life to which the Father invites them. But this path Christ rejects; instead, he chooses the way of the Father: to reach out to others through the openness and vulnerability of love, to live and work for others rather than to grand-stand, to suffer and die so that others may know that, by the promise and gift of the Father and through his power, pain ends in happiness and death ends in life. It is hard, I think, to stress too much the significance for Christ himself of his faithful obedience to the Father. Having overcome the temptation to play up to men rather than to trust in the Father's knowledge, power and love, and being wise to the snares of Satan, Christ wishes to leave no doubt either about his own perception of himself or about the expectation upon those who would seek to join him. What explains his own life and what must characterize the lives of those who would be one with him is simply obedi-ence to the Father. For a relationship with Christ, obedience binds rather than blood: "Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother" (MT 12:50). That Jesus yields to the authority of another does not go unnoticed. It is a truth acknowledged at times by the most unlikely people. For example, when the centurion with the ill servant sends a message that he is not worthy to have Christ enter under his roof and suggests that Christ need only utter the word of healing from afar, he makes a strange admission. The "196 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 soldier of Rome proclaims: "For I am under authority myself, and have soldiers under me" (Lk 7:8). The implication is clear; the centurion sees Christ as being in a situation not unlike his own: as being under authority and as having authority over others. Even as he is commissioned, so he sees Christ as commissioned, as deriving authority from another. The centurion, it seems, has walked--silently, but nonetheless really--into the heart of faith. He recognizes that in Jesus the power of God is being expressed. He seems to know without saying it that Jesus is the Anointed One, the Christ, the one who is totally shaped to the Father so as to be his work of love. In the face of such faith Jesus is astonished and he could well say of this man what he said to Peter: "You are a happy man, because it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you but my Father in heaven" (Mt 16:17). For those who desire to be obedient in and with Christ it is not enough to know and appreciate that his faithful surrender brought him to death, even death on a cross. What we must also learn to cherish is the truth that obedience shaped his being and life. Christ's actions are the work of the Father because Christ thinks with the Father and wills with the father. In putting on the mind and heart of the Father Christ's only concern and his full joy are to do the Father's work. Being fully obedient in and with Christ is a challenge, then, to respond to our Father's love by offering him the service not only of our hands, but also of our hearts, minds and wills. Obedience to the Father is redemptive only because it expresses, reveals and encourages among others an acceptance of the truth that the father so loves us that he wants only what is for our good. Because of his love for us and because of his desire to render this love effective in our lives, the Father asks that we attend to him, even as Christ did, so that with Christ we may be lifted up. Conclusion The authenticity and vitality of our vowed lives express both the reality and presence of God to us and our trusting and grateful effort to direct our lives ever more clearly and singly toward rendering him a return of love. There is a way, moreover, for us to dispose ourselves for such a response. Jesus himself offers the advice: "If you make my word your home you will indeed be my disciples, you will learn the truth and the truth shall make you free" (Jn 8:31-2). To his word, as to our home, we must come for rest, for relaxation, and for re-creation. In his word, as in a home, we will find support, we will be nourished, accepted and encouraged to grow; we will, in short, be loved into fuller life. In his word we are valued for who we are and not for what we accomplish; in his word we come to understand our beginnings. There we dream, and thence we derive our hopes for the future. Making God's word our home, living, moving and having our being there, frees us to the surrender of faith in which we live out our vows as our pledge that we will allow our Father the freedom to keep us as free as possible for him, for his gospel and for his people. Wilderness and Marketplace Prayer and Action in Mark's Gospel Marian Madore, F.C.J. Sister Marian conducts adult-education classes in Scripture and prayer while she continues her studies. She resides at Mr. St. Joseph Convent; Ferry Rd.; Bristol, RI 02809. The Gospel of Mark moves at a breathless pace, its sentences frequently beginning with the Greek equivalent of words such as "immediately" and "straightway." Its action-packed narrative conveys the urgency of the mission of Jesus. Ft. Gerard S. Sloyan comments: lfthe Master relaxes, one does not learn it from Mark. To read this gospel at a single sitting is to feel hemmed in by crowds, wearied by their demands, besieged by the attacks of demons? We could, perhaps, take exception to the statement: "If the Master relaxes, one does not learn it from Mark." There are unobtrusive state-ments here and there in the gospel that seem to indicate a kind of cycle.in the days of Jesus' public ministry: a constant seeking after solitude only to be interrupted once more by the demands of the crowds; sometimes a sacrificing of quiet time to attend to their needs, only to be followed by another period of solitary prayer. As he moves back and forth from the wilderness to the market-place, Jesus shows us how to harmonize prayer and action in our living of the Christian life. It is significant that Mark's gospel begins in the wilderness. John the Baptist is presented in terms of Isaiah 40:3 which in the prophet's time ~Gerard S. Sloyan, The Gospel of Saint Mark, "New Testament Reading Guide" #2 (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1960) p. 7. Used with permisssion from the publisher. 197 Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 announced a new Exodus, the return of the Israelites from Babylon. Now, John is proclaiming the ultimate deliverance through the Messiah: "A voice cries in the wilderness: Prepare a way for the Lord, make his paths straight" (Mk 1:3).z Mark adds: "And so it was that John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins" (1:4). It is helpful to keep in mind the Old Testament significance of "the wilderness." The desert experience of the Exodus was a time of testing, the great test being: Can we continue to trust that the Lord will guide us to the promised land? Later prophets such as Hosea and Jeremiah tended to look back on the sojourn in the desert with rose-colored glasses and to see it as a time of first fervor: "Yahweh says this: I remember the affection of your youth, the love of your bridal days; you followed me through the wilderness, through a land unsown" (Jr 2:2). A return to the desert orto first fervor was longed for by many of the prophets: "I am going to lure her and lead her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart" (Ho 2:14). Hence, the desert came to be symbolic of both temptation and change of heart, the gateway to new beginnings. In Mark's gospel, we find the wilderness presented as a battle-ground, and also as a place of refreshment and renewal. Mark, with his usual tendency to "get down to business," tells the story of Jesus' baptism very briefly, stressing the most important aspect of this event, the combined witness of the Father and the Spirit to Jestis, the Belo.ve~l Son. Then, he continues: "Immediately afterwards the Spirit drove him out into the wilderness and he remained there for forty days, and was tempted by Satan. He was with the wild beasts and the angels looked after him (Mk 1:12-13). Mark's language is particularly expressive; he says that "the Spirit drove him out into the wilderness." Matthew and Luke say that Jesus was "led by the Spirit" into the wilderness (Mt 4:1 ; Lk 4:1). Are we to understand here some human repugnance on the part of Jesus in facing this ordeal? William Barclay suggests that Matthew and Luke delib-erately softened the expression here.3 If we supplement Mark's brief sketch with the longer versions of Matthew and Luke, we shall find that for Jesus the desert experience was a time of testing, when in prayer and fasting, he resisted the temptation to conduct his ministry in a manner which would substitute worldly expediency and acclaim for his Father's will. "Forty days" is a Hebraism for "a long time" and suggests the similar ordeals undergone by Moses (Ex 34:28) and Elijah (I K 19:8). But the desert is not only a battleground. Paradoxically, it can also be a place of refreshment, light, and peace. Mark indicates that Jesus frequent-ly sought out lonely places for prayer and rest from the crowds. Very early in his gospel, Mark presents us with what Jim Bishop would call "A Day ~AII quotations from the Bible are taken from The Jerusalem Bible (Garden City: Doubleday, 1966). Used with permission from the publisher. 3See William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, "The Daily Study Bible Series" (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1956), p. xix. Wilderness and Marketplace: Prayer and Action hl Mark / 199 in the Life of Jesus of Nazareth" (see Mk 1:21-34).4 It is a day of teaching and healing, packed with activity. Immediately after the account of this specimen day, we read: In the morning, long before dawn, he got up and left the house, and went offto a lonely place and prayed there. Simon and his companions set out in search of him, and when they found him they said: 'Everybody is looking for you." He answered, 'Let us go elsewhere, to the neighboring country towns, so that I can preach there too, because that is why I came' (Mk 1:35-39). We know that chronological order is not always important in the gos-pels, but this passage seems to be a notable exception. D. E. Nineham sees it as placed very deliberately after the specimen day and providing a significant commentary on it.5 The enthusiasm of the crowds on the preced-ing day was born of admiration for a wonder-worker--not the kind of reception that Jesus was really looking for. It could be that this was a time Of stress for Jesus when he needed to be alone with his Father and to reassess his ministry. Instead of leaving him in peace, Peter and the others "tracked him down" (Mark uses a Greek word which suggests a hostile pursuit) and here, the evangelist very pointedly omits calling them "disci-ples" since they are not really acting like disciples but are caught up in the excitement of Jesus' worldly success?~ They think they are the bearers of good news--"Everybody is looking for you." Jesus, seeing through the motives of "everybody," announces his intention to "go elsewhere," add-ing "so that I can preach there too, because that is why I came" (1:38). In other words, he did not come to bask in the adulation of the crowds at Capernaum. By the end of the first chapter of Mark's gospel, the wilderness theme is very much in evidence. After the leper fails to keep the "messianic secret" and talks freely about his cure, the result is that "Jesus could no longer go openly into any town, but had to stay outside in places where nobody lived. Even so, people from all around would come to him" (1:45). It is interesting to note that within the brief compass of Mark's first chapter, Jesus is shown making three excursions into the wilderness! The same Greek word--the equivalent of "desert"--is used in each case. There are instances in Mark's gospel where nothing short of an escape from the crowds is suggested. For instance, we read: "With the coming of evening that same day, he said to them, 'Let us cross over to the other side' And, leaving the crowd behind, they took him,just as he was, in the boat" (Mk 4:35-36). Here, we do not find the usual "dismissal" of the crowd (see Mk 6:45-46). The degree of Jesus's exhaustion is graphically highlighted by vivid descriptive details: "Then it began to blow a gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the 4See D. E. Nineham, Saint Mark, "'The Pelican New Testament Commentaries" (Baltimore: Penguin Books, lnc., 1963), pp. 73ff. 5See op. cir., p. 83. 6Cf. Nineham, op. cit., p. 84. 200 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 stern, his head on the cushion, asleep" (4:37-38). When the apostles return from a missionary journey, Jesus encourages them to follow his example: "You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while . So they went off in a boat to a lonely place where they could be by themselves" (Mk 6:31-32). Again the Greek word means "a desert place." On this occasion again, Jesus and the apostles sacrifice their solitude. The crowds follow them and Jesus takes pity on them, teaching, and later feeding them. But he has not forgotten his original plan! Mark tells us: "Directly after this he made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to Bethsaida, while he himself sent the crowd away. After saying good-bye to them he went off to the hills to pray" (Mk 6:45-46). Fr. Bruce Vawter suggests that both the apostles and the crowds were suffering from what he calls "messianic fever" and that it was necessary for both groups to be separated from Jesus and from each other for a time.r For both "the agony and the ecstasy" of his earthly life, Jesus chooses a place of solitude. Introducing the account of the transfiguration, Mark writes: "Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. There, in their presence, he was transfigured" (Mk 9-2). The last recorded instance where Jesus seeks a lonely place for prayer is before his Passion when he goes to the garden of Gethsemane to pray. Mark's Greek is simply "a piece of land." The name suggests the Hebrew word for "olive-press." John calls it "a garden" (see Jn 18:1), while Luke refers to it as "the Mount of Olives" (see Lk 22:39). Putting all this together, we could think of an olive-grove on a hilltop. Here, in his last "desert," Jesus faces his last temptation and surrenders to the will of his Father unto death. Owing to his gift for vivid descriptive narrative, Mark presents the most graphic pictures of Jesus hemmed in, suffocated, at times almost crushed by the crowds thronging to him for cures and instruction. The following sample passages speak for themselves: i :33: The whole town came crowding round the door . 2:2: So many people collected that there was no room left, even in front of the door. 3:9-10: And he asked his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, to keep him from being crushed. For he had cured so many that all who were afflicted in any way were crowding forward to touch him. 3:20: He went home again, and once more such a crowd collected that they could not even have a meal. 5:31: His disciples said to him, "You see how thecrowd is pressing round you and yet you say, 'Who touched me?" "" 6:31:. for there were so many coming and going that the apostles had no time even to eat. 7See Bruce Vawter, C.M., The Four Gospels: An Introduction (Garden City: Doubleday and Co., Inc., 1967), p. 175. Wilderness and Marketplace: Prayer and Action in Mark / 201 Perhaps nowhere does the humanity of Jesus shine through so convinc-ingly as in this picture that Mark has left us of Jesus wearied and crushed by the crowds, exhausted in serving their needs, and going off to a desert place where he could be alone and pray. Mark's gospel shows us that the "time-pressure problem" in the apostolate as in other aspects of life, did not originate with the technological twentieth century. Jesus had to deal with it too. Most of us have made the discovery that too much emphasis on the quantity of our works and apostolic involvements can result in a deterioration in the quality of our presence to other people. In his book, The Human Adventure: Contemplation for Everyman, Fr. William McNamara reminds us: We need to become less crowded, less rushed, less dispersed, less victimized by the tyranny of diversion. We need to simplify our lives. We need to "collect" ourselves in periods of silence and places of solitude--not in order to withdraw or isolate ourselves from others, but in order to relate more thoughtfully and lovingly to at least some of the others, if not all.8 The same author makes a suggestion that might exasperate and even infuriate some of his readers, so impossible does it seem to be: I suggest that we stop doing half the work that presently consumes us. Then let us attend to the remaining half whole-heartedly, with contemplative vision and creative love. I stake the authenticity of our lives and the effectiveness of our work on this radical shift.9 When I first read this passage, I asked myself: "If I were to stop doing half of my present work, which half would it be?" Needless to say, the question was exceedingly difficult to answer. Even if we cannot take these words literally, there will be times when we will be wise to say that difficult little word, "No"--realizing that we are not expected to take on the salva-tion of the world single-handedly! True, prayer and discernment are needed to distinguish between lack of generosity and a genuine need to slow down. Jesus knew what it was like to work with human limitations of energy and opportunity. If he could unashamedly withdraw from the crowds, surely we need to do the same. Perhaps the outburst of activism we have witnessed in the Church during the pa~t few 3~ears is beginning to die down, thanks to the growing recognition that the person in a "mad rush" will never commu-nicate the healing touch and inner peace of Jesus. A large part of Mark's "Good News about Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (1: 1) is that he shared so completely in the weakness of our humanity. His methods must be ours. Mark's gospel tells us that we shall never be effective in the marketplaces of this world unless, like Jesus, we withdraw at times to the wilderness to be alone and pray. " 9William McNamara, O.C.D., The Human Adventure: Contemplation for Everyman (Garden City: Doubleday and Co., Inc., 1974), p. 165. Used with permission from the publisher. aMcNamara, op. cit., p. 171. Used with permission from the publisher. Trinity and Community Lewis S. Fiorelli, O.S.F.S. Father Fiorelli is superior of the community at De Sales Hall; 5001 Eastern Ave.; Hyattsville, MD 20782. The opening lines of the Book of Genesis have frequently served as a clue to an understanding of God and of man, and of the relationship between the two. Verses 26-27 of Chapter 1 express this relationship well: Then God said: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.". God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them. In Genesis, the origin of the universe in all its parts is attributed to God's creative activitythrough the agency of his Word. It suggests that the Word's highest work of creation was the imparting of the divine image (eikon) to man. It is well to understand the import of "image" so as to appreciate its significance for man, who is the ikon of God. Greek liturgical art can be helpful here, for in this art the ikon is not simply a picture which one observes objectively. Rather, for the Greek mind, the ikon makes the reality of the depicted mystery present to the observer. The ikon, then, serves as a medium of encounter between the observer and the mystery. If, for instance, the ikon depicts Jesus, the reality of Jesus is somehow made present to the observer through the ikon. In this way, Jesus and man encounter one another through the medium of the ikon. Such an encounter precludes neutrality; rather, it calls for a mutual response which is both personal and powerful. This understanding of ikon can powerfully deepen our appreciation of the biblical affirmation that man is the ikon of God. Man is created in such 202 Trinity and Community / 203 a way as to be able to make God present to his fellowman. In man, then, other men can encounter the reality represented by man: God himself. Only one man in history, of course, has made God fully present to his fellowman, because he was in fact the enfleshment or tangibility of God. That man is Jesus. However, something of his unique faculty as the true ikon Of the living God is also within the potential of all men and women, who also bear the divine image. But just what does man, the living ikon of God, make present to his fellowman? In the fulness of revelation, personally expressed in Jesus, we have learned that our God is community. Father, Son and Holy Spirit partake of the one same essence and yet are three persons. The oneness of the Godhead expresses itself in the plurality of persons, the community we call Trinity. As ikon of God, man makes community present to his fellow-man and enables him to participate in it. More emphatically, as ikon of the divine community, man finds himself, his meaning and his ultimate purpose in, from, and with others. In being God's ikon, man is oriented toward others: God and his fellowman. The man Jesus has been called "the man for others" because of his intermediary role, making God present in a saving way to man. Contempo-rary biblical ~cholarship is unanimous in assigning to Jesus a sensitive and sustained awareness of being sent on behalf of the God whom he knows as Father. Jesus finds his own meaning in the message which proclaims the arrival of the Father's kingdom among men. Again and again he assures those to whom he ministers: "My doctrine is not my own; it comes from him who sent me" (Jn 7:16). Jesus is sensitive to the reality that all he does and is derives from the Father, for "he who gives me glory is the Father" (Jn 8:54). He sums up this radical orientation when he responds to Philip: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father . I am in the Father and the Father is in me . It is the Father who lives in me accomplishing his works" (Jn 14:9-10). It is precisely because Jesus, the divine ikon, was unswervingly oriented toward others that as man he was the visible mani-festation of God, and, as such, the saving presence of God to man. Schille-beeckx terms him "the primordial sacrament of man's encounter with God." Jesus, fully the ikon of God, makes the Community which is the Trinity present to man and to creation. In Jesus, man and all creation encounter the Community of God, and this encounter is the saving deed of God on behalf of both! Made to the image of divine community and redeemed by Jesus on behalf of the same community, each man is called to manifest this commu-nity by locating his meaning in others: in God and in his fellowman. St. Francis de Sales is deeply sensitive to the trinitarian nature of God, to man's creation in the image of this divine community, and to man's consequent challenge to find his meaning in and on behalf of community. He affirms in the Treatise oll the Love of God that though "God is sole he 904 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 is not thereby solitary" (AE IV: 204).1 And he insists that "we are created to the image and likeness of God. What does this mean if not that we have the utmost congruity with his divine majesty?" (AE IV: 74). Further, since each man possesses the image and is therefore the ikon of God, Francis preaches that "we are the image of one another, all of us representing only the one portrait who is God" (AE X: 270-271). It is the Salesian conviction that the community of man is the collective portrait of the Community which is God. In preaching on the Lord's high priestly prayer for unity (Jn 17), St. Francis de Sales asks: "Who else would have dared., to make such a comp~.rison and ask that we be united as the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit are joined together?" (AE X:267). Together men form the portrait of God and together they are intended to realize the community of which they are the image. For this reason, Francis de Sales preaches that "man has been created to the resemblance of God; therefore, love of the neighbor leads us to love in him the resemblance and image of God, that is to say [that we are to help] to render this resemblance more and more perfect" (AE VIII: 148). In all of this there is a profound simplicity. Community creates man; man is the image or ikon of community. The other-directedness of man is rooted in the other-directedness of his Trinitarian God. Therefore, man is radically community

Issue 36.2 of the Review for Religious, 1977. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edited by faculty members of St Lores Umvers~ty, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Budding, 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 © 1977 by REWEW 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 r:oR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELI6IOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Mlarch 1977 Volume 36 Number 2 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REvxEw Fort R~L~to~s; 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 REvmw Foa R~L~mvs; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-vard; 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. We Journey Through Tears Ann .Marie ' Krupski, C.S.J. ," Sister Ann Marie resides at 152 Third Street; Troy, NY 12180. I would not exchar~ge th, e,, laughter of my heart for'the fortunes of the'' mult=tudes; nor would I be Content with convert=ng my tears, invited by my agonized self, into calm. It is my fervent hope that my whole life on this earth will ever be tears and laughter, Tears that purify my heart and reveal to me /he secret of life and 'its mystery. . ' . . . Teals with which I join the.broken~hearted.1 Unlike Kahil Gibran, we feel more comfortable when we convert our tears tb'~"laugh~er, "dompanionship, or any available distraction. As the psalmist reflects:"Who'of us wants a pillow drenche~l with tears, eyes wasted by grief, or sustenance by the bread of tears? But really, we are not comfort-bound people; tears ar~'-an essential ingredientoin our lives and when we hesitate to convert the.m, we find that they .convert us' by purification, revelation, and consolation. ~ ~'~ Tears That Purify o To~let tears purify us, w.~"must go to andpass through Gethsemane; the thought of such sojburhing repels us. For in Gethsemane there is no periphery; outer edges are only for those who run away or fall asleep. Those who st, ruggl.e to stay mdst encounter the razor edge of unrecognized and unacknowledged realities, and to particiPate .in. these realities we must go alone. Carlo Carretto reflects: "Because not even Jesus can tal~e our place in the leap of Faith; it is up to us. It is like dying. It is up to us, and no 1Kahil Gibran: Tears and Laughter, Bantam Books, Inc., New York, 1974, p. 1. 1 69 170 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 one is able to take our place.'"-' At this time, the loneliness of pain and the pain of loneliness are so intense that our finite rootedness is shaken by fear, great distress, and sorrow to the point of death (Mk 14:34). With tremen-dous hesitation, we stumble into the crucible of inner anguish. Here, the fire of severe distress touches every fiber of our being, invades each corner pre-viously hidden from our own insights, and temporarily immobilizes us; al-though immobilization does not cripple or paralyze us. Like St. Paul, "We are afflicted in every way possible, but we are not crushed" (2 Co 4:8). Intense inner anguish teaches us to walk with suffering, and suffering stretches us beyond the narrowness of our own horizons. However, one of the haunting and terrifying qualities about Gethsemane is that even if we choose not to go there, it will .come to us. When the flood of pain drenches our soul, Gethsemane penetrate~ us, and suffering becomes unavoidable. In the agonizing abyss, we learn how to die, and how to live our dying. And the surprise of dying catches us off guard. For while we expect to walk to our death daily, we do not often foresee walking with our death. In fact, at first we may not recognize that this death-in-life is life-giv-ing as was Gethsemane, with its seemingly negative features: --Being devoid of the human support of friends: "He came back and found them sleeping . Had you not the strength to keep awake one hour?" (Mk 14:37). "My friends and my companions shrink from my wounds, even the dear-est of them keep their distance." (Ps 38:11 ). --Being stripped of the expectation that the God of the impossible will remove the struggle: "Everything is possible for you. Take this cup away from me" (Mk 14:36). "My God, my God, why have you deserted me?" (Ps 22:1). --Being vested with the willingness to do what we really prefer not doing: "Let it be as you, not I, would have it" (Mk 14:36). "My food is to do the will of the one who sent me" (Jn 4:34). --We go "right into the dark cloud where God is" (Ex 20:21~ and 24:18). As soon as we enter the cloud, the cloud enters us, and we go the way of apparent absurdity. In the mist, we ponder: is darkness really light; aban-donment ieally presence; diminishment, growth? It is so difficult to realize that God is here; our anguish is too great, the cloud too thick. So. often we feel: "bowed down, bent double, overcome . . . numbed and crushed . . no relief from , . . pains" (Ps 38:5-17). With the poet of Lamentations we cry out: He has forced me to dwell in darkness . He has walled me in; I c~nnot escape; he has made my chains heavy; . . . My eyes dissolve in torrents of tears. My eyes weep ceaselessly, without relief (Lm 3:6-8 and 48-50). "The God Who Comes, Orbis Books, New York, 1976, p. 40. We 1ourney Through Tears / 171 " Our spirits.,sink and our hearts groan as we brood on our anguish. We go about in mourning all day long, sometimes even moaning aloud. Reluc-tantly we try to pierce the darkness which has penetrated us; yes, :reluctantly because often we are afraid to be pierced by the light. It becomes easier to cry, more consoling to be blinded .by tears than blinded by the cloud's thick-ness. And desolation's touch has no light grasp in this agony. It is as though "there is no one to comfort me" (Lm 1:21). Any of our attempts to look for comfort become futile when the embrace of annihilation is so relentless. Gradually, the surface-rooted tree within us topples and the.broken fragility which ,remains is divested of any strength, we could have once called our own. We shiver in the exposure of our weakness and murmur the only yes that comes, the only yes that is genuine, the yes we have cried in the tears that purify. With Jesus crucified we. cry out, in a voice not loud but humbled (Lk 23:46), "into your hands I commit my spirit" (Ps 31:5). It is-this meager but genuine "yes" which is, for us, the beginning of the fulfillment of Malachi's prophecy: '"Yahweh will purify the sons [and daughters] of Levi so that they' will make an offering to Yahweh as it should be made" (Mal 3:3). So that our offering can be made as it should, we are led along the path of,constant conversion and unlimited surrender. Along this path, we begin to cry the tears that reveal the secret of life and its mystery. Tears That Reveal To let tears purify us, we went to Gethsemane.To let tears reveal mys-tery, we will go to the mount of Transfiguration. It is, here that we learn the beauty of.light and the significance of shadow, the breadth of revelation and the depth of.mystery. When we read the account of the Transfiguration, we respond favorably to the light and dazzlingly white parts. Although like Peter, we may feel somewhat awkward or ,even frightened by such intensity; we, too, want to echo his words: "It is wonderful for us to be here; so let us make three tents, one for you, one for'Moses, and one for Elijah" (Mk 9:5). How we long to stay 'with Jesus, "light of the world., and light of life" (Jn 8: 12). Immersed in radiance, we often skim over the next part of Mark's nar-rative: "And a cloud came covering them in shadow . . ." (Mk 9:7). This shadow, so significant in the whole event, helps us realize that transfiguration does not just occur in luminous light. For at .the exact moment of revela-tion Peter, James, and John are covered in shadow. And it is precisely at this moment that a voice comes from the cloud to proclaim: "This is my son" (Mk 9:8). From the cloud,'.the voice announces the revelation. In the shadow, the apostles receive it. Cloud and shadow are so vital in revelation. As~we weep the tears that reveal, we might reflect on two moments in our lives that integrate light and, shadow, revelation and mystery: the mo-ments of transcendence and of trust. (Later, each of us will be able to con- 172 / Review [or Religious; l/olume 36, 1,977/2 sider many aspects other than those mentioned here:~) However, it must be clear that~no one can share an experience: of.the transcendent~ Only, the Holy Spirit c.an do that. Sacred Scripture helps us in this'realization. .Through the prophet Ezekiel, God .tells us: "I shall put my spirit in,you" (Ezk 36:27). Jesus has revealed that ~the Holy Spirit will teach us every, thing (Jn 14:26). And St. ~Paul reflects: ~ . ¯ .'. the Spirit~ reaches the depthS of' everything, even the depths of God.'Afte( all the depths ~0fa person can only be known'by onE's Spiri't~ not by any other ¯ person, and in the same way the' depths oLGod can only~ be~known by the Spirit of God . we have received the ;Spirit that comes from God, to teach~ usto understand the gifts that he has given us (1 Co 2:10.12)¯ .~ So, filled with the Spirit, consider a moment of transcendence, This could be h peak experience in prayer, nature, music, art~ or literature. It' is ~that time when, ra'vished by beaoty and saturated ~by the ineffable, a depth of awe'brings us to ~h~°~"~bsolute Beyond" present within~us. Caressed by the Inexhaustible, 'we too ~soOn become exhausted by the_qnexpressible; penetration of the Real i~ to~ painful and touch of the Intangible too'unreal. Like Peter, we want to make a tent~make the moment last. Yet, we hesi-tate to remain in this light. For while on eai'th, we human folk do explode when filled with infinity. Once touched by trafiscendency; however, we are almost immediately covered in shadow; our peak experiences will not be timebound. Nothing can or ever will completely capture that in which we pa'rticil~ate. :A photo-graph, won't do it nor will a symphony or a poem. Mo0nbeams will always be for dancing not holding, and the Rockies, will stand majestically right where they are. Reality and ~ur expressions of it cannot co-exist with' the same degree of impact. In our finest moments of creation .(tent making) we experience endless~limitations. Our concretizations.become forever'unsatis-fying. And when we get caught in the trap of thinking that ,any of our achievements determine our worth, then indeed, does the sand of a hollow victory slip through our fingers. As, we.seek what cannot be realized, no con-tainer confine~ the tears, no expression captures the actuality and no,dis-traction disturbs the stillness.of silence~ We wlio experience such, limits long for the 'Unlimited and tears become the release-rdief. ~ ~ '~ :~' Although God "has given us the wisdom to understand' fully the mys~ tery" (Ep I ~9), :it'is only in the moment of trust,that,~we realize underst'and~ ing not solely based on the rational. This wisdom turns us inside out ~and upside down and again we weep because we so need to weep. Even the ligl~t and dazzlingly white parts of transfiguration are blurred. We :live in shadow. Yet, this moment is precious because God is so present, ~ven though veil6'd by cloud: It is in this intimate event that we experience the "existential mo-ment of redemption.'; '~For thus says the Lord Yahweh.~. your salvation lay in conversion and tranquility, your strength, in complete tru'st" ;(Is 30: 15). At first, however, we hesitate to trust the very God who made us;',who We ~lourney Through Tears / 173 Iove~ us with an everlasting love and in whose eyes we are precious. Our pride I~etrays us and we remain too rational to participat.e in ways not our own. Blinded by our desire to have our cak~ and edt it to'Q, we really pre-fer the best of both worlds. Oh yes, we'll, pray but we'll also croffd the soli-tude. We are living examples of being "distracted from distraction by-dis-traction.''' a And why not? After all, we are human. How easily we become ~rey to and proficient in processes of rationalization. Go~l, however, does not rush us. but, per~sistently draws us to himself. Best of all lovers, he is most respectful. It is as though h~ patiently asks: "Will you have me? Will you really have m6?" He gives us Jesus to be our way and to show himself to us (.In 14:6-9). Yet this revelation is always his gift, "because it is by grace that you have been saved, through faith; not by anything of your own. but by'a"gift from God: not by anything,you have d0ne,~so that nobody can claim the credit" (Ep 2:8-9). My virtues do not win this, grace nor do my vices detract from it. Furthermore, it may come witho.ut invitation and planning but never with-o. ut preparation. The gift-giver himself prepares me to receive such'fullness, arid the preparation takes place in the moment of trust. It is then that I am emptied of stubbornness and stripped of~ the tendency to cling to any vanity. In speaking of love, Kahil Gibran poetically exl~resses the depth ahd ex-tent of love's preparation. , When love ~beckons to yQu, follow him, though his ways are hard and ste.ep. And when his wings enfold you yiel.d to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he sp~eaks to" you believe in him. though his voice may shatter your dreams . For even as love crowns yot{ so shall he ~:rucify you. Even as he ascends to your heights and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun~ so shall be'descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.4 In this shaking, I cry all the more; for so many realizations come: 1 must walk a way of unlimited surrender arid constant conversion until the day I leave this earth. I must die while I am alive if I really want to live. And I must lose all if I r~al.ly0~want to participate in the All. As I journey to God I cannot set limits on any sacrifice. I' cannot even expect to avoid suffering, defeat, limitations, failings or misunderstandings. Teilhard de Chardin expresses the diminish.ment I, experience in the rmoment of, trust when he discusses "appa~rent fai~lure and ,its transfiguration." ~ The lives of the saints and generally speaking, the lives of all those who have, been outstanding for intelligenc.e or. goodness, are full of these instapces in~ which one can see the person emerging ennobled, tempered, and renewed from some ordeal, or even some downfall, which seemed bound to diminish or lay the i~erson low forever. Failure . . canalises the sap of bt, r inward life, aT. S. Eli0t5 "Burnt Norton," Four Qigartets. Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc., New York, 1971, p. 17. ~ " 4The Prophet, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., New York, 1971, p. 13. 17'4 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 disengages the purest "components" of our being in such a way as to make us shoot up higher and straighter . . . In the presence of St. Augustine or St. Mary Magdalen . :. no one hesitates to think . . . felix culpa . . . As a result of His omnipoience impinging upon our faith, events which show themselves ¯ . . as pure loss will become an immediate factor in the union we dream of establishing With Him.:, And with Chardin I become ready to cry out: "O God, grant that I may understand that it is You (provided my faith is strong enough) who are painfully parting the fibres of my being in order to penetrate to the very marrow of my substance and bear me away within Yourself.'''~ During the emptying and parting of fibers, I pray, and in this prayer Jesus so softly, deeply, intimately, gently, repeatedly says to me: Trust Me. I Love You So Very Much; 1 Died For You. You Are Very Precious To Me. I Am With You, And I Know What I Am Doing With And Through You. Trust Me," Even When You Don't Understand. Always Trust Me. After the light and shadow, th6 revelation and mystery of transfigura-tion, when the apostles "suddenly looked round, they saw no one with them anymore but only Jesus" (Mk 9:8). So it is with us; at the end of trans-figuration we see no one but Jesus. In his light we see and don't see; in the shadow we don't see and can't see. And we cry even more because we'd rather play "finders-keepers"; transfiguration, however, teaches us the role of "finders-seekers." Perhaps our stance does not really matter after all. For Jesus, only Jesus, is in both the beauty of light and the cover of shadow. Realizing this, we, too, can hymn to God's love: Nothing therefore can come between us and the love of Christ, even if we are troubled or worried, or being persecuted, or lacking food or clothes, or being threatened or even attacked. : . These are the trials through which we tri-umph, by the power of him who loved us. For I am certain of this: neither death nor life . . . nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power . . . nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rm 8:35-39). In speaking of his discontent with converting tears, Kahil Gibran hoped to cry the "tears with which I join the broken-hearted." We shall conclude these reflections by considering these tears. Tears With Which I Join the Broken-Hearted Before I can sincerely, sensitively, and caringly cry the "tears with which I join the broken-hearted," I must experience the. comfort of consola-tion from God. And before I can experience his comfort, I will have en-dured suffering. Having reflected on some forms of sfiffering in the discus-sion of pfirification and revelation, we might now consider our experience of God as consoler through St. Paul's own experience of this consolation. ~The Divine Milieu, Harper and Brothers, New York, 1960, pp. 59-60. ~Tt, e Divine Milieu, p~ 62. We Journey Through Tears / 175 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, a gentle Father and the God of all consolation, who comforts us in all our sorrows, so that we can offer others, in their sorrow, the consolation that we have received from ~God ourselves. Indeed, as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so through Christ, does our consolation over'flow (2 Co 1:3-6). Paul pours out so much to us in this short passage. Prayerfully to travel through parts of it is to immerse ourselves in the immeasurably rich reality of the whole. God is a gentle Father and the God o] all consolation, who comforts us in all our sorrows. ( 2 Co 1 : 3 ). How does one speak of the comfort of God's consolation? Who dares to speak of it? Each of us has perhaps known this rest for our souls. In considering this experience, my words come simply. When I am over-burdened, I go to Him, though not at first, of course, because I am so proud and independent. Finally, however, compelled by an intense, insatiable need, I do go to him (he always invites me [Mt 11:28-30]) and he em-braces me so tenderly and holds me so gently that I wonder why I did not go to him at first. Even when I have resisted going and even when he has waited long for my coming (Is 30: 18), still he greets me as though he had always been my first choice. ~He makes no demands and asks no apologies. Instead, he lavishes me with love and gifts me with his peace, comfort never to be given by anyone or thing in this world (Jn 14:27). And only his peace can dry my tears, heal my wounds, and comfort me to the full. I will heal them and lead them; 1 will give full comfort to them and to those who mourn for them, I the Creator. who gave them life. Peace, peace to the far and the near. says the Lord; and I will heal them (Is 57: 18-19). At. first, the reality of complete relief astonishes me but the Lord fills me so compassionately that I am not overwhelmed. In fact, he enables me to enjoy: ,, A glimpse o[ glory--,I have given them the glory you gave to me" (Jn 17: 22). The glory of grace--"Indeed, from his fullness we have, all of us, received-- yes, grace upon grace" (Jn l : 16). The grace of abiding Love-~"And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time" (Mt 28:20). But comfort from the Lord himself, is gift given to be given again, so that we can offer others, in their sorrow, the consolation we have received from God ourselves (2 Co 1 :~). Before reflecting on offering God's consolation to others, however, I must consider my weakness and God's power. When I experience purifica-tion, revelation, and consolation I become increasingly aware of my many weaknesses. At first, this knowledge overwhelms me but the love of Christ overwhelms me more (2 Co 5." 14). Entangled in the web of human limita-tions, I sometimes approach the broken-hearted ready to extend myself. All too soon I cry my own t~ars, not theirs. Readily I become weighed 176 / ~Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 down by their burdens. And unable to sustain such weight I, too, become broken.~To offer human comfort'alone, is to drain a well dry. Dissatisfac-tion with my present limits enables me to realize that on!y the Lord can "give strength to our bones so that we can be like a wat~r.ed garden, like a spring of water whose waters never run dry" (Is 58:11). Only Jesus can prbrhise that: "the water. I shall give will' turn into a spring inside them, welling Up to ~ternai life" (Jn 4: 14). Those whb drink the milk of human comfort°will thirst'again but those who drink "the water that~I shall give will never be thirsty again" (Jfi 4: 14). A~ I b'ecome increasingly aware of my weaknesses I als'o becomeincreas-ingly convinced of the l~owe~ of God. It is St: Paol who helps me in this recognition: "Yes, we were carrying our 'own death warrant with us, and it has taught us n'ot to rely on ours'elves but only on God" (2 Co 1:9). Just as the Lord prevented Paul from'"getting too proud," he encourages me in a Similar manfier: "My grace is enough fo~ you: my ~power is at its best in w6akness" (2 Co ~12:7-9). However, I cannot tangibly ~measure the power of God nor the degree to which I am offering'another the consolation that I have receiqed from God. This is a matter of' faith. In all likelihood, it is not even necessary knowl6dge for me. Besides, "the coming of thi~ king-dom ~f God does not admit of Observation" (Lk 17.:20). Despite my' weakness, the Lord assureff me that I ~:an still be a vehicle for his consolation. At times, I wonder if he almost delights in my weak-ness~ For Paul recalls: "It was to.shame the wise that God chose what is foolish by human reckoning, and to shame whatqs strong that he chose what is weak by human reckoning" (1 Co 1:27-28). This is how ou~" God is. This is how he loves us. He gives to us always all ways. And he is no respecter of strength. "Yahweh is interested . . . in those who rely on his love" (Ps 147:10-11). He is "near to the broken-hearted" (Ps 34:q8). He even permits 'me to witness his love to the broken-hearted. "We, with our unveiled faces reflecting like mirrors the brightness,, of the Lord, all grow brighter and " brighter as we are turned into the image that we reflect" (2 Co 3" 18). But St. Paul also reminds us that "We are only the earthen-ware jars that hold this treasure, to make it clear that such an overwhelm-ing power comes from God and not from us" (2 Co 4:7). To realize the source of bur strength is a special gift so that we might "never. be ashamed of witnessing to the Lord . . . relying on the power of God" (2 Tm 1:8). Having recognized weakness it is possible ~to say with St. Paul: "I have not lost confidence, because I know who it is that I have put,my tru.st in, and I have no doubt at all that he is able to take care of all that I have entrusted to him" (2 Tm 1:12), Now I am able to cry the "tears with which I join the broken-hearted." And it is through Christ that consolation will Over[tow (2 Co, 1:6). ,We Journey Through Tears / 1177 Conclusion All life pulses with rhythm and the rhythm Of life pulses within me. Just as seasons of the year repeat, so do seasons of the spirit. Therefore, the Gethsemane experience will be repeated in my life. However, upon its return, neither I nor Gethsemane will be the same. A return or returns are each different from the other and each different from any other's. My body may be ravaged by physical pain, my mind tortured by mental anguish, or my faith shaken by spiritual darkness. But God will be with me throughout it all: leading me, teaching me, and advising me. At last, I will enjoy transfiguration not for a moment bat for an eternity: not only Jesus, but Father, Holy Spirit, and the whole c~ourt of Heaven--[orever. My journey will be finished, "the Lord Yahwehlwill wipe away the tears" (Is 25:8), and "there will be no more death, and no more mourning or sadness" (Rv 21:4) ]orever. ,Now Available As A Reprint Colloquy of God With a Soul That Truly Se~ks.Him Price:,. $.3b pei: c0py~. plUs~.postage._ Address:~ ~ ~Review for Religious 612 iHumboldt Building 539 North Grand St. Louis, Missouri 63103 The God of Brokenness Jean Annette Gustafson, C.S.J. Sister Jean Annette last published in these pages in the September, 1976 issue, pp. 77'1-776. She now works full-time as writer, composer, liturgist and artist. She presently resides at 211 Third Ave.; Venice, CA 90291. Often I find myself reacting to the one-dimensional God of our theologies: the God who is always good, kind, loving, patient, supportive, and affirm-ing. If God is omnipotent and omnipresent, then I cannot reconcile this type of God with the majority of my experiences. Too much of life is harsh, violent, non-supportive and tragic. The human condition is characterized by infinite examples of suffering and brokenness: sickness, death, divorce, shattered relationships, crushed hopes, lost loves. For me to believe only in the God described above is to place him somewhere outside the human con-dition; it is to say he is not presentin some of the most significant moments ,of my life. The only God I can know is the God who reveals himselfwthe God whom I perceive in and through my experience. This is not to say that the God I perceive is really God, for the human mind will never in this life totally comprehend or understand who God is. God is indeed a mystery, a paradox. He does transcend the human co~aditibn and yet is somehow intimately involved with us on a day-to-day basis; he is "unmoved" by hu-man suffering and yet profoundly loves us and cares about our pain; he is active in the world and yet often remains silently passive. What I venture to put forth here is certainly not an attempt on my part to define God. It is, however, an attempt to break, down his usual stereotypes and once more to acknowledge his mystery. I have come to a point in my life where I am acutely aware that our words and theologies of God will always fall short of his reality. Our words--good, kind, loving,,and so forth--are not really God, but symbols 178 The God o] Brokenness / 179 which describe our experience of him. When I say that a patient, supportive, affirming God does not always "work" for me, I am merely saying that these words are incomplete, these symbols do not always describe my ex-perience. In times of great suffering and stress, I perceive a different God who no longer fits into the nice, neat categories into which I usually squeeze him. This article is not intended to imprison God in a new "box," but to present, in words I realize can only be symbolic, another one of his many faces--that of the God of brokenness. This God I have experienced ~ is similar to the Hindu Brahma, who creates, and Shiva, who destroys. My God is both loving and dangerous, gentle and violent. He builds me up and he tears me down. He gives me life and he makes me die. He consoles and yet leads me to the pit of desolation. He is the God of Jacob, who wrestles with me and then leaves me maimed. Like the God of Isaiah, "he is a sanctuary and a stumbling stone" (Is 8: 14). He wounds and bruises (Is 30:26); he immerses me in chaos and leaves me bewildered (Is 34:32); he smashes my defenses (Is 24: 13); he reduces me to nothingness and ruin o(Is 24: 14). I do not believe God actually works to destroy me or that I am but a helpless creature victimized by him. But when I am in the throes of a terrible experience, I certainly am aware of my helplessness before his tremendous power. When I feel like he is breaking me apart, I do not consider him to be good nor do I regard him as gentle. His arrows pierce deep (Ps 38:2); his hands .lie on me heavy and hostile (Jb 30:20). Like a lion, he hunts me down (Jb 10: 16), dashes me to pieces (Jb 16: 12), ani:l wrenches me from all former relationships. He causes dissension within and .around me, and often breaks my heart (see Lk 12:49,-52). With wild ruthlessness, he knocks down what he has built and uproots what he has planted (Jr 45:4). "I am going to break [you] just as one breaks a potter's pot" (Jr 19:10-11 ) ; "Irretrievably shattered, smashed., so that of the fragments not one will remain big enough for any use" (Is 30: 14). This "destructive" side of God is something I find in Jesus. As Simeon predicts, Jesus is the child who "is destined for the fall and for the rising of'many" (Lk 2:34). Jesus is not always the "nice guy"; sometimes he is violent, ,angry, and passionately judgmental~ Blatantly he condemns the Scribes and Pharisees; voci.ferously he expels the money changers from the Temple and overturns their tables; defiantly, he l~reaks all sorts of laws and customs of his culture. He lashes out at Peter, ."Get behind me, Satan!" and curses the fruitless fig tree. He deals almost harshly~with both the Canaanite woman and the woman with the hemorrhage. Jesus is the God-man who comes not to bring peace, but the sword. "I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Mt 10:34-6). At the same time, however, Jesus is also someone who is broken by God. Jesus knows only too well what it is to experience hurt and disil- Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 lusionment, the temporariness and fickleness of loves lost. ','You have turned my' friends against me and made' me repulsive to theme' (Ps 88~8)'. "Even my closest and most .trusted friend who shared my table rebels against me" (Ps 41:9; see Jn 13:21 ). Jesus is not always the strong man of Galilee, calling the cards and ~dealing out miracles. He ~is 'a betrayed man,. an aban-doned son, a person whom. his family considers mad and whom his con-temporaries scorn, His agony in the garden is real agony --- close to a com-plete psychological and spiritual breakdown. ',I ~am a worm and no 'man . O :God;:why have you forsaken me?" (Ps 22; Mt 27:46). To perceive that God can"and perhaps does on occasion do violence to us leads me to ask the inevitable: why? Perhaps God is angry and is punishing us.~As the prophet Jeremiah says, ~his is anger that will°burn forever. "We are burnt up by your anger and terrified by your fury" (Ps 90:7). "I will enslave you to your enemies in a country which you do not know, for my anger has kindled a fire that will burn you' up" (Jr 15: 14).0"Yes, a fire has blazed from my anger; it will burn to the depths of Sheol" (Dt 32:22). Perhaps God is jealous (Zc 8:2). "You shall have no gods except me . . . for I am a jealous God, and I punish" (Dt 5:7-9). Or perhaps God.is a stern father, a law-giver, who disciplines and purifies us. "Yahweh your.God is training you as a man .trains his child" (Dt 8:5). "Yahweh reproves the. person he loves, as a father checks a well-loved son" (Pr 3:ll:-12).'Like Jeremiah's potter (or like Pygmalion with Galatea), perhaps God 'tears us down only t6 rebuild and reshape us into 'something better (see Jr 18:4). We are leaky cisterns' which, he must break and then refashion (Jr 2: 13). These answersall seem to play a prominent part in the underlying philosophy of numerous scriptural storie~. God sends a massive flood to destroy the wicked while he rescues Noah'.s family. God destroys Sodom and Gomorrah but sa~es Lot and his relatives. God mak6s the Israelites wander in the desert for forty years until a new generation can be born. God/Hosea punishes his unfaithful wife/Israel but later restores, her to his house. God/Jesus tears down the Temple and in three days rebuilds it. Somehow, howeyer, none of these answers quite satisfy' me. It's not that they are false explanations; it's simply that they define the experience of suffering as something reasonable, as a "means" to something better, instead of as.an experience valuable in and of itself. ~ ~When I suffer with a goal or endpoint in mind, I may live so much in the future that.I remove myself from the present. I somehow anesthetize my pain. -"O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" In essence, I do not suffer. I deny my reality. When. I suffer "for some-thing," I may reduce faith to a false Pollyanna-ism. ,~'What we suffer in .this life can never be compared tb the glory which is waiting for us'? (RmS: 18). In real suffering~ I do not know how things will turn out; in real life, I never,,can predict the~ future. Suffering does not~ guarantee, anything. Further- The God, o! Brokenness more, this mentality of suffering ,~'for something" may giveobrokenness a redeeming'~quality, .but it sets up a false dichotomy. The sentiment that "Today, I am miserable; tomorrow I will be in God's company" puts God somewhere ,Outside the actual experience of being broken. ,.,,Thus, for me, the .symbol,~"God, of brokenness," encompasses ,still another aspect of the Hindu Godhead: Atman, the God within. I see this God's face"in all ~places and .in all people: the spaced-out, hard-looking Clients of a San Francisco V.D clinic, the urine-splattered body of a friend's alcoholic father, a crazy war veteran who lives with his cat on the Marina del Rey ,.jetty, thee frightened old people who spend their last years waiting for death, the neighborhood 'derelicts who rummage through garbage cans seaching, for food, the ~almost hopeless Vietnamese refugees who are not 9nly alienated from their homes but who are overwhelmed by grief, guilt, and depression. This God .is the God of emptiness and senselessness, of divorce and tragedy. He is a strange God--silent, still, vague . . . a God who redeems ,brokenness, not-by changing it, but by being there himself broken and hurting.- This God is a sad God: one who experiences.misunderstanding and poverty. He is a hungry 13od; the God of the streets, the God 0f .the Third World.~ He is. there in failure, exhaustion, rejection. He is a wounded God, who gets threadbare when we do, frustrated when we are, and wearied when we can no longer keep going. Like Jesus, he weeps over a situation he cannot change (Lk 19:41). "How,~often I have longed to gather you together, as a mother hen gathers her brood under her wings" (Lk 13: 35).~ He cries when one of his friends dies (Jn 11:35). "Tears flood my '~eyes night and day" (Jr 14:1~7). This God is somehow helpless with-us. He can do nothing while sinners prosper and good people are stoned to death (see Mt 23:27; 21:35; 22:6). When we s~uffer, he suffers. To perceive a. God who may be broken is to discover intrinsic value in, the experience ,of brokenness. Brokenness is no longer seen as evil in itself, or something which reflects God's absence. Instead, brokenness be-comes the place where we can touch God in .a new way; we can share with him~on deeper levels,.with greater understanding. "A destruction has been decreed," says the .prophet Isaiah, "that will bring inexhaustible in-tegrity. Though Yahweh has struck. [you] harshly, he will heal [you].-. He will reveal himself to you" (Is 10:22). Job, innocent of any crime.but devastated by God ne.vertheless, concurs. Brokenness establishes for us .a new relationship ~with God. "I knew you tlien only by hearsay, but now, I have seen you with my own eyes" (Jb 42:5-6). Brokenness is not just a bad side of the human condition; it is the foundation of integrity, the place where we encounter God face to face. And because God is there, brokenness becomes essential to the realization of true. liberation and full humanization. To be human somehow, contains the inherent predicament that we 1112 / Review for Religious, l/olume 36, 1977/2 tend to build houses on sand instead of on rock. We seem consistently to Choose the particular~in place.of the universal; 'we settle for myopic truths rather than truths of a cosmic dimension. We see aspects of God, and tl~en label them as God in his entirety. We reverence certain values, and then. give' them too much value. We discover another person, and then make-him° or her into a god. Like Humpty Dumpty, we sit securely on the great plans and structures we have erected, never realizing that they lie directly over the "San Andreas fault." Inevitably they crumble and we fall apart with them, never to be put together again in exactly the Same way. Brokenness hurts so much and affects us so completely because it always involves'the loss of something we value, someone we believe in, a truth upon which we base~ our lives. In a sense, the value, the belief, the base from whii:h our actions flow, are all false gods. To lose something or someone extremely significant shocks us into recognizing that although we have been sincereand t6 the best of our knowledge, righteous--we have also been dishonest. We have limitedtruth to our vision of truth; we have blinded ourselves to the larger reality. When we do encounter the real truth, it nearly devastates us: we hit 9.0 on the Richter scale; we ex-perience the total disruption of our previous life patterns. It is as though We were dismembered, detached, estranged from our own selves. The~ truth hurts. None of us likes to get broken. To preserve our-selves from pain, we necessarily alienate ourselves from truth. This, to me, is the essence of sin. We sin whenever we are content with our present understanding of reality and refuse to hear, see, or feel anything to the contrary. Remember the temptation of Jesus in the desert? It is the tempta-tion not to stumble, not to fall, not to be broken. We sin whenever we try to maintain Our psychological, social, or spiritual, status quo~and thus pre-vent the truth from getting too close. How ingenious we are in employing defense mechanisms which sus-tain our superficial peace of mind! How eagerly we let our inner sirens, like those of Jesus Christ Superstar, lull us to sleep and convince us that we have nothing to be worried about. How quickly we turn off the problem~, subsurface anxieties and fears that upset us/ and believe that everything is as it should be. "With God on our side, who cab be against us?" (Rm 8: 32). Just trust in the Lord, and we shall be saved. This artificial stance is what Kierkegaard would call "philistinism." It is a mediocre type of existence which thrives on safety. Like Chief Bromden, in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, we refuse to "stick out too far," and like Jenny in Ingmar Bergmann's Face to Face, we cannot .probe too deeply within ourselves. Either position is a risk; either can break us. I am beginning to realize that we are all makers of idols in one way ~or another. We close ourselves ~ff to certain parts of reality. If we start feeling uneasy in our self-deception, we simply take another pill, swallow some more bourbon, or enroll in transcendental meditation classes. In some The God. o] Brokenness / ! 113 area of ou¢.~iives and' our relationships, we .d.ull our truth-receptors and choose to live--again, like Chief Bromden--in a perpetual state of fog. So much of our "normal" ' existence so effectively evades the truth, that it takes a bizarr~ and catastrophic event to. make us realize, with Dr. Martin Dysart in Equus, the enormity of our numbness and the magnitude ofour 'repression. No wonder that when promises and relationships (which were really founded on incomplete truths) are broken, so' many of us have emotional and nervous breakdowns. Brokenness forces us to re-evaluate our vision of-reality, reassess our beliefs and values, and perceive the truth more comprehensively. What continues to amaze me is the belief that in Jesus I not only find a broken man who stumbles and falls all the way to Calvary, but a broken God who stumbles, falls, and is crucified. The God-man on the cross is the most" incredible event in history. It not only boggles my mind; it shocks me (like St. Paul who got knocked down from his horse) into new levels of awareness. That God would choose to become part of the human condi-tion, that he would be incarnated as Jesus, that he would allow himself to be broken, forces me to see reality in a new way. Truth becomes larger than I ever imagined. My former truths, like clothes which have shrunk, are no longer big enough. I have changed. I am somehow more honest, and thus, mor~ capable of achieving liberation. I believe that the God-man on the cross happens every time we suffer, every time we wait withoot hope, every time we lose heart. In brokenness, we enter an altered state; our consciousness expands, deepens, matures. We become necessarily more humble, for we now realize our grasp of truth is not~as all-encompassing as we once thought, our power to control the future is not as absolute as we would,have liked, we' are not really made up of "sugar.-and spice and all things nice." We are not yet honest, not yet free, not yet human. We cannot put new wine in old wine skins, nor can we put new truths in old structures. To become new, to become whole, adult,' ~integrated, means to somehow "suffer in God's way," "to change for.the better" (2 Co 7: 10): We must. detach ourselves from our old struc-tures and bonds; we must constantly undergo experiences of brokenness. We.must "break the unjust fetters and undo .the thongs of the yoke . . . to let the oppressed [in and outside us] go free" (I~ 58:6). It is beginning to make some sense to me ~why such towering persons of G0d--Augustine, Teresa of Avila, Joan of Arc, and countless others-- are all persons who have known brokenness, not just once, but over and over again. "It is indeed a dreadful thing," as the author of Hebrews tells us, "to fall into the hands of the living God" (Heb 10:31). To establish an honest relationship with God is to live, as Teresa writes in the twenty-first chapter of her Autobiograph~,~"a troubled life, never without its crosses, but a life of great growth." To t~y and yet to make mistakes, to be sincere 184 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 and yet to fail, to give everything and. realize it is still not enough, is.to be, come more human and, I think, more like God. Perhaps what I am writing about is another version of John of the Cross' last Night of God, Albert Camus' existential stance in the face of absurdity, the Gestalt therapists' belief that we must experience and value our suffering. In each of these systems of thought, we are called upon to suffer with a courage which~'in a way surpasses faith. For m~e,~the God of brokenness is a symbol which evokes from me the realization that God al-ways transcends what I believe about him, and thus challenges me beyond faith to a courage to let go of my questions and also m~y answers. Like Job--face to face with the God of brokenness l receive not only the power to persevere through suffering, but the power to heal and be healed. This is what I think Paul means when he writes:- "I struggle wearily on, helped only by his power driving me irresistibly" (Col 1:29). If we can but touch this broken God, contact mystery and let it remain mystery~ then shall our wounds be .quickly healed over (Is 58:9), then shall we obtain new life, then shall our broken hearts be revived (Is.57:15). "I will heal [you] and console you," says the God of Isaiah. "I will comfort you to the full, both you and your afflicted companions . Peace, pe~ace to far and near, I will indeed heal you" (Is 57:18-19). 1 do not write these things lightly, nor are they, for me, "pie-in-the-sky" truisms. I write them as someone.who is just now emerging from an. over-whelming three-year experience of being crushed and broken. I have not been able to put myself together as before, nor, for that, matter, have ."all the king's horses and all the king's men" been any more successful. But, almost like Ezekiei's vision of the dry bones, I feel my disjointed parts knitting together in a new way, with a new identity, a greater integrity, and a freer spirit. God is active and present in my experience; his spirit is breathing life into my broken pieces. ,Not only has brokenness changed me, it is increasing my capacity to act and live so that the liberation and humanization of others can also take place (whether these others live in the Third World, in my, neighbor-hood, or in my family/community). As St. Paul says, it seems we mu~st suffer change within ourselves so that we may be better able to increase love, build stronger bonds between persons, improve our k~nowledge of reality, and deepen our perception of the entire trtith (see Ph 1:9). Broken-hess-- with its simultaneous experience of a passive God--is forcing ,me to acknowledge my limitations, but also forcing me to accept the responsibifity to do what I can to eliminate the oppressors of the human spirit. ~, ~ I do believe in a God of love, but I also know that I do not know what these words mean. Perhaps, as Noel O'Donoghue writes: "Love is first and last the heart open to be wounded again and again and again.~. Where the tears of things, the tragedy of life has touched ~me most poignantly, :The God o/ Brokenness / 185 there, in that direction is the heart of God.''1 For me, a God 6f love is also a God of brokenness--who breaks me (or allows me to be broken), and yet who is broken with me. I do not understand suffering, nor do I understand him. All I can really say is that I have been br~okeg, I am being healed, I will be broken again. And somewhere in my suffering, he will be there. O God, whoever you may be, I pray for the ever increasing ability to see your truth clearly and to keep trying despite all obstacles. Do not let my floundering be for nothing or my agony wasted . Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new (John Donne, "Divine Meditations, 14,). 1Noel Dermot O'Donoghue, O.C.D. "The Faces of God," Doctrine and Li/e, Sept. 1976, pp. 639 and 643. Soliloquy of a Seed Something tells me to surrender ail' I am and hope to be; and (o de~s'cend the dark of earth to be transformed into a tree; but~to go up dare I go down and think a tree can fit in me? Edward A. Gloeggler P~O. Box 486 Far Rockaway, NY 11691 Cooperation or Opposition: Analytical Psychology and Christianity Approach Suffering Josef Goldbrunner Professor Dr. Goldbrunner is on the faculty of the University of Regensburg, Ger-many. Analytical psychology and Christianity constitute two theoretical systems; they are both patterns of life as well as two theories about salvation. What is their mutual relationship? Is cooperation between them possible or are they fundamentally opposed to one another? This question is 'to be examined with regard to another question which distresses them both--the question of suffering, We shall investigate the effect the two have on those who suffer, not only theoretically but in the instance of concrete results. How much supportive and effective force does Christianity exert on those who suffer? And what effective force lies at the disposal of Jung's analytical psychology? The method chosen for our investigation is that of the "soul's journey," a method Dante likewise selected as the basis for his Divine Comedy. In the present instance, however, we have in mind a contemporary soul-journey; and we envision, as it were, a skyscraper with an elevator in which we will ride from top to bottom through all the stories down into the basement where the foundations of the structure--analogous to the dwelling place of the soul--are anchored. A stop will be made at some of the stories and the problematics involved in each stop will be debated. I From the penthouse at the very top of the building we gaze out into a landscape of suffering whose traces are evident everywhere: psychic suffer-ing, .spiritual suffering, mental suffering; and in every instance pain is pres- 186 Cooperation or Opposition / 1117 ent like a devouring, caustic acid. The full]/ human experiencing of such pains we term suffering. Is there any remedy for this suffering, any rcure or perhaps even a deliverance from it? A terrifying landscape of suffering lies before us, a landscape which at first glance seems meaningless. Dare this suffering exist? Ought it to be? Must it be? Is suffering an .evil or is it good? And not only do we encounter evil as' something existent, but men as well who of themselves increase it. These are questions which have plagued mankind since the beginning of time. If we descend one story, however, we will discover there, stored in a library as it were, the answers which mankind has proposed to these self-same queries. Let us begin with antiquity: Vergil knew that objects, too, have their tears--sunt lacritnae rerum--and Aeschylus had his Agamemnon state that "in suffering there is knowledge." That is the pedagogical value of suffering, a value 'which is still a contested issue. Then, too, there are books in which the pain of initiation rites is described, pains of growth or "becoming" in-flicted during such rites. There are, furthermore, books which glorify this pain as a type~of mysticism of sufferingi Christian spirituality in particular has contributed to the support of this attitude: through suffering one merits heaven, for suffering is a form of participation in the sacrifice of Christ. We can also discover books about the intoxication of pain, books which originated in archaic mystery cults, As a result of this intoxication of suffering an explosion-like expansion of consciousness is produced which extends into the realm of religious experience: Although the aging and .morose Schopenhauer denied that pain has any meaning whatever, Kant spoke of its immanent value to life~ Nietzsche elevated it to the level of an heroic stature and Teilhard de Chardin maintained that pain is indeed a propellent force in the process of evolution. In the writings of India we are taught that it is only through repeated rebirths that we are ultimately freed from pain. In the books of the Jews pain is looked upon as a punishment for guilt and is required for the confirmation of the good. And then there is Camus. In his novel The Plague he~ says to the dentist: "We ought not to rest so long as there is one child who is still suffering. A god who would allow such a thing--no~ there is no god." The poet Hermann Claudius once penned the noteworthy verse: " 'Great God of eternity, do You will joy or sorrow?' And the voice above me spoke, 'Why do you distinguish be-tween the two?' " Thorton Wilder remarked sarcastically: "Why have the gods not expressed themselves more plainly in this matter?" And Berdyaiev, who died in 1948 as a Russian 6migr6 in Pai'is, speculated in his famous boo~, The Meaning o[ History, about the possibility of a catastrophy which erupted within~the bosom of the Trinity: pain may well have arisen as a direct consequence of this catastrophe and God himself had to make 188 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 amends for this by personally entering into the world,and gathering it unto himself. Answer follows upon answer. In the final chorus of the Passion Accord-ing to "St, Matthew we are told: "Amid tears we. sit down," but it is pre-cisely this, ho~vever, that we no longer are able to do. Sorrow shouldo.nOt be; that is the protest that weighs upon our shoulders today. We ought to do everything in our .power to ward off pain.Can analytical psychology be of any ,assistarice here? And .Christianity, what can it effect in this. at.ca? What can the therapist do to alleviate suffering? What, the pastor of souls? III ~ Let us descend one more story where we come upon a therapist's con-sultation office. Across from him sits a patient whose eyes radiate an intense suffering, a, spiritual~ pain, a person who can no. longer, frge himself.from his own nightmares. Hideous monsters harass him, close in upon him, and the more he tries to ward them off, themore they pursue him, the more loath-some they become. He endeavors to defend himself against all this horror, against theseS'negative factors that seek to force their way out of his uncon-scious into .,his consciousness. Then the therapist demands of him that he overcome this dualism, this .dichotomy within himself, by accepting this darkness~within him, by admitting that these monsters spewing forth evil are also. an integral part of his nature. The patient .stares at him without comprehension, even more, with spiritual horror. He is to be~not only Jupi-ter, but Saturn as well? Not only: Apollo but equally. Dionysus,~,Faust and Mephistopheles? And help, he. is told; can be obtained, only if he.':over-comes~ this dissension, this dualism~ and admits that this darkness .is only a part of himself. Yes, this is the way to wholeness, the way.~of integration of the darkness within one's own inner self. This is the juncture at which curative indivjduation occurs. Analytical psychology points out ways to such a possibility,for life; Who-ever has once gazed into the horrified eyes of one suffering in such a man-ner, ,one caught within such a personal crisis; and whoever has seen how there gradually emerges from this horror a composite of shuddering and fascinated astonishment, because in this commingling of good,,and evil, .of joy and.grief, in this union of light and darkness a new dimension reveals itself, a religious dimension actually; whoever has experiqnced these things for himself knows that the way of individuation is indeed a~form of healing which leads one from the depths of spiritual suffering to new life: That,is the way out of the dualism of light and darkness to the ,fusion of their antitheses; out of the enmity of good and e.vil, the enmity~of good and,evil tendencies, to the reconciliation of, the, two; from the separation of the conscious from its roots in. the subconscious to wholeness; from fruitless suffering to a type of rebirth. Medical experience has discovered the truth of this again and again with reference to individuals, the individual.patient. Isit Cooperation or Opposition / !119 not possible that the way of individuation is of equal verity with reference to the collective life of.mankind? Would it not be possible, then, that ana-lytical psychology could also aid in the alleviation of the' great .sufferings of all mankind? ~ ~ . IV , Let us now leave the therapist's consultation room and'take the elevator down another story to his study, a veritable replica of.the chambers of Doctor Faust. A book is lying on his desk, a copy of Jung's Answer to Job, and across from the psychol~herapist sits a thrologian who is at the same time an expert in pastoral care, a man in other words who" is not only learned in the area of theory but one who from personal experience is in-timately 'acquainted with the heights and depths of the human soul. He places a copy of the Holy Scriptures on the desk in front of him and a dialogue ensues between the two, the psychotherapist and the theologian, between psychology and Christianity. In his book Answer"to Job Jung poured forth all the. professional anger in his soul his anger with God, the creator of such a'world, and his anger with Christianity which often enough only increases the sufferings of man here on earth. The book is, however, also an attempt to apply 'his theory of individuation to the question of the sufferings of mankind. Although he is not able to provide a wholly satisfactory answer to this question, otir expectation allows us to hope that he will be able at least to convert the torture chamber into an operating room. Let us listen a moment to Sbme of his argument and share a portion of his Answer to Job. Dichotomy, dualism, division--these constitute the source of all un-happiness; but especially the dichotomy between the conscious and the un-conscious, between light and darl~ness and, too, between good and evil. This dichotomy within the soul is projected onto our image of God kand thus God is drawn into the dichtomy within the human soul. According to Jung, Christian teaching has recognized only the luminous Christ as the Son of God, while his dark brother, Satan, has been wholly separated from God. In a very early stage 0f the development of Jewish theology, Satan was still a member of the heavenly.court and he bore the title LuCifer, the bearer of light (Jb 1:6). Christianity, however, drove him out from the court of heaven, thrust him down into hell and thereby separated evil from God. In God resides only good, and consequently all evil, all wickedness had to be eliminated from the image.of God. The orientatiow toward such an image of God, however, must necessaiily have negative repercussions on man, who will then seek to repress into .himself all forms of darkness arid to force his shadow down into his subconscious. It is there that the devil now rages and generates collective explosions the two World Wars and the ter-rible interlude in Germany between these wars. If we would but dare once again to alter the image of God, to concede that Christ and Satan are:both 190 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 Sons of God, to unite light, and darkness, good and evil, to reconcile joy and pain, and to recognize in God the conjunction of antitheses as a complexio oppositorum; and then, if man would have the courage to identify himself with such an image of God, then indeed mankind would open a way for accepting the evil and shadow within itself, an acceptance with even a religious basis, for it would but reflect the very nature of God himself. Were this so, ext, reme tensions would subside to a bearable and politically manageable level. The conscious would be so conjoined with the subconscious that henceforth evil could be controlled by man and never again would, the explosions of warfare have to erupt from within the structure of society. That would indeed be a way for mankind out of count-less sufferings. This is a fascinating train of thought and, even though the exegesis of Ju.ng's book is now long out-of-date, we do find in it an image of God the contemplation of which demands great courage: God as bright and dark, good and evil, an image which nonetheless could prove to be the remedy for the hopeless situation of the world today. Were this concept to prevail, analytical psychology would be more than a mere medical, discipline; by abandoning the consultation rooms of the doctor, psychological therapeutics would evolve from a healing science to a salvific science. But let us not at- ~tempt to take the easy way out. There are passages in the Old Testament which seem to verify Jung's view: see Is 45:6-7: ". I am the Lord, and there is none else~ I form the light, and create darkness; I make peace, and create evil . " And in Lm 3:38: "Shall not both evil and good pro-ceed out of the mouth of the Most High?" The image of God in the Old Testament would seem to confirm what Jung proposed. The theologian sitting opposite the therapist begins to speak: "I under-stand your whole protest, sir, the protest of the doctor, .of mankind, the protest of a grieving and sickened mankind. And I admit that appearances seem to speak in your favor. I have one main objection, however, to your position: your way does not penetrate the world within, it does not breach the inner realm of the soul, for this image of God consists only of a projec- ,tion from within man himself. Whoever seeks to address the question of suf-fering, however, has to break through to the exterior world, he would have to coordinate his image of God to God's. own reality--and this cannot be accomplished solely with projections from within man's inner world. As a theologian, I would like to advance an argument of my own. "My first argument can be found in the New Testament in I Jn 1:5: '. God is light and in Him is no darkness.' According to the evidence of biblical exegesis, light in this instance signifies ethical perfection. In God, therefore, there is no contact with moral evil. God is light and no darkness exists within him. To project darkness onto the being of God contradicts the clear statement of Holy Scripture. On this issue, Christianity clearly opposes Jung's Answer to Job." Cooperation or Opposition / 191 This position, however, creates a new difficulty for theology, concerning which one cannot remain naive and say that God is good and everything evil springs from somewhere else. Even the. theologian must make God re-sponsible for the evil and wickedness and suffering in the world, for God created a suffering world. Consider only the fears of animals--fears of one another, of earthquakes, floods and epidemics with all their consequent sufferings. God is directly responsible for all of this physical evil. In con-trast to this, however, it is necessary to distinguish moral evil, because of which an excessive amount of pain is engendered in the world and through which the .physical evil present is increased even more--as for example through the agency of war. Although this moral evil stems from man himself,~ God did create man with this inherent possibility and thus he also is responsible, albeit indirectly, for the moral evil in the world. He effects salvation, and creates evil., he leads into temptation! Is God, therefore, evil after all'?." But 1 Jn 1:5 states that "God is light and in Him there is no darkness." A modern mystic, Marie Noel, wrote: "For God, the Sovereign Good, cannot be suspected.TM Christianity has indeed rejected all teachings which defile the image of God. The question thus remains: Since he is responsible for everything, since he effects both redemption and evil, what attitude is one to assume toward such a God? There are three possibilities. The first one is atheism, .the denial of the very existence of God. The second is the way indicated by Jung, the projec-tion namely of both good and evil into the nature of God~ In both of these instances human modes of thought have been made the measure of God. The third possibility is the open question of whether it is not possible that God is responsible for everything, and yet he is only light without any admixture of darkness. This is something enigmatic. Perhaps angther, a supernatuial possibility is open to God? This open question has always been a thorn in the flesh of a thinking Christianity, ,an open wound that will not heals, but one that prevents us from locking ourselves up within the inner chambers of our soul. It spurs us on rather continually to attempt to break through from the immanent to the transcendent. Expressed in simple terms this means that our open question compels us to permit God to be God and not a human being. Karl Barth stated the problem in a very speculative and scientific sounding formula when he said that this was the "ultimate exhaustion of systematic theological speculation." Despite all responsibility for suffering in the world, there is no darkness within God--a dilemma in-capable of solution in human terms. Thus, it is that indeed on ~principle analytical psychology and Christianity differ one from the other. A second argument consists in the fact that, although one might expect Christ to have revealed something about suffering and to have clarified its 1Marie Noel (pseud. for Marie Melanie Rouget), Notes ]or Mysel] (Notes intimes). Tr. by Howard Sutton. Cornell University Press, 1968, p. 33. 192 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 significance, he did nothifig of the kind. He refused to argue with, the Pharisees'~about it or to offer any explanation whatsoever. His own disciples thought.'within the framework of a correspondence between guilt and punishment, and thus when they asked him in the case of the man who had been born blind who was responsible for his blindness, he himself or his parents (Jn 9:1-2), Christ answered, "None of them." Beyond this he did not go--he, offered no proof. He never spoke of the how or the whence or the wherefore of suffering, nor did he promise in any way that our human condition would ever change. He did, however, proclaim a new Day of the Lord on.which the creator would once again touch the world with his creator-hands ~ind remove all suffering. On that day he will cause all former things to pass away and will "wipe away each tear" (Apoc 21: 4).~This is all a reference to some time in the~future and thus to an act of redemption, hot of healing. Can one really take this promise seriously and yet maintain that .it is but ~a futile and ineffectual consolation against a far distant future, aovain 'promise of better things to come in some far distant time? That would indeed be an .expansion, of consciousness to a far distant and ~future" horizon. This' attitude demands of the Christian first of'all a renunciation, of any°reasoned proof for the necessity of suffering; secondly, a reservation and modesty in judgment before the enigma of the question of suffering,' which ought thus to be treated as a "question of discretion" in relation to God~ and thirdly, it is demanded of the Christian that he sur-render ,himself to suffering. ~ ~ This leads~directly to a third argument, the distinction, namely, be-tween' "evil~''~ and its.,"fuiiction." Evil does remain evil, but it can have a positive function. Pain is terrible, but it can also have a positive function. Suffering ought.,not to be, nor should it be allowed to continue to exist, and yet it too can exert a positive effect. Although the evil ~remains evil, even ~in has positive :consequences. That is the mystery of the felix culpa, The why and the wherefore of evil and wickedness and suffering are connected With God, although we are unable to explain how. But what we can ascer-tain is at least a .part,.a thread of this whole skein of realities, namely 'that the function, of evil','or wickedness or even pain can be positive as well as negative. Let us discuss this matter in somewhat greater detail, An excellent and telling example of this point of view is to be found in Lhe story of, the prodigal son and the banquet given in his honor upon his return home (Lk 15:1-32). His sin remains sin, the evil he committed re-mains' evil, the suffering he caused remains suffering--this is something he did do, something which did hurt his father. Later, however, in conversa-tion with his father during~the celebration banquet, the son begins to under-stand for the' first time"his 'father's maturity, and for the first time the father can rejoice at the reasonableness of his son who at long last has outgrown his ~child!sh naivete~ This certainly does not imply Some form of mysticism of sin, nor is it an appeal to sin, for in no way was it certain that. the son Cooperation or Opposition /d93 would ever find his way home again. He could just as easily have lost his way forever. But for him who returns we rejoice. This positive function of suffering is an experience which analytical' psychology has concretely ascertained and with which it operates; it relies upon it as a medicinal factor in the,process of curing. To this extent the psychotherapist is a specialist in the area of pain, and to an equal degree the pastor of souls should likewise be such an expert in the same area. This is one of the fruits of the theory of integration of the darker elements of man's nature into his conscious personal!ty. The function of wickedness, evil and pain, therefor.e, can be something positive. Analytical psychology will share this experience with Chr!stianity if Christianity will but renounce naive thinking and forego its predominant modes of thought. To this extent these two theo-retical systems can attai~ a mutual understanding. V Christianity, however, knows something more, a something which can-not be discussed in the atmosphere of~a polemic. Let us, therefore, abandon the room where the psychotherapist and theologian sit across from one another and descend a few more stories of our skyscraper. There0w,e will come upon a chapel suffused with the "air of individuation," that is a s, till-ness with a meditative atmosphere, a quietness that radiates a presentiment of transcendence. And let us fu~'ther imagine that at this precise moment a woman is entering the chapel, a woman who has been sl.andered, and against which slander she cannot defend herself. This calumny has hu-miliated her beyond description and its grave con.s~eqences have seriously affected her marriage, her social position--indeed her whole life. The only thing that she can do, this Christian woman, is to let the suffering in her soul rage itself out until she is wholly burnt out within. At this point in her life she now stands squarely be,fore the Pauline e,xperience of kenosis; the function of her suffering is no longer somethi.ng merely psychic, for in her it has also assumed a theological dimension, a theological reality which cannot be clarified by means of some theory. It is rather only through the aid of symbols that one .can hope to lay bar( .what is happening in-the woman's heart, that we can begin to perceive her struggle in the midst of .the burning pains of her humiliation, in the fluctuating rise and fall of her emotions, in her cries for succor; in the absence of any answer to her grief. All of this is veiled within symbols, and yet at the same time re-vealed by them: Buddha smiles--Christ weeps. Buddha sits--Christ treads the way of the cross Buddha seeks to destroy the ability to suffer--Christ, however, assumes the burden of,the cross Buddha remains silent--Christ cries out upon the cross 194 / Review [or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 Buddha dissolves his being into the great Nirvana--Christ however, is awakened from the dead Buddha detached all disciples from himself--Christ will draw all men to himself (Jn 12:32). It is a function of suffering:that, by wholly emptying itself, it fights its way through to ultimate humiliation and degradation until everything within it is consumed and dissolved. But then there follows an ascent, a rebirth. The woman leaves the chapel and her bitterness of heart may well have been transformed into a compassion for every living creature. She does not know how this happened, or why, but she experiences it nonetheless, the experience of a transformation. She is not necessarily comforted--for in her soul something was indeed consumed by flames--but she is strength-ened. As Paul Claudel once wrote: "God does not comfort, but he does strengthen." This truth of Christian experience still exceeds what analytical psychology can effect. VI So as not to abandon the basis of sober fact, let us descend yet another story where we enter a dentist's office. He is just about to begin drilling a patient's tobth. Let us also imagine that for some reason or other he was unable to anesthetize the patient's mouth before drilling. He thus demands of his patient the' a.cceptance of the pain to follow, a searing agony likened only to some invention of the devil. This is in a way a tragicomical situation to be enacted in a dentist's chair and one in which there are no heroes. The situation, however, has the advantage of being able to prepare the pain cleanly and in every detail, pain in the purest form, as it were. At this juncture, all of our theories collapse like houses built of cards. When the whole scene is over, we experience a most remarkable sensation, as if some-how something foreign had touched us, as if in a way we were standing on the border of a new dimension of reality. And we are also perhaps thank-ful that the pain, though not our own, has ceased. From where did the man derive the courage to endure such suffering, and to do so in silence? And what transpired in us during the operation? Theoretically we are indeed unable to imagine this, but in the form of a dream it can be done. VII Now let us descend to the lowest sub-basement, where the foundations of both our imagined skyscraper and our psyche are anchored. In a dream series one dream is repeated again and again: a cave in a forest and flight from the cave. In the next dream, however, the following occurs: This time, in spite of great fear, I entered the cave. Suddenly I had to stop because I had come upon the edge of an abyss or chasm. It was horrible just to gaze into it and I could not bring myself to do so. Finally, however, I did look down and then I experienced a moment of terrifying fear, a moment Cooperation or Opposition / 195 of hatred and desperation. Everything within me was thrown into disorder and as I stood there looking down, the chasm suddenly was not there any more. A stream of clear and flowing water had assumed its place, At this point, two questions arise: First, what really is happening in the dream? Abyss, fear, hatred, desperation--is that what dying is like? Some-thing in the dreaming person had to die. "Everything within me was thrown into disorder," he said. The stages of this transformation are clear: the sur-rendering of one form of life by gazing down into the abyss--the descent into a chaos which is simultaneously a creative chaos. Suddenly--and one is not certain how or why, since this is decidedly not an intellectual process which can be initiated or manipulated--an ascent, a rebirth is symbolized by a stream of clear flowing water, the water of life, the sign of a new life. Is the mystery of suffering ultimately the same as the mystery of kenosis: dying, chaos, new life? A sense of awed modesty in the face of such an occurrence cannot fail but to seize those who have ever been permitted to witness such .an event, be it as psychotherapist or pastor of souls or simply as a fellow .human being. A second question here 'forc6s its way to the fore: whence did the pa-tient derive the courage finally to stare down into the abyss, to confront his suffering? ~The intensification of his personal crisis, the increasing pressure of his suffering are without a doubt contributing factors. Certain energetic dynamics of his psyche must also have urged him forward. Just as as-suredly, however, this ~was also a question of inner stature and for this very reason such courage cannot be demanded of those with lesser internal forti-tude. An equal role, however, must be attributed to the effect of the ther-apist whose consciousness influenced, in an intellectual manner, the con-sciousness bf the patient; in like manner, too, his unconscious influenced the patient's unconscious. (This non-verbal communication can go so far that the patient's dreams and those of the psychot.herapist's are actually identical, a fact attested by recent research in this area.'-') The 'transformation must also have been effected by the fact that the third psychic instance in the psychotherapist--one might call it the "self" or even the "person"--in-fluences the nucleus of the patient's own person. That is the non-verbal, cura-tive gift which can effect courage, the courage tO gaze down into the abyss and to accept this suffering and thisdying. It is also an invitation to a further penetration and absorption into one's inner sel~. This is a process which cannot be manipulated; and whether the patient is willing to cooperate in the process, whether he or she.participates wholeheartedly and with under-standing, can only be the result of a composite of pressure from suffering, inner fortitude and freedom, free choice. At this point psychotherapy is no longer merely a form of mechanics, but has become rather a communica, tion between therapist and patient, an exchange worthy of a human being. zH. Dieckmann, "Der Traum und das Selbst im Menschen," in Analytische Psycho- ~ Iogie, V (1974), 1-16, esp. pp. 11-12. 196 / Review for Religious, lZolume 36, 1977/2 The pastor of souls also exerts an influence on the faithful, consciously in conversation with them, subconsciously when he suffers with them, as St. Paul said: "Weep with those who weep." But over and above this, the nucleus of his person influences that of the other, and if faith dwells there and~ inothis faithS,~ the pneuma, the blowing of the Holy Spirit, then here we encou~nter a new, a pneumatic dimension which is not to be found in depth psychology. In-this instance Christianity goes beyond analytical psychology. If the .Christian participateg in this movement, his participation is also the result of a con~posite; a composite of the pressure from suffering, inner forti-tude, freedomS,and faith. It can indeed be maintained that, with respect to thei'r efficacy fbrothose who suffer, analytical psychology and Christianity do share much~ ih .common; Christianity, however, exceeds their common bond, it goes :a,step beyond it~ VIII Let us now leave the cellar and mount upward again. After such a "jour-ney of the soul" one ought to recover one's equilibrium over a .glass of wine, or~better yet by participating in a' symposium. A portion of Plato's Sym-posium thus geems fitting here: the participants have spent the 'night in di;inking and revelry and have fallen asleep, including Aristodemos, 'the commentator of the final scene. On th6 following morning, as the cock be-gins to crow,~.he awakens and sees that onlythree others are also awake-- Socrates and two of his drinking compahions. They have filled a huge bowl with wine and in' honor of the gods of morning, they pass it around from one to the other, each one sha~ing it with his neighbor on the right. Socrates is trying to explain to his companions that a truly gifted writer of tragedies must at:,the same time also be a writer of comedies. This is that famous Socratic irony that reappears again and again and which Guardini interprets thusly.' "The thinking man realizes that realities exist which exceed his ability to formulate.''':~ ~ Human, words cann~3t encompass the truth, and one should be able to laugh at this, just as Socrates and his companions did. Having now taken a soul-jc~urney through the great question of suffering, weighed terrifying questioris and looked into the depths of various chasms, the ultimate re-mains to be said: we have no answers. We. have nonetheless experienced something about the efficacy of suffering. This can annoy us; yet on the Other hand we can laugh at it as well. To us as Christians the latter is be-fitting. In conclusion we might well cite Harvey Cox who, in a diagnosis of the religious attitude of our present age, made a statement that is in essence aparaphrase of this very Socratic irony: "Comic hope is the mood of Our embryonic religibus sensibility today.'"' :~Romano Guardini, Stationen und Ruckblicke. Wurzburg, 1965, p. 49. ¯ 'Harvey Cox, The Feast of Fools. A Theological Essay on Festivity and Fantasy: Harvard University Press, 1969, p. 156. A Movement Toward Hope: Christian Fraternity of the Sick Pdtricia Loivery, M.M, Sigt~r ~Pdtri~:ia has, ~f late, become a frequent contributor to these pages. Twenty-five years i~ ~P~r6, she resides at the~conveht o[ Madres de Maryknoll; Casilla 491; A~requi~a; Perti." ~ - ,~ Ond~of the most moving experiences of~Christian .community in which I have shared took place in a house dedicated to "Our Izady. of Happiness." The o~casiian was the "VI National Assembly 6f the Christian Fra~ternity, of the Sick." At this week-long meeting 53 delegates from 14 dioi:eses in Per(= gathered tb. review the past work of the fraternity and set new goals for the,ftiture. The~tffeme of the meeting was: "A New Man for a New Society." The model of that ne~v nian, of'course, ~was th~ Risen ChriSt, but~ Iosaw be-foreome~ men= and women' Who were veiy much in the process of becoming "new;' thdmselve'~. The majority of the delegates were young (20-_30), °most were severely handicapped and all were utterly ingpiring.=;Being with v~aliant handicapped people was, not a new experience for me, but somehbw the un2selfconscibus~ happy and dedicated way they approached the work at hand ,was asterling exampleoof what the,'fraternity is all about: These people, 'having passed through~theirodarkest moments of suffering with the help of others, were now ready and eager' to share the vision of their, new life and the source of their happiness. Each had0his, particular story but ho one was~much con-cerned about dwelling on it, and certainly, there was no trace of self-pity or need for sympathy. The atmosphere was one of normal, happy, enthu-siastic people .facing .a challenging .task; the complete acceptance of one another promoted full and active participation on.the part~ of all. ~ Our long,day began in the chape!~where our best sharing and dialogue 197 1911 / Review for Religious, ,Volume 36, 1977/2 took place. The hours sped by as we attended meetings, did household chores (dish washing was a fun time!), relaxed, sang, introduced the whole group to particular areas of the country through slides, typical dances and stories, attended uplifting liturgies, and offered a helping hand (or foot) to anyone in need of it. There are numerous examples that could be cited to make one marvel at what handicapped people can do, but I prefer simply to' state the fact that there is nothing they cannot do, especially when gathered together in a house of "happiness." In this article, I would like to give some specific information about the Christian Fraternity of the Sick--its history, spirit, structure, concerns and hopes for the future. History In 1942, in the City of Verdfin, France, a young woman named Mar-garita Renaud was in the hospital. At the same time, the chaplain, P~re Franqois (now Auxiliary Bishop of Verdfin) became a patient. During his time of recuperation, and having learned from his own experience of suf-fering, he began to see the patients in a new light and treat them with new interest. One day he suggested to Margarita that she write to several other sick in the city, inviting them to visit the hospital; three of them responded to the invitation. Two weeks later, five came t6 visit Margarita and P~re Franqois and all committed themselves to visit other sick in their homes. From then on, they met every two weeks to discuss their visits and to share their insights. Pi~re Franqois led them tO a deeper understanding of Scripture and of Christian community. Thus began the Fraternity of the Sick--a movement of the sick for the sick. ~, ¯ Two years later, thirty-fivemembers, some on stretchers and. in wheel2 chairs, made a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Virgin in Benoite-Vaux, and there they celebrated the '~'birthday" of the fraternity. Little by little, it spread to almost all the dioceses of France, ,to Switzerland, Belgium, Ger-many, Africa, Canada and Spain. From Spain it was brought to Mexico and to the countries of Central and South America. On March 1,. 1967 the seed was planted in Perti by a~dynamic Jesuit, Padre Manuel Duato. His own personal experience of physical pain coupled with a joyous, bouyant spirit won him many followers among0the sick and handicapped in Peril. They nicknamed him: "Padre Quitapenas"--the priest who takes the pain away. His friends grieved deeply when. he died of can-cer in December of 1973. His memory is perpetuated in his lasting gift to them: a new way of life--the way of hope, courage and joy. " The spirit of the fraternity is both realistic and idealistic. The realism is the acknowledgment that we are limited, weak, sick. We are not afraid of the word "sick," but we do protest the commonly used word "invalid" A Movement Toward Hope / 199 because it connotes ~the idea of worthlessness, uselessness and complete in-activity. The fraternity challenges the indifference of modern society toward the physically limited or weak person. We do not hesitate to acknowledge weakness because, by experiencing it, we have become more truly ourselves with a deeper capacity to contemplate the existence of God and the mystery of life. But, like other minority groups, we feel the need to fight for the recognition of ourselves as full persons with corresponding rights and duties. We recognize and accept our infirmity for what it is--an evil, but not of our own making nor a punishment from God. Jesus said of the man born blind: "I~ was not that this man sinned, or hi's parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him" (Jn 9:3). We.do not pretend to know the answer to the mystery of, evil~ but we do have a. realistic response to it. We intend to accomplish what Christ has given us the power to do; overcome it. The idealism of the fraternity can also become a reality because it is :solidly based on evangelical charity and fraternity. Even on a purely human level we recognize that brotherhood involves understanding, interchange, giving and receiving, interdependence. But for us, this human fraternity has been transformed by Christ who, having made himself our brother, calls us to be brothers of one .another and sons of the Father. This Christian family .is one. in which .the smallest, weakest, poorest are the most beloved. In the movement's Charter, five of the seven fundamental principles deal with ~spirit"; the other two explain the structure. Padre Quitapenas literally "took the pain away" when he emphasized: "Maximum Spirit-- Minimum Organization!" ,. Charter Point l: Evangelical Charity Charity as practiced in the fraternity strives to' imitate the qualities of Christ~s~own love. It is universal'becauseit is not limited to a certain ~class of people; it is for all without boundaries, It' is disinterested: Jesus loved us first and was faithful until death. We go out to our brothers without fear of being rejected or misunderstood, not expecting praise or gratitude. It is respect[M: Christ never imposes, always invites. We try to awakefi the other to his own worth and dignity, calling him forth with patience and perseverance. In this prOcess, we come to recognize his true value, and often receive more than we are able to give: Lastly, it is total. As ~'Christians we strive to give the best of ourselves in total dedication;' even to being Willing to give our lives for the other. Christ lived that kind of fraternity~ This point might bring the response: "That's too mu~h to ask!" But it would not be an ideal if it did not ask so much. Striving for such an. ideal causes us to give more than we thought we could. Perhaps more than others, the sick need this kind of presence rather than ideas and words, however beautiful, to keep l~hem from isolation and despair. Where there is solidarity ~200 / Review Ior Religious, Volume ,3,6, 1977/2 there is h6pe., It is a~ if,Christ' said:~"Organize yourselves as,brothers,, treat each other.as such, and obstacles will disappear,,barriers fall and prejiadices 'overcome." So it is that love and understanding which leadSto deep and harmonious relationships are the very soul of the fraternity. ,, Point I1: Dedicated to, All the Sick Without Distinction . ¯ . Because of its nature, the Christian Eraternity embraces all .who are -sick without ~ discrimination of culture, social, status, religion., age, sex or type of infirmity. The fraternity is open to all because each one-is a person ~who needs community. Children, youth, adults and the aged are all welcome ~ in,~the fraternity,,but it is to the young adult that the fraternityr.looks for the :vitality and dynamism needed to carry on its work. Because of-their critical awareness and disillusionmentwith, present conditions, they are willing to take responsibility and work toward change. As one totally paralyzed youth said at. our assembly: "We want a revolution~a revolution of love!" Although the fraterni.ty is a lay,~apostolic movement, in the Catholic Church, it welcomes those of other~faiths, Christian and non-Christian. We -do not come together to discuss,our_differences, .but rather to unite~.our efforts to,build a better worldqn which each person becomes whole. It*should be noted, however, that in forming a fraternity~.'it,i~ important that its. leaders be deeply convinced of the gospel 'message; otherwise, they ¯ could not transmit it to others, o. The fraternity is .not an association or pious confraternity which a. per-son j6ins by signing up.'Rather, the individual ~is meant to 15articipate; ac-cording to his ability, in the responsibilities and activities of the movement, to feel part of the movement. To participate is to live fraternity. This in no way eliminates certain sick people, for example, bed-ridden patients,¯ be-cause the first responsibility of a member of the fraternity.~is,concern for other sick people. This concern can be expressed in many different ways, an important one being our openness to friendship. It is not uncommon that ,a meeting ~or activity is held by a group gathered, around the bed or wheel-chair of a person who cannot'be moved. : ~oint_ I11:, UniIying Contacts The fraternity promotes a. spirit of unity, both personal and communi- ~tarian, among the sick and with the well who wish ~to participate in the movement by offering their friendship and service to the sick. ,.,~. The concept of Christian friendship underlies° all our contacts. Much could be said about the beauty and value of .friendship and the great gift it can be for one,who feels isolated and alone. Suffice,it to say-that the concept of friendship which we try to live consists in: --concern for the good of the other , Sacrificing oneself for the good of the othe]" ~ committing oneself to action for the other. ~ ' ' A Movement Toward Hope / 201 The beginning of'friendship is person-contact; often this contact is made through visits to the sick in their homes or in the hospital. We feel that these Visits should be characterized by attention, respect, esteem and~itedication. The person being visited is unique, therefore deserves undiv, ided attention and sincere interest. We offer it willingly, showing by our attitude that we are more interested in listening to him than in watching the~clock or talking about ourselves. We respect his personal freedom to share or withhold his confidences and friendship. Discretion teaches that we not press our own religio,us:beliefs on him; without speaking of God, his presence can be felt, Through genuine esteem~ we will come to see the personal worth and true value of the person, and will begin to learn what he has to teach us. In giving the best of ourselves to the other, he will gradually know that we have come to help him carry his burden, to make his sufferings our own. Bi~sides promiSing to visit him again, we invite him to our group encounters when he is able to come. The regular fraternity meeting (once a month on diocesan level and oftener, .if desired, on parish level) is a unique opportunity to promote the sick person and to form leaders. A meeting that does not foment the active participation of the sick is a failure and cannot :be called~a meeting of the fraternity. We are not interested in a faultlessly ordered meeting or in num-bers, but rather that those present come of.their own choice and participate actively, .and that the atmosphere be one of warmth which encourages all to enter into dialogue and decision making. Thus the sick person learns the .value of working in a group in which his own opinion and that of others is respected. The meeting consists of reflection: on a gospel passage, b.usiness and usually some socializing. ' Other encounters vary according to the initiative of the group. Some of the more common ones are: workshops, retreat, days, general meetings | (which include all zones, or two. or more zones planning an activity to-gether), liturgies and the Sacrament. of the Sick, picnics, parties, etc. All encounters have as their objective to bring ~the sick together to experience friendship, personal growth and each one's ability to take responsibility for himself and others. Our-friends, the Collaboraiors, are well people who value the ideals of the fraternity, seek to understand the sick person through friendship and offer their services as an expression~of that friendship. We value our relation-ships ~vith ,the well.We need each other and each has something to offer the other. The collaborator learns (through experience as well as in planned workshops) how to be comforiable with the sick, when to assist and when to encourage independence. He or she learns to be present in such' a way as to fill a need unobtrusively. The collaborator may take an active part in fraternity meetings, etc., but should always be aware that leadership in the fraternity belongs to the sick. The support, encouragement and patience of the well often open the way for the less secure handicapped person to come 202 / Review for Religious, :Volume 36, 1977/2 into his own. Specifically, the well may have some talent, learning or tech-nique which can be shared to help the handicapped advance in a particular area~ Other collaborators offer mobility which facilitates the sick person's participation ~.in meetings, activities, etc. These friends, are appropriately called: "Flying Angels"! The sick, in relating to collaborators, grow in appreciation of the ser-vices they receive, and learn to accept help graciously without negating their need or becoming demanding in their requests. As they become friends of the well they soon realize that these, too, car~y the tieavy burden of suffer-ing~ although not a physical one. Often the well person needs to express his own uncertainties, worries, problems, hopes and fears, and finds in his sick companion, a willing listener and grateful friend. The fact that in the fraternity there exists this happy union of the sick and the well proves that, where hearts are open and loving, limitations and differences disappear. Point IV: Integral Development of the Sick Person One of the main objectives of the fraternity is the integral development of the whole person of the sick and physically limited, In Jesus' healing ministry, he always healed the whole person, never dividing him into parts. Just as he was capable of forgiving sins, so could he command the person to stand up and walk (Lk 5: 17-26). The vision of the whole person includes the moral, psychological, spiri-tual, affective, social and physical aspects. Moral and~ psychological re-cuperation often engenders physical rehabilitation, just as the development of the social and religious dimension uplifts the person morally and physi-cally. One compliments the other and all are necessary to facilitate growth. Many examples could be given to show how the inter-action of these vari- "ous aspects have contributed to healing in the person, and the part that a group such as the fraternity plays, As one doctor said: "The fraternity mobilizes a considerable amount of energy in the form of group therapy. which is a powerful help toward complete healing. It is not that an ampu-tated leg will be returned, but that, in spite of everything, the man can be complete, minus one leg?' ¯ Another important break-through comes for the sick person when he realizes that God loves him and accompanys him in his suffering. This in-sight is often ,given him through the human love of others; It .helps him to face the future with more hope and Christian optimism. Point V: Integration Into Society and Active Collaboration in Its Trans- [ormation Another'important objective of the Fraternity is to help its members become fully integrated into society so that they might contribute actively toward transforming it. A Movement Toward Hope / 203 -You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hid. Nor do men light a lamp and put it under a bushel, but on a stand, and it gives light to all the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven (Mt5:14-16). Christ invites his disciples to act without fear in the presence of the world so that others, seeing their good works, will know of the power of God within them. As the sick and handicapped grow toward wholeness, they face the dif-ficult task of integrating themselves into their environment: the family, so-ciety, the Church. The fraternity is a movement that discovers the sick, pro-motes them and then returns them (without ever having isolated them) to their community ready and capable of making their contribution. It teaches them to be critically aware of conditions imposed upon them; to see, to judge and to act with Christian vision. False ideas about illness perpetuated by the family can cause the sick one to become a non-person. Families are inclined to two extremes in the problem of handicapped members: over-protection (paternalism) which causes the individual to lose his personality and become the "eternal child"; or, through ignorance and disinterest (abandonment) he is made to feel that .he is an inconvenient burden altering the life of the family. In either case, the sick person may lose interest in everything, including his own personal growth, becoming apathetic and selfish. Society, for its part, would prefer to deny the existence of the handi-capped'person. It sets up protective institutions~which gradually de-person-alize the individual and make him incapable of participating in the rights and duties of an ordinary citizen. In this, the sick person must judge so-ciety and challenge its prejudices, He can,prove that the true value of the person lies, not in physical beauty and material productivity, but in the gift of spirit and life. The fraternity urges the sick and handicappdd to develop their potential and prepare themselves through study, mastering a trade or developing a compensatory faculty, to live an independent life. In many cases, the handi-capped person may be more efficient in some particular area or job than some. well people, but he usually is considered eliminated even from ap-plying.' It is not a question of the sick trying to compete with the well, but of being recognized as persons and given equal opportunities. Many sick and handicapped people may never be able to join the hus-tle and bustle of our work-a-day world, but by their steadfast patience, clarity of thought; ability to listen and look for solutions, and by sharing their deep peace and joy, they can silently transform into light the darkness of our world. The Church, too, must take a new interest in developing and utilizing the spiritual potential of its handicapped members. It is not enough to as-sign them to a life of prayer, precious as that is in itself. Values, sorely 204 / Review for Religious, ~.olume 36, 1977/2 needed in our world today, can be highlighted by the presence of the sick in the Christian community. Reflection on the Paschal'Myst6ry, hope in suffering, spirit-strength in weakness, the value of life over all things, the lesson of obedience, victory over evil, the attainment of happiness and wis- ,dom, the privilege of carrying one another's burden are but a few things the sick have to say to the Christian community. Point 1/1: Team Leadership ~ The fraternify is vitalized by teams of responsible sick and handicapped people. The value of working in~teams is well known by all who have ex-perienced such group effort. Foe the sick person 'the support of a, team is doubly important. Through it, he learns the value of and need for unity, dialogue, sincerity, friendship, vision, and solidarity in action. He discovers that he is important, but not indispensable; he knows that what he lacks another has;' and he learns, through practice, to develop ,his leadership qualities and help others,to develop theirs. Teams of responsible' sick and handicapped people are formed'at the parochial, diocesan, regional and national levels~ These~ in turn, are re-sponsible to an International Team. The teams in their distinctive environ-ment promote, orientate, coordinate and vitalize,' both in depth and geo-graphic extensi6n,!~ the fraternity. A team iscomposed of at least five members: the responsible person, the assistant, the spiritual advisor, a secretary and a treasurer. In order to give as many of the sick as possible the experien6e of leadership, the teams are renewed every two yearsoby election. Most of the sick cannot dedicate full time to the work of the fraternity, but carry out their apostolate over and above their ordinary.duties: In order to begin a Fraternity, a group should have the approval of the local bishop,~ work together,for at least one year and then seek .affiliation through the National Fraternity at a General Assembly. Such7 a fraternity is being established in the United States by a Marianist brother who. previ-ously worked in Peril.1 ~, The teams.,are responsible for planning meetings and other activities, but, more importantly, for. preserving, the spirit of the f~raternity. There are many pitfalls into which the fraternity could fall. Some would make. ofit an enterprise for solving labor problems, a social service,~agency for material assistance, a recreational center where the sick distract themselves or a .confraternity of prayer. It is none of these even though,some aspects of each are. present. Those who. come to the fraternity looking only for personal ,or material gain usually leave disappointed. Many others catch the spark of the true meaning of "fraternity" and are richly rewarded. The fact that the responsible positions in the fraternity are assumed 1Brother' James L. McC~.ffrey, S:M': Cehtral Catholic High School 1403 N. StY' Mar~'s Street; San .Antonio, TX 78215. A Movement Toward Hope / 205 by the sick themselves stamps the :movement as a liberating one. Who better than the sick can 'understand the sick and plan for them? How better can they face their own reality, promote themselves and prepare for taking their ¯ .place in ~.society: , ~. Point VII: The Role of the Minister The Fraternity receives its vital Christian orientation especially from the religious minister,., who is usually a.priest~ but could also be a brother or sister. This person is known in the fraternity as the Assessor. Although the assessor is a member of the governing team, he contributes more by his discreet presence and unifying word than: by his organizational ability~ He is meant to be a. brother to his co~workers, and a friend a.mong 'friends. Often it is his supportive presence that enc.ourages the lay person to fissume his responsibilities; skillfully, he can. draw,.out the more timid ones to express themselves and help them make' their own decisions. His principle task is to direct the team and all members of the fraternity toward a deeper~ understanding of the Christian spirit; and lead them. to seek solutions t6 their,problems in the light.of, the gospel: 'By his own life witness', his word, and sensitive ~attitude, he gives spiritual vitality to the movement a'nd sets the sick on the road to discovery of their own spiritual depth Since the fraternity welcomes one and all, many enter it with little .spiri- ;tual formation; therefore, it' is primarily the religious minister who should be cohScious of their spiritual development: Through talks, worksh.ops, re-treat days and personal contact, he can begin the process of spiritual forma-tion that has so much meaning in the sick person's life. ~, The assessor is appointed by the bishop and is the fraternity:s direct link with the. Church, He seeks to work :with parish priests,, hospital chap-lains and others interested in ministry to ,the sick .in order-to transmit the spirit of the fraternity and develop a pastoral plan for the sick. He l(eeps the fraternity in touch with other lay apostolic movements for mutual en-richment. He is also in a position to heighten awareness in the hierarchy of the needs, iproblems, aspirations anti'activitieS; of the sick in the difcese. More than any of these, aspects, though, it .is his simple presence, his [attitude of service and his inspiring word that makes the assessor a key fig, ure in the fraternity. " ~ Aclivilies . ,~ ¯, Here' I would like to mention a few of the activities.our fraternity groUp in Arequipa (Perti) has undertaken. Through them,'we have tried to reach out;to others in love, and have become fuller, happier people because of it. 1) AnnualFraternity ,Encounter To mark our anniversary each year; we in-vite all the sick and handicapped of~the city to an all-day celebration on the last Sunday of April. It is a gala affair beginning with the arrival of some 300 people ranging from children~ to old folks, many in ,wheelchairs, on 206 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 crutches or aided by a friend. A well-participated concelebrated Mass opens the program. This year, 'for the first time, two of our members were married at~ this Mass. After the Eucharist and formal words of welcome our dedi-cated collaborators serve a well prepared lunch. The afternoon is filled with music, fun and games. The hidden talent of the handicapped is discovered as the blind sing, the old amputee dances with the aid of his crutch, chil-dren recite poems and tell jokes, young people play musical instruments and lead group singing. A special feature of the festivities this year was a soccer game played by young men and women in wheelchairs. Each was given a straw broom and the. action began. We might have been in the stadium watching professionals, so exciting was the game! 2) Reflection Recently seventy-five members of the fraternity gathered for a reflection, day during which we had a. group dynamic which helped us to count our blessings. Each person received a letter from an imaginary friend --"Joe?' In small groups we discussed the letter, and then in a general ses-sion formulated the answer. Unfortunately, "Joe" had been in an accident which left him partially paralyzed and in a wheelchair. According to Joe he had no friends now except the happy, active handicapped person to whom he was writing. (Joe wondered how his friend could :be so happy, anyway!) As for himself, everyone had deserted him and, although his family was nice enough, he knew they were just putting up with him. He was never going to walk again so he might as well be resigned to doing nothing the rest of his life. Joe did sincerely try to think about God but he couldn't understand why, if God were really his Father, he could punish him this way, especially since he didn't deserve it. The priest was always coming around telling him that suf-fering has meaning, but that went in one ear and out the other. Joe pre-tended to listen because, after all, he "couldn't offend the guy." What .he really wanted was to~ hear from his friend who had gone through the same thing and could sympathize with him. In answering "Joe's" letter, his friend reassured him of his friendship and understanding, but urged Joe to open his eyes and see the brighter side of life. Self~pity was blinding him! How could he expect people to come to him all the time? Why didn't he go visit somebody else and make some friends? There are a lot of people worse off than himself right in his own neighbor-hood. He could go around and see if he could help them in some way; or, at least, he could get to know them and talk things over. Joe would find that if he tried to make somebody else happy, he would be happier himself. Next, Joe ought to think about job possibilities. True enough, he couldn't walk but he still had his hands and his head. There are plenty of things he could do with those, but if he didn't put forth a little effort, he'd. never discover what they were. If he feels .useless, he has only~himself to blame. It is too bad Joe can't see any meaning in suffering; his friend sure can! Why, it~ makes a person feel so much closer to other people who are going A Movement Toward Hope through the same thing (without complaining); after all, everybody has something to suffer. It's a,nice feeling to be a real brother to somebody. Joe should know that God isn't going to try him beyond his strength. He is giving Joe the opportunity to stop and think about life and become a bet-ter person if he wants to. Joe ought to remember that God's own Son had to suffer, and by suffering, save the world. Now he's giving Joe a chance t6 do something for the world, too. Sooner or later, Joe will find out that his accident, instead of being a punishment, is a blessing in disguise. About the priest, Joe should'realize that if Father keeps' coming back to see him, it means he wants to be his friend, and he should appreciate that. If Joe really tried to listen, he would learn something. One thing for sure, if Joe doesn't get hold of himself, he'll soon find out that the greatest suffering in life is selfishness. Poor Joe! 3) Radio Programs For many shut-ins and sick people of the city, two weekly radio programs called Fraternity are a source of education and in-spiration. 'The programs consist of background material about the fraternity, letters and testimonies of the sick, information about rehabilitation or spe-cial courses being offered, a spiritual message, and news of,activities, meet-ings, and so forth that are being planned, The unique part of the programs is that they are planned and executed entirely by the sick and handicapped. One of~ the participants is Reyna, a blind girl, who reads her script in braille. To the unknowing listener, Reyna sounds like anyone else, but to her proud friends she is someone special. 4) A Christmqs Project Christmas is a special time for expressing fraternity. Each parish or zone usually has a party which many of the sick attend. Last year, in planning ours, we realized that the house-bound sick, who need the partY ,.most, would not. be able to come. So we decided to take the party to them. Settling on ten people, ~e planned a one-hour visit with each, giving them the choice of the. day and an afternoon hour during the week before Christmas. We packed a party box and wrapped a gift for each visit. The gifts were chosen according to each one's need or specigl interest. The very poor received a basket of food; to old Don Lucho, whose life revolved around the Sacred Heart, went a statue of the Sacred Heart. The party goers were usually four; two handicapped people, one collaborator and the pastor. To begin our visit, we set up a small crib, sang carols, reflected on the Mystery, shared what Christmas meant to us and prayed for Christmas blessings. Then we chatted and had the party with the growing number of family members who gathered as interest grew. Before leaving, we presented our gift. Don Lucho was in ecstasy; no other gift could have mean so much to him. He died two months later gently embracing his Sacred Heart statue. Observations It may not be practical or even possible to apply all that has been pre-sented here in a given situation, or to belong formally to the Fraternity of 2011 / Review ]or Religious, Volfime 36, 1977/2 the Sick. However, I feel that Christian fraiernity is as varied as creative Christians are numerous. Therefor(, the following suggestions may serv6 hs a spring-board for those who owish~ to direct their ministry to the sick in a "spirit of fraternity:" --Approach the sick as "real7 people who hav'e the same needs, aspirations, hopes, desires,, joys and sorrows as others. Respect and love them for what they are and what they can become. --Raise the consciousness level among the sick by helping them to see, judge and act in order to change their own attitudes and eventually transform their ambience. Bring the sick together so that they might become friends.~ In friendship they will learn to appreciate themselves and one an-other more, and, in solidarity, make their contribution to the commtinity. --Reflect and pray with the sick so that they may grow in knowl-edge of the ways of God, and come to understand their mission. (Isaiah speaks beat~tifully of.,God's love for his suffering servant, the mission to which he is called and the reward that will be his.) Share your ministry with the sick; provide opportunities for them to minister to other sick; encourage them to go beyond them-selves, reaching out to others with the sure kn.owledge that the weaker they are the more powder t~hey have to raise their brothers. qsaiah's prophecy, read by Jesus in the synagogue,,is often used to de-scribe the official minister's, role in the Church. I believe that it also ap-plies to those other "servants" who have been tried and corfie forth as gold (Jb 23: 10). They, too, have been commissioned to bring the good ne,~,s to the most isolated and forgotten, the world of the sick. Together with it, ttiey can now carry their own spirit of hope. "The spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me; He has sent me to announce good news to the poor, To proclaim release for prisoners and recovery of the sight for the blind; To set at liberty those w~.ho are oppressed. To proclaim the year of the Lord's favour." And he said to them: "This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen." (Lk 4: 18-19; 21)' An Obstacle to Community Waiter J. Handren, S.J. l~ather Handren is now retired. He resides at Loyola Center; 54th & Ci_ty Ave.; Phil-adelphia, PA 19131. Deafness is an illness. If is a malfunction of one of the'~iaarts of the body. it is a depri~/ation, an abnormality, something which can distort other parts of' the human makeup in the person's efforts to compensate for his lack of hearing. As with all other things which affect humankind, deafness has both its physical effects and its social'effects, and, consequ6ntly, its psychological, mental and spiritual repercussions. It causes not only lack of hearing and corisequent isolation, but also bouts° of temper, ignorarlce 6f much of what is happening in the world and tlespondency. It is usual, I believe, when speaking of this affliction, to refer to "deaf-ness" as the total loss of hearing; any "partial loss is called "hard of hear-ing." In this article, for thesake of brevity, I stiall use the word "deafness" only, making distinctions whenever it becomes necessary to explain the na-ture of the case in question. ' "I suppose that I, just iis all other human beings, would be oblivious of the condition of the deaf had I' not suddenly become deaf, that is, become ¯ extremely hard Of hearing,~ at-~ge 65, just at the time that I was retired from a life-long job of.teaching. Having attained the status of "emeritus," I had plenty of time to observe"c~refully all the effects of~a seventy-five percent loss of hearing, to think many long and,seriou~ thoughts, and to come:up with some ideas about it. It is the result of these meditations which I am offering for~your consideration. When'a person suddenly goes deaf late in life there is an added frustra-tion put upon him which, perhaps, may not bother so much thosewho have suffered from a hearing-~defect over many years. All life long he~ has been accustomed to hearing. His reactions those swift, spontaneous responses 209 210 / Review 1or Religious, l/olume 3~,~ 19~77/2 ~ to sound which all normal hearers have, but few notice--have been attuned to hearing properly, and responding promptly. Then, of a sudden,~there is badly impaired hearing, and the quick, eager reaction is checked in mid-air, as it were; because suddenly there is nothing to respond to, and one is caught at a loss. One wants to hear; the strong, immediate drive of one's whole being is to hear and answer, but there is now no hearing, or, at least, not enough to make sense. Even with a l~earing aid this is true for those ~,ith badly impaired hearing. For this frustration to keep recurring day after day is wearing on the nerves and can cause other psychic phenomena such as (apparently) unmotivated testiness, snappishness, or else gloom and brooding. Of course, the religious, trained as he is in the spiritual life, has enough sense to fight against these moods, but they are there, and their tantalizing presence is wearing. The deaf person can no longer enjoy music. If he has been a music lover this becomes a great sacrifice. A person with normal hearing has no proper concept of what it is like to listen to a beautiful piece of music, one which has been loved in times past, and to hear nothing but cacophony: some notes coming through piercingly and others not being heard at all. The result is just noise. Your friends ~annot really understand that. Sym-pathetic or not, they have no idea of your plight; so you avoid music. Nor can the newly deaf any longer enjoy the theater. O~ what use is it to sit,in the dark for two or three hours and watq.h people move about the stage?. In order to know what it is all about you have to read the play after~ wards--if,,you can find a copy. The same holds true for, lectur.es.and at-tendance at large meetings. Most lecturers seem .to speak confidentially to the first row, even though they have a mike before them, and as for qu~es-tions from the floor, there is a dead silence in the hearing aid, as though the' .questioners were afraid of the sound of their own voices. But, ~after all, who are the deaf? About 5:3% of those over 65. use hearin.g aids, and only 0.4% of those under 65. This is a very small seg-ment of the population. Is it really worth a great deal of trouble and ex-pense to try to help such a small group? ~- Even~in conversation a hearing aid is not much good beyond six, feet or so: When~,there is a general conversation with many taking, part, the babel of all those ,voices confuses the hearing aid and iams the receptio.n. This is something else people find it hard to believe. Here they are .shouting at you, from a distance of a few feet and yo.u. refuse to. hear and undeLstand! But all the time the~background noises and the echoes of their well-meant shouts are blocking all possibility of communication. And so the deaf stay away from as many social~g.ath~rings as they can. . Now,~.why all this? After all, the deaf hav.e these~ very expensive~,elec7 tronic gadgets intheir ears, why ca~n't~hey hear as,well as any ~o~ther person? When I was buying my hearing aid the ~technician said~to m~: '~Father, remember this is an aid, .not a replacement for your lost hearing., Nothing can take the place of your own ears, but this will be better than not hear- An Obstacle to Community / 21~1 ing at,all." How very~true! . o A,,.hearing aid is a .small microphone and amplifier, ~, highly . refined but of,-limited.range. Every sound it picks up .is amplified, and it amplifies equally all the sounds it receives. But,.the human voice is the softest of,.all souiids and, thus, all the other~harsh, piercing or overwhelming sounds of our contemporary din-culture are far more penetrating than the human vpice,could ever be. Let me give some examples., .~,~ As I sit 'at ;table with .:a friend, he .may be speaking to me just a few feet. from my hearing ,,aid, yet the clashing and crashing (as it sounds to me) of knives, forks hnd,cro~ckery a few. tables away will jam .his voice out.Or, take .the classroom scene.- The walls are clean and bare, as are the blackboards and ,'ceiling; the floors are polished hardwood, the desks covered with smooth,, hard: writing surfaces all perfect substances for echoing. Then we have the teacher's voice bouncing off these surfaces, anti the. coughs, the scraping~.of feet, the shifting of chairs, the laying down of.lpens; and all the oother~signs of,~life,and activity ,usually found in class, .rooms. Not only these sounds but even the echoes are amplified so that the wearer of the hearing , aid ~ is sometimes drowned in a sea of sound. The human v~oice has a hard time penetrating such a din. ~'. Well, what can°be, done about all this? The first thing that occurs to me is for all~ normal hearers to make themselves conscious of the~ situation. Don;t. think that whoever wears a hearing aid automatically obtains normal hearing~ or'~even good artificial hearing. He has .only avoided, the worst° of his problems; namely, how to hear anything at all. There is a big gap be-tween "tuning in" on the human race, and actually hearing what the human race is saying. There is the further problem of trying, to get the human ~race to speak,clearly, distinctly ands fairly slowly~ so as not to run the~.syllables together. For,. if the second ,syllable comes too hard_upon the first it is drowned,by the echo of the. first, and the third by the second, and s6 on ad conlustonem. Then, too, the normal speaker sprinkles "ifs," "buts,"k,"nots" ~and. many others earth-changing words of small size through-out his speech, to the distress of~ the mechanical, ear. 0 .~. If you wish to communicate with the deaf, .keep ,~ your voice as much as possible at the sam.e pitch, and iiatensity. The i~xp~ressive tonal, changes of emotional, conversatiori will be lost on the unemotional, hearing aid; itqs,,a receiver, not an interpreter. I think that religious houses,could do something abrut the,,decor of ,the places where the commianity gathers, such. asi'ecreation rooms, chapel, dining rooms, and the like. Non-echoing surfaces would be the?desirable thing if the deaf are to be accepted into the confidence of community conversation. It does,take special efforts to communicate with the deaf and each individual must settle his own con-science on the amount of' charity he is willing to exercise in regard to his fellow religious who are poor in hearing: One would think that the predicament of deaf human beings, as I have outlined it, would offer no particular problem to a religious community 212 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/2 which is supposed to be founded on charity. However, there is a large problem, a~hidden snag, which contradicts all theories. ,The ordinary, evbryday religious.is not deaf, and, therefore~ is not r+minded twenty-four hours a day of the condition of not being able to.hear. And, so, he forgets, ands the-deaf person is forced to the constant, .annoying0practice of re-minding people' of his difficulty. This becomes very tiresome. You would think that the sight of the hearingaid wouli:l be reminder enough, but ap-parently~ it"is not. The deaf person feels about as you would if you had to begin every conversation by reminding people of your weight, or your age. It is just as annoying'to have to keep announcing, one's deafness. And so, we deaf ones tend to "drop .out." We avoid all but necessary meetings with others; we avoid large gatherings; we avoid the theater, the lecture hall, the concert hall, even the TV room; and we end up by~ becoming quite isolated. , ~, This is not so bad for those who love to read, to think, to write, ,to paint, or otherwise lead their own private lives, but itqs not community:~life, and the deaf seem. rather cut off from community. Sitting around-in silence among one's fellow religious is not community; we c'an go, out and take a bus ride to do that! A.further misfortune is that many of the deaf still retain~the gregarious natures God gave them from the start. This isola-tion is especially ~ hard. on them. They. miss the points;'of all the jokes be-cause the point is usually buried in gales of laughter by the narrator and the audience. They miss the~quick, incisive bon mot, for it is usually, delivered in, swift, low tones. They miss the emotional conclusion of a story; because the speaker usually whispers it to himself. We certain.ly cannot consign all the deaf to. the'.oblivion of their ail-ment, no more than we can the elderly, the lame, the blind, or anyone else 'who has .lost ~some.of his physical faculties but not the use of his reason. We are told that due to the excessive noise of our .times (hard "rock," jack hammers; low-flying jets, band saws, power mowers, power leaf-blowers, sirens, diesel.rigs on the road, and all the dreary rest of it) there is.~a growing incidence of deafness seven among the young. If this be true, we can expect 'ttuite a time of it in a generation or~ so: I delayed writing this article for thr6e ~years, nagged b~ the worry that it- was motivated by self-pity. Yet, I really believe that what:I have said needed to be said, and~meditated, and acted upon. The deaf I have knowfi in the past have been very patient, e.ntirely toO'long-suffering, humble people," perhaps despairing of ever being understood, and~they have not made a sufficient case: for themselves. It is' surprising how little has'been written, about deafness and its social effects. I hesitated, then, to write, and argued with myself, until, one day I was discussing the subject with a friend and mentioned my fears. He replied with a laugh: "Don't worry about that. You will not hear what they .say about you, any aWy. , - ~" ?,ome to think,of it, that is one of our consolations. , Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing One's Memories With Christ David ?J. Hassel S.,]. l~ather Hassel has been involved f~r the last six years in the T

Issue 36.3 of the Review for Religious, 1977. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edtted by faculty members of St Lores University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building, 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 © 1977 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. 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. Robert Williams, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May 1977 Volume 36 Number 3 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGZOUS; 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 I~OR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-yard; 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. Nomadic Love Rita Bernard Walton, S.S,J. Sister Rita Bernard resides at the Corpus Christi Convent; Sumneytown Pike and Supplee Rd.; Lansdale, PA 19446. :: Fpr centuries men have responded to a voice, a formless, faceless, nameless voice, a voice that pierced the inner depths like a fiery sword saying: "Come and see" (see Jn 1:35-51). To come and see is to come into Jesus, and to respond to the call is only to hear it repeated over, again and again, to _come deeper into Jesus. It means a lifetime of coming and a lifetime of seeing as one .surprise of.love follows another:in living in Jesus. The heart hears the silent language of Jesus' love that calls for acceptance. 'The acceptance of his love entails ac-cepting all the Lover is and~ all he gives. He gives himself in sacrament, in word,, in life. He reveals himself slowly with each love-touch and fills the soul with wonder at the awesome burden with which he impregnates it. ~In this prayer of love one is. urged to stand firm, to persevere in the gift of.,love in the sense that St. Paul urged the Thessalonians to stand firm: ,"Stand firm, then, brothers, and keep the traditions that we taught y0,u, whether by word of mouth or by letter" (2 Th 2: 15). "Standing firm" is a recognition of having been chosen, loved, formed and hollowed. It is a 'recognition of one's emptiness and fullness in Christ Jesus. To "stand firm" is to accept further the responsibility to love and be loved;~to be known and to,know the God who is. "Standing firm" is to be used, used as a reed on which he plays his tune. ~ Coming deep into this love with Jesus re~uires a lea.ring behind of all ~hat ,is self and, in some way, living within the heart the life of a nomad by abandoning oneself to the purpose~ of the Lord in an emptiness of spirit-- being a nomad without a desert other than the desert of life itself. This nomad 337 338 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 life whets the appetite for the fullness of the kingdom, a life fully embraced. The nomad life is a living in joy, a living wholly in the now. This great love renders one powerless and defenseless and 'one. feels the pain of the rendering. Such powerlessness allows God to be G6d, bring-ing to the lips a prayer for an increase of faith which enkindles hope and which builds further the great fire of love. In this love-prayer, the~desire to pray and prayer itself are planted in the heart of one's being by the God of ¯ love. As the desire is nurtured, the heart of one's being grows and ~.the cycle of life in prayer develops. It is recognized as the Lord's gift. This writer invites the reader at this point to place himself or herself in the sandals of the nomad and let the following speak directl3)' td you. Come and see, Nomad. The nomad carries little. The nomadic lover carries little, too, for this lover must pass through love's gate as through the eye of the needle, free of encumbrances and the excess baggage of self-love. As nomadic lover you go through the doorway of Jesus as yourself~ as a real person. You go with Jesus' to go through Jesus into Jesus more deeply,, realizing so de.eply that Jesus is in you filling you with so much love. Loving is what living is all about. Living the love of Jesus is allowing the fruit of hislove to be'~plucked while it is ripe and rich. Following Jesus in nomadic love leads you to a still point. A still .point is a further death to self. Freed of the baggage and clutter of ~elf-will, hands are emptied to embrace the Will of the Father, the Cross of-Jesus, the Gifts of the Spirit. This still point is an intense grace of being~known, and being filled with an unknown kind of knowing God in his Oneness and Trinity of Persons. Reaching, or being brought to this still point of love is like passing through the turmoil of a storm and no longer being in .the path of its destruction, but aware of it and aware of being held at the center of calm only by his grace. It is an experience of an overwhelming sense .of quiet joy where your being sings an endless, wordless song of silent praise. Nomadic love extends you and develops all the facets of yourself, and then it changes you. You become a new self with all the old facets"refined. 'You come to a point where you hardly know yourself, and yet you do, more deeply than you did before. If the Beloved allows you to see yours.df"vfith his eyes you see a sight of beauty, surprising beauty. What you see is so grace-laden and love-filled that your heart responds again in silen(, ioyful song to the love and the Lover who has made you this way. You know that all this grace and beauty are his gift to your creature-self. It is yours to 'rejoic( in, to use and to give away~ When you return to your owns, seeing, you find you are the same, but not the same. You have been held b~y Love unaware of space and time and you somehow know that you hold a inystery~ and are held by Mystery. The nomadic lover has thus rested in th~ sweet oasis of love. ' Soon, however, the nomad is stirred from the oasis-rest .by th~ silent Nomadic Love / 339 voice the heart has come to know. "Rise, cla~p my hand, and come!" ("The Hound of Heaven," by Francis Thompson). "Yes" becomes the word on your lips and the journey continues. Now the desert stretches dry ahead and its night settles in like a winter season. The fruit and the comfort and rest of an oasis are not in sight, but the memory of them warms your heart. All is silent within and without, and the nomad must stand firm in the silence as would a silent sentinal. The treasure of love must be guarded within the heart. As nomadic lover in the desert night you know, you be-lieve~ you trust in the touchless Lover who is with you, who encircles you with his love. A nomadic lover prays: I cannot walk, my Love, I cannot walk alone. I must be led, or carried. I cannot trust myself, my own sense of direction. I must let myself be lost as it were, with no map or seeable route on this journey in faith and trust and love with You. My Love, I depend solely on You and Your guidance with no desire other than the desire to be Yours. You p!ace in shadow all that has been familiar during this journey with You. The oasi~ of Your gifts and consolaiions is lost ¯ in the darkness of this desert night in order to test my love for You alone. My~ Love, I ask for the grace of receptivity. Open me to the greatness of desiring You . for Yourself alone. ".Rise, clasp my hand, and come!" ("The Hound of Heaven"). So, once again Nomad, you hear yourself asked to "come and see" mindful you are nomad by invitation; that the journey is a gift and that you do not "stir love until its appo~inted time" (Song of Songs 2:7). Grassroots Sisters Today: Calvary People? Anawim? Marie Emmanuel, S.C. Sister Marie Emmanuel, though retired otficially, icontinues to exercise an extensive apostolate through her writings. She resides at Mount St. Joseph, OH 4505.1. No writer can speak from her heart unless wha( she says is consciously directed to a well-defined group of readers. Even a g!ance at the topic sentences of the following paragraphs, for example, would indicate that this article would "turn off" religious caught up in the urgencies' of seeking self-fulfillment, of 'being recognized as a person, of securing independence, and of embracing a life-style which has much more in common with that of a career girl or married woman than with that of the traditional religious of ten or fifteen years ago. And these same pages would probably read like something from outer space to the few fortunate religious in whose com-munities wholesome, holy religious life has somehow managed to survive experimentation. The vast majority of American sisters, however, belong to neither of these groups. They are the typical religious of our decade the thoiasands who look with aching hearts on what mistaken attempts at renewal (a renewal too often not rooted in a primary interest in the things of God!) have done and are doing to their corrimunities, and to religious life itself as they can see it. Their cause is seldom taken up by the religious press or cham-pioned by speakers; yet they are the ones who are holding the line for Christ. They know what their Lord was asking of them when he called them to their community--and they know what they gave. him on their vow day. Integrity permits them to dilute neither his divine requests nor their giving. These are the religious who must be assured that their questioning is being heard, that their Calvary is understood, and that, if they have but faith, their fears for religious life itself will be quieted by the same dear 340 Grassroots Sisters Today:~ Calvary People? Anawim? / 341 Christ who answered the frightened apostles in the tempest-tossed boat on Galilee: "O ye of little faith, why do you doubt?" Not even the hardiest can deny, of course, that hurricanes have been buffeting religious life for a decade or more, and that unprecedented winds and waves have sadly battered the bark of those who follow the evangelical counsels. There is no question here of the exaggerated fears of timid souls. Too many facts corroborate 'the ~threats, too many experiences bolster appre-hension. All one need do to be convincedis read, watch and listen. " See whathas happened in our day to the observance of poverty and obedience! And often not even chastity survives at least not envisioned as an espousal relationship with Christ, a concept which, iust a short time ago, was. generally accepted as basic to the vow. Silence no more has a place in most Interim Directives; prayer has become largely a completely personal matter, with sometimes not even the offi~ze or rosary said in com-mon; and the whole concept of community living is under attack. One does not have to be a seer to be aware that in some congregations goals, aposto- ,lares, and life-style have been so revolutionized that even the most recent of founders would be hard put to recognize their own! Administrators of certain large American communities, for example, seeing membership plummeting and the median age rapidly rising, have °already experimented with the idea of extending membership to anyone who wishes to live with the sisters, "regardless of sex, religious affiliation or marital status." In some religious houses such~ extended membership is already an accepted fact. At a meeting of formation personnel late in 1975, one young director told her audience (and was immediately quoted in metro-politan and diocesan newspapers) that her community had "already opened its doors to such .applicants, among them a married woman, a divorcee, and a woman whose husband is in Europe." These people, she assured her hearers, "share the life and home of the sisters and are regarded as mem-bers, not as guests; employees or volunteers." In order to supplement recruitment, other congregations have accepted girls who came with the avowed intention of staying just for a year or two, although canon law has stipulated that candidates may not enter on a temporary basis, that they must have the iiatention of remaining or at least the hope of determining their permanent vocation by honest trial. We hear,. too, of young religious who, though they may have entered with the inten-tion of remaining, are now reluctant to maki~ any permanent commitment and are being permitted to stay on indefinitely, despite canonical strictures, merely making temporary "promises" over and over. Yet though membership is being supplemented in such unorthodox ways, genuine religious vocations in America have dwindled to almost nothing. Vineyards entrusted to us by the Church are abandoned for works of our own choosing; conx;ents stand empty in the midst of fields white for the harvest, and the tragic exodus of professed sisters "back to the world" con- 342 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 tinues, though God knows that some motherhouses have few, except the aged, left. A further tragedy lies in the fact that those who remain tend to fall into groups so diverse in their reactions to experimentation that the attainment of consensus in basic areas becomes impossible. There are the sisters of all persuasions, liberal and conservative, who are content with the status quo as they meet it; there are the crusader.s, dissatisfied with the ."inadequacy" of experimentation as they see ,it initiated, and dedicated to revamping re-ligious life now to conform to what they consider relevant to today's world. And then there is the army of ordinary sisters down at the grassroots who have suffered shock after shock as they were subjected to innovations (allegedly designed to make them more relevant, more self-fulfilled, and more libera.ted, but which have a~:tually proven incompatible with their ideals of religious life) who are now openly seeking answers to the disturb-ing questions which haunt them. "What is going to become of religious life?" they ask in desperation akin to that of the apostles, when their small boat was. storm-tossed that night on Galilee. "Will,it someday be impossible in my community to live the life I v6wed? What will be left of religious life when all this experimen-tation is officially ended?" Before sisters consider the future of their own communities in the light of such questi0.ns, it is logical that a prognosis for religious~ life itself be attempted. Is it dying? Is it still relevant? A number of current books study the topic from various points of view, but the Vatican II Fathers .have already settled all doubts in ~this regard bY the place in the modern Church which they assigned to religious. A dying group would scarcely be commissioned, as religious were in the Constitution on the Church, to ,"stren.gthen the kingdom in soul~, and extend it to every clime." And who is relevant to our confused, anguished world if not those to whom the council, in the same document, entrusted the needy of that world? "Religious should carefully consider that through them, to believers and unbelievers alike, (he Church wishes to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ," decreed the Council Fathers. "Through them, Christ should be seen contemplating on the mountain, announcing God's kingdom to the multitude, healing the sick and maimed,, turning sinners to wholesome fruit, blessing children, doing good to all, and always obeying the will of the Father who sent them." There is not one .sufferer among all those who throng our streets, or whose stories are blazoned in, the daily press or pictured on TV, who does not fit into one of the categories listed by the Council as being charges of today's religious. There is no human need, spiritual or temporal, which has not been confided to our charity in our own time by Holy Mother Church herself. Therein lies our blueprint of relevance. Father Thomas iDubay, contemporary writer on living the evangelical Grassroots Sisters Today." Calvary People? Anawim? / 343 counsels, states: "The religious life belongs inseparably to the Church's life and holiness . Periodically, in the history of the Church, someone is likely to prophesy the death of religious-life. Our day is no exception. Yet so closely bound up with evangelical perfection are consecrated virginity, voluntary poverty and ecclesial obedience, that to predict the disappearance of religious life is to assert the irrelevance of the gospel. The profession of the evangelical counsels may decline, through human weaknesses, but dis-appear it willnot.''~ Yet, notwithstanding such assurances, sisters confide that try as they will to tell themsel~,es that all will be right, they cannot shut their eyes~to what is happening in many communities. "Is it unreasonable," they ask, "to wonder how I can trust, when I know how convent walls have tumbled down since the '60's, destroyed not by enemies of the Church but by con-secrated women who are .apparently casting aside the very.essentials of religious life so as to grasp the best of two vocations without assuming the responsibilities of either? How can I"even hope that I will always be a nun, when I see congregations once flourishing and fervent actually falling apart or so revolutionized as to be unrecognizable?" Of course, there are no pat answers, as there are no pat answers for other questions'which vex us today. But Peter and his companions were expert sailors, and they had seen other vessels go down in squalls on Galilee like the one they were battling. Yet Christ rebuked them that night for their lack of faith when they were apprehensive. He did not tell them how to ride out the storm, he gave them no practical directives. But he did reassure them. "Fear not!" he said. And he did calm the winds and the buffeting waves, and bring his friends Safe to.shore. Suppbse their boat had sunk in the storm. Can we doubt that our Lord would have saved his 6wn; so that they still might, become the Spirit-driven anawim who were to establish his Church? That should tell us something! And there are many other gospel stories.~which'can set our troubled hearts at rest. This is a goodtime to remember~Bethany, for example; we who are frightened by what the future may hold have Christ's own word that our "best part"-~will never be taken away from us. In,another passage he gives us his solemn assurance that he will be with us always, and that whatever we ask in.prayer will be given us;, even to" feats like moving mountains! He reminds us that we did not choose him; it was he who called us. Dare we insinuate that-he was trifling with our hearts in making that invitation on our vow day? No, the circmfistances surrounding our aposto-lates may indeed be drastically altered, but our consecration to Christ no one no one--can take from us! Right now many mature religious stand onCalvary. We try to assure ourselves, perhaps, that faith and hope demi~nd that we look forward to a 1Ecclesial Women, by Thomas Dubay, 'S.M. (New York: Alba House, 1970). 344 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 glorious Easter, when resurrection joy and peace will fill our hearts again. That Easter will come. But ~hould we begin to face the possibility that we, personally, may never see its glad dawning? Maybe our little boat won't survive this. tempest! What if our community becomes so debilitated or so revolutionized that it no longer is our.community? Do we love Christ so much that we can offer ourselves, in that event, to become his anawim, the remnant beloved by God, who will somehow continue to carry on his work in and for a world which hungers for him while it rejects him? That may well be what he is asking of us now. If this should happen and we find our 'institutes rapidly losing all re-semblance to the dream of evangelical perfection which God gave our founders and to which he called us, we can find comfort, first of all, in knowing that religious life, itself will never die. That is where faith and hope lead us today. Isn't that, perhaps, where they leave many of.us, too? Let's admit it: we, at least we sisters in America, may well be Calvary-people all our lives. But .wasn't that what our Lord was? The shadow of the Cross touched everything he looked on, and Easter came only after the final agony of the crucifixion. "Fear not.t" Our Lord is saying to us. Even though this congregation or that is shaken, religious life will always flower somewhere in the Church, and no sister will ever be dispensed ]rom perpetual vows unles~ she herselI .has chosen, in some way, to cancel her commitment to the God who loves her with an everlasting love. 'We must remember that when things look black, when maybe even our own beloved community may seem'to be racing toward disaster.~, We must hang onto the fact, too, that "retreat masters and others in a position to see and judge are finding rainbows arcing over motherhouses here and there, where experimentation has not only. been lived through but is reaping a golden harvest of renewal. True, such blessed communities doubtless still have their respective cordons of dissidents unhappy because changes haven't been radical enough, but interested now in the ordination of women, in 'political jobs~ or~ in being, vocal on controversial theological questions. Their current involvement in topics beyond the jurisdiction of their communities leaves the body of the, membership free to yield. ;to the Spirit, and to concentrate on intensive, broadly-varying spiritual programs, which one priest-director tells me are proving "an astonishing purification, a genuine spiritual renewal, and a happy return to the ideals of the foun-ders" of several communities with whom he is in contact. How heartened many grassroots sisters should be by rumors of such rainbows, which indicate that for some religious at least, the storm is over for the time and the Paschal Sun is shining! There are communities, too, which have never lost their balance, but which, despite growing pressures, have managed to adhere t,o their self-definition and to maintain the life of the counsels as their founders would Grassroots Sisters Today: Calvary People? Anawim? / 345 have it lived at present. They are the ones (believe it or not!) who are be-ing sought out by young women who want just what these communities will give them. The same retreat master I quoted before confided that one such community with which he works "is swimming with postulants and novices, bright and lively young things who enter precisely because of the habit; who are genuinely (if youthfully) in earnest about learning the spirit of their congregation and (and through) the spirit of their founder." So even if, in our corner of the world, the eclipse still leaves us groping in dark and cold, we can rejoice that somewhere the sun is shining again on happy, holy novitiates and on burgeoning religious life. We can rejoice, too, that our way of-life is a good way; despite the odds against us, we do contribute to the holiness of the Church! And it is a relevant way. Millions of people contact God today because sisters still live and work among them. So if our particular corner of the vineyard is languishing, we must simply put our hand into the hand of Christ and trust him to use us as he will. Through an ordeal.like this, our consciences should reassureus that we are not disloyal because we can foresee local debacles resulting from ill-ad-vised changes in the very basics of~religious life. As mature religious we can-not help but be aware that congregations which cut themselves free from their moorings an the Church and dispose of authority, vows, silence, community prayer and the common life with fine, dispatch, are no longer offering their members the type of life the.y vowed to follow: There is no disloyalty here. No, it is love for the life to which Christ calls us that prompts us to challenge attemis°ts at renewal which have gotten out of hand. The pro~ing questions one hears now on all 'sides should alert the powers that be to the fact that definitely all is not well. Before it is too late, those influential in community affairs throughout the country should take inventory to see wfiether religious, life, as they are manipulating it, can flourish and bear the fruit God expects. Only a prayerful, serious evaluation by those supposedly in authority can dete~rmine for any congregation whether experimentation is sanctifying its members or secularizing them, meeting the needs of their assigned apostolates or merely working toward human goals or personal self-fulfillment. That some groups will not see the necessity for such reconsideration is a sad commentary on the problem. It is good, therefore, that individual sigters are not closing their eyes to what is being done, that we at last are asking serious qui~stions and seeking honest answers. We are not discountenancing faith and hope when we admit that we think it possible that our partiqular vineyards may someday lie in ruins. Rather, our faith and hope could never be fairer .than when we watch our dear garden-places transformed into alien desert and yet hold fast to Christ, confidefit of his love, ready to take up our interrupted apos-tolat~ wherever he wants us to be and to do whatever he may send us to do, even if that is just to suffer and pray for the harvest which we may no longer have an opportunity to plant or gather in. Symbols.'. Signs. and the Times Jane Marie Kerns, S.H.C.J. Sister Jane Marie is engaged in development work. curriculum planning and public relations at Cornelia Connelly High School; 2323 W. Broadway; A~aheim, CA 92804. _~er degree is in the field of sociology. Technically speaking,' says S. R. Wilson, signs are not symbols. Signs are perceptible m~inifes~ations which point to a condition present or to come because they flow from the ultihaate reality underlying the sign. In this sense signs are revelatory because the natural objects involved are ]as in-trinsic~ illy related to the ~:eality underneath as the smell of an onion is to the onion itself. For example, hot forehe'ad, weakness, perspiration and chills signify fever. Signs, in thig sense, cross cultural barriers of language and fl~ish essentially the identical message-content to all who can read the signs. At some point in history the acctimulated wisdom of a l~eople unravels the mystery behind the sign and passes on the same m.essage from generation to generation. Thus signs are stable in content because that which we~ per-ceive bears an unalterable and peculiar relationship to the reality wtii~zh is present or coming to be. Symbols are different. They are arbitrary things which are invested with 1Sociologists, in developing the implications of symbolic interaction, have made some distinctions between sign and symbol that differ markedly from the'more traditional scholastic terminology contrasting natural and conventional signs. For example, Berger and Luckmann in The Social Construction o! Reality speak.of "detachability" as a characteristic of all signs and sign systems while symbols are any significative themes achieving maximum detachability by reason of their being located in one sphere of reality but referring to ahother. A far simpler presentation by S R. Wilson has generated a line of thought that can be applied to the contemporary religious scene with some profit for us if we are willing to follow up his line of thought"with some applications made on our own. 346 Symbols. Signs . . . and the Times / 347 a tempbrary message by consensus of the group which employs the symbol. Symbols are the shorthand which capsulizes a larger"concept, perhaps an abstract one--the cryptography which presupposes that the users share the meaning so fully'that they can afford to reduce it to a kind of code word, that beStows brevity without sacrificing richness. There need not be any necessary connection between the choice of an object to act as symbol and the content of the message.Symbols are temporary: time-bound~ timely,, tied to. context so they lose their significance or are invested with new meanings in new times. How fickle symbols can be is well exemplified'by the quirk of fate that transmuted .Churchill's gallant V-for-victory hand salute into the peace symbol of the 1960's. Signs are natural, unequivocal, independent "of time and place an~l ¯ language, Symbols are culture;bound, subject to misinterpretation by the uninitiated and to re-interpretation by succeeding in-groups, long- or short, lived depending on the consistency of the ,sub-culture that employs them. Perhaps some reflection on this distinction, between sign and symbol can shed light, on:,one of the dilemmas facingreligious today. We religious have tried abruptly 'to change our symbol ~ystem and we find often enough that We have lost our sign value in the world., of today, We changed 9ur dress to relate more easily to the world of the ~twentieth century. Removing a barrier did not automatically create a sign 6f the Lord present among us. We chose the symbol system of modern womanhood .and sometimes found ourselves comfortably bunched .in with all the other .bananas. The public we served was not interpretifag our symbolic action as we meant it to be. And we are forced to recognize that the dress we donned and the veil we doffed were only symbol--not sign, not natural,.cross,cultural., unequivocaI expression of what .is or what is to come--:-only symbol, 9nly thingg subject tO misinterpretation, 'time-bbund even for us who made the gesture of changing the symbolmand ambivalent;~ even,~ to the ~degree. that not all religious~would agree on the what. and the why of the gesture. By and large our people are complimentary 'and comfortable with our new look, yet amid a growing congeniality we. have lost some of the eschatological sign value that should be ours. Why? I, Hazarding guesses is hazardous and it is;my guess that an understanding of signs and symbols can shed some light. If we understood how 'a society creates .a symbol, if we understood how a group learns toread a sign, .per-haps we could appreciate the impact of. context on communication. Accurate identification of the "things': we use to present ourselves depends on the context in which we use them. Think of ~ome "symbols" we have adopted in the last few years: There are religious who see denim as denoting fellow-ship with the poor, But with the escalation of the denim fashion' parade, to many people denim speaks of the radical chic, the young affluent who chooses to dress down, the professional would-be college kid revolting against .white shirts and starched,collars. To many, "fellowship" with a 348 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 "groovy" bunch in.~faded cut-offs has no religious connotations whats6ever. We want to say simplicity of life-style; they hear over-age college set gone "mod." Unwittingly, there is growing up a garbled version of the Fountain of Youth myth where what we wanted to hand on was the Good News about the Fountain of Living Waters which springs up in men of faith. Our~ sym-bols aren't bad; it's just that we exist in a cultural context which colors the interpretation of symbols "due to circumstances beyond our control . " We are talking about the fact that we can't control the whole configura-tion of life that put denim (or its equivalent) into a context in which it will be understood by those who see the same symbol system used to convey a different message. We human beings acting in concert unconsciously invest symbols with meaning 6nly in context. + can mean Christianity or + can mean add it all depends on what goes with it. It's the nature of symbol to be tied to other people's mentality. Let me" push the notion of symbols-in-context a bit further. In some ways symbols are .like bumper stickers~ That is, they are "one-liners", that punch out a limited message about one aspect of a question or point of view--concise, catchy, incontrovertible as far as they go. But when we are talking about the sign value of religious in their mission of revelation, we find that we aren't able to frame the essential message and crop off all the peripheral or block out all the other things we do and are. Hence, our symbols are never seen except in a broader context of the configuration of our whole lives. Let's think a little then about configuration. Have you ever pondered the variety of countenances .the Lord has fashioned out of the simple set of major elements such as two eyes, a nose, a mouth, some small degree of color in the eyes, some minor variations-- all within the magnitude of an inch or less--in the spacing of these ele-ments, the alignment of them, and so forth? Fantastic how .little he had to work with and yet how totally unique are the billions of faces that inhabit the universe! And all ~.because the particular configuration of similar ele-ments so alters the' finished product! How marvelous is the import of the configuration in which a single pair of blue eyes is set in defining the unique profile of a German lass as opposed to a California coed! Taken separately all the major elements of their countenances could be identical. Only the final configuration gives the identity to each as a unique person. Something like that is true of our symbol systems. When we changed our bleak habit woolens for blue denim or for fashionable fabrics and styles, we also re-arranged a thousand seemingly unrelated parts of the mosaic Called life-styles. Visits to hairdressers, pierced ears, cosmetics, jewelry, stereo sets in our rooms, guitars under our arms, weekends at the beach or skiing in the mountains, ten-speeds, dining out when pressures mount, happy hours and wine-and-cheese-get-togethers--all the places we went and the things we did in our new dress. And gradually we blended with the Every Woman in tune with the times--and lost any aura of the "otherness" of Symbols . . . Signs . . . and the Times / 349 the woman in touch with the Lord. It is frustrating and confusing since there is nothing wrorig with any of the items taken separately, nothing that could not serve as a ~,ehicle for inserting the message of the Lord into the modern context. Yet, unfortunately, the gap between intentions and outcome is real, if we'dare tell it as it is. So what can we do in such a dilemma? Retreat to our pre,Vatican II existence? . How dare we even consider such a move--we who have been called by. the Lord in his Church to seek ever new ways to bring his .same truth to our age? ~ . I believe that there are several lines of action open to us. First, and perhaps the easiest to admit, we must recognize.that a private symbol sys-tem whose true message is known only to ourselves is a useless tool for communication. Hence, in our recognition ~of the public nature of the sym-bols we choose to employ, we must be attentive to the feedback from those around us, the feedback that comes in the form of spoken criticism or spoken praise, and also the feedback that comes in the form of a vacuum-- the indication that we aren't, even noticed~ This isr not so easy since it implies that if we listen and respond'just to, those who catch the message, it might be we are only speaking to our in-group. Openness to criticism and willing-ness to. vary our approach is the on13~ way that will. make our knowledge of de facto social interpretation of symbols work for the good we yearn to. do. Apropo.s., algo, is the need for a discerning spirit that can ferret out the essence of a critical remark and that has no fear to dare to be different if the difference is where, it really: counts--difference, because our fundamental orientation even in choosing fashionable clothes, and so forth, is utterly other. For the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of those around me, for the sake of my apostolic effectiveness I choose to use the things I use; for ¯ their ability to extend my vital concerns outward, not just for their ability to enhance me. From .the apostolic point of view ~vhat my symbol system says to. those around rn"e is:more important than what it"says to me as long as"it is genuine. , A second direction in which to focus our attention is on the mutability (as w~ll as .f.allibility) of any~ symbol which derives from the other mean-ings conferred on the "things" we use or do by other people whose message differs from ours. '~We can always afford to bend and 'blend and experiment with our symbol system in order to keep it 'up-to-date. Indeed, we must be alert to those circumstances beyond our control which render any system obsolete or .misleading--changing customs, .changing values in some areas of life, changing vocabulary. Even semaiatics can' cause a loss of utility in a given form of expression. Knowing' the difference between what is essential and what is merely an arbitrary, ,though well-chosen, form of expression is an art capable of infusing life ,into the means we use to contact the world around us; The art of choosing wisely, rests largely on the nature of what we.try to signify. How can we speak to men of our God who is so utterly 350 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 other? What has holiness to say to a modern world? What can communicate spirit to flesh:and-blood men of today?. As men and nations,~scramble tO get, what words speak of giving.'? And what can emptying oneself to put:.on Christ say to empty men who have lost .their own identity? When thinking men unite to feed the world's hungry because 'the survival of all ultimately depends on the wise sharing of resources, how does one say that enlightened self'interest isn't enough? For a task of this magnitude, perhaps symbol .is the wrong tool. Maybe we can't rely~on a form of "shorthand" for all that the Christian message means to us. Perhaps we have to strive; to explicate our message--impress it more fullythrough expressions revelatory, :flo~ving from the essential reality of life in Christ. Earlier we spoke of the smell of an onion as peculiar to the. reality that is the onion. Substitute perfume to the rose if you prefer, but that is just how specific our expression should be to what 'it is we're trying to communicate! Perhaps sign is called for-- natural, unequivocal, universal harbinger of 'what is or what is to come. Sin~:e whatever we do can be so easily mis-read by a generation that rarely reflects deeply, our?language" (spoken, body, symbol) must be one that is unequivocal, timelessly true, inextricably bound up with the nature of what we communicate. Our "language" must be sign of what is or what is to come. We can only hope to sign the Lord to the world if we ourselves can be the living revelation of~God present among us, actuating what we are. When we so live in the presence of God that his thoughts have become ours, his con-cerns, outs, we can hope that the vitality of his life in us will speak to"men of Someone else, just as Jesus invariably led people beyond himself to ". the~Father who sent me; the Father himself loves you. ; if you knew me you would know the Father also . . . the words I speak are not mine but the Father's; . as my F~'ther sent me so I also . ; I do always what the Father command~ . . . ; I must be about my Father'S' business~. ; I will ask the Father and he will send you the Paraclete . . . ; whatever you ask for in my name that I will do so that the Father may be glorified in the Son . , . ; the world must: be brought to know .that I love the Father. ; I call you friends because I have made known to you everything I have learned from myFather." It was when Jesus said. to his own, "I came from the Father,and have come into the world and now I leave the world to go to the ,Father," that his men replied at long last, "Now you are: speaking clearly . because of this we believe that you came from God.,." (Jn 16:28-31.). Hardly can we expect to be heard by our world tif we are less specific! Hardly do we ~dare to be so specifi!! Yet. I doubt that there is one of us who has,not in prayer thrilled to the vocation that is ours and marveled that God should choose to use us as a means of revealing and witnessing to his presence in the world. We believe--and yet . We shall never be able to offer our people more than fickle symbols until it becomes "natural" for us to perceive and Symbols . . . Signs . . . and the Times / 351 to speak of ourselves as signs that God is present and coming~ Our work for the poor may appear to be just the fad of generous adolescence or neo-humanism in action unless we are in fact coming from God and drawing our people to God. Angry activists can demand' prison reform as effectively as we and still remain atheists'. To what am I signing on the picket lines or in the classroom? Many good men grow whole from their repulsion over human suffering. Ft. George Aschenbrenner, in his article, "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father" (REviEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Jan., i975), spoke of the healing ministry of Jesus as springing from his vision of the holiness of God. So, too, for us philanthropy is not enough, It is significant that a woman of~ our times renown for her ministry of healing has had her story told to the world under the title, Something Beauti[ul for God. Mother Theresa undoubtedly comes to her poor as one sent ~by God to lead them on to him. Her meaning is unequivocal, its con-tent crosses language barriers and surmounts limitations of time and place. She is indeed a signto all of.the presence of God in his creation. But how was she different? She adapted the dress and the practices of religious life to the customs of India; so have we striven to meet America in the twentieth century. What more is there to it? . ' Perhaps it isosomehow or other connected with her approach to the first major work that .she undertook: her concern for the dying, the terminally ill; the cases that most of the hospitals there would not accept today be-cause there is nothing-that can be gained from medical treatment, there is no hope of recovery: . . . There is an element in her preoccupation with the dying that shouts aloud that dying is not the end, that even a dying man is worthy of respect and love and concern. Hers was an attitude-in-action which pointed a reality present in he~r and pre~sent in her world of the dying that could only mean that death~was not what it seemed to be to the masses who passed by the dying beggar in the streets. The reality alive in the center of her being revealed itself in act and attitude peculiar to those who know the God and Father of Jesus Christ. She was indeed a sign of God present in his world. Mother Theresa shows~us that it is possibleto be a sign in the world. What she stands,.for speaks internationally of humanity's ability, to stand 'before the experience of the Holy. Even more exciting, what she is and has become for our age is the revelation~that a person~who is sign doesn't sim-ply point out statically something that has .happened to her or him but rather that such a sign enables the beholder to experience the Holy for him'- self. It not only'allows man to~'think about God, but it activates an en-counter between God ands.the beholder. Our interpretation of the sign be-comes experiential, not simply intuitional or cognitive. I believe that the authentic Christian witness offered by Mother Theresa and her co-workers demonstrates, by the grace of God, the essential ele-ments of signs in an eminent degree. The grace which incorporates one into 352 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 the very life of Jesus enables a human life to be a natural revelation of the supernatural reality that is present and coming: Man's. experience of the Holy as it radiates through, the person and personality of another chal-lenges with the unequivocal demand to "take off your shoes" in ~ome fashion. The call to respond is universal, that is, it °cries out to hearts of men of every tongue, time or religious .traditi0n---assuming their hearts have been initiated into the mystery of God. And there is nothing in the configura-tion of his life~style to confuse or to cloud or to bury the sign under a bushel basket. ': We know that the same grace of God confers p6tential sign value on us all, even beyond the extent.to which we surrender to its gentle usurpation of our natural self. We may need to study our lives to perceive the dynamic of their configuration. We can scrutinize what we do with our time,, what we talk about, what we expend our energies on, what delights us, what we do with our free time, what .people we interact With most often--~and why. What do people ,bring to us as topics of conversation and as cause for concern? Not just what are the ice-breakers, but what are~ the substantive issues? Or .are there any substantive issues?,, Is it just fashion~talk, hair styles, and where are the best sales, what restaurants do we like, what about the latest recording artists, what team will win the World Series, what shows are worth seeing, what books are topping the Best Sellers lists? As well.educated women and well-rounded persons, we ought to be capable and to be intrigued .by exploring all facets of the contemporary scene.Yet there is incumbent upon us always the urgency of the prophet: A voice commands: Cry! and 1 answered, "What shall I cry?. Shout with a loud voice, joyful messenger . Shout without fear, "Here is your God." (Is 40:6-9) If we spend a day without ever mentioning our God to our world; if we: converse wisely about everything else but not about the Cent6r of our lives; if for a day, and days and a day, we apply psychology and economics and political :science and medicine and pedagogy in the. healing of hearts and the enabling of those striving to break out of bondage of any sort, it well may be that we present ourselves as professional personswho can live without any practical application of our religious profession. Then it is un-derstandable that the totality of the configuration of our daily lives obscures the sign and justifies our world's propensity for reading us according to the symbol system in vogue where we are. Our anomaly gtems not from our doing anything wrong and not from our not doing anything .at all, but just from the fact that our peculiar blend of actions~and attitudes islso familiar to our people that we fail to communicate the otherness of God. ~Where Jesus is the song sung softly all day long in the hearts of his own who are called to witness to him in this day and age, the most appropriate Symbols . . . Signs .,°and the~ Times / 353 exhortation might be "Preach what you practice." In terms of this article that could be translated to mean, "Find the ways--the signs, the symbols, the. emphases in the particular blend of attitudes and activities that are our life--(to say we come) from an inner experience of the God who is present and who continuously is coming." In this sign surely we shall conquer! NoW Available, As: A Reprint,, Colloquy of God with a Soul That Truly Seeks Him ,Address: Price: ~;.30 per opy,~ 161us post~ige.' Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand '~ St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Reflections on Vowed Living1 Claire Brissette, S,S.Ch. Sister Claire. a graduate of the Center for the Study of Spirituality at the Institute of Man, Duquesne University, is engaged in ongoing formation work in her province, working with sisters primarily at the local community level. She resides at 297 Arnold St.; Wrentham. MA 02093. More than a decade ago, the Church, speaking officially through the Vatican Council, invited and challenged religious throughout the world to re-evaluate their institutional structures and to re-examine their~ lives in light of gospel values and the spirit of their founders. For most congregations and most religious men and women, the spiri~t of Vatican II soon became crystallized in the phrase "renew and°adapt." During the years immediately following the council, we opened the windows of our lives and hearts to let in the fresh air and warm sunshine of renewal chapters', of .'revised Acts of the Chapter, of experiments in life-style~ community living, apostolate and forms of prayer. We questioned the structures and values of religious liv-- ing all in a sincer~ effort to ~:espond to the dictates of Vatican II. Through- 1This article is an integration of personal reflections from various sources. In listing these sources, it is difficult to distinguish Where their thought ends and where mine-begins. I wish to acknowledge my gratitude to each of these authors and speakers for their insight which fias stimulated my own integrative reflection. Besides the publica-t'ions listed in the bibliography, the following workshops have also influenced the con-tents of this article: "The Life of the Counsels" given by Thomas Walsh, S.J. and ~Bernadette Casey, R.S.M. at the Diocesan Spiritual Life Center in Pawtucket, RI on Feb. 28-29, 1976; "Fashioning the Future,of Vowed Commitment" a ten day workshop given at Mt. Augustine, Staten Island, NY, during which nine nationally known speak-ers, m turn, provided input on a specific vow. Appreciation also goes to Susah Muto, Assistant Director of the Institute of Man,, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, for her helpful suggestions regarding the final draft, Of th~is a~rt!cle. 354 Reflections on 'Vowed Living / 355 Out this period of painful searching, we sought to discover the Spirit of the Lord guiding us through the confusion and turmoil of the~renewal. In more recent years, as~the initial turmoil has begun to subside, we have found ourselves facing and grappling with one of the deeper issues of the renewal, the meaning of our vows. Because of the :legalism that charac-terized our pre-Vatican II way of life, the meaning and living out of our. v6ws was often limited to external structures and rules. As many of these were put aside, and greater emphasis was placed on personal fulfillment and community living, poverty, celibacy and obedienc( seemed to fade into the background. We were no longer certain of (heir meaning_nor of their relevance forpost-Vatican religious life:' As we begin to take a new look at the meaning of our vowed consecration, the living of our vows is gradually emerging as the concrete expression of a personal love relationship with the Lord. In reflecting upon vowed living, 1 would like to elaborate upon the meaning of our love relationship with God, as well as on the meaning of each vow in light' of this love. Vowed Living: A Relationship of Love: A clue to the inner attitude of love which lies at the heart of our vowed living, may be found in the book of the Prophet Jeremiah:Experiencing an inner crisis, Jeremiah speaks of God rather boldly and directly, as he says, "You have seduced me, Yahweh, and I have let myself be seduced; you have overpowered me: you were the stronger" (Jr 20::7). Perhaps oi, too, living a way of life that seems absurd to our superficial world, .can address these same words to God. I can look back into my life, and perhaps remem-ber the moment I was seduced by God, the moment I felt the closeness of his presence and love in my' life, and with my whole being,, responded '~yes" to his invitation of loveTIt was a total "yes," one that would plunge me .deeply into ~n intimate sharing in the mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus, pone that would demand a constantly renewed surrender Of my whole self to his hidden designs upon my life. T0,seduce and to be seduced implies a love so deep and,~so strong that it enables lovers,to move beyond the externals of looks and ways, to touch one another's hearts. In thecase of God and,myself, a human creature, I have been ocaugh~up in the' infinite love of a God for me, and.,of my total love for my God. For some mysterious reason beyond my .limited compre-hension, God has fallen in love with me; I, in turn, have responded to his love. Our love for one another is not passing or temporary. Nor is it a senti-mental love. Rather, it is a love that has been sealed in the total consecrar tion of my entire being to him. It is a love that has changed radically the ¢ '-'For a more complete and di~tailed reflection on the love-relationship aspect of the vows, see Ladislas M. Orsy, Open to the Spikit (Washington. DC: Corpus Publica-tions, 1968), pp. 71-163. 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 course of my life, a love so powerful that I, a human creature, have allowed myself to be seduced by a God who is Spirit. "You have overpowered me: you were the stronger." At the moment of my "yes" to God, I experienced the overwhelming reality rOf his love_for me. Caught up in the experience of such a love, I could respond only with love, accepting to follow him wherever he would lead me. In my enthusiasm, perhaps it seemed to me then that just about anything was possible:. For, in my weakness, he would be my strength. In moments of darkness, he would light 'the way. In the experience of my powerlessness, l~e,would sus-tain me with his~power. Iri moments of ,aloneness, he would be .present in the silent depths of my heart. Confident of his love for me, and relying on his strength and power, I could say "yes" to a way of life that seemed some-what out of the-ordinary. Many years, perhaps; have passed.since the d~y of my love-filled "yes" to my Lord. Since that day, I have tasted the joys of my yes, as wel! as its sorrows and disappointments. I have also felt the weight of the cross, as well as the new and deeper life that has emerged from its pain. At times, also, I have perhaps doubted my Lord, for he seemed absent when I needed him most. And my flame of faith and love seemed on the verge of being extinguished. Through the persons who have entered my life, as well as through the various situations and events that have constituted my sacred journey with my Lord, my love has been tried and tested.In his love for me, my God~ has attempted to deepen and mellow my Iove~ for him. Each day, he continues to .purify my love, to shape and mold me, making me ever more precious in his. sight. Have I let myself surrender to his mysteri-ous ways of love in my life? As I reflect upon my love-relationship with my Lord, I need to realiz6 that as a human person, I am flesh and blood, limited by time and space as well as by my very nature. I can live out this love relationship only in a way that is possible for me, given who I am as a person, and~the concrete situation in which my Lord h~is placed me. He has probed me and has known me even before I.was knit in my mother's womb (see Ps 139). He knows better than I do what are my limits and abilities.,His love demands no more than what is possible for the human person I am. He is well aware that I cannot deny my human nature or my human needs. I can only tran-scend my needs in and through the experience.of his love for me and of mine for him. I also need to keep in mind that my love relationship with God, sealed on the day of .my religious consecration, deepens and,mellows over a life-time; as does the love of a married couple. I need to respect the present level of my relationship with him; while remain, ing open each day to concrete possibilities for deepening that love. Within the context of this love relationship between my Lord and me, it becomes possible to reflect on the lived meaning of our vows. For, if we consider vowed living only on the human level, we risk becoming enmeshed Relqections. on Vowed Living / 357 in such thinking as "My human needs are repressed." Or, "Human fulfill-ment is impossible." Or again~ "This way: of life doesn't make sense?' No, it doesn't make any sense at all, if we limit our vowed living to the nar-rowness of human logic and understanding. For God's ways are not ours, and what seems wise in the eyes of men is foolishness to God. Consequently, I need to take the leap of faith into the horizon of my love relationship with my Lord in order to grasp something of the spiritual meaning of vowed living. Consecrated Celibacy:' During a recent hospitalization, I was, to some extent, an "object of curiosity" for my roommate. She questioned me at length about my~life-style and work. But what puzzled her most was my celibate commitment: She .seemed unable to grasp why any+ne would want to make stich a com-mitment. "Whatever made you do it? .How can you live that way?" she often asked; For her, a celibate way of, life seemed .almost unthinkable. And yet, before she left the hospital, she very spontaneously admitted that she had grown to feel comfortable with me, remarking that I was "OK." The attitude of my new-found friend regarding celibacy reflects the thinking of a culture which extols sexual pleasure andgratification. We need only.listen to TV commercials, look at paperback racks in the local book-stores, or glance through the newspaper movie listings to become aware of the sexual orientation of our culture, Or, we need only listdn to teenagers speak of sexuality to realize that sexual morality has changed drastically in recent years. Within this cultural context, celibacy is frowned upon and looked down upon as an impossible and repressive way of life because for many, sexual pleasure and gratification have, to some extent, taken on an absolute character. Sexuality and sexual pleasure in themselves are sacred values, willed .by God from the time of creation. Simply.sacrificing these values in. and for itself for no deeper value, does indeed lead to a repressive way of life. How-ever, viewed within the context of one's personal love-relationship with God, celibate living'takes on deeper meaning and dynamism. As my Lord becomes central in my life, he becomes the hidden trea-sure and the pearl of great price for whom I am willing to give. my whole life, all that I 'am and all that I have. As Paul tells us: aln The Vowed Li/e, va~ Kaam maintains that the attitudes of celibacy, poverty and obedience comprise the fundamental threefoldO path of human and spiritual unfolding. He sees these human attitudes already foreshadowed in the highest forms of animal life. All human persons, regardless of their life form, are called to live out these attitudes according to the specific demands of their concrete life situation. Vowed relig!ous, he says, are called to be living witnesses for the threefold path of self-unfolding. They profess to find the beginning and end of this threefold presence in Gdd. See Adrian van Kaam~ The Vowed Life (Denville, NJ: Dimension Books, 1968), pp: 11-74. 35'8 / Review Jor Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Those things I used to consider gain, I "liave now reappraised as loss in the light: of the surpassing knpwledge of my Lord Jesus Christ. For his sake, I have forfeited everything; I have accounted all els~ rubbish so that Christ may be'my wealth and 1 may bein him" (Ph 3:7-9). To us, who ifi recent years; have placed much emphasis on human develop-ment and on the person, these words sound strong and absolute, demand-ing and without compromise. They may even turn us off. Yet, the challenge of the gospel, of Christianiiy, of vowed living is that over a lifetime, Christ become so central in my life, so real for me, that my human life and human values take their rightful place in light of him. Thus, the human value of the pleasure of a needy self-centered love is transcended by my total love for my Lord. He becomes the.companion of.,.my life, him in whom I live and 'move and have my being. In the exp.erience of his love, I grow in love for the human person that I am, a person with human potential and short-comings; a person entrusted with talents that I am called to own as mine and use for his love; a per~son graced with the loving presence of Father, Son and Sl~irit through the'.:gift ef baptism; a person so much in love with my Lord, that I too can willingly boast of my weaknesses, for I know and believe that his power is living and active within me (see 2 Co 12:9). Within the experience 9f God's personal love for me, I grow in self-love and self-acceptance. At the same time, I grow in respect and accept-ance of other~, the sisters I live with, the. persons I work with, those who enter into my life each day-s-loving them as they are, and allowing them to be who they are, different from me. Gradually, over a life-time, his love for me and mine for him free.;me, to some extent, from the subtle manipula-tion of using 'others for my"self-interests, or of trying to make others into my own image, and likeness. My love relationship with my Lord opens me gradually to the beauty of the other lying beneath the surface of appear-ances and behavior. In his love, I learn to transcend my own needs,"and begin to let go of my narrow labeling tendencies so as to allow the other to unfold as the unique person he or she is. Thus my celibate love fosters life within myself as well as within others. My love relationship with Christ makes me aware of his love .for others also. I do not seek to cling in a needy way to others, for ultimately, they, too, belong to God. Rather, rooted in his loxie, my love for others calls forth what is best in them. Celibate love cannot beqived in a vacuum. The deep and real sacrifice of the human love of marr!age and of a family must not turn me in on myself in a sterile, self-centered way. Rather, my capacity for love and inti-macy must gradually blossom forth in a deepening of my love for God, in the warmth and intimacy of human friendship, in the tenderness,of a love that moves outward to those with whom I live, and reaches out daily to those persons the Eoi-d allows to enter into my life, my co-workers, my stu-dents, patients or clients. R~ither than repress my human capacity for love, then, celibate love, vowed fc~r the sake of the deeper love of my Lord, frees Reflections on Vowed Living / 359 me .to spread his love warmly, tenderly, and generously, simply by being who I am and living what I am--a celibate lover/ ~ Furthermore, because I am human flesh and blood with needs, desires and passions, I may experience, at various periods in my life, and'with varying intensity, the overwhelming need for sensual satisfaction and gratifi- ¯ cation. At other times, I may experience the deep suffering of human alone-ness and of loneliness. To deny or repress any of these feelings leads only to deeper pain and suffering. Rather, I need to face my feelings, own them as .mine, and 'realize that they too are part of my being human. During .these, painful mon~ents, a living faith in my Lord's love for me, often concretized' in the love and concern of a supportive community or of a friend, may be the only means of transcending my suffering. Each encounter with my hu-~ man poverty and vulnerability becomes a renewed opportunity for strength-ening my love for my Lord as well as for other persons he places on my path to comfort and support ~me. Gradually, over a life-time, I learn to turn to him, relying on his strength and his power, aware that "when I am powerless it is then that I am strong" (2 Co 12: 10). Poverty.~ A sister friend of mine~recently graduated from college. Shortly before graduation, as she and her classmates were busily writing r6sum6s and look-ing into various job opportunities, she was approached by Rome of her friends. "What happens to your salary? Do you get.to keep the money you make?" ~ They - seemed somewhat puzzled as Sister explained to them that she turned her salary in to the community. "You mean ,you can't keep what you earn?" they replied with a kind of disbelief. Their attitude is characteris-tic of another trend within our culture. For many Americans, material wealth and possessions h~ve become important status symbols. We need only listen to various individuals speak of wanting a higher salary, of moving into a larger, more impressive home, or of buying a more expensive car, to realize that personal identity and prestige are often dependent upon one's income bracket. Everyone, rich and poor alike, is engaged in the struggle for survival, for more money and more possessions~ Part of the American dream consists in the belief that if.'one, earns enough money and. eventually works his way to the top, he will be blessed with perfect h.apptness. For many contempor~try Ameri-cans, acquiring wealth and~ possessions has become an ultimate value. 4Hinnebusch describes love as f611ows: "To Io~,e is to go out of myself as the center of interest, and to make'.the loved one the focus of attention." Paul Hinnebusch, Corn- " munity in the Lord (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1975), p. 23.~This is the kind of self-giving attitude fostered by g~nuine celibate love. ¯ ~For a more extensive development of poverty as total dependences on God, see Johannes B. Metz, Poverty o[ Spirit, trans. John Drury (Paramtis, NJ: Paulist Press, 1968). 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Within this competitive materialistic culture, men and women religious vow to live poverty--not for its own sake, for poverty in and for itself is not a value to be encouraged. Rather, religious poverty becomes meaning-ful only in and through one's personal love relationship with the Lord. As I grow in the ispiritual attitude of vowed poverty, I become increasingly aware that God's love for me is so deep and so complete that he emptied himself totally'~of his equality with God, and took the form of a slave, be-coming one ofous, subjecting himself to the limitations of the human, condi-tion (see Ph 2:5-11). Once again, I find myself caught up in the mystery of my Lord's love, a love that has seduced and captured me. Only if I am truly in love with my God, rich in him, can I, in turn, gradually empty my-self of myself ~nd of material possessions. As my love relationship with him becomes central in my life, the human value of possession becomes subordi-nated to this: love, and takes its rightful place in my life. In the strength of his love, I am able .to let go, gradually, of my possessive attitude, no longer al-lowing myself to cling possessively to things such as clothing, money, food, the latest fad, machines, the community car, my own ideas, opinions, views, and.more. I recognize the need for possessions: for money, clothing, food, machines, as my friend recognized the need to earn a salary. Likewise, I recognize the need to have certain ideas, views, and opinions. But because I care so much for God, I care also for this world--for our world. Our love for one another frees me to use.things respectfully rather than possessively, with the detached attitude that allows things to be as they are, rather than with the grasping, and clinging attitude of hoarding, or of the' stubborn attitude that "my way is the right one.'''~ As my love for my Lord grows, I gradually learn to see myself in my rightful place as a.limited human creature. Through the eyes of a living~ faith, I begin to realize that my views, my opinions, my ways of doing things may be good and right for me, but remain relative for other members of the community as well as for those with whom I work. As iI become rich in the one thing necessary, the love of my Lord, the self-emptying of poverty helps me to transcend my need to totalize and absolutize. In light of my Lord's living and active presence in the cultural-historical situation of the world, I ~radually begin to distance myself from my views, values and ma-terial possessions. They are important to me at this time in my life, but they also are relative, even for myself. For if I remain flexibly open to the un, folding of my life situation, the values, principles and opinions that seem absolute for me today may be less important to me in a few years. For ex-ample, perhaps a few years ago, I was on the "band wagon~' for total, open-ness in community. At the time, openness seemed to be ~an ultimate value for community living, With time and experience, I may have come to see that openness is indeed important, but every member of the community is '~van Kaam, The Vowed Li]e, pp. 176-186. Reflections on Vowed Living / 361 not capable of the same level of openness. Consequently, the value of open-ness which at one time seemed ultimate for me, has become modified by the emergence-for-me of the deeper value of respect for the other. Through a continual self-emptying attitude, I gradually learn to let go of my opinions and views in order to become more open to the Spirit of my Lord as he expresses himself through the differing values and opinions of others, as well as through the unfolding of history. My love for my Lord enables me to learn to flow with life, expecting little, and accepting whatever comes, as it comes, rather than rigidly and possessively trying to control my" life. For, in love, I gradually come to realize that ultimately, I do not control my life; it i.s in the hands of a Father-God who loves me dearly and cares for me tenderly. Furthermore, the self-emptying of poverty viewed within the context of love, may prompt me to give myself' away through giving my time, through allowing persons and their needs'to take priority over things. In an individualistic culture .in which my life is often run by a time-clock, per-haps I have lost the art of sharing my time with others, of giving my time away for the sake of others. In silent reflection before my Lord, I gradu-ally discover how much of my time I can realistically give away, for the demands of my own life make it impossible for me to be totally available to others. While the self-emptying of poverty may at times demand that I give myself selflessly to others, this same self-emptying may at other times .require that I refuse a request, because of my personal obligations or simply because I need the time to restore myself both physically and mentally. The essence of the spirit of poverty is. that~I grow gradually into the lived realization that my life is in the hands of my Lord. In love, he .has created me. In love, he continues each day to sustain me. My love for him in turn, prompts me to empty myself of myself and slowly to detach myself from material possessions in order to create the inner space in which I may become ever more sensitive and responsive to the whispers of. his love in my daily life. The pain of self-denial and of daily dying to my self-centeredness is very real, and at times, may be overwhelming. At such moments, I need to remind myself that my Lord'~ love for me led him to the cross, the ulti-mate experience of detachment .and of self-emptying:Just as his love for his Father and for me enabled him to transcend his natural repugnance for suf-fering,? so too, my love forhim strengthens me to follow my Lord along the way of the cross, that through the pain of self-emptying, I may be glorified by an ever deeper share in his life (see Ph 2:5-11 ). Obedience A further reflection on our contemporary culture leads us to realize that the value of power, also, is highly esteemed. All of us, at some time or another, fantasize having some kind of power. Perhaps during my school years, I dreamed of being class president or president of the student council. 362 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Or perhaps during my early years in religious life, 1 dreamed of one day being house assistant or local superior. Or;again, since ~those structures of-ten no .longer exist, perhaps my dreams are now directed toward being school principal, or head nurse, ot an influential member of tt]e parish team. What-ever my fantasy or my dream, chances are that some aspect of it is related to my drive for power. ,. Often implicit in this climb to the top of the social ladder is having power,over other human ~.persons, as well ashaving the power to make im-portant decisions. In fact, our world civilization seems to be based on a power struggle between the free world and communism. ., This power stru(:ture has .implications for ~the life of every human per-son: we often feel overpowered by technology, by the intricacies of big government and big business, by large ,agencies :that seem to control some facet of our lives, and before which we feel helpless. In turn, each of us to some degree seeks to react against, these overwhelming powers by asserting our own power within.:our small domain, be it in our limited ability to say "yes" or ,no" to issues pertaining to our personal life and work. Power in itself is to be valued, for without some degree of power, I ab-dicate the gift of my :human freedom, as well as human responsibility. How- ~everi power becomes detrimental when other human persons become ob-jects of my . personal project and desires. Then my power infringes upon their human freedom, and can become a destructive force. When this hap-pens, power, becofiaes an ultimate value for me, one by which I hope to gain some prestige and security, thereby repressing my own inner insecurity. '~ Religious men and women who vow obedience within our power-oriented world are reminders that human power, like the values of pleasure and possession, is not an ultimate value; that in light of my personal love relationship with my Lord, power is relative. For to be seduced by God means that ! allow him to have power over me. It implies that I grow in my ability to become attentive to his will, and become increasingly sensitive to his demands and desires. Our' love relationship assures me of his con-stant care and concern for me, In the security of his love, I discover the space to grow in the awareness that what he asks of me through the 'persons, events and situationg that enter into my life each day, is the concretization of his will for me at this time in my life,r Just as he speaks to me through~these realities that exist outsid ,myself, so too, he speaks through the reality that I myself am. His presence can be discovered in and through my possibilities and my limits, my desires and ¯ ambitions, my physical and emotional strengths and weaknesses. All that ¯ I am is my Lord's gift to me, a gift through which he speaks his word. Paul tells us that our deepest self is hidden in Christ, Part of our 10ve-re- ':For a further development of obedience as listening, refer to van Kaam, The VoCved LiIe; pp.'q57-169. '- Reflections on Vowed l,iving / 363 lationship then, demands that I be true to that deephst self, created in the image and likeness of .my Lord himself. To obey my deepest self, to submit myself to other persons, to events and situations demands a love so strong, that I am willing to empty myself of my desire, for total power over my own life, to accept in loving faith, that my Lord does indeed reveal himself through other creatures. In such a love, I can'.gradually loosen my grip on my own life, and slowly begin to listen more openly to persons, events, situations, both within my community and within the culture, as messengers of his divine will for me. In this loving openness, I am gradually freed from a slavish attachment to my feelings, my views, my opinions, my ideas, because I allow myself to be enriched by those of others. Recognizing the presence of my Lord in and through persons and events outside myself is difficult and challenging. For unconsciously, I tend to be-lieve that I know what is best for me. I tend to believe that what 1 know to be best for me is the concrete expression of the Lord's will in my life. How can otherpersons, each limited as I am, reveal to me anything of God's will? Such thoughts gradually close me in on my own thinking, my own ideas and opinions, somewhat like a snail closed-in in its shell. Uncon-sciously, I make myself like God, giving myself ultimate power over my life. Only in love can I gradually transcend my self-centered God-like atti-tude, and slowly begin to recognize my Lord's will for me as expressed in and through all of creation persons, events, situations.and things. In love, I discover the strehgth to die daily to my own will, in order to allbw my Lord's will to live and to be express~ed in and th.rough the limited human person that I am. Thus, every person who enters into my life, as well as everything that happens in my life becomes an integral part of my~ personal sacred history with my Lord. Conclusion ¯ A~' I reflect upon vowed living within the context of my personal love relationship with God, I can begin to see my vows as gifts which invite me to a continual deepening of this love relationship. For no longer is God a distant Spirit imposing upon me the obligations of the vows; rather, He be-comes Someone for me, someone real and personal inviting me to an ever ,deeper intimacy with °him through the sacred bond of my vows. As this intimacY deepens, I grow in the awareness of my need for him. I cannot live my vows on my own strength; I need to rely on his power. Paul tells us that "We possess this treasure in earthen vessels, to make it clear that its surpassing power comes from God and not from us" (2 Co 4:7). In hu-man terms, my vowed life makes no sensi~; it is foolishness in the eyes of men. Moreover, on the human levd alone, ].am unable to live such a way of life. It is delicate, fragile and vulnerable; ever exposed to the opposition of my own human nature and of controversial forces in our world. 364 / Review ]or Religious, I/olume 36, 1977/3 Living my vows becomes possible only through the centrality of my per: sonal love relationship with my Lord. In that love, I am graced with the strengtl~ and power, to re~spond to his constant invitation to enter into the self-emptying process. Our Lord is a jealous God who wants to possess me totally. He promises in return, to fill my emptiness with his loving presence. Each call to self-emptying is an invitation to die to some aspect of my old ~self; my needy self, constantly in search of the security of human power, pleasure and possession. However, this death is but a means of leading me to a life of deeper intimacy with him. It is a death c.alling me constantly to the new and deeper freedom of love. Each day of my life, he seduces me, calling me t6 a.morb personal" rela-tionship with him. Each day of my life, I must allow myself to be seduced-- to give him love for love, relying on his strength and his power. This call is a daily challenge, the challenge of living my "yes" to him. Am I willing to follow him all the way; ever open to i:laily situations as so many con-crete opportunities .for deepening my love through consecrated celibate .love, through self-emptying poverty and through freeing obedience? Now Available As A Reprint, ¯ Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing One's Memories with Christ by David J. Hassel, S.J. Address: Price: $.60 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Toward Further Self-Definition William F, Hogan, C.S~C. Father Hogan is an Assistant General and General Procurator of his congregation'. His last article in these pages, "Communily Reconsidered," appeared in the September; 1976 issue. He resides Via Framura, 85; 00168 Roma, Italy. In' Per]ectae Caritatis the Fathers of Vatican II told us that it serves the best interests of the (~hur~h for religious institutes to have their own special character.and purpose. Thus, the spirit of founders and all the particular goals and traditions that constitute the patrimony of each religious institute should be recognized and safeguarded (See 'PC 2,,b). This statement oc-casioned a flurry of activity in some religious communities to start research-ing their traditions to ,.confirm again the self-definition of each community, and to stir up interest in the spirit of their founders. In many instances this activity has bo~ne fruit in that the religious have been put more'clearly in touch with their particular roots and have slowly effected,some changes of direction in their life and apostolic stance. In other institutes, the spurt of renewed interest subsided almost as fast as it. began, especially in those congregations in which nothing particularly unique seemed to stand out. The call to discover the uniqueness of one's heritage is being reasserte~i in the proposed new text of the law for instittitesof the consecrated,life; for those who have framed the proposed text have taken very seriously the mandate of Vatican II about' preserving,the patrimony of each religious in-stitute. Instead of drawing up legislation to cove'r all the points on religious life in a uniform way, as th( present law in. good part does, they are pro-posing general principles of Jaw within which each institute is to draw up its particular norms in accordance with its own traditions. By taking such a direction, the new law, if it be approved,, will be inviting and requiring of religious greater efforts at community self-understanding and self-definition. In order to meet this demand, it will be necessary for members of religious 365 366 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 institutes, and in particular members of general chapters, to develop a re-fined awareness of the founder's charism, the continuing charisms of the congregation as expressed into traditions and in its spiritual and apostolic heritage, a clear sense of where the institute has been in the past, where it is in the present and where the legacy of the founder and the traditions of the community are pointing for the future. That there is still a widespread need for further self-understanding and self-definition is becoming apparent from the various interim constitutions and position papers of religious institutes. Prior to the decree on renewal of religious life (Ecclesiae sanctae, August 6, 1966) and the directive to revise constitutions, the legislation of religious institutes had a remarkable sameness because constitutions had to conform to the ~Norms of 1901 and the subsequent rules of the Sacred Congregation, promulgated in 1921, which, had to be followed in seeking approbation for the texts of new constitutions. Today a new similarity is emerging, although it bears little resemblance to the primarily legal approach of the pre-sixties. The present-day "sameness of texts" appears to be rooted~in the fact that religious in-stitutes have followed the" lead of the council and gone back to the gospel roots of religious !ife, t0_us considering it as flowing out of the baptismal commitment. As -a result of this important emphasis on religious life in the context of the gospei and of bap~tism, underscoring, as it does, the.thorough-ly Christian nature of religious life, frequently the same scriptural and conciliar texts are cited. And in the process of situating the religious insti-tute in its proper ecclesial and Christian context,.little, or at least, insufficient stress,,~.is placed 6n those particular ways in which the founder wished to emphasize the gospel message and on those facets of. the Christ-life revealed through the Spirit's activity in his or her life and mission. Generally speak-ing, all religious have~'been very conscious of the need to express religious life in terms of a broad ecclesial vision and to avoid any instances of the exaggerated c~ngregationai emphasis~that may have closed them in on them-selves in the past. But in meeting, this issue, they may be.losing sight of that part of their contribution to the life of the Church which consists in positively developing their particular heritage. There is ~no reason why there cannot be harmony and balance between .the ecclesial and the peculiarly congregational elements, and thus a clearer understanding of the role of a particular .religious institute in the Church. For some religious institutes it may be rather difficult to grasp the unique-ness of their heritage, especially if they have been founded since the 1800's, when many congregations came to birth under the ~inspiration of. the Spirit ¯ to meet particular needs in some specific geographic area, and have pat-terned themselves on-other, already existi.ng congregations. But even in such instances, there.may well exist a uniqueness of insight and emphasis fr6m the founder, the early members and the riches that have accumulated~from the various religious over the years--spiritual, intellectual, apostolic riches that Toward Further Sel[-Definition / 367 constitute the legacy, of the congregation. It is these factors that will have to be borne in mind in delineating the norms of law for the congregation' today, and that will yiel'd the necessary self-understanding of the religious institute. Religiou,s today often have recalled in liturgies or at congregational gatherings concerned with community and plurality the celebrated text from the_ first epistle to the Corinthians: 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 . . . (I Co 12:4ff,). And similarly from Ephesians: ~And his gifts were that some should be apogtles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers in roles of service for the faithful to build up, the body of Christ. till we become one in faith and in the knowl-edge of God's Son, and form that perfect man who is Christ come to lull stature (Ep 4:11-13). The't~exts in themselves obviously speak of individual gifts of the Spirit to the Church; but in the modern context they can well'remind us of the diversity of gifts and charisms within the categories of the traditional gifts in the Church. If religious life itself is a gift of the Spirit to the Church, as the Church teaches, then even more precisely is the religious life of a particular institute a special gift of the Spirit to the Church for the building up of the Church. And the religious of the institute should seek to fathom the gift in all its particular aspects. The° gifts of diverse religious institutes to the Church reflect the many-faceted splendor of the Father's love for his peo-ple. Our response to that love should reflect the facets of that love as these are particularized in our institutes and their heritage.- To continue to reflect on and search out the heritage'of a religious in-stitute demands the continued expenditure of psychological energy. Yet many religious are tired of devoting their energies~this way, especially in view of the crying needs of mankind ~hom they are called to serve. The self-definition and self-understanding being requested of them may no longer be seen as a value worth pursuing. It cannot be denied that there are many demands on religious today, and they must~become ~selective in which de-mands they will meet. But in developihg personal and ~ollective criteria for responding to demands, religious must not forget.that the time and effort spent in self-understanding and self-definition is~ultimatelyfor the sake of greater and more meaningful service to others and for the building up of the life of the Church. The deeper the unde.rstand!ng of the call of the Spirit .,to the founder and those who have come after him, the deeper and more intense could be the response. And the growth in appreciation of the gift Of the Spirit that is a particular religious institute contributes to growth in wonder and appreciation of the gift that is Church. 368 / Review Jor Religious, Volume "36, 1977/3 . If the proposed direction of the new law for institutes of the conse-crated life is adopted in the Church, religious could be the richer spiritually for what it will necessitate in terms of further self-definition. But if the easier, more .comfortable path is followed of just latching on to that which is familiar, without serious examination of roots and traditibns, then the opportunity for seizing onto the uniqueness of God's gift of the particular institute will be lost. Every religious group was called into being because of a unique need in 'the Church. The continuance and growth of'institutes is suppo~sed to be .in terms of their umque contributions to the life of the Church and the world. This uniqueness is born of the special love of God for the founder and those who have succeeded the founder with the passage of time, all unique persons, who, in sharing life and ministry together, should be creating a unique response to God, the Church and the world. We need to know exactly where our insl, itutes are "new" in terms of this uniqueness, how we have arrived at this point through our traditions and history, and the best steps to promote ot~r response within a thoroughly Christian and ec-clesial religious life for the future. The Church's renewed call to the dis-covery of uniqueness deserves a serious answer if we value the gifts of God that are our institutes. ~ The Pregnancy The cloistered life within her sends the fire that burns her cheek-- Nature's proud assertion; Life's excited'glow; The insuppressible, open declaration Of yesterday's.creation and tomorrow's warm embrace. A compliant constitution accommodates her child--~ Time's prodigy care~ering toward release From cell to self so he may show his face And state in gurgled language instinctive gratitude. Never more important or more vital to another; ~ Linked by blood and substance in protracted intimacy O~f singular and enviable duration-- A high point in the human testament of love. A legacy for embattled man to learn from-- Acceptance, peace, surrender of one's self, Belief'in time hnd patience that reveals The unfathomable restoration of life's fragments in a soul. Donald DeMarco St. Jerome's College Waterloo, Ontario N2L _3G3 Canada Chapter Delegate" Qualities and R esponsi bi I iti es Robert Morneau Father Morneau is an Instructor of Philosophy at Silver Lake College; Manitowoc, WI 54220~ The significance of general chapters of religious communities cannot be overstressed. The responsibility of providing and sustaining a vision, the challenge to be true to the gospel while preserving the uniqueness of the community's special charism, the mandate to read the signs of the times and yet have a universal sensitivity, all demand diligent work and competent deliberators. This article is an attempt to describe some of the qualifies in-herently crucial to the fulfillment of the above challenges and to specify areas of responsibility following upon election as a delegate to a general chapter. Essentially what is being offered is a job description, a delineation ot~ the functions of a trusted steward, The thesis of this article is that a chapter delegate is called to be a dialogical person, a prophetic person, and a wounded healer.' / Delegate: A Dialogical Person God our Father is a God of revelation. In the precious mystery of his grace, he has chosen to reveal himself and his gracious love to mankind. Throughout history God .has communicated with his people, calling all crea-tion to life and fidelity. As a diaiogical God, he longs to speak his love and forgiveness; he searches out those who will listen and respond to his word. ~The image of wounded healer is taken from Henri J. M. Nouwen's book by the same title. 369 370 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 God has spoken and told us where he is and who he is. We are called to imitate our Father: "Try, then, to imitate God, as children of his that he loves. " (Ep 5: ! ); we do this from one perspective by becoming dialogi-cal persons. Our model is the Father who shares himself with us in word and sacrament. The qualities of a dialogicai person are many; we will limit our con-sideration to three essential attitudes that must be present if authentic com-munication is to happen. The first and perhaps most difficult quality of a dialogical person is listening. Monologues are terribly common in life; empty, one-sided discourses in which no one is listening and probably no one is thinking. Dialogue demands attentive listening, feeling behind the words into the reality being expressed. This type of listening is concerned not with simple, audible comprehension but with a compassionate desire to enter into the world of the speaker to see what has been seen, to hear what has been given. An example of this sensitive listening can be found in Tolstoy's classic War and Peace: He told of these adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was tell-ing it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has when women listen to him--not clever women who when listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their own little mental workshop--but the pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself. Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word, not a single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in his face, nor a single gesture. ~ She caught the unfinished word in its flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.'-' If a delegate is to truly listen, there must be some degree of interior silence.Turning off the inner engines is difficult and demands discipline, yet so necessary if the message is to be understood and the feelings are to o be appreciated. C. S. Lewis expressed well our dilemma: "Inner silence is for our race a difficult achievement.":' To obtain this silence we must deal with our own fears, insecurities and prejudices. These tendencies block lis-tening, put us into the land of defensiveness and create a sense of being threatened. Secure in our forts, with drawbridge raised and the moat filled with crocodiles, we protect ourselves from new ideas, visions and possibili-ties. Again C. S. Lewis drives home the point: "He could never empty, or silence, his own mind to make room for an alien thought.''~ A chapter dele- "Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, tr. by Louise and Aylmer Maude. (New York, 1942), p. 1241. By permission of the Oxford University Press. :'C. S. Lewis, Perelandra (New York, 1944), p. 140. 4C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (New York, 1955), p. 184. Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 371 gate must listen and discern. Electing a nondialogical person to a chapter is like inviting a deaf person to a concert or taking someone who is blind to an art museum. Neither experience nor growth is possible if essential capaci-ties are lacking~ Listening is essential to dialogue. A second quality of a dialogical person is trust. In an essay written in 1952, Martin Buber stated: "But here is an essential presupposition for all this dialogue: it is necessary to overcome the massive distrust in others and also that in ourselves.''~ If Buber's observation is correct, and there seems to be sufficient evidence to,verify his reflection, we have a lot of growing to do. We must reestablish trust in others and in ourselves. H~opefully, we will gr~aund our trust on the theological fact that God has faith and trust in us. He has given us freedom and intelligence, blessed us with insight and grace. We are his stewards entrusted to do his work in our times. Sensing this, a delegate must come to a radical trust in his own personal insight and conviction. This trust must then be extended to others who are also on the journey searching for truth and goodness. Nothing breaks down communica-tion so quickly as distrust; it hardly pays to initiate a discussion unless there is a solid degree of self-confidence and a climate of confidence in others. Buber, quoting Robert Hutchins, writes: "The essence of the Civiliza-tion of the Dialogue is communication. This presupposes mutual respect and understanding, it does not presuppose agreement.'"; Our trust in self and others must be supplemented with respect and the ability to understand. It would be profitable for delegates to spend some time critically reading Emerson's essay "Self-Reliance" and Howe's The Miracle o[ Dialogue. Desire ]or truth is a third quality of the dialogical person. A longing for insight and perspective characterizes the mind and heart of a truth-seeker. Like an ink blotter, this type of person quickly and completely absorbs truth wherever it presents 'itself. Desire for truth means being in contact with facts (hard data). There is no excuse for ignorance; the homework must be done. Besides researching and interpreting facts, truth demands contact with basic principles, those patterns of meanings which explain and eluci-date reality. Experience and reflection are prerequisites here. Besides dealing with facts and principles, desire for truth calls for the basic disposition mani-festing a willingness to change and grow. Regardless of who speaks a "pagan" philosopher, a formed provincial, a member in one's local commur nity, a poet--the searcher for truth listens and evaluates. So often God is speaking through these and other historical channels. If the search is honest, change will be demanded; certain, pet ~:ategories will be dropped and new ones added (e.g., collegiality) ; treasured prejudices must be let go and open-ness of mind fostered; static, rigid formulations must be reexamined in the :'Martin Buber, "Hope for This Hour;" quoted in Maurice S. Friedman, ed., Pointing the Way (New York, 1974), p. 222. ~;ibid., p. 222. 372 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 light of new research and insight. The process is painful and not without its victims but this is the price of honest discipleship. If a chapter delegate is called to imitate God by being a dialogical per-son characterized by attentive listeniiag, deep trust and a desire for truth, several responsibilities automatically arise. (1) A chapter delegate must be available to the people he represents. The thinking, feeling and life-style of his ~onstituency must be familiar material to the delegate. The duty of being available is not without its price: time and energy, precious and limited commodities, must be sacrificed in fulfilling this obligation. (2) A chapter delegate must be able to make distinctions. Meriol Trevor, in her biography of Cardinal Newman, wrote concerning Ft. Faber: "He would never dis-tinguish between disapproval and dislike; he himself always spoke of hating people who disagreed with him and he could not believe others were differ-ent.'' r This type of person should not be allow~id to be in the arena of policy making. One must be able to know and experience the difference between understanding and agreeing, between a person and an issue, between an idea and its emotive force. Chapters in which such distinctions are consistently made result in community growth and peace. (3) A chapter delegate must be willing to speak during the chapter proceedings. Some eloquent (and not so eloquent) discourses on stairways and in other private areas would be more profitably shared with the. entire group. There 'is no excuse for devastating criticisms made outside the halls of the chapter room and silence reigning within. As a general principle no one should say outside of chapter what he is not willing to say to the whole group. A delegate is mandated to speak out, to take a stance, to express points of view. If this is done with respect and in the spirit of truth, there should be tittle to fear. Merton's insight is helpful: "Ignorance is the parent of fear.''~ Our talk should flow from our study and reflection on life. Delegate: A Prophetic Person Jesus was a prophet. The study of Scripture verifies this fact and. further points out that throughout the Old Testament the Father sent prophets on special missions. Jesus' mission was unique and yet contained the basic in-gredients of those who preceded him: to reveal who the Father was and also to provide the means whereby people might return to the Father. Like Christ, the chapter delegate is missioned. This "being sent" comes through the community and the task flowing from this mission resembles that of all the prophets. The booklet Spiritual Renewal o[ the American Priesthood describes the prophet in these terms: The prophet's function was to perceive the presence or absence of God in situations and to point out the consequences of that presence or absence. A 7Meriol Trevor, Newman: Light in Winter (New York, 1963), p. 86. ,'Sotlrce unknown. Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 373 prophet had to know contemporary issues, but even more, he had to be sensi-tive to the mind and will of God.:' In the context of this prophetic role, certain traits clearly emerge that would characterize a chapter delegate. The first of these is sensitivity. This sensitivity must embrace the three sectors of time: the past with its treasures and cultural limitations, the present with its high ideals and ambiguous facts, the future with its plans and realistic hopes. It is possible and often happens in life that we eat but do not taste, read but do not comprehend, listen but do not hear. Historical insensitivity cannot be excused; we must be in touch with our roots and our traditions. Unless carefully nurtured, this sensitivity can be lost. Sensitivity demands that we perceive what is happen- .ing here and now; that we enter in or are caught up by the present moment. This is not just a cognitive apprehension, since it necessarily includes an affective involvement~ The future will be basically meaningless if we do not avoid the tragedy of lost sensitivity written of by Hopkins: Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wear man's smudge and shares man's smell; the soul ls bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.~° It is time once again to take off our shoes/' to be sensitive to our world, to our people, to our deepest self. A sense of reverence, awe and wonder is much needed in our merry-go-round world. Prophets are, of necessity, courageous people. If Emerson is correct in saying that "God will not make himself manifest to cowards,''r-' then the V~rtue of fortitude takes on added importance in fostering the kingdom. Among the courageous people in history, St. Paul has been honored in a special way: ¯ . . But the big courage is the cold-blooded kind, the kind that never lets go even when you're feeling empty inside, and your blood's thin, and there's no kind of fun or profit to be had, and the trouble's not over in an hour or two but lasts for months and years. One of the men here was speaking about that kind, and he called it 'Fortitude.' I reckon fortitude's the biggest thing a man can have--just to go on enduring when there's no guts or heart left in you. Billy h~id' it when he trekked solitary from. Garungoze to the Limpogo with ~This booklet, edited by Gerard Broccolo and Ernest E. Larkin, O. Carm., was pub-lished in 1973 by the Publications Office of the United States Catholic Conference ( 1312 Massachusetts Avenue, N.W., WashingtoniDC 20005). ~'~Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God's Grandeur." ~V'Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes-- The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries." Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Aurora Leigh." I~Ra!ph Waldo Emerson, "The Over-Soul." 374 / Review lot Religious, ~'olume 36, 1977/3 fever and a broken arm just to show the Portugooses that he wouldn't be downed by them.,But the head man at the job was the Apostle Paul . 1:~ Courage helps us to deal,with two tendencies that permeate human existence: the tendency to fear the unknown and the drive to flee spontaneously from any object of danger. "Fright and flight"14 can block us from experiencing reality to its fullest. Courage enables us ~to stand firm and fight when the situation calls for this type of response; courage enables us to die to our-s~ lves for the sake of life. A delegate, knowing well what happens to most prophets in history, will have to face many dangers and crosses. At times his courage will manifest itself in patient endurance (the most difficult type of courage), while at other times he will be called upon to pounce on evil.1'~ Whatever is not compatible with the gospel must be courageously ques-tioned; whatever is antihuman or subhuman must be diligently removed. Living courage is a great boon to the entire community, not just to the in-dividual exercising that gift. A third trait of the prophetic person, exemplified so clearly in the life of Jesus, is that of vision. A delegate is called upon to have a perspective of what religious life is, to be able to situate in their context contemporary. issues, to sense the interrelationship among such things as prayer, asceticism and the apostolate. The blind cannot lead; only a person with vision can point the way. If a guide has not been to a given territory or if he loses the map which would get him there by carefully reading, he is no longer an asset to the group which relies on him. The delegate without vision con-tributes little in the attempt to provide meaning and direction for the com-munity. Two dangers have always plagued a healthy perspective: myopia and ignorance. The first danger allows one to see, but only to the end of one's nose--not a terribly helpful overview. Ignorance, th~ second danger, can only result in a valley experience even though the voice of the ignorant leader be forceful, and filled with an apparent self-confidence. A number of responsibilities become obligatory for the prophetic dele-gate. (1) A chapter delegate must be informed. Study and researizh will be as necessary and as natural as breathing for such a person. There is no excuse for not being aware of contemporary issues, the movements of our present culture, the meaning and influence of history. The presence or absence of information is relatively easy to detect. (2) If a person is to.be attuned to the mind and heart of God, prayer is necessary. Special emphasis should be placed on scriptural prayer since it is God's word which illuminates our understanding of contemporary issues. If the porters at the chapter doors should bar the uninformed, they should be twice as diligent in barring l:~John Buchan, Mr. Stead[ast; quoted in C. H. Dodd, The Meaning o[ Paul/or Today (London, 1920), p. 7. ~4Rev. Kevin O'Shea, "Enigma and Tenderness," Spiritual Li]e, Spring, 1975. ~sSee the. excellent Thomistic treatment of the virtue of fortitude in Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues (Notre Dame, 1966), pp. 117-141. ,Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 375 a person who does not pray faithfully. (3) A chapter delegate should be a person of decision. Newman in his Apologia Pro Vita Sua states: "Certitude is a reflex action; it is to,know that one knows.""; Study and prayer should lead us to this type of certitude which in turn enables us to make serious decisions, even though there will always be some element of risk if not doubt. Another facet in this process of decision making is the,willingness to assume responsibility for the decisions made. Indecisive and irresponsible persons should not be elected to chapters. The duties of being informed, prayerful and decisive are not acquired in a day not even a week. Yet the delegat~ should be growing in each of these areas if the community is to be served well. Delegate: A Wounded Healer Jesus promised that when he had returned to the Father he would send their Spirit. That promise has been realized in all who have come to believe in the Lord. This Spirit is leading all back to the Father through Christ; this Spirit is a Spirit of love, joy and peace. Through the Holy Spirit, heal-ing and reconciliation happens in our world today. A great vision of unity found in Pauline theology becomes a reality to the extent that people are living the life of the Spirit. Yet this vision of unity is premised on the tragic fact and acute awareness that fragmentation permeates creation. Man is divided within himself and separated from his fellow man, his God, and his world. We are a wounded pe~ople, scarred and battered by our own sins and the sins of others. "Everything God has made has a crack in it.'''r Our voca-tion is to make all one in Christ, to reconcile all creation to the Father. The gift of the Spirit dwelling in the Church and in our personal lives enables us to begin this glorious and painful task. The delegate as wounded healer is distinguishable by a sense of deep compassion. Graced with the ability to perceive things from the inside, the compassionate person has a knowledge of the heart and not just of external activity. The secret of the fox18 is undoubtedly correct: "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." Compassion promotes our seeing what is truly significant;.it goes far beyond the inhuman limitations of our sensate culture. So often in Scripture, reference is made to the neces-sity of a new heart.':' God's word urges us to .grow in compassion and empathy. Insensitivity to the hurts and pains of others, even though these may be self-imposed, prevents the building of community. Compassion heals! Hopefully, every deli~gate has had the experience of being healed a6Early in his book Newmah writes, "In the first chapter of this narrative I spoke of certitude as the consequence, divinely intended and enjoined upon us, of the accumula-tive force of certain given reasons which, taken one by one, were only probabilities." lrRalph Waldo Emerson, "Compensation." lSAntoine de Saint Exupery, The Little Prince (New York, 1943). 1:'E.g., Jeremiah 31 : 31-34; Ezechiel 36:24-28. 376 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 through the heartfelt concern of others. Perhaps the task of the doctor applies to all of us: "sometimes to cure, often to alleviate, always to care.''z'' Compassion is care incarnated. The destructive force of nuclear warfare is so obvious that no on.e can deny its effects; less obvious but extremely powerful in the psychological realm is the prevalent killer called judgmentalism. A delegate must be a non~ judgmental person. This does not mean that one ceases making judgments, judgments which at times are sharp and painful. God has blessed us with reason and insight and we must ferret out the truth and the falsity of our lives and the life of the community. We cannot renege on our responsibility to find the truth and to speak it boldly. Judgmentalism, on the other hand, uses the faculty of reason but in an abusive way. Judgments are made, not on dis-cernible consequences, but on motives which cannot be verified. Evidence is wanting, yet persons are judged and insinuations are made. This type of iudgmentalism is characterized by intolerance (a demand that everyone live by my interpretation of religious life), a defensiveness and air of hostility, a lack of warmth and affability. A delegate, therefore, should have a delicate balance between tolerance of persons and intolerance of falsity; between respect for the individual and firmness in sticking to principles; between understanding the human condition and calling each other to growth. We come to realize that without the gift of the Spirit we cannot but fail in this stupendous task. Again we are helped in this area by realizing that we have been blessed in our personal histories with people who have refused to judge and condemn us, who have manifested an infinite patience in allowing us to grow through the stages of personal development. If we have been ~he object of judgmentalism, our experience should forever prevent us from venturing down that road of psychological and spiritual destructiveness. The word of God provides light for our pilgrimage. In the prophet Micah, we are challenged by the Father's woi~d: this is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly, to love tenderly and to walk humbly with your God.21 The call to justice, charity and faith is clear. Interestingly, spiritual love has the quality of tenderness, a-term which forcefully describes the manner in which we are to reach out to others in concern. It is possible to serve un-willingly, to meet needs because of duty, to heal out of necessity. This is neither sufficient nor healthy in an ultimate sense. God calls us to enter fully and generously into the lives of others. A tender love, a gentle con-cern, a warm respect characterize total love. Underlying this kind of love is the keen realization that human beings are terribly fragile. Indeed, "avalances gather force and crash, unheard, in men as in the mountains." "-'°America, May 1, 1976, p. 377. Paul Ramsey was quoted by the authors. '-'1Micah 6:8. Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 377 People with whom we live can be breaking apart inside without our aware-ness; a tender word and radical love can heal so many lives that are on the edge.of despair. A chapter delegate would benefit from reading Fr. Kevin O'Shea, especially his article "Enigma and Tenderness.''~ The chapter delegate, a wounded healer, is challenged to fulfill certain responsibilities in this area. (1) He must ]ace the negative in self, others and the world. A recent Cartoon showed a street cleaner lifting up the edge of a sidewalk under which he swept the city's debris. No healing can take place unless we honestly and courageously face that which is destructive within life. Exploitation and manipulation are too common to be ignored; these must be searched out and dealt with in a reasonable way. (2) He should ]ace the positive in self, community and the world. Just as dangerous as the rug syndrome is the denial of or unwillingness to recognize the vast potential waiting to be actualized in creation. Leadership qualities lie fallow because of fear; intellectual skills remain untapped because of a lack of .challenge; talents stay on shelves for want of affective nutrients. "Our in-tellectual and active powers increase with our affection.'"-':' The truly great person has the vision to perceive the gifts of others~ the truly great person has disciplined productivity and shares his love and life with others. The delegate must perceive and promote the gifts and talents given by the Lord. (3) He should rejoice in life. Nothing heals so quickly as genuine humor and authentic play. Joy is one of the signs of the Spirit's presence. It flows from an awareness of God's personal love and the gift of his life. Consoling Conclusion It is eminently unfair.to demand of a single individual the. multiple qualifications listed in the foregoing pag.es. Who could possibly fulfill the following want-ad posted on the community .bulletin board? WANTED!!! 25 people who are: !) dialogicai persons --who have deep capacity to listen, trust, learn --who are available, discerning, vocal 2) prophetic persons who are --sensitive, courageous, visionary --informed, prayerful, decisive 3) wounded healers who are --compassionate, non-judgmental, tender --realistic, joyful ~20'Shea, op. cit. ~:~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Friendship." 378 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Although applications might be filled out, no one person could qualify in every area. The first spiritual Olympics are yet to be held. Consolation comes from the fact that chapters are not made up of only one individual. Rather, they a~:e community affairs and the principle of complementarity comes inio play. What one lacks, 6thers have. The above job description is not so much one for individuals as it is for a community. Because of the blessing of pluralism, many communities could easily qualify. Tragic is the election in a community that allows a strong predominance of a single personality type. Once again, it is diversity ttiat leads to life; a di-versity grounded in concern for the kingdom. Beginnings Somewhe.re, in the night I hear you gathering pebbles for tomorrow's task.' Take care to slip a stir amidst the stones you gather; temples hold fast with dreams. Only a locust lurks in the wrinkled meadows, keeping company with the wheat that waits to be reaped by our tears. Together we will meet you at the altar when only the sound of bees will be heard preparing waxen sacrifices for your vacant vigil. Until then, I will be chanting antiphons in tune with your canticles. Sister Carole MacKenthun St. Mary Academy 250 Forest Ave., Lakewood, NI 08701 The "System" Side of Stewardship Gerald R. Amelse Mr. Amelse has been a church finance manager and consultant for sixteen years. He studied Accounting, Business Administration and Economics at The Catholic Univer-sity, the University Of Notre Dame, George Washington University and the University of Maryland. Culrently he is a partner of Calkins-Amelse Associates, which offers management services for non-profit organizations. His office is located at 4531 Pine-crest Heights Drive; Annandale, VA 22003. The widely publicized financial mishaps of several Catholic Church organi-zations in recent years have brought into question the quality of church financial management in general and of financial management in religious congregations in particular. Public attention has tended to focus on the caliber of the financial administrators and advisors involved in these cases rather than on the adequacy of the underlying systems of financial organi-zation, policies .and procedures in each instance. Responsible stewardship can result only when qualified administrators function within an appropriate financial management system. An unsound financial management system; in whole or in part, can be as inimical to responsible stewardship as unquali-fied administrators or advisors. A sound financial management system is equally important for religious congregations because of their changed environment. For several genera-tions, ~religious congregations in the United States enjoyed almost steady growth in membership, resources, activities .and facilities. Now, however, total memberships are static, if not in actual decline; new needs, such as retirem6nt, are making additional claims on already limited resources, and the maintenance of much needed apostolic acti~,itie's and institutions is be-coming increasingly more difficult. Financial management systems developed and used during previous generations may have been adequate in an era 379 380 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 of growth. The present environment, however, requires a system that will improve the ability of a congregation to meet~ increasing internal and apostolic needs with limited and declining resource potential. The exercise of responsible stewardship today calls for clear financial organization, appropriate financial policies, and sound budgeting, account-ing and reporting procedures. Church leaders should be concerned about the adequacy of' their organization's financial management system and anxious to improve it in each of the following areas: Financial Organ&ation A congregation's financial organization is the structure of its formal decision-making positions, the relationships between those positions, and the lines of their accountability. Besides the standard positions (treasurer, controller, and so forth) a congregation's financial organization should also identify the individuals responsible for specific programs, projects, activities and departments, and clearly define their respective roles, relationships and lines of accountability. Lack of clarity in a congregation's financial organi-zation can easily lead to flawed communications, loss of direction, duplica-tion of effort, and wastefulness in the exercise of responsible stewardship. Financial Policies A policy is a definite course or method of action, selected from .among alternatives and in light of given conditions, to guide and determine present and future decisions. Without a comprehensive set of clear financial policies, officials and administrators ~i'e, in effect, more or less free to make financial decisions according to their individual discretion rather than according to previously approved courses of action. The four major sources of financial policies for a religious congregation are: Church law, norms and guidelines; the congregation's own rule and constitution; formal enactments of the congregation,s governing body; and day-to-day operating decisions. It is the responsibility of the congregation's governing body, however, to have a summary of financial policies prepared and periodically to review and approve it. Budgeting The budget is a congregation's principal financial planning tool. The long-range planning aspect of a budget (i.e., two or more years') should identify the congregation's future sources" and uses of funds, project the amounts of revenue anticipated from each identified source and project the amounts of expenditures required for each identified use. The short-range aspect (i.e., month, quarter, year) should detail the estimated ex-penditures for each proposed program, project, activity and department, and itemize the specific means of financing the expenditures. Since the objective of a budget is the development of a financial plan, it The "System" Side o[ Stewardship / 381 is necessary to begin the budgeting process with information about the programs, projects, activities and departments which the congregation is planning for the coming year(s). Information on past performance is an importarit input to the budgeting process, but relying too heavily on ac-counting data and financial reports (which are historical in character) can create the danger that.a congregation's budget will reflect more what has happened in the past rather than what the congregation wants to happen in the future. Clear financial organization is essential for sound budgeting. A budget can not be completely useful as a planning tool until the individuals re-sponsible for each program, project, activity and department have been identified and their responsibility for performance against the plan and budget has been accepted by them. Furthermore, budgets that are prepared without the participation of the persons responsible for directing specific programs, projects, activities and departments are generally weak as plan-ning tools. Program, project, activity and d~epartments heads can not be expected to comprehend fully, agree with or conform to a financial plan in which they did not participate in developing. Accounting ~nd Reporting The financial statements of religious congregations are meant to provide superiors, administrators, members and other interested parties with a mean-ingful summarization of the congregation's overall financial condition as well as the operating results of its programs, projects, activities and ~depart-merits. In order to achieve this purpose more effectively, congregations should introduce both "fund" and "functional" accounting procedures into their basic accounting systems. A fund is a sum of money or other resource, set aside for a specific pur-pose acc~ording to restrictions imposed either by the intent of the donor or" by regulation of the congregation's officials~ Grants, annuities and endow-ments are examples of funds whose uses are restricted by the intent of the donor. A retirement fund is an example of money set aside for a specific purpose by regulation of the congregation's officials. The significant char-acteristic of fund accounting is that it classifies and records the financial transactions within each fund--assets, liabilities, receipts, disbursements and fund balances--according to the specified restrictions. Functional accounting records expenses according to specific programs, projects, activities and departments, and reports this information to the administrators directly responsible for these functions. This procedure im-proves expense control and also provides a practical basis for realistically evaluating the allocation and use of the congregation's limited resources. A congregation could be led' tO revamp its finanEial plans of action when confronted with financial information that enables a comparison of pro-gram, project, activity and department ~osts with their intended results. 3a2 / Review jot Religious, lZolume 36, 1977/3. oaelusion Financial organization, policies and procedures are not the only aspects of responsible stewardship. They are, nonetheless, essential elements of-sound financial management and control. Any congregation that finds its present management system to be somewhat inadequate should obtain qualified assistance to help review and strengthen it wherever necessary. REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits by J. R. Sheets, S.J. .50 Retirement or Vigil by B. Ashley, O.P. .30 The Confessions of Religious Women by St. M. Denis, S.O.S. 30 The Four Moments of Prayer by J. R. Sheets, S.J. .50 The Healing of Memories by F. Martin .35 The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat by H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 The Teaching Sister in the Church by E. Gambari, S,M.M. .30 The Thepiogy of the Eucharistic Presence by J. Galot, S~J. .30 The Vows and Christian Life by G. Greif, S.J. .30 New Reprints Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet by M. B. Pennington, O.C.S.O . 50 Colloquy of God With a Soul That Truly Seeks Him .30 Prayer of Personal Reminiscence by D. J. Hassel, S.J. 60 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 No. Gra

Issue 33.5 of the Review for Religious, 1974. ; Review lot 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 ~) 1974 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; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor September 1974 Volume 33 Number 5 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, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. Papal Bull Holy Year Proclaiming the Paul VI Given below is the English translation of Paul VI's Bull proclaiming the Holy Year that will begin on Christmas Eve, 1974. The translation is that which appeared in the English edition of Osservatore romano. Paul, servant of the servants of God, to all the faithful: Health and apostolic blessing. As the universal jubilee to be celebrated in Rome approaches, the memorials of the Apostles shine forth more brightly for the faithful as the goal of pilgrimage--the holy places of Rome where the tombs of the Apostles Peter and Paul are worthily preserved and religiously venerated, those "holy fathers" through whom the ~ity became not only the "diSciple of truth" but also the teacher of truth1 and the center of Catholic unity. Down the centuries, these memorials have always impelled the Chris-tian people to be fervent in their faith and to testify to ecclesial communion. This is so because the Church recognizes her identity and the cause of her unity in the foundation laid .by Jesus Christ, namely, the Apostles." From as early as the second century the faithful came to Rome to see and venerate the "trQphies" of the Apostles Peter and Paul in those very places where they are preserved,:' and they. made pilgrimages to the church of Rome to contemplate her "regal dignity."4 In the fourth century the pilgrimage to 1See St. Leo the Great, Sermon 82, 1 : PL 54, 422. ZSee Rev 21 : 14. 3See the testimony of Gaius, an ecclegiastic of the time of Pope Zephrynus, as given in Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica, II,25,7. 4See the inscription of Abercius, bishop of Hierapolis in Phrygia at the end of the second century; the text and translation is given in M. Guarducci, "L'iscrizione di Abercio," Ancient Society, v. 2 (1971), pp. 176-7. 993 994 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 Rome became in the West the principal form of that kind of religious journey. It was similar to, and had the same religious purpose as, the pil-grimage which was made in the East to Jerusalem where the Lord's sepulchre is found? In the early Middle Ages, those who were "linked to the Chair of Peter,'''~ and those who wished to make a profession of their orthodox faith at the tombs of the Apostles,; especially monks, came off pilgrimage to Rome from various parts of Europe and even from the East. The idea of a pilgrimage increased further from the 12th to the 13th century, becoming all the more common by reason of a renewal of spirituality and popular piety which spread throughout Europe at that time. This renewal served to enrich the ancient notion which the Church received from tradition and which was equally 1~o be found in other religions, namely, the concept of a "pilgrimage undertaken for the love ot~ God.''s The jubilee year originated in this way; it was as it were the result of a maturing process in the doctrinal; Biblical and theological fields.:' It emerged plainly for the first time in the year 1220 when our predecessor Honorius III proclaimed a jubilee.year for pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Thomas ~ Becket.1° Later, as is well known, pilgrims came to Rome to the basilicas of St. Peter and St. Paul, in the great popular and penitential movement of the year 1300, a movement confirmed by our predecessor Boniface VIII.11 This was marked by a longing to obtain pardon from God and peace among men. The move-ment was directed to this very lofty motive: "the glory of God and the exaltation of the faith.''1~ The Roman Jubilee of 1300 was the beginning and the pattern for those which have followed (every 25 years from the, 15th century onwards, except when the series was interrupted by extraneous circumstances). This is an indication of the continuity and vitality v~hich have always confirmed the relevance of this venerable institution for every age. It is correct to say that the jubilees celebrated in recent times have pre- ~See St. Maximus of Turin, Homily 72: PL 57, 405b. GThe expression is found in a letter of St. Columban to Pope Boniface IV in 613: Sancti Columbani opera ed. G. S. M. Walder (Dublin, 1957), p. 48. rConcerning this custom see F. M. Mignanti, lstoria della sacrosanta Basilica Vaticana (Rome/Turin, 1867), p. 180. 8See in general B. Kotting, Peregrinatio religiosa: Wall]ahrten in der Antike und das Pilgerwesen in der Alten Kirche (Regensburg, 1950). ~R. Foreville, "L'id6e de jubil6 chez les th6ologiens et les canonistes (XII-XIII s.) avant l'institution du Jubil6 Romain (1300)," Revue d'histoire eccl~siastique, v. 56 (1961), pp. 401-23. 10p. Pressuti, Regesta Honorii 1H (Rome, 1888-95), p. 1840; the text is given in R. Foreville, "Le Jubil6 de saint Thomas b. Becket du XIII au XV sii~cle (1220-1470)," Etudes et documents (Paris, 1958), pp. 163-4. alBull, Antiquorum habet fida relatio, dated February 22, 1300: Extravagantes Comm. V,IX, I. ~zSee the gloss of Cardinal Giovanni Monaco on the same bull. Papal Bull Proclaiming the Holy Year / 995 served this outstanding value whereby the unity and renewal of the Church aCe affirmed in a special way and allmen are encouraged to recognize one another as brothers and to walk in the path of peace. Such a desire was manifested at the beginning of this century when our predecessor Leo XIII proclaimed' the jubilee year in 1900. The human family was~ filled with the same hopes and expectations when, a,quarter of a century later, afflicted by grave ,dangers and contention, 'it awaited the Holy Year of 1925. These were proposed for the special Holy Year of 1933 on the occasion of the 19th centenary of the redemption. The same noble aspirations for justice and peaceful coexistence among men were put forward by Pius" XII for the last jubilee, in the year 1950. I It seems to us that in the'present Holy Year all the principal and im-portant motives of the previous jubilees are present and expressed in sum-mary form in the .themes that we ourself laid down in our discourse of May 9, 1973 when we first announced ,the Holy Year: renewal and reconcilia-tion. a:~ We have offered these themes for the reflection of pastors and faithful, particularly during the anticipated celebration of the jubilee in local churches, and we have.added to them our exhortations and our catechesis. But the aspirations that the two themes enunciate and the lofty ideals that they express ~vill find a more complete realization in Rome, where pilgrims to the tombs of the Apostles Peter and Paul and to the memorials of the other martyrs will come into more ready contact with the ancient sources of the Church's faith.and life, in order to be converted by repentance, strengthened in charity, hnd united more closely with their brethren by the grace of God. Thi~ renewal and reconciliation pertain in the first place to the interior life, above all because the root of all good and, unfortunately of all evil, is found in the depths of the heart. It is in the depths of the heart therefore that conversions of metanoia must take place, that is, a change of direction, of attitude, of option, of one's way of life. But also for the Church as a whole, ten years after the end of the Second Vatican Council we view the Holy Year as the ending of a period of reflection and reform arid the beginning of a new phase of building up in the theological, spiritual, and pastoral spheres, to be developed on the foundations laboriously laid down and consolidated during the past years; in accordance with the principles of new life in Christ and of the communion of all men in Him who reconciled us to the Father by His blood,a~ For the whole w~arld this call to renewal and reconciliation is in harmony a3See Paul VI, "Allocution Announcing the Plans for a 1975 Holy Year," May 9, 1973: AAS, v. 65 (1973), pp. 322-5. 14See 2 Cor 5:18-20; Rm 5:10. 996 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 with the most sincere aspirations for freedom, justice, unity, and peace that we see wherever men become aware of their most serious problems and suffer from the mishaps produced by divisions and fratricidal wars. With the message of the Holy Year, therefore, the Church wishes to indicate to all men of good will- the vertical dimension of life that ensures reference of all aspirations and experiences to an absolute and truly universal value, without which it is vain to hope that mankind will once more find a point of unification and a guarantee of true freedom. Even though it is charac-teristic of many sectors of modern society to assume secuIar forms, the Church, without interfering in matters which do not come within her competence, nevertheless wishes to impress on men the need to be con-verted to God who alone is necessary,a5 and to imbue all their actions with fear and love of Him. For faith in God is the most powerful safeguard of the human conscience and is the solid foundation of those relationships of justice and brotherhood the world yearns for. The pilgrimage to Rome by representatives of all the local churches, both pastors and people, will therefore be a sign of a new process of conversion and brotherly reconciliation. As the minister of the word and of the grace of reconciliation, we respond to this sign of the interior dispositions of the pilgrims and of the renewed resolve of the Christian people whom they represent, by imparting the gift of the jubilee indulgence, insofar as we are able, to all the pilgrims who come to Rome and to all those who, though prevented from making the journey, accompany them in spirit. II It is well known from the Church's very ancient custom that the indul-gence attached to many penitential practices was granted in a special way as a gift on the occasion of pilgrimages to the places sanctified by the life, passion, and resurrection of our Savior Jesus Christ and by the confession of the Apostles. Today, too, we associate ourself with that venerable tradition, according to the principles and norms that we have ourself laid down in the apostolic constitution Indulgentiarum doctrina~'; and which we wish to recall briefly at this point. Since Christ is our "justice" and, as has been fittingly said, our "indul-gence," we, as the humble minister of Christ the Redeemer, .willingly extend a share in the gift of the indulgence~in accordance with the Church's tradi-tion- to all the faithful who, through a profound conversion of heart to God, through works of penance, piety, and brotherly solidarity, sincerely and fervently attest their desire to remain united in charity with God and l~See Lk 10:42; Mt 6:33. ~6Apostolic Constitution, lndulgentiarum doctrina: AAS v. 59 (1967), pp. 5-24. Papal Bull Proclaiming the Holy Year / 997 their brethren and to make progress in that charity.~: In fact, this sharing comes from the fullness of the treasury of salvation which is primarily found in Christ the Redeemer Himself, "in whom the satisfactions and merits of His redemption subsist in all their value.''xs In this'fullness in Christ, which we have all received,x" there shines forth "the most ancient dogma of the communion of saints, whereby, in Christ and through Christ, the lives of the individual sons of God are linked with the lives of all the other Christian brethren by a marvelous bond in the supernatural unity of the Mystical Body of Christ, as in one mystical person.''~° For, "by the hidden and benevolent mystery of the divine will, men are linked together in a supernatural relationship, whereby just as the sin of one also harms the others, so also the holiness of one is beneficial to the others.'''-'~ By means of the indulgence, the Church, making use of her power as minis-ter of the redemption of Christ the Lord, communicates to the faithful a sharing in this fullness of Christ in the communion of saints,'-"-' providing them with the ample means of salvation. Thus the Church, aiding and embracing them like a mother, sustains her weak and infirm children, who.find a firm support in the Mystical Body of Christ, which in its entirety works for their conversion through charity, example, and prayer. Thus penitents find in this singular form of ecclesial charity a powerful aid to help them put off the old man and put on the new. Conversion and renewal consist precisely in this.'-':' In fact, the Church's aim in granting indulgences is not only that of helping the faithful expiate the punishment they have deserved but also that of stimulating them to carry out works of piety, penance, and charity, and in particular works that serve to favor the growth of faith and the common good.~' III For this reason, interpreting.as it were the Church's maternal sentiments, we impart the gift of the plenary indulgence to all the faithful who are prop-erly disposed, and who, after confessing their sins and receiving Holy Communion, pray for the intentions of the supreme pontiff and the college of bishops: 1:See Paul V1, Letter to Cardinal de Fiirstenburg Officially Announcing the Beginning o! the 1975 Holy Year, dated May 31, 1973: AAS, v. 65 (1973), pp. 357-60. ~SApostolic Constitution, lhdulgentiarum doctrina, 5: AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 11. ~gSee Jn 1:16. -~0Apostolic Constitution, lndulgentiarum doctrina, 5: AAS, v. 59 (1967), pp. 10-1; and see St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, III,q.48,a.2 adl; and q.49,a.l. ZlApostolic constitution, lndulgentiarum doctrina, 4: AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 9. '-'Zlbid., 8: AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 16. '-':~See Paul VI, Letter to Father 'Constantine Koser on the 750th Anniversary o] the Portiuncula Indulgence, dated July 14, 1966: AAS, v. 58 (1966), pp. 631-4. z4See the Apostolic Constitution, lndulgentiarum doctrina, 8: AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 17. 998 / Review Jor Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 (1) If they undertake a sacred pilgrimage to one of the patriarchal basilicas (the basilica of St. Peter's in the Vatican,,St. Paul's Outside-the- Walls, ttie Lateran Archbasilica of the Most Holy Savior, or St. Mary Major), or to some other church or place of the city of Rome designated by the competent authority, and devoutly take part in a liturgical celebration there, especially the Sacrifice of the Mass, or some exercise of piety (e.g., the way bf the cross, the rosary); (2) If they visit, in a group or individually, one of the four patri-archal basilicas and spend some time there in devout recollection concluding with the Our Father, the profession of faith in. any approved form, and a prayer to the Blessed Virgin Mary; (3) If, being prevented by illness or some other grave reason from going on a pilgrimage to Rome, they unite themselves spiritually with this pilgrim-age and offer their prayers and sufferings to God; (4) If, being prevented while in Rome. by illness or some other grave reason from taking part in a liturgical celebration or exercise of piety or visit made by their group (ecclesial family or social, as mentioned in 1 and 2 above), they unite themselves spiritually with the group and offer their prayers and suffering to God. During the Holy Year, moreover, the other concessions of indulgences remain in force, with the proviso as before that a plenary indulgence can be gained only once a day;~'' however, all indulgences can always be applied tb the dead in modo suffragii."-''~ For the same reasons, namely, in order that the faithful be provided with ¯ every possible aid to salvation, and to help priests, especially confessors, we proclaim that confessors taking part "in the jubilee pilgrimage may use the faculties they have been given in their own dioceses by the legitimate au-thority,~ so that both on the journey and in Rome they may hear the con-fessions of the faithful accompanying them on the pilgrimage, and also the confessions ot~ others who, together with the members of their own group, may approach them. The right of the penitentiaries of the patriarchal basilicas regarding the confessionals reserved to them is maintained,'-'~ and special faculties will be granted by the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary to the penitentiaries. IV We stated above that the following two principal purposes have been established for the Holy Year: spiritual renewal in Christ and reconciliation with God, and we have said that these aims concern not only the interior '-',~See Enchiridion indulgentiarum, norma 24, para. 1. ~Ibid. norma 4. ~zSee Paul VI's motu proprio, Pastorale munus, I, 14: AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 8. "-SSee First Synod o] Rome, 1960, art. 63. Papal Bull Proclaiming the Holy Year / 999 life of each individual but the whole Church, and also, .in a certain sense, the whole of human society. For this reason we earnestly exhort all con-cerned to consider these proposals, to undertake initiativ,es and to coordinate programs so that during the Holy Year real progress may be made in the renewal of the Church and also in the pursuit of certain goals very dear to us, in accordance with the farsighted spirit of the Second Vatican Ecu-menical Council. Repentance, the purification of the heart, and conversion to God must consequently bring about an increase in the apostolic activities of the Church. During the Holy Year, therefore, generous efforts must be made to further evangelization, which is certainly the first of all the activities to be promoted. For the pilgrim Church "has been divinely sent to all nations that she might be 'the universal sacrament of salvation' "'-'~' and she "is by her very nature mis.sionary,' . and in the course of her history is renewed to the extent that she shows herself ready to accept and to deepen through faith the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God, and to proclaim His saving message to men by word and the witness of her life. The coming assembly of the Synod of Bishops does not have a merely extrinsic and fortuitous connection with the Holy Year.-On the contrary, as we have already stated, "a zealous effort must be made to coordinate and closely link both these ecclesial events.'':~ In this regard the Synod will pro-pose directives and suggestions for the reflection of pastors gathered about the supreme pontiff, so that they may carefully consider in the light of faith "the evangelization of the modern world," taking into account, in the light of the charity of Christ, the wishes of the whole Church and the more urgent needs of our time. Therefore devout attention to the word of God together with catechetical instruction given to the faithful of every state and of all ages must lead Christians to purify their way of life and to a higher knowledge of faith; it must dispel doubts and stimulate the negligent to joyfully activate in their lives the gospel message; it must impel everyone towards a conscious and fruitful sharing in the sacraments; it must encourage communities and indi-viduals to give witness to the faith by the uprightness and strength .of their lives, so that the world may see the reason for the hope that is in us.:"-' Now ten years after the SecQnd Vatican Council began, the great and salutary work of renewal in the fields of the pastoral ministry, the practice of penance, and the sacred liturgy, we consider it altogether fitting that this z~Vatican Council II, Ad gentes divinitus (Decree on the Missionary Activity o] the Church), I: AAS, v. 58 (1966), p. 947. :"qbid., 2: AAS, v. 58 (1966), p. 948. :;~"Discourse to the General Secretariat of the Synod of Bishops," Osservatore romano, April 6, 1974, p. 4. :~See 1 Pt 3:15. 1000 / Review jor Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 work should be reviewed and furthered. If what the Church has clearly approved is kept in mind, it will be possible to recognize the valid and legitimate elements to be found in the many and varied experiments that have been carried out everywhere. Similarly, these same elements can, by a more earnest effort, be put into practice in accordance with the norms and principles suggested by pastoral prudence and a sense of true piety. The presence of large numbers of pilgrims, both pastors and people, from Christian communities throughout the world, brought together in Rome by a fraternal desire to gain the true benefits of the grace and love of Christ, will undoubtedly afford excellent opportunities for putting forward, comparing, and evaluating studies and viewpoints of various kinds. This will most cer-tainly bc the case if congresscs and meetings are held at different levels in the ecclesial community and by varied groups of experts, and provided that prayer and a ready willingness to carry out the apostolate are joined together. At this point we wish to draw particular attention to the need to find a just and proper balance between the differing demands of the pastoral min-istry today, a balance similar to that which has been admirably achieved in the sacrcd liturgy. We refer to the balance between tradition and renewal, b~twccn the necegsarily religious nature of the Christian apostolate and its effectivencss as a force in all fields of social living, between free and spon-taneous activity--which some are accustomed to call charismatic--in this a.postolate and fidelity to laws based on the commands of Christ and of the pastors of the Church. For these laws, laid down by the Church and con-tinually brought up to date, make allowance for individual experiments within the Christian community, in such a way that they are a help in build-ing up the body of Christ, which is the Church, and not a hindranceY:' We wish likewise to draw attention to the ever increasing need to pro-mote the kind of apostolate which, without damaging the Church's necessary and traditional institutions, namely dioceses and parishes, takes special account of particular local circumstances and categories of people. Such an apostolate must ensure that the leaven of the gospel permeates those forms of modern social living which often differ from traditional forms of ecclesial life and seem foreign to the communities "in which the faithful gather to-gether and are linked" in prayer, faith, and charity. The forms we are thinking of are principally those of workers, members of the academic world, and young people. It will also be necessary to examine carefully the methods of teaching religion and of preaching the sacred word of God, to insure that they meet the needs of our time. This mt~st be done with the aim of finding effective methods. Special care must be taken to insure that the media of social com-munications promote the human and Christian progress both of individuals and of communities. :~.aSee Rm 15:2; 1 Cor. 14:3; Eph. 4:12. Papal Bull Proclaiming the Holy Year / 1001 These are questions of the greatest seriousness and importance. We must face up to them and with humble prayer seek the grace of the Holy Year in order to solve them. V As is well known, i~ recent years one of the Church's most pressing con-cerns has been to disseminate everywhere a message of charity, of social awareness, and of peace, and to promote, as far as she can, works of justice and solidarity among all men, whether individuals, social groups, or peoples. We earnestly desire, therefore, that the Holy Year, through the works of charity which it suggests to the faithful and which it asks of them, should be an opportune time for strengthening and supporting the moral conscious-ness of all the faithful and of that wider community of all men which the message of the Church can reach if an earnest effort is made. The ancient origins of the jubilee as seen in the laws and institutions of Israel clearly show that this social dimension is part of its very nature. In fact, as we read in the Book of Leviticus,:" the jubilee year, precisely be-cause it was dedicated in a special way to God, involved a new ordering of all things that were recognized as belonging to God: the .land, which was al-lowed to lie fallow and was given back to its former owners; economic goods, insofar as debts were remitted; and, above all, man, whose dignity and free-dom were reaffirmed in a special way by the emancipation of slaves. The year of God, then, was also the year of man, the year of the earth, the year of the poor, and upon this view of the whole of human reality there shone a new light which emanated from the clear recognition of the supreme dominion of God over the whole of creation. In today's world also the problems which most disturb and torment mankind--economic and social questions, the question of ecology and sources of energy, and above all that of the liberation of the oppressed and the uplifting of all men to a new dignity of life-~can have light cast on them by the message of the Holy Year. We wish, however, to invite all the sons and daughters of the Church, and especially the pilgrims coming to Rome, to undertake certain definite tasks which, as successor of Peter and head of that church "which presides over the universal gathering of charity,'':~' we now publicly propose and com-mend to all. We refer to the carrying out of works of faith and charity for the benefit of our needy brethren in Rome and in other chu'rches of the world. These works will not necessarily be grandiose ones, although such are.in no way to be excluded. In many cases what are today called "micro-realizations" will be sufficient, corresponding as they do to the gospel spirit of charity. In this field the Church, in view of the modest resources at her :~"Lv 25: 8ff. :~r'See St. Ignatius of Antioch, Epistle to the Romans, salutation: Funk, v. 1, p. 252. 1002 / Review jot Religious, Volume .33, 1974/5 disposal, will perhaps have to limit herself more and more to giving men nothing more than the widow's mite.:"~ But she knows and teaches that the good which counts most is that which, in humble and very often unknown ways, manages to provide help where there is a small need and to heal small wounds--things which often find no place in large projects of social reform. Nevertheless, the Church feels that it is necessary to give encourage-ment also to these larger programs for promoting justice and the progress of peoples. She renews her call to all those who have the power and the duty to build up in the world a more perfect order of social and human relations, urging them not to give up because of the difficulties of the present times and not to be won over by selfish interests. Once more we make a particularly strong appeal on behalf of developing countries and of people still afflicted by hunger and by war. Let special attention be given to the many needs which oppress man today, to the finding of employment by which men can provide for the needs of life, to housing which so many lack, to schools which need much assistance, to social and medical aid, and to the develop-ment and safeguarding of decent public moral standards. We should like also to express the humble and sincere desire that in this present Holy Year, too, in accordance with the tradition of previous jubilees, the proper authorities of the different nations should consider the possibility of wisely granting an amnesty to prisoners, as a witness of clemency and equity, especially to those who have given sufficient proof of moral and civic rehabilitation, or who may have been caught up in political and social upheavals too immense for them to be held fully responsible. We express in anticipation our gratitude ~ind invoke the Lord's abundant blessings on all those who will strive to insure that this message of charity, of social awareness, and of freedom, which the Church addresses to all men in the lively hope that she may be understood and listened to, is ac-cepted and translated into reality in the political and social order. In express-ing this hope we are conscious of following a wonderful tradition which began with the law of Israel and found its fullest expression in our Lord Jesus Christ who, from the very beginning Of His ministry, presented Him-self as the fulfillment of the ancient promises and figures connected with the jubilee year: "The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.'':~: Vl If there is one spiritual advantage which we especially desire from the :";See Lk 21:2; Mk 12:42. ZrLk 4:18-9. Papal Bull Proclabning the Holy Year / 1003 celebration of the Holy Year, .it is an increase in the number of those who devote their lives to serving the Church, especially priests and religious. For in order that the paths of grace and the means of salvation which the Holy Year indicates and offers to all the faithful may be properly explained and made available, there will always be a need for those sacred ministers and witnesses of Christ's gospel who by completely following the Lord show their fellowmen, namely the men of this and subsequent ages, the way of penance and of holiness. Thus, the voice of God must be listened to diligently. He never ceases to stir up and invite chosen individuals to dedicate themselves generously to the .service of the Church and the whole human race by the exercise of the priestly ministry and by the faithful witness of the religious life. Some will be called by God to offer themselves to Him through obedience and sacred celibacy and as priests of Christ to teach and sanctify and lead the faithful wherever they may be. Others, men and women of various ages and conditions, will be attracted to the religious life, so that by fulfilling their baptismal promises through a higher way of life they may fully live in the spirit and truly benefit the Church and society. We desire strongly that the multitude of these especially dear members of the Church may increase and flourish more and more, so that through their priesthood and t~e~activity of their religious life they may bear the joyful message of Christ to the ends of the earth and all give glory to the heavenly Father. VII Finally, we wish to proclaim and preach that the reconciliation of Chris-tians is one of the principal aims of the Holy Year. For, before all men can be brought together and restored to the grace of God our Father, com-munion must be reestablished between those who by faith have acknowl-edged and accepted Jesus Christ as the Lord of Mercy who sets men i~ree and unites them in the spirit of love and truth. For this reason the jubilee year, which the Catholic Church has accepted as part of her own custom and tradition, can serve as a most opportune period for spiritual renewal and for the promotion of Christian unity. We would, moreover, point out that the Second Vatican Council has taught that every effort and undertaking directed toward the reconciliation of Christians and all true ecumenism must necessarily start from an inner conversion of the heart, since the desire for Christian communion springs and grows from spiritual renewal, self-denial, the full exercise of charity, and fidelity to revealed truth?~ It is here that there is to be found the full and proper realization of the whole ecumenical movement to which the Catholic Church adheres as far as she is able, and through which Churches and communities not yet fully .~sSee Unitatis redintegratio (Decree on Ecumenism), 7: AAS, v. 57 (1965), p. 97. 1004 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 in communion with the Apostolic See seek and desire the perfect unity willed by Christ. It is in fact the task and duty of the whole Church to reestablish this unity in full ecclesial communion.:'~' The year of grace, in this sense, provides an opportunity for doing special penance for the divisions which exist among Christians; it offers an occasion for renewal in the sense of a heightened experience of holiness of life in Christ; it allows progi'ess toward that hoped for reconciliation by intensified dialogue and concrete Christian collaboration in the salvation of the world: "that they also may be one in us, so that the world may believe.'''~ We have expressed once more our intentions and our desires concerning the celebration of the Holy Year in this city of Rome. Now we invite our brothers in the episcopate and all the pastors and faithful of the churches throughout .the world, of those churches also which are not in full communion with the Roman Church, and indeed all who believe in God, to participate at least spiritually in this feast of grace and redemption, in which Christ offers Himself as the teacher of life. Together with the pastors and faithful on pilgrimage to the tombs of the Apostles and the early martyrs, we desire to profess faith in God the almighty and merciful Father and in Jesus Christ our Redeemer. For our part we would hope that all who come to Rome to see Peter'1 may through us experience in the Holy Year the truth of the words of St. Leo the Great: "For in the whole church Peter repeats each day, 'You are Christ the Son of the living God,' and every tongue which confesses the Lord is inspired by the teaching of this voice.'"': We would wish also that through our ministry and that of our brother priests a huge multitude of faithful may come to the sources of salvation.":' May the holy door which we shall open on the night of Christmas Eve be a sure sign of this new approach to Christ who alone is the way"" and the door.4'~ It will be a sure sign too of the paternal affection with which, filled with love and desiring peace, we open our heart to all. We implore the Blessed Virgin Mary, the holy Mother of the Redeemer and of the Church, Mother of grace and of mercy, collaborator of reconcili-ation and shining example of the new life, to ask her Son to grant to all our brethren and sons and daughters the grace of this Holy Year, to renew and preserve them. To her hands and to her maternal heart we commend the beginning, the development, and the conclusion of this most important matter. 3Olbid., 5: AAS, v. 57 (1965), p. 96. 4°Jn 17:21. 41See Gal 1 : 18. 4"-Sermon 3: PL 54, 146. ¯ ~:~See Is 12:3. ¯ ~4See Jn 14:6. t~See Jn 10:7,9. Papal Bull Proclaiming the Holy Year / 1005 We wish this our letter to take full and immediate effect in such a manner that. whatsoever has been laid down and decreed in it be religiously ob-served by all concerned and come into force, all things to the contrary not-withstanding. If anyone knowingly or unknowingly shall act other than in accordance with what we have laid down, we order that such action be con-sidered altogether null and void. Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, on the 23rd day of May, the solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord, in the year 1974, the 1 lth of our pontificate. 1, Paul, Bishop of the Catholic Church The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home Peter J. Henriot, S.J. The following is the text of the address that Father Henriot delivered to the 17th Annual Assembly of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men held in Chicago June 16-20, 1974. Father Henriot is a staff associate of the Center of Concern; 3700 13th Street, N.E.; Washington, D. C. 20017. In a recent article in America magazine, Father Hubert Horan, a White Father who spent several years as a missionary in Tanzania, questioned whether the topic of the upcoming Synod, "evangelization," was a "cop-out," a retreat from more potentially controversial questions. Given his own mis-sionary understanding of "evangelization," he felt that it certainly was not an insignificant topic, but one which would be rich and fruitful in increasing our understandings and actions as Church in the world today. But Father Horan did admit that the term is a "slippery one," open to ever wider and wider interpretations. In a sense, we might say that evangelization, like charity, "covers a multitude of sins." Thus in countless discussions preceed-ing, during, and after the Synod this fall, discussions such as we are in-volved in these days here in Chicago, this topic will be explored, broadened and narrowed, and, hopefully, appropriated in our own individual lives and in the lives of our communities. This morning, in addressing the topic, "The American Religious, Evan-gelizers at Home," I will not be offering you any neat and compact new definition of evangelization. I know that you all recognize the difficulty-- the folly---of attempting that, since we are all grappling with what this term means. I do not apologize, therefore, for using the meaning which the official pre-Synod document has adopted for the sake of clarity, namely, "the activity whereby the Church proclaims the gospel so that the faith may be aroused, may unfold, and may grow." The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home / 1007 Evangelization and Action for Justice How the A~erican religious is called upon today, to take part in this task of evangelization is a question critical to our vocation of service in the Church. I would like to narrow our focus of attention during this day to one aspect or dimension of the task of evangelization, an aspect which was defined and delineated at the last Synod in 1971. This aspect ,is found in a sentence which I must adroit I have probably overused by quoting it inces-santly, "in season and out of season." The sentence is from the Synod's statement, Justice in the World: 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. The preaching of the gospel--the task of evangelization--includes as a "con-stitutive dimension" the task of "action for justice," the commitment to trans-form a world where increasingly we hear, again in the words of the Synod, "the cry of those who suffer violence and are oppressed by unjust systems and structures." I want to share with you this morning my own understanding of why [l~is "action for justice" is constitutive to the task of evangelization, and why it is worth reflecti~ng on, praying over, and resolvihg about in our focus on the "American Religious, Evangelizer at Home." But let me firs[ make one thing perfectly clear, to borrow a phrase. My emphasis here is not upon "social action," the "social apostolate," or similar segmental aspects of religious life. My emphasis is upon a characteristic, a modality, of religious life which must--if religious life is to be evangelical--be c6nstitutive of its existence and practice~ in our Church and our world today. The Global Scene Our discussion has to be placed in context, and not carried on in a vacuum. "]'he context is our modern world, where, again citing the words of the 1971 Synod, "social structures place obiective obstacles in the way of conversion of hearts, or even of the realization of the ideal of charity." Less than two weeks ago I participated in a conference of over one hundred major religious leaders from Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish groups in the United States, called to discuss and plan the response of churches and synagogues to the current crisis in .global justice. During three days we heard factual analyses of the world situation from diverse figures such as Robert McNamara, President of the World Bank, and Neville Kanakaratne, Ambassador to the United States from Sri Lanka (Ceylon) and a leading Third World spokesperson. We heard theological analyses of'Why religious people should respond, from people such as Archbishop Marcos McGrath of Panama, and Rabbi Marc Tannenbaum, of the American Jewish Com- 1008 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 mittee--who both spoke of liberation from oppression as being central to the message of God's dealing with His people. And the participants planned and committed themselves to strategies for change: through the political system, in lifestyle, in education, in investment policies, and so forth. Finally, the conference received a ringing "statement of conscience," which spoke of the need for a profound conversion, in values, interests, and loyal-ties, in policies, institutions, and patterns of behavior, if any effective steps were.to be taken toward meeting the crisis of global justice. I would like to read one of the opening paragraphs of that statement to you, because I believe that it puts a context to some of the things we will be discussing~ The conference said: As Americans we have come to realize how many of our national policies, of our institutional structures of production, marketing and defense, and of our current personal patterns of conduct and consumption, are all inextricably linked to the ongoing av, d explosive global catastrophe of famine, hunger and malnutritior~; which continues to claim millions of lives every year in various parts of the world. Things are not getting better. The rich are getting richer, the poor poorer. Many millions will die this year from starvation. Hundreds of millions of children will be so undernourished that, if they survive at all, their physical and mental development will be seriously retarded. This is our world. The conference was able to say those things because it had put before it a description of a world marked by the twin horrors of hunger and repression. With the price of grain tripled in the past few months and the present world food reserves down to 27 days, the lowest since World War Two, the spectre of famine is a daily reality to millions of people in Africa and the Indian sub-continent. World-wide inflation, heightened through the quadrupling of the price of oil in the past year, means that the increasingly scarce resources of our finite world are getting even scarcer. And the world's population, now approaching 4 billion, will double in the next 35 years--except for the intervention of war and/or famine. Such deadly intervention is, of course, a real possibility. In a globe increasingly small, increasingly finite, and increasingly in-terdependent, two-thirds of the people of the world live in conditions of des-titution and degradation, while one-third enjoy the rich blessings created for all humankind. It is a literal re-enactment of the Dives and Lazarus story. Justice Needs at Home But in setting the context here, even so cursory a reference to the global scene should not distract us from the problems of social justice here at home. Those of you who live and work in major urban areas know that our cities, though outwardly quiet in the past few years, continue to see unrest, amidst conditions of unemployment, poor housing, and poor educa-tional systems. Our political system--as we approach the celebration in song and dance of our Bicentennial--seems paralyzed, locally as well as The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home / 1009 nationally, to deal with issues such as prison reform, tax reform, medical care, and so forth. One out of six Americans lives below a poverty line of what is required for basic health and well-being; the unemployment rate rose again last month to around 51/2%, with the rate of non-whites twice as high; inflation con-tinues to eat away the savings of the elderly and those on fixed incomes; while' life expectancy for the'average American is now around 71 years, for the non-white it is ten years less; and the U.S. infant mortality rate is one of the highest of any major industrialized nation in the world. Ten million Americans go to bed hungry every night in our land of diet cola and weight-reducing programs. Structural and Systemic Approaches This picture of social injustice--globally and nationally--is nothing new to you, I am sure. What might be new to you is the emphasis I want to give to the structural, systemic nature of the problems. We are not talking about isolated instances of poverty and injustice, but of the socio-economic-polit-ical structures, institutions~ and processes which create and perpetuate these problems. We need to move, as Gustavo Gutierrez suggests, from an "anec-doctal" approach to social problems to an "analytical" approach. Not stories about cases of injustice, but systemic analysis of why the injustices exist: only this will help us to experien~:e that call to profound conversion I spoke of earlier. This structural approach to injustice is central to the understanding of evangelization we are addressing here. It is central to the q971 Synod's discussion of "the systematic barriers and vicious circles" which hinder true justice. It is central to an appreciation of the strongest statement made by the Synod, when the Bishops described the present-day situation of the world as "marked by the grave sin of injustice." For the structural social injustice in our world and our nation is nothing less than sin, social sin. Social Sin and Evangelization Herein 'lies the reason why "action for justice" and transformation of the structures of injustice is constitutive to the preaching of the Gospel, to the task of evangelization. It is a continuation of the saving work of Jesus, who frees us from the bondage of sin: "For Gods~ loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost, but may have eternal life. For God sent his son into the world not to condemn the world but so that through him the world might be saved" (Jn 3:16-8). We Christians talk about sin only because we can talk of redemption, of grace. St. Paul tells us: "Where sin abounded, grace has abounded all the more" (Rm 5:20). And so as we speak of social sin, we also speak of social grace, God's revealing goodness and love in the social structures, institutions, and processes which we have created down through history. 1010 / Review /or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 It is precisely to fight against social sin, and to cooperate with social grace, that we Christians engage in "action for justice," that is, commit our-seives to the cause of social justice. Such action is not peripheral to the task of evangelization but is integral, constitutive. The 1971 Synod summarized this by saying: The mission of the preaching of the Gospel dictates at the present time that we should dedicate ourselves to the liberation of man even in his present ex-istence in ~this world. For unless the Christian message of love and justice shows its effectiveness through action in the cause of justice in the world, it will only with difficulty gain credibility with the men of our times. Thus the American religious evangelizer is, in a very true and genuine sense, the socially just religious, the socially just community. Note again that I am not speaking of social justice as an "apostolate" or as "work" or "projects." Social justice is a way o[ li[e which is integral to the.religious re-sponse to the call of the gospel. As integral to the gospel, it is something which cuts across all aspects of the evangelical life which we profess. It is living out of values which are counter to the values embodied in oppressive structures; it is a simplicity which says no to the conspicuous consumption which wastes the world's finite resources; it is a sharing which says no to the hoarding of the affluent in a world of so much poverty; it is a reaching out which says no to the dominance of entrenched power over the weak; it is a hope which says yes, there is a possibility of social change for a more just world. Action for social justice, then, is evangelization, a preaching of the good news to the poor, because our fundamental religious option is on the side of the poor, the powerless, the oppressed. We can do no less, reminded as we are by Mary's Magnificat of the fundamental option of God who has "pulled down princes from their thrones and exalted th.e lowly; the hungry he has filled with good things, and the rich sent away empty" (Lk 1:53-4). Concrete Implications Against this background of an understanding of the American religious evangelizer as the just religious, the just community, I would like to discuss some concrete implications which I see coming from this structural approach. I believe that they are only further extensions of what Father Paul Boyle wrote in his letter in the spring of 1972, urging CMSM members to be "witnessing and educating to social justice," and of what your own 1972 CMSM Assembly affirmed in the several resolutions you passed on the topic of social justice. For the sake of our exploration here this morning, I will speak in terms of the traditional aspects of evangelization, word, witness, and work. The word refers to the vision we religious have and relates particularly to the topic of formation; witness refers to our credibility, and relates to our life The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home / 1011 style; and work refers to the corporate thrust of the 9ommunity, and relates here specifically to the question of leadership. 1. Formation It has become increasingly accepted--theologically, philosophically, sociologically--that it is only possible to speak of the reality of a human person today by taking into full account the three dimensions of human existence: the individual, the interpersonal, and the public. These are not three separate and distinct dimensions so much as three moments in our perception of a single reality. The individual dimension is the realm of the private, the intimate. The person is an individual in as much as he/she is unique. The interpersonal dimension, on the other hand, is constituted in those relationships by which one individual deals with another in either, the limited sense of an 1-Thou encounter or in an extended sense of ordinary" societal dealings, The public dimension, however, includes the projections of individual and interpersonal existence into the institutions, structures, and processes of society. The person is organically one with these projec-tions. The identity of a human person is inadequately situated outside this triadic framework, this consideration of all three dimensions simultaneously. For this reason, the formation process of the American religious evangelizer must take account of the public dimension, the area of a person's involve-ment in and interaction with social structures, processes, and institutions. This formation--and I include the preparation of the novice, the training appropriate to brothers or. priests, the on-going "continuing education" programs for everyone in the community--should take account of the peculiar situation of the religious in the United States and the Roman Catholic Church of this last quarter of the twentieth century. Let me briefly suggest three points to be taken note of in this formation. "Spiritual Renewal and Social Justice Action First, there is great need today for an integration ,of the so-called "spiri-tual renewal" movement with the movement for greater social justice. We are experiencing in the Church today th6 movement of the Holy Spirit, renewing us through a heightened attention to prayer and faith, a growing acceptance of shared prayer, directed 'retreats, discernment workshops, spiritual direction, and the increasing activity, of charismatic, Pentecostal groups. Last year's annual CMSM Assembly was especially devoted to "building the faith community?' But I think that we are all aware that a danger lies in the possibility of a "turning inward," a false "spiritualism." Thus there is the potential case of someone becoming involved in these spiritual activities, spi,ritual ministries, as an escape from involvement with the evangelical task of changing unjust social structures. This might be understandabl~, given some of the flurry of "social action" during the 1960's, 1012 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 and also the intensity of challenge in the authentic struggle for social reform. But we religious would surely fail in our responsibility to our Church and our world if we did not make every effort to integrate the two great dy-namisms moving around us today, the call for more active°social justice and the drive for more deeply renewed interiority. Social Determinisms Second, we have to attend in formation to the power of the "social determinisms" which affect all of us American religious. These determinisms are part of our culture and infringe upon the full exercise of our freedom. They provide the context, the milieu, within which choices are made. I will mention three of them which my colleagues at the Center of Concern have in recent months been analyzing--the implications of which I believe you ¯ °will all realize. (a) "Cultural addictions"--those patterns, habits, styles of life which we become acculturated, socialized, to from birth. Though frequently lived out inadvertently, these cultural addictions have a powerful influence over our choices, for example, in the matter of life style in this affluent, consumption-oriented nation. (b) "'Mindsets"--those perceptual frameworks, paradigms, which guide our thinking, our viewing of reality. For example, we Americans tend to be highly mechanical, pragmatic, problem-solving, "can-do,'" in perception. (c) "Class bias"--those socio-economic-political expectations and ideologies which influence our patterns of speech, behavior, judgment. Since the majority of religious come from the middle-class and few, I suspect (though I am open to correction on this), from the working class, we have a class orientation which provides us with specific sets of norms, values, and attitudes. These social determinisms operate in us all. Think for a moment of examples in different members of your community, and in yourself. They must be recognized and critically examined if we American religious are. ever to raise questions, for instance, about the global social justice implica-tions of the American way of life, of being Number One, of the spirit of competition, and so forth. Need for Sociological and Theological Analysis Finally, we need to foster in all stages of formation, for young and old alike, a deepening insight into both the sociological analysis of the struc-tures of injustice and the theological analysis of the imperatives of justice. How knowledgeable are the members of our community, for example, about the facts of world population; about the institutions of global trade such as tariffs, multi-national corporations, and monetary arrangements; about the relationship of the current food crisis to the energy crisis through the link of the fertilizer shortage? How aware are we religious about the structures of injustice in our own country--inequitable tax systems, the policy of "red- The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home / 1013 lining" on housing mortgages, zoning policies, cost of medical care for the elderly, the farm worker problem? And how conversant are we about the Church's social consciousness as articulated through the great documents of "~Rerum novarum, Quadragesimo anno, the Christmas messages of Pius XI1, Mater et Magistra, Pacem in terris, Gaudium et spes, Octagesima adveniens, Justice in the World? What do we know of the theology of liberation, and other expressions of social theology? My several questions, of course, may simply be unfair. I am not saying that all religious need to be social scientists or social theologians. But the questions do point to the continual need to update ourselves in the reality of the world we live in--a need which can be met only through organized efforts in formation. And our updating must include not only study but also experience, the real praxis of which Paulo Freire speaks. Only then can we religious hope to be about the task of evangelization. 2. Life Style In one of several disturbing passages in the 1971 Synod's statement Justice in the World, the bishops addressed the issue of the credibility of the Church regarding its message of social justice. Its credibility, the document said, was affected by its own mode of acting, and in the possessions and life style found in the church. Two passages are particularly relevant. In speak-ing of temporal possessions, the Synod argued that the evangelical witness the Church is obliged to give should never become ambiguous because of privilege, power, and wealth--the gospel must be proclaimed to the poor. "If instead the Church appears to be among the rich and the powerful of this world, its credibility is diminished." Again, the Synod suggests an examina-tion of conscience regarding life style, wherein we ask ourselves "whether our life style exemplifies that sparingness in regard to consumption which we preach to others as necessary in order that so many millions of hungry people throughout the world may be fed." Now I know that we religious have all been engaged at great length in discussions about the meaning of our vow of poverty today. I.know that we all cringe when we hear remarks like that of Bishop Sheen--and I usually don't quote Bishop Sheen in my talks--to the effect that "There are millions of people who would be only tOO glad to take a vow of poverty." Yes, would that the poor of the world had such a luxury to embrace religious poverty! Changes in Religious Poverty But I really think that the terms of the discussion and debate over religious poverty have changed in recent years. While still recognizing the ascetical and spiritual value of the vow of poverty--linking it to the kenosis of the Lord Jesus--we are beginning to appreciate its social value, I might 1014 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 even says its political value. This appreciation is contained in the 1971 Synod's on "sparing and sharing" as a way to meet the challenge of global justice. It is found in the 1972 resolutions adopted by the annual CMSM Assembly, in which you yourselves pledged a program of action to promote within your communities greater simplicity of life style "to express our solidarity with the poor of the world and our respect for the needs of future generations." It is found in the 1973 Lenten pastoral letter of the Dutch Bishops, who discussed "Prosperity, Responsibility, Frugality," and spoke of the obligation of all Christians who live in an affluent nation to practice a socially-oriented sparingness as a no to even greater and greater con-su~ ption. And it is found recently, to speak of somethi~ng I know personally, in a communication of Father Pedro Arrupe, Superior General of the Society of Jesus, on "Simplicity of Life," in which he urges Jesuits to experi-ence an inner conversion to the poverty of Christ so that we can regain true apostolic credibility--especially with the poor. This would be shown in a simpler and hence freer life style. This communication is part of a con-tinual insistence on the part of Father Arrupe that unless Jesuits come to grips with the problem of their poverty, they have no future. In the socially unjust contemporary world, they deserve no future. This new dimension to an understanding and practice of religious poverty is linked to the realization that poverty and affluence, underdevelopment and oTerdevelopment, are correlatives. In a small, finite, and interdepen-d~ int globe, the extra serving of grain-fed beef on Dives' table means a smaller crumb of bread for Lazarus; the eight-cylinder automobile which guzzles petroleum products in the United States means a higher price for gasoline used to run the little irrigation pump on a small farmer's plot in India. The course of the Green Revolution--production of miracle grains to stave off famine in the developing countries--has in recent months come to a shattering halt because of the global shortage of fertilizer. But heavily-fertilized private lawns, golf courses, and cemeteries in the United States will not turn brown this summer. Freeing Ourselves [rom Affluence How can we American religious witness to an evangelization which really is a preaching of the Good News to the poor? We need to free our-selves from the subtle--and not so subtle--attachments to the affluent ways of our American life style. Today our simplicity of life is menaced, as Father Arrupe says, "not by a single but by a double danger. It is menaced not only by our built-in egoism, but by the consumer society in which we are plunged: a society that provides with such facility almost everything our egoism craves." We really do need freedom. But how free are we? (And I ask myself this question just as hard as I ask you.) Without making an effort to reduce our corporate resources and simplify our life styles, we American religious The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home / 1015 will continue to experience great unfreedom and our ability to be evan-gelizers will be hindered. Again I quote Father Arrupe: If, in a society of economic progress, abundance, and consumerism, we lack the spirit of poverty and the detachment derived from it, we run the risk, more than at any other time in the past, of becoming slaves. Slaves in many different ways: slaves of propaganda, of that high-pressure salesmanship which is the distinguishing mark of a consumer society; slaves of acquisiliveness, the drive to accumulate possessions which begin as luxuries and end up as neces-sities; slaves of snobbery, which limits our apostolic 9.ctivity, whether openly or tacitly, to a privileged social class. Poverty and simplicity of life, on the other hand, by reducing our needs to a minimum, sets us free--free to respond to any and every challenge of the apostolate. Three Points for Consideration Much could be said about promoting a response to that challenge of the apostolate, about promoting a life style which witnesses to the social dimension of evangelization I have been speaking of here. I mention only three brief points. First, because changes toward a simple life style run so counter to prevailing American values of consumption and affluence, there is need for religious communities to institute a positive, community-based and community-supported plan to reduce corporate resources and simplify individual and community life styles. The process does not come through pious wishes but through pragmatic plans. Second, continual community reinforcement and critique is required, to assure that efforts at simpler life styles are undertaken with a maximum of common sense, a minimum of self-righteousness, and a modiciam of good humor. Thirdly, we need a spirit of experiment, of risk, of adventure, in this task. A new citizen's lobby for affecting policy to meet the world hunger crisis, Bread for the World, has recently encouraged Americans to experi-ment with three meatless days a week, in order to curtail our dispropor-tionate consumption of~ meat--the most inefficient source of protein in a protein-short world. If religious communities in the United States were not risky enough to have offered this suggestion earlier, surely we could hope to be risky enough to try out the suggestion now that everyone is talking about it. 3. Leadership In developing the social dimension of the task of evangelization, I have spoken at considerable length of the word aspect of formation, and the witness aspect of life style. I will speak only briefly of the third and last aspect, the work aspect of leadership. Whereas I have had experience with formation programs (my own and others') and have analyzed and experi-mented with simpler life styles, I stand this morning before this august body of religious leaders with considerable hesitancy to speak about leadership. You have the experience--for better or worse!--which I lack. 1016 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 But voices from below have never been lacking, so I would like to share with you at least two points. These relate to the promotion of the just community which I have called here the American religious evangelizer at home. The first point deals with models of support given by religious superiors for social change for justice, and the second deals with the issues of polarization and reconciliation. Superiors as Models of Support First, in relating to your communities in matters of social justice--in life style, education, spirituality, apostolate, corporate practices, and so forth--you obviously have several avenues of approach open to you. And here I am simply articulating out loud your own experience. You can exhort the group as a whole, calling them to a closer attention to the oppor-tunities and demands of "action for justice." This can be done by letter or conference or personal address to select groups. Or you can single out par-ticular persons and/or communities for a strong world of affirmation and encouragement. These persons or communities may be the "Abrahamic minorities" in your midst (to use the phrase Dom Helder Camara used last year in speaking to the LCWR) who struggle for justice in a tentative, prob-ing way on the fringes of community; or they may simply be those quiet, long-suffering members who hunger and thirst after justice in less noticeable ways. The approach of affirming these religious not only strengthens them in their work but also educates others in your community. Or again, decisions you take which have social justice impact, and ex-planations for these decisions which you share with your community and with the wider public, can be effective works of evangelization. I think of several instances in recent years where superiors have announced the opening of some new apostolate or the closing of some traditional apostolate, and explained their reasons in ways which significantly advanced the cause of social justice. Finally, there is the symbolic action of the superior who publicly speaks out on an issue of social justice, or personally involves him-self in some particular justice struggle. Last year's statement on universal and unconditional amnesty endorsed by many CMSM members, and the pa,rticipation of CMSM members on the picket lines of the Coachella Valley in support of the farmworkers, are two instances which come to mind. A statement this year by the CMSM in support of the Equal Rights Amend-ment would be a powerful contribution to the social justice issue of women's rights in our society. The point I wish to make in citing these various models of leadership action by religious superiors is simply to indicate explicitly the many ways which are open to you. Superiors, Polarization, and Reconciliation My second point touches on something which sometimes follows when The American Religious, Evangelizer at Home / 1017 this leadership in social justice has been exercised, or when the community really does get involved in "action for justice." This is the issue of polariza-tion in religious communities and the task of the religious superior to be a reconciler. The coming celebration of the Holy Year will emphasize the theme of reconciliation; several months ago, Father Paul Boyle wrote to the CMSM membership a letter discussing this topic. In the context of our focus here on the social dimension of evangelization, I have frequently heard it said that issues ofsocial justice sometimes divide religious communities. We American religious are clearly not all Democrats or,Republicans, con-servatives or liberals, capitalists or socialists. While we may agree in the abstract on many social pr.inciples (but then sometimes we do not even do that!), we usually do not find general agreement or consensus on specific, concrete problems and/or their proposed solutions. What is the religious superior to do when faced with division or po-tentially serious polarization. Let me caution against reconciliation. I say that because I am wary of an,effort to reconcile, smooth over, create consen-sus, where serious issues of social justice are at stake. Usually such recon-ciliation results in the more progressive point--which is frequently, but not always, the point of social justice--being 10st in compromise. At least let me suggest that sometimes reconciliation does not mean that two points of view are reconciled to each other, but that one point of view is reconciled to the point of view of the gospel. The superior who "reconciles" members ° of his community to social justice is truly about the work of evangelization. By Way of Conclusion Let me conclude these reflections of the word, witness, and work aspects of the task of evangelization by referring back to a point which Father Walter Farrell made last year in his summary remarks on the closing day of your CMSM Assembly, which had as its theme "The Role of the Major Superior in Fostering the Faith Community." Some of you may recall that Father Farrell commented that when you asa group talked about prayer, even about God's direct action in prayer, you were quite at ease. But the moment that social issues and the social dimensions of Christianity were raised, you became nervous. Now I was not there to notice your nervous-ness, so I will leave the point to your own memory and reflection. What I do hope and pray for this year is that any nervousness we feel will npt keep us from exploring openly and with feeling the topics I have sketched here this morning, the social structural dimension of evangelization, and its impli-cations for formation, life style, and leadership. Rather I would hope our nervousness would only be that of the Apostle Paul, who on one occasion was led to say: "Woe is me if I do not preach the Gospel!" Just as I began my presentation this morning with that Synod statement which I have overused by quoting again and again, I would like to end by quoting a Scripture passage which I have also much overused. But it is a 1011~ / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 passage which is worth using again and again, especially in the context of the social task of evangelization we are discerning about today. It is from the fourth chapter of Luke: He came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and went into the synagogue on the sabbath day as he usually did. He stood up to read, and they handed him the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. Unrolling the scroll he found the place where it is written: The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for he h~s annointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord's year of favor. He then rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the assistant and sat down. And all eyes in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to speak to them, This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen. "This text is being fulfilled today even.as you listen." Really, that is the challenge of the "American Religious, Evangelizer at Home"--to strive mightly to assure that this text of good news for the poor, liberty for the captives, new sight for the blind, freedom for the oppressed, this text is indeed being fulfilled, yes, even today as we listen. A Christian Is a Poor Man Kevin O'Shea, C.Ss.R. Father Kevin O'Shea teaches theology at the Redemptorist College; Pennant Hills; Sydney, Australia. Poverty is the most difficult dimension of religious life at present. It is the point at which the tension is greatest between spirit and institution. Institu-tional poverty is reasonable, moderate, and tolerable; in fact, it is argued if it should rightly be called poverty. Charismatic poverty is anything but reasonable, is beyond moderation, and is nearly intolerable; it takes its spirit from a new reading of the Scriptures and calls poverty by its real name. In this sense, poverty is in all likelihood the greatest ferment in religious life at present. What a renewal of chastity and of obedience have not achieved, may well be done, in alarming proportion, by this renewal of poverty. Para-doxically, it is not among religious alone that the renewal is coming. It is coming from men of the Spirit who are taking the gospel to mean what it says. The position of the Gospels on poverty is strikingly clear. Christ's fol-lowers must leave all, and give it to the poor; they must leave the worl~l, and become poor. It is all or nothing. It is not measured and calculated action. It is a form of divine madness. It is the foolishness Of love. The New Testament suggests three main motivations for such poverty. Povert-y is a Messianic mystery; it is a kenotic reality; and it is an ecclesial communion. Poverty a Messianic Mystery A long Hebrew tradition pictured the Messiah (the Christ) as anointed by God to go among the poor, to be a man of the poor, to join the ranks of the poor, and to bring help and life to the poor. Jesus lived in the strength of this image; He shared the misery of the poor and did all He could to 1019 1020 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 lessen it, and He waited there in it with the poor for God to come, in His own day, and remove it. The poor were the people who had no resources of their own to assure them of a future and a hope. They were the dispossessed, the disappropriated, the displaced people of this world. They were literally the no-hopers, the have-nots, the forgotten people, the little people without a land. And it was to them that the Messiah came, and it was among them that he became one of them. Not because their misery was a good thing, but be-cause it was a good thing to be among them and to share it, remove it, wait in it patiently till God would take away all tears from their eyes. To His disciples who followed Him, the Messiah asked a Messianic life style: the mystery of their incorporation in the ranks of the poor. A Christian, like the Christ, is a poor man. Poverty a Kenotic Reality The New Testament speaks of a disease of the Christian heart called dipsychia. It is a split psychology, a sort of spiritual schizophrenia. The Christian wants to give himself totally to God, yet he feels an attraction to the things that are easy and immediately in front of him. He is torn two ways. He lacks unity and integration as a single person. There is only one cure for this trouble in the New Testament: it is kenosis, the self-emptying of the person to the very roots of his human existence of which Christ gave him the supreme example of His life and death on the cross. It is only in that utter nothingness of kenosis that integrity is possible. There is no other "fulfillment." But this kenosis is not an attitude, a spirit, and a mentality of mortification, as the Greeks might have thought. It is tangible and real: a man leaves all he has, and becomes poor, nothing, empty, dead in the things he has prized. He knows the nakedness of the poor man. It is not poverty of spirit. It is poverty. Poverty and Ecclesial Communion There is a principle in the New Testament that what one gives up to become poor is given over to the poor, so that they are enriched by it. Christ was rich in laying a rightful claim to Sonship of God. Rich though He was in this respect., He became poor for us and did not cling tenaciously to this right for Himself. Thus, through His poverty, we became rich in His very Sonship. In the Jerusalem community, the model and norm of radical following of Christ in the Church, no one kept his own things (ta idia)-- shall we say that no one "did his own thing"---but each one's own things became thereby the things of all (ta koinonia). It is poverty, then, in its genuine realism and in the self-emptying it implies, that constitutes com-munion and community. The Church is a community because it is a Church. of the poor. Its common life is not a sharing of advantages each retains so that one complements the other; it is a giving of one's all to all and for all, so that in the emptiness of all there can be a truly communed life. Christian Is a Poor Man / 1021 Emphases in New Testament Poverty In these three New Testament motiv.es of pove.rty, there is a strong emphasis on a// --- all is given, so that a poor man can be nothing and have nothing. There is no limit to the poverty that. might be embraced. There is no poor man excluded from the reach of the gospel. There is no poor man that the Christian will not help, no poor man that he will not join. Anawim (the poor) is a plural word; and it has no limits of poverty. There is an instinct for the most needy, the most abandoned, the poorest of all. In these motives, too, there is a new kind of consciousness inculcated in the Christian disciple. What he does, effectively, by external action, for the poor, is limited and, in the last count, not very effective; that does not matter: What matters is what happens to him, and to the poor, when he gets among them and joins them. It gives him a compassion, a self-forget-fulness, a tenderness, an ability to care that transfo~:ms him and communi-cates itself to the poor to whom he now belongs. In poverty, he has become an embodiment of love. He has begun to sense the reality of an incarnation. He has begun to learn to live as a "dropout" from the existence he might have clung to. He has gone to the castoffs from society, who will love him even if they know that he was not always one of them and is not so deeply rooted in misery as they ai-e. He has gone away from the comfortable and complacent, who have struck him of[ from their lists. He knows the lone-liness of the missionary among the anawim. In these motives, again, there is an undreamt of realism and a stark simplicity. This poverty is not a philosophical theory; one does not muse that every creature is poor, or that man is a conscious beggar for his given existence from God. Nor is this poverty simply the acceptance of whatever limitations (or "poverty") are in fact in one's life, which for the moment cannot be removed. Nor is it the poverty of someone who equips himself to help others, and then looks around for needy people to help, and has to be content with less than ideal types to begin. In this poverty, one does not work out first the a priori conditions of poverty and then see how to imple-' ment them. There are really poor people before our eyes, and it is their poverty we must share, with them that we must become one in a self-for-getting and serving compassion. The poor are always with us. They are there, and we respond to them in an instinct of love, not in a calculation of reason. The Gospel Poor Man The life style of the gospel poor man is then that of a worker among the battlers for existence, a struggler among the not-yet-assured, a sharer among the insufficiently endowed, humanly as well as spiritually. It is a simple life, frugal, hard-earned, frustrating, substandard, where one is not sure how one is to survive, where one lives with the poor on their terms, and on his own, where one lives well below the ordinary normal comfort one might have as the result of one's talents and energy. The gospel poor man 1022 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 gives his time and his self to the poor, and finds 'his place among them. He can say, "We poor." The inspiration for this way of life is Biblical. We could sum it up in slogan words that resonate anew today in the heart of the Church: words like Messiah, anawim, shalom, shaliah, diakonia, evangelion, eucharistia, the mercy of God. Messianism, Anawim, .Covenant, and Peace There is a real resurgence of Messianism in the Church today, Christians are realizing that they are not Christians unless they fall in love with Jesus as Messiah and adopt his Messianic life style. This means that they must fall in love with the poor of their own time, and adopt their life style, for love of Jesus and the gospel of.the poor. A resurrection theology, over two decades, has divested us of an exaggerated spiritualism' in.our spirituality. A poverty theology, stemming from a new Messiah theology, will divest us of a remain-ing complacency in which we would persuade ourselves, if not others, that we share in the sufferings of the Lord without sharing the lot of His little ones. The anawim are His little ones. Because they are the poor, they are the poor of God. God cannot help it--He must fill emptiness with Himself. He cannot make a covenant except with the poor. It is to those who have neither a future nor a hope that He comes to make flow upon them a river of peace, and to bind Himself to be in person their future and their hope. God laughs at those who would offer Him their goods and their love~ and, as it were, enter a two-way relationship with Him: He loves one way, giving His all to those who have nothing and are nothing. After all, He must have His own way of, as it were, joining the poor, too, musn't He? For, to them, He gives His all. This is wh~t the covenant means, and this is the shalom it brings. Shalom does not mean peace, at least, if peace means a comfortable inner feelin.g of security, and no hostilities without. When God loves the anawim, and sends His Christ to them, He does not--immediately, at least--take away their poverty. They are still the poor, these poor of God. His shalom is not an anaesthetic so that they do not feel it. But it is shalom, and it is a trust and a faith and a certainty that He has not chosen the thi.ngs that are, but the things that are not. It is a willingness to smile, even at death. For resurrec-tion is assured, since the eschaton belongs to the anawim. The simplicity of washing the feet of the poor and of serving them in their deepest human needs is itself a total life style, and those who have heard the Messianic call have no option but to live it. It is not easy to wash a poor man's feet. They are dirty, they smell, and he will probably not thank you, but kick you in the face.You probably won't succeed, but you will know that there is a kind of happiness words can never explain in keeping on .doing it. This is the diakonia of the gospel. A Chr~t~n Is a Poor Man / 1023 o Gospel means good news. To proclaim the gospel means to speak, but much more to be good news to men. Some of my American friends have an unkind expression about a difficult and unattractive, character: They say, "He's bad news." They also say of a genuine and real person, "He's good news." Jesus Himself was this kind of good news to the little ones, to the poor. When He began.His Galilean ministry, he read from the ,scroll of Deutero-Isaiah: "He has, sent me to be good news tothe anawim." When we work in his name, in our apostolate, are we, ourselves, good news to men, to poor men? And do we realize that there is no such thing as a direct apostolate to the rich and the well-established, there is only a mission of Jesus and His disciples to the poor? The others get in to the extent that they, too, leave all and become members of the anawim! , Eucharistia and Mercy Eucharistia--the giving of thanks, the celebrating of life, and saying now in Christ, for the past thanks, for the future yes~ Shall we ever know, the truth of that thanks for the past until we can bless the Providence that has made-us poor men? Shall we ever say a total yes to the future until we can face it without any resources as the pure gift of our Covenanted Resource, the God of the poor? It is only then that we shall know Him in the breaking of the bread of pilgrims, at the table of the poor, and discover in surprise that the Eueharist is the liturgy of the little ones. It is true. God has no love that is not mercy. Mercy is His response, in His heart, to misery. To be among the first clients of His mercy, we must be his anawim. A vocation" to His love is a vocation to our brother, the poor man. Recently, a student of mine at Fordham wrote these words as the conclusion of an assignment on the meaning of the apostolate: Are the people of the Word something sp~'cial, or is it only their words? Will their lives speak to us? The eye and ear ~vorld is all sewn up by the talented admen of Madison Avenue. What is left to us? The heart world. The world where flesh,, speaks to flesh, heart to heart. Do not speak religious themes to me. Speak the Word that is in your heart, your experience of life, enriched, made more than human, by the saving power in it that is believable because you believe it. I do want to be told, not by hearing you but by knowing you. Or is that an issue? I ask you if you understand, and your answer is your life. The Recovery of Messianic Man This poverty of Messianic man we are beginning to see again in our time. It is the challenge of our conscience, this cry of the poor. We can no longer vaguely know that half the world is starving for food, and more than half of it for love, and write off .the situation as bad luck, or permitted by providence, and promise to pray for it and count our own blessings. That is not the Christian life; indeed, it is not human life. The new global village is one parish. Every man is my neighbor, and it is a sin to regard a man as a 1024 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 stranger. The Church is beginning to challenge the reasonable moderation and balanced calculation of its stance, before the secular reality of poverty in the world. Some would even speak of the end of a "Constantinian era" and the beginning of a new Mcssianic epoch where the Spirit shall anoint us and send us to the poor. If this is true, it is but a beginning. We have yet a long way to go. When we try to relatc this thinking with the established or recently adopted norms of institutional poverty among religious, the lines do not even meet. Juridic poverty had a place in the history of religious life," but it is not the same as evangelical poverty. Many, of course, in the name of realism, will remind us 'that just as we once spoke of "tending to perfection," an ideal we never reached, so here we must feel obliged only to tend to this perfection of poverty and Messianic life, not to reach it immediately. Yes, but the acid test of the new Christian conscience is that it cannot use this theological formula as an excuse from real and significantly new action. Formulated obligation cannot measure up to a charismatic spirit. Our conscience is telling us that we are suffering from compassion fatigue, that we have enjoyed the protection of our callousness, that we must now .make a new option to be compassionate rather than honorable. Our skin must stretch around the globe, so that if any man hurts, we hurt with him, and do some-thing about it. The Cry of the Poor Pope Paul has taken up this point in his apostolic exhortation to religious (ll tempio massimo, July 2, 1971). "Our contemporaries," he says, "question you with particular insistence about poverty." "You hear rising up, more pressing than ever, the cry of the poor." "Was .it not to respond to their appeal as God's privileged ones that Christ came, even going as far as to identify Himself with them?" It is a "pressing call for a conver-sion of minds and attitudes, especially for you who follow Christ more closely in this earthly condition of self-emptying." It calls for "a conversion of hearts, it is a call to love." What, in practice, will the cry of the poor demand of religious? First, "It must bar you from any compromise with any form of social injustice." Secondly, "It obliges you to awaken consciences to the drama of human misery." Thirdly, "It leads some of you to join the poor in their situation." Fourthly, "It calls many institutes to rededicate some of their works to the poor." Fifthly, "It enjoins on you a use of goods limited to the requirements of your work." Sixthly, "It is necessary that in your daily lives you give external proof of poverty." A Christian is a Poor Man / 1025 Seventhly, "It is not normal to allow yourself everything offered to you." Eighthly, "Earn your own living and help the poor by your work." Ninthly, "You cannot purely and simply conform to your surroundings." Tenthly, "Do not be excessively preoccupied with appearing to be poor." All this is said in conformity with the patterns of obedience and specific apostolate in a given institute. It is a call from the needs of the times and the demands of the gospel. It is a vocation to discover Christ as a poor man. Renewal and Poverly Much energy has gone into the renewal of religious community. Some-times one gets the impression that they are trying to be beautiful resident communities of loving relationships which might then, as an overflow, have something to contribute to the poor. This is heresy. The Church has no mandate to be a resident, domesticated Church. It is essentially missionary, a pilgrim, servant Church of the poor. It is only by living its vocation to poverty among the poor that it can discover the kind of community life Christ intended for it. Likewise, much work has gone into the renewal of authority and obedience in religious life. It will not fully succeed until authority becomes an initiation of new life among the poor, and obedience is a heeding of the cry of the poor. Again, much has been done to make religious life more human, more relational, more interpersonal, more affec-tive. But the tenderness and the gentleness and the caring concern that we so desire, we must learn from our involvement with the poor. It is but an-other work for the meekness of the anawim. Of the poor, it has been said, "Only he who sees the invisible accom-plishes the impossible."~Of the gospel poor man who goes to the poor, we might likewise say, "Only he who loves the unlovable is good news to the little ones." A Penance Service Bonaventure Hinwood, O.F.M. Father Bonaventure Hinwood is a faculty member of The Seminary; 191 Main Street; Waterkloof; Pretoria, South Africa. His penance service given below was originally composed for teaching sisters to be used during Lent 1974. mo 4. 5. B. 6. 7. 1026 Introduction HYMN OPENING PRAYER P(riest): Heavenly Father, who does not wish the death of a sinner but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live, we beg You to turn the light of Your truth upon our lives and bring us to true repentance in this time of mercy. Make your Holy Spirit active within us this evening to lead us to see our lives as they are in Your sight, and to sensitize our hearts so that we may give a true response of love and sorrow to Your call. This we ask through Jesus Christ, our Mediator with You and the cause of our joy. C(ongregation): Amen. SCRIPTURE READING: John 3:16-21. SERMON HYMN First Sel]-con]rontation SCRIPTURE READING: Matthew 16:24-7. P. My sisters, the most precious thing in the whole world for most of us is ourselves. This is demonstrated by the fact that we will frequently use or abandon almost every other person or thing in order to realiz,e our own image of our self-fulfillment, to achieve our own plans and A Penance Service / 1027 projects, to satisfy our needs and desires. Jesus, however, has come to free us from our self-centeredness. He has come to give us a share in His own capacity to devote and to give oneself wholeheartedly to bringing about God's kingdom, and to love Him and those for whom He died. This can only be done by an unstinting gift of ourselves to Him. Do we really desire to make this gift, and are we really intent upon trying to make this self-offering more complete? A(ssistan0 1: Jesus' great commandment tells us that we should love the Lord our God with our whole heart, our whole soul, our whole mind, and our whole strength, and our fellow men as ourselves. This is a fulltime job. Yet a lot of our valuable time and energy gets wasted irt useless tension, frustration, and self-pity. Why is this? Am I really prepared to let go of my own will, or am I too attached to my own wants, my own plans, my own projects, my own way of doing things, my own rhythm of life? A. 2: Am I truly open to viewpoints other than my own, or is my own way of looking at things always my supreme criterion in life? Do I really try to understand the contrary opinions of others, or am I too busy thinking of ways to defend my own viewpoint even to listen to what others are saying? Am I too confident in my own judg-ment to consult with others or seek their advice? Have I failed to respect other people's greater learning or experience? How often have these attitudes of mine been the cause of misunderstanding with others or tensions in the community? A. 1: Do I try to lighten the burden of those charged with regulating the affairs of the Church, the community, and the school by ready cooperation and obedience, or am I destructively critical and stub-born? Do I accept that they are honestly trying to do theirbest for the common good and for me, or am I suspicious and negative in my attitude towards them? Do I seek first the kingdom of God and the common good, o.r is my own convenience primary? SILENCE FOR REFLECTION PI~AYER FOR FORGIVENESS P. Jesus who instructed us that "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me" (Mt 16:24): . Have mercy on me a sinner. P. Jesus who calls us to "Shoulder my yoke and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Mt 11:29-30): 12. Have mercy on me a sinner. 1028 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 11. 12. P. Jesus who warned that "Anyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and anyone who humbles himself will be exalted" (Mt 23: 12): 12. Have mercy on me a sinner. P. Jesus who said by the well of Jacob, "My food is to do the will of the one who sent Me and to complete his work" (Jn 4:34): C. Have mercy on me a sinner. P. Jesus who prayed in Gethsemani, "My Father, if this cup cannot pass by without my drinking it, your will be done" (Mt 26:42) : ¯ . Have mercy on me a sinner. P. Jesus who, although You were the Son of God, "learnt to obey through suffering" (Heb 5:8) : 12. Have mercy on me a sinner. P. Jesus who, having been made perfect, has become for all who obey You the source of eternal salvation (Heb 5:9): C. Have mercy on me a sinner. P. Jesus who has taught us that a man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends (Jn 15:13): 12. Have mercy on me a sinner. Second Self-con]rontation SCRIPTURE READING: John 15:5, 8-12. P. My sisters, the tone of our own lives gives a tone to the environ-ment in which we live, the mental and emotional atmosphere which we create in our own personalities affects the social atmosphere in which those around us have to live. If we, therefore, are negative, cynical, disgruntled, and grumpy people we pollute the atmosphere of those around us with unpleasantness, tension, gloom, and sadness. If, however, we are positive, creative, contented, and cheerful, then we provide for others an atmosphere of brightness and warmth, of enthusiasm, lightness, harmony, and joy. Does our love for others extend as far as building up Christ's joy in ourselves for their sake? -A. 2: It is only in freedom that we can be truly joyful, and Christ has come to set us free from the inordinate and selfish attachment to people, places, activities, and things, which is the cause of much of our sadness. Do I cherish that freedom which a positive and profound living out of my religious vows brings, or are they for me merely nega-tive restraints which produce frustration and discontent? Am I a ful-filled and joyful person because I love in the freedom of my religious vocation, or have I become selfish and finicky? A. 1: In the theme song for the film Brother Son and Sister Moon, Francis complains that he seldom sees and hears the wonders of God's A Penance Service / 1029 13. creatures because he is too "preoccupied with selfish miseries." Am I so busy with my own emotions, particularly negative reactions of suspicion, wounded pride, self-defense, and criticalness that I am un-able to see the beauty, goodness, and virtue of the people and things around me? Am I so busy manipulating and condemning God's creatures, that I do not have time to thank Him and rejoice in them? A. 2: St. Francis said once to a mournful looking brother that the only reason for being sad was because one was in mortal sin, and the only cure for that was to go to confession. Do I really appreciate what an ecstatic thing it is to have been saved by Jesus Christ, to have been made in Him a child of the Father and an heir of God's Kingdom? Am I so busy rejoicing with Mary at the great things God has done for me, that I do not have time to get downhearted and miserable about the other things that may not go the way I want them to? SILENCE FOR REFLECTION PRAYER FOR FORGIVENESS P. Jesus Christ who has told us the good news we read in the passage from St. John so that You may share your joy with us to the full (Jn 17:13): 12. Forgive me my preoccupation with selfish miseries and my lack of joy. P. Jesus, when the wise men heard the prophecy of your birth in Bethlehem and saw the guiding star they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy (Mt 2:10): 12. Forgive me my preoccupation with selfish miseries and my lack of joy. P. Jesus, when You told Zacchaeus that You would stay in his house that day, Zacchaeus welcomed You with joy (Lk 19:6): 12. Forgive me my preoccupation with selfish miseries and my lack of joy. P. At the angel's message about your resurrection, Lord, the women with great joy ran to tell the disciples (Mt 28:8): 12. Forgive me my preoccupation with selfish miseries and my lack of joy. P. Lord who told us that the person who finds the treasure of the kingdom of heaven, in his joy goes and sells all he has to buy it (Mt 13:44): . Forgive me my preoccupation with selfish ~miseries and my lack of joy. Time for Personal Examination and Confession Conclusion 1030 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 15. 16. 17. PENANCES (one penance to be chosen by each penitent) a. Make the Stations of the Cross, meditating on the obedience, meek-ness, and humility of Jesus. b. Spend ten minutes thinking of the good points of a superior, fellow religious, or pupil of whom you are often negatively critical, and praying for her. c. Walk around or sit in the garden for ten minutes listening to the birds and insects, and looking at the trees and flowers, clouds or stars, and thank God for His goodness and rejoice in the wonder of His creation. OUR FATHER (recited by all together) P. May almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to everlasting life. C. Amen: P. May the almighty and merciful Lord grant you pardon, absolution, and forgiveness of your sins. 12. Amen. DISMISSAL P. May the. Lord renew you with His energy and joy. May He ac-company you on your way with His presence and make all your works fruitful. May He strengthen you against all that is evil and give you the courage to serve those nearest to you and all men wherever they may be. And may the blessing of God almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit be with you and remain with you always. 12. Amen. 18. HYMN The Formation of Contemplatives in Action Ladislas Orsy, S.J. Ladislas Orsy, S.J., who has written often on the theology of religious life, is a mem-ber of the Department of Canon Law; The Catholic University of America; Washing-ton, D. C. 20017. Contemplatives in action are the salt of the earth; as a gracious gift from God, they have a tang, and they are able to bring some goodness into every-thing they touch. Quite a good description of religious life! No wonder many communities intent on the ideal of being the salt of the earth raise the question: How do we form contemplatives in action? We take their query, but, to make it more manageable, we break it up into three questions. First, who is a contemplative in action? Second, how does one develop into such a person? Third, what structured program can help the development? That is, our reflections revolve around three topics: the person, the process, and the program. While the focus of our attention is on the person, the resulting description will exhibit a somewhat static picture. It cannot be in any other way. But the movement that gives us con-templatives in action must he somehow caught; therefore, the pilgrim's progress must be delineated, as it were,'in its natural state. Then comes the problem of the environment, how external structures contribute to a process that is so deeply internal and personal. Since everybody knows how far-reaching these three questions are and how difficult it is to find any final answer, we are in the happy position of having to respond to only limited expectations. The reflections of a man may be no more than a drop into the ocean, but, for that man, it is certainly pleasant to contemplate the vast dimensions of the ocean even if he cannot add much to it. 1031 1032 / Review for Religious. l/olume 33, .1974/5 The dimensions of the question of the formation of contemplatives in action are indeed vast, and the real answer will not be given by any writer, but existentially by communities who do something about it. After all, for-mation is a practical issue. PART I: TIlE PERSON The beginning of any search should be an inquiry. We have already broken up the big fundamental issue into three more particular ones, and now we focus on the first: Who is a contemplative in action? Two qualities must be present in the person: the capacity to contemplate and the ability to act. Moreover, the two should be blended together; this is what the issue implies. Hence, to put our search on the right paths, there should be an even more particularized sequence of questions. Let us ask therefore: Who is a contemplative person? Who is a person of action? And finally, to see how the two blend together, let us see who is an integrated person. Who Is a Contemplative Person? The term "contemplative" can be used in different senses. At times, it means a hermit, a recluse, or a religious with strict enclosure: then it focuses on the external situation in which a person is found, such as solitude and separation from the world. At times, the term means a person bent on in-tellectual reflection: then it focuses on the internal disposition of a writer, of an artist, of anyone who is of reflective type. The Christian Contemplative In Christian tradition, the word includes a sacred dimension: a con-templative person is the one who experiences in his innermost being a tran-scendent and sacred power that draws him to Christ. All the words in this general description° connote a mystery. To be contemplative, then, is to experience in the depths of our being the intrusion of a power that moves us to a direction that is beyond our horizons. This experience does not enter-tain the senses; they can remain thirsty and hungry. Nor does it satisfy the intelligence; it can remain frustrated and empty. But the experience brings a meaning to our humanity even if not every part of it can appreciate its values. The content of the experience is hard to describe; it is not concep-tual; it is the perception of an internal movement that does not necessarily bring new knowledge nor leave a specific impression on our being. Rather, we become aware of an energy that is given to us from a source that is more powerful than ourselves. It comes from a world that is beyond our ordinary capacity to see or to reach. It comes from a transcendental source. This power that wells up in our being is apprehended as sacred. It is concerned with our ultimate destination. It comes from God; it carries us to God. The discovery of this energy may remind us of the precious pearl of a great value; the merchant who finds it sells all to buy it (see Matt 13:45-6). The Formation o] Contemplatives in Action / 1033 The analogy is partially right. The gift is more precious than any pearl, and to sell all to have it makes good sense. Yet the same gift is not an object to be stored and exposed for admiration; rather we become aware of a current that takes hold of us, of a movement that reaches us at the depth of our being. Other Descriptions oI a Contemplative This description leads to another formulation of the definition of a con-templative person. He is the one who is ordinarily aware of the presence and power of the Lord in him and who follows the direction of the move-ment imprinted in him. This definition is more personal; it names the source of the power--it is the Lord. All is put into the context of a person-to-person relationship. The energy is transcendental and sacred because it originates in the one who moves all living things. The experience of the power is an obscure aware-ness of the Lord reminiscent somewhat of the experience of the Apostles fishing on the Sea of Tiberias at the breaking of the dawn and noticing a stranger on the shore. Attracted by His unusual presence, surprised by the power of His voice, gradually they became aware that it was the Lord. The intrusion of the Lord in our life is a gift that does not create a state of romantic happiness; rather, it helps us to realize the complexity of our nature. We can be happy at some depths and yet suffer acutely from thirst and hunger. We can be resigned at one level and yet mourn the loss of a loved person at another level. We can be anchored through hope and yet tossed around by the uncertainties of this world that may amount even to persecution. The gift of contemplation and the discovery of it could be described in many other ways. All would be analogical and incomplete. We could speak about a small light that attracts from a great distance but does not alleviate the darkness and the loneliness of the night. We could speak about a rising inner security that holds a person firm while he is subject to present and future shocks from a world that changes around him. The term "contemplative" may not be the best to describe a person so blessed, since traditionally it implies an intellectual vision and does not con-vey the idea of participation in a movement. The distinction between the two--vision and movement--may be flimsy especially at greater depths. Nonetheless, the term has been sanctioned by tradition; hence it would be difficult to break away from it. Besides, there is no adequate term to cover the reality we described. Through this awareness of God's presence and power, a person trans-cends himself, is carried beyond himself. He enters a new universe that is marked by God's immensity and His infinity. The old conceptual horizons with their precise circumscriptions disappear, and new desires get hold of the heart. The actions of such a person will spring from a new source. 1034 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 Becoming a Contemplative Person We attempted an answer to the question: Who is a contemplative per.- son? To understand him further, let us raise the question: How does some-one become a contemplative person? Clearly, there is no other way of becoming a contemplative person than by discovering internally the Lord's power. The gift is independent of us, but the process of discovery is somewhat within our capacity. This search for the elusive gift that is present enough to attract us and absent enough to require a long journey has been frequently described in Christian tradition as a descent into greater depths or as an ascent to greater heights or as a steady progress into ever more intimate dwellings of God in our being. All these allegories are meaningful; all converge into saying that there is a process that ought to be a progress toward a closer relation-ship with the Lord. Usually we speak of the pilgrim's progress, of man's journey to God; correct speech would require us to speak of God's progress in overwhelming man with His grace and power. The initiative is really His at every stage. Yet we can resist His approaches or subtly divert our attention from them. Hence, pragmatically, it serves a purpose to speak of our own journey to God. Perhaps to reconcile the exigencies of the primacy of grace and of our own need to be alert to God, we can use a modern alle-gory and speak about a process of liberation that man must go through to be transformed into an image of God. The principal agent in this process is the Lord, but we are real, active agents as well, if not to the extent of giving freedom to ourselves, at least to the point of removing obstacles before the helping hand of God. Need for Progression in Depth We take up the traditional allegory in a different way: to become a con-templative person means to enter into life with increasing intensity. There is a need for progress in depth. Man indeed is a complex being endowed with an awareness of life at different levels: on the level of what his senses can perceive and communicate, on the level of what his mind can penetrate and understand, and on the level that has no limitations because it opens up into the infinite universe discovered through faith. We all live and move on all these levels; in the awareness of our being, they intermingle, they form a unity. Nonetheless, a person's development can be arrested on the level of a world communicated to him through his senses, without much understanding, without the light of faith. A person can find satisfaction on the level of hu-man intelligence, a worthy and dignified life it would be, yet without the hope that springs from faith. Finally, a person can reach the depths that faith brings and let all his life be invaded by the light and strength that origi-nates in the Lord who revealed Himself through the contingencies of human history. The Formation o] Contemplatives in Action / 1035 Libration from the Communications of the Senses The life of a person can revolve around the content of those communi-cations that he receives from his senses, and the expansion of his personality into the fascinating world of creative intelligence or into the limitless world of faith can be impeded. Such a person is underdeveloped. Without know-ing it, he is a captive of those steady impacts that he receives from the out-side world; his being relishes them, or at least is attached to them, at times to the point that any desire to go deeper is weakened to the point of ex-tinction. Our particular culture favors such an attitude. Much of the press, radio, television, cinema thrives on the passive receptivity of the public; the media rarely stimulate creative activity; still less do they send their readers, lis-teners, o~ viewers into an advefiture of faith. When someone is immersed in that world, the impression clouds his mind and cancels out the natural dynamism of a desire for better things. If this is so, there is a need for an internal war of liberation. To begin with, the person must become conscious of his mutilated state; he must admit that his growth has been arrested, and that he is deprived of a fully human and Christian life. Obviously enough, we are speaking more of a principal trend than of an absolute univocal state. There will always be some intelligent activity in every person, some movements of faith in every Christian, but the question is which of these many trends prevails. '°~AI great deal of our traditional asceticism was meant to liberate the pers.o~ from the captivity that communications from the senses can induce. Thus far it was good; it went wrong when it assumed that mortification alone can achieve liberation. It is also necessary to show the person broader vistas of intelligence and' faith that attract. No one will ever exchange some-thing for nothing, but show him a better value that pulls his being and-he will be ready to sacrifice many things. Many novitiates failed in the past because they taught asceticism without opening up new horizons. As soon as the novitiate was over, the imposed practices collapsed, and there was no realization of new frontiers that opened up into a new world. Liberation from the overbearing communications that come through our senses is necessary, but it can be achieved only by the steady pull of higher values consistently present in our consciousness. Liberation from the Limitations of Intelligence A person's life can focus mainly on the fascinating world of his creative intelligence. This is progress in depth; it means more humanity, it means greater likeness to God's image. Yet it has limitations: it does not know the immense world opened up by faith, or, when that world is presented, it can impede the person from entering into the dizzy unknown that he cannot measure or explain. The world of human intelligence can offer much human satisfaction. We feel at home there, the problems are of our own size, and 1036 / Review Sot Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 the objects of our desires are attainable. It is all a comfortable and also a comforting world, but, because there is a longing in man for the infinite, a reassuringly human world can become a prison; man can enclose himself in a universe proportionate to his mind. A process of liberation may be necessary precisely to enter a new universe opened up by faith, perhaps by the experience of the presence and power of the Lord in our innermost being. Much of the traditional literature that spoke about the mortification of judgment intended to speak about the freeing of the mind for the impact of faith, about opening up our being for God's own horizons. It was right as far as it did not suggest an empty exercise but rather showed .the greatness of God and the harm6ny of His plan which makes worthwhile an exchange that leads to the loss of our thoughts and desires. The New World o] Faith To live on the level of faith is to live in a new universe with God in its center, known as He revealed Himself through Jesus Christ. In Him, all things and events receive a meaning--our own life included. The limitations of our humanity imposed by the senses and by our intelligence are broken up; there is an infinite openness in every direction. The transition into the world of faith is a radical ch.ange. Once again, it brings out the complexity of our natui'e. While the deepest and the best in us relishes the expansion of our horizons into infinity, while'~we experience a new security in our Maker, our mind misses the clarit.y, of human equations, and our senses long for the security of a more familiar world. Paradoxically the universe of God that brings peace to our restless he~-t unsettles our intelligence and our senses. For those who live by faith, the awareness of a deep security is compatible with the experience of insecurity in their human-ity. To comprehend this seemingly contradictory situation is the clue to the acceptance of it. Many recoil from entering the universe of faith because they cannot handle this complex situation in themselves, and they do not realize that the resulting tension is the ordinary lot of a pilgrim who is entering into an unknown land. No writer has ever better described this paradoxical state than St. John of the Cross: To enjoy all enjoy nothing; To possess all, possess nothing; To be all; be nothing; To know all, know nothing. To reach what you do not enjoy go where there is no enjoyment; The Formation oj Contemplatives in Action / 1037 To learn what you do not know, tread the path of ignorance; To obtain what you do not possess, walk without possessions; To be what you are not, leave behind all that you are. (The Ascent o] Mount Carmel, Book 1, Chapter 13) Our translation is not literal. Its intent is more to bring out the stark simplicity of the Spanish text than to render exactly each word. Once we understand the complexity of our nature, those sharp contrasts painted by the saint become meaningful. At one level our being can embrace all and be satisfied, while on another level it is thoroughly frustrated and empty. In the depths of our heart we can know of the presence of a mystery and accept its demands, while our mind and senses cry out for some nourishment more proportionate to their desires. The Paradoxes of a Li[e in Faith No one should be surprised if a person entering the universe of faith and experiencing its dimensions and demands on his being becomes upset and appears disoriented. He has a fine balancing job to do, and it cannot be learned in one day. Moreover, he may discover new depths every day, and like all humans he may become dizzy and scared. He must reconcile securi-ty with insecurity, satisfaction with hunger, a most intense personal relation-ship with a human loneliness. He experiences courage and fear, the ex-pansion of his own personality and the loss of friends who do not under-stand. But as the balancing work progresses, he begins to be himself in a fuller sense of the word than he has known before. Almost certainly, he be-comes both a witness who attracts and a sign that is contradicted. He finds his journey both lonely and exhilarating. Strangely enough, as he progresses into the unknown land of faith, his humanity opens up and his intelligence becomes more creative than ever and his senses partake somehow in celebrating new discoveries. Such a person is anything but dull; he is the salt of the earth--with a tang. Summing It Up To sum it all up: a human perso.n can live on different levels. His life may revolve around the impacts that his senses communicate, or his life be an expression of the creativity of human intelligence, or his life may be the sharing of God's life and of His universe in faith. To speak about levels, of course, is to use a metaphor to express somehow the complexity of our nature, about which there can be no doubt. These levels blend into each other, and a thoughtful person graced by God should progress from the more external to the more .internal, from human desires to divine in-vitations. There is a dynamism in our being that attempts to bring it con-tinuously to greater depths. 1038 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 The right question about the formation of contemplatives can be formu-lated now; it is: How can a person be helped to progress into the universe of faith; how can his attention be directed to the unknown land that God's revelation opens up, and how can he be attracted into desiring an adven-ture? In particular, the question should be put: How can a person be helped during the specific crisis of transition from the world of human measures into the unmeasurable universe of God? To this question, we shall return when we speak of the process and pro-gram of formation. Before doing so, we must reflect on action that springs from contemplation. Who Is a Person of Action? A contemplative person is the one who experiences the Lord's presence and power in his innermost being, a close interpersonal relationship. Is it a closed relationship as well? Or, is it open so as to" inspire action? At any rate, who is a person of action? Two Misconceptions To clear our mind for a fruitful inquiry, let us exorcise it from two mis-conceptions. One conceives human action as something added to a person from the outside in much the same way as an external object can be pegged onto a tree. Such an aberration, of course, does not make any sense. Human action proceeds from the depths of a person, as the fruit is produced from the inner potentials of a tree. As there is an organic, sequential unity between the tree and the fruit, so there is a dynamic and harmonious unity between the inner riches of a man and his actions. They cannot be considered separately, even if mentally we draw a distinction between cause and effect. Another mistake is to think that actions to be significant ought to be s.pectacular. °They must initiate a new movement, or they must make a dra-matic impact on thousands. Not so! Significant action can evolve around humbler objects, as the actions of a Christian mother who takes care of her family, or the actions of a monk who with sudden inspiration or enduring patience creates a new melody to praise the Lord. By action, we mean all kinds of creative activity that somehow enriches this universe. Action Is an Enrichment o[ the Universe Now that these understandings are out of the way, we can return to our question: Who is a person of action? He is the one who brings fruit that can be seen by his fellow men and enriches them. The quality of the action depends on the potentials of the person who produces it; and the state of his mind, of his heart will be projected into his actions. An action is first born when our intelligence discovers a possibility for enriching this universe. It ought to be a real possibility in the sense that The Formation o] Contemplatives in Action / 1039 the action once taken will blend into a broader plan that is already un-folding outside us. Therefore, no one can be sensibly active unless he can direct his attention to all relevant facts around him, unless he can grasp an intelligent pattern behind them; moreover, he must have strength and energy to transform a possibility into reality. Action is indeed an act of creation. Through it, man somehow tran-scends himself, produces something new, similar to his internal x;ision and desire. When active, man becomes more like God, his creator; after all, he was made to the image of God. Not only is there nothing wrong with action; there would be something missing in a man who is not active--the image of God our creator would not be complete. It follows also that due to the complexity of our nature our actions may originate at different levels; the quality of action will reflect the quality of its source. Levels o] Action An action may originate in what is communicated through the senses without the benefit of intelligent reflection and judgment and without the enlightening influence of faith. It can be a mere emotional response, or it can be a way of doing what the others are doing; in such a case, a man operates in a poor way. What is best in his humanity does not participate in the action. The external act is. marked by its shallow origin; it does not create "a new harmony in the world, it merely add's to the universal noise. At best, the.person beats the drum with the others. An action may proceed from intelligent insight and reasonable judg-ment. Such action is certainly worthy of man, although it may not reflect the wisdom of God that is scandal to the Jews and sheer stupidity to the pagans. Some fields of human activity requir~ this type of action, such as going back and forth in space. After all, the laws of space are proportionate to our intelligence, and consequently, a proper field for reasonable opera-tions. But such action is not enough to build the reign of Christ. The deepest source of action in a Christian is in his contemplation, in his awareness of the Lord's presence and power. When action comes from such depths, it must pass through the screening of critical intelligence; it must also reflect the humanity of our senses: nonetheless, it is born from grace. It comes from God, it builds the kingdom. The Liberation o[ Action As in the case of contemplation, there is a problem of transition into the universe of faith to which Christian actions ultimately must ~be adjusted. Since it does not provoke an immediate reaction on the level of the senses, since it does not prompt ~n immediate intelligent response, our action itself can appear as a journey into the vast immensity of the unknown; all the problems of the paradox we described for contemplation are manifest in 1040 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/5 this field too. Also, the process of liberation must take place in a similar way. Our action must proceed from an increasingly deeper source. A Christian person of action, then, is the one who received God's grace in his whole being and in whom grace brought fruit for the enrichment of the world around him. There is integrity in such a person because his beliefs are followed by good deeds, and those deeds do not spring from an emotional reaction, not even from mere human reasoning, but from a depth which is scrutinized by the Spirit of God. Such a person has a unity in his being; he is whole, he is made of one piece; in his acts of creative action, he mani-fests the image of the Creator. All the elements are together now to answer the question: Who is an integrated person? Who Is an Integrated Person? An integrated Christian person is the one who has developed his poten-tials fully, and thus he became whole. He lives his life with all the intensity his resources allow. He experiences God's presence and power in his inner-most being, and he builds the kingdom of God through external action. In a small scale, he revives something of the mystery of the Incarnation. He is in this world, and he is attentive to all that happens around him. He brings his intelligence to bear on all facts and events. Through his in-sights, he penetrates deeper than the apparent truth. He is liberated enough to see new possibilities, and, once he has decided on a course of action, he is

Issue 32.1 of the Review for Religious, 1973. ; 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 © 1972 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. 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 payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor January 1973 Volume 32 Number 1 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. Review for Religious Volume 32, 1973 / 1 Editorial Offices 539 North Grand Boulevard Saint Louis, Missouri 63103 R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Review ]or Religious is published in January, March, May, July, September, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edi-tion of Review ]or Religious is available from University Microfilm; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright (~ 1973 by Review ]or Religious. AIIocution on Secular Institutes On September 20 1972 members of the International Congress of Leaders of Secular Institutes were granted an audience with His Holiness, Pope Paul VI. During the audience the Holy Father delivered the following allocution, presented here in the English translation given in the Osservatore romano, English language weekly edition, October 5 1972, pages 3-4. Beloved Sons and Daughters in the Lord, once more we have the oppor-tunity of meeting you, Leaders of the Secular Institutes, who are and repre-sent a vigorous and flourishing section of the Church at this moment of history. The circumstance that has brought you before us is, this time, the International Congress which you have carried out and are about to con-clude here in Nemi, near our summer residence at Castel Gandolfo, and at which you examined the statutes of the "World Conference of Secular Institutes" (C.M.I.S.), about to be erected. We do not wish to discuss your work, which was certainly carried out with thoroughness and enthusiasm, under the watchful care and with the participation of the competent Sacred Congregation. We hope that it will reap rich fruits in relation to the increase of your institutions. Your Presence a Testimony We rather desire to dwell on some reflections about what the function of the secular institutes could be in the mystery of Christ and in the mystery of the Church. When we look at you and think of the thousands and thousands of men and women of whom you are part, we cannot but feel consoled, while a deep sense of joy and gratitude to the Lord comes over us. How strong and flourishing the Church of Christ appears in you! This venerable Mother of ours, whom some people today, even among her sons, take as the butt 4 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 of harsh, pitiless criticism; about whom some delight in describing fanciful symptoms of decrepitude and in predicting ruin; here we see her, on the contrary, bursting continuously into bud and blossoming beyond all expec-tation with initiatives of holiness. We know that it must be so and could not be otherwise, because Christ is the divine inexhaustible source of the vi-tality of the Church; and your presence offers us a further testimony of this, and is for all of us an opportunity for renewed consciousness. But we wish to scan your face more closely, in the family of the People of God. You, too, reflect a "specific way" in which the mystery of Christ can be lived in the world, and a "specific way" in which the mystery of the Church can be manifested. Christ the Redeemer is such a fullness, which we will never be able to understand or express completely. He is everything for His Church. In her, what we are we are just because of Him, with Him, and in Him. Also for the secular institutes, therefore, He remains the ultimate example, the in-spirer, the source on which to draw. Based on Christ the Savior and following His example you are carrying out, in your own characteristic way, an important mission of the Church. But the Church, too, in her way, like Christ, is such a fullness, such riches, that no one by himself, no institution by itself, will ever be able to understand her and express her adequately. Nor would it be .possible for us to discover her dimensions, because her life is Christ, who is God. So also the reality of the Church, and the mission of the Church, can be expressed completely only in the plurality of members. It is the doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ, the doctrine of the gifts and charisms of the Holy Spirit. A Consecrated Secularity This is the point, as you have understood, to ask ourselves about your particular way of carrying out the mission of the Church. What is your spe-cific gift, your characteristic role, the "quid novum" brought by you to the Church of today? Or: in what way are you the Church today? You know the answer; you have by now clarified it to yourselves and to the Christian community. You are at a mysterious confluence between the two powerful streams of Christian life, welcoming riches from both. You are laymen, consecrated as such by the sacraments of baptism and confirmation but you have chosen to emphasize your consecration to God with the profession of the evangeli-cal counsels assumed as obligations with a stable and recognized bond. You remain laymen, engaged in the secular values characteristic of, and peculiar to, the laity (Lumen gentium, 31), but yours is a "consecrated secularity" (Paul VI, Discorso ai Dirigenti e Membri degli Istituti Secolari nel XXV della "Provida Mater," L'Osservatore Romano, 3 February 1972), you are "secular consecrated" (Paul VI, Discorso ai partecipanti al Congresso ln-ternazionale degli lstituti Secolari, 26 September 1970, Insegnamenti A llocution on Secular Institutes VIII, p. 939). Though "secular," your position differs in a certain way from that of mere laymen, since you are engaged in the same worldly values, but as consecrated beings: that is, not so much to affirm the intrinsic validity of human things in themselves, but to direct them explicitly according to the evangelical beatitudes. On the other hand you are not religious, but in a certain way your choice is concordant with the religious, because the con-secration you have made sets you in the world as witnesses to the suprem-acy of spiritual and eschatological values, that is, to the absolute character of your Christian charity. The greater the latter is, the more relative it makes the values of the world seem, while at the same time it helps their correct implementation by yourselves and by your other brothers. Both Aspects Essential Neither of the aspects of your spiritual nature can be overrated at the expense of the other. They are both equally essential. "Secularity" indicates your involvement in the world. But it does not mean only a position, a function, which coincides with living in the world by practicing a trade, a "secular" profession. It must mean in the first place awareness of being in the world as "your specific place of Christian re-sponsibility." To be in the world, that is, to be engaged in secular values, is your way of being the Church and of making her present, of saving your-selves and of announcing salvation. Your existential and sociological con-dition becomes your theological reality; it is your way to realize and testify to salvation. Thus you are an advanced wing of the Church "in the world"; you express the will of the Church to be in the world in order to mold it and sanctify it "from within, in the manner of leaven" (Lumen gentium, 31), a task, too, which is mainly entrusted to the laity. You are a particularly concrete and efficacious manifestation of what the Church wishes to do to construct the world described and desired by Gaudium et Spes. "Consecration," on the other hand, indicates the intimate and secret carrying structure of your being and your acting. Here is your deep and hid-den wealth, which the men in the midst of whom you live cannot explain and often cannot even suspect. Baptismal consecration has been further radicalized as a result of an increased aspiration for love aroused in you by the Holy Spirit; not in the same form as the consecration of religious, but nevertheless such as to induce you to make a fundamental option for life according to the evangelical beatitudes. So that you are really consecrated and really in the world. "You are in the world and not of the world, but for the world," as we ourself described you on another occasion (Paul VI, Discorso ai partecipanti al Congresso Internazionale degli Istituti Secolari, 26 September 1970, lnsegnamenti, VII, p. 939). You live a real consecra-tion according to the evangelical counsels, but without the fullness of "visi-bility" characteristic of religious consecration; a visibility that is constituted, 6 / Review lor Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 in addition to the public vows, by a closer community life and by the "sign" of the religious habit. Yours is a new and original form of consecration, prompted by the Holy Spirit to be lived in the midst Of temporal realities, and to bring the strength of the evangelical counsels--that is, of divine and eter-nal values--into the midst of human and temporal values. The Cross of Christ Your choices of poverty, chastity and obedience are ways of partici-pating in the cross of Christ, because they associate you with Him in the renunciation of goods which are elsewhere permissible and legitimate; but they are also ways of participating in the victory of the risen Christ, since they free you from the hold that these values might have on the full avail-ability of your spirit. Your poverty tells the world that it is possible to live among temporal goods and use the means of civilization and progress, without being enslaved by any of them. Your chastity tells the world that it is possible to love with disinterestedness and the inexhaustibility that draws on God's heart, and to dedicate oneself joyfully to everyone without tying oneself to anyone, taking care particularly of the most abandoned. Your obedience tells the world that it is possible to be happy without stopping at a comfortable personal choice, but remaining fully at the disposal of God's will, as it appears from daily life, from the signs of the times, and from the aspirations to salvation of the world of today. Thus, also your activity in the world--both personal and collective, in the professional sectors in which you are engaged individually or as a community--receives from your consecrated life a more marked orientation towards God, it, too, being somehow involved and swept along in your consecration. And in this singular and providential configuration, you enrich the Church of today with a particular exemplarity in her "secular" life, liv-ing it as consecrated beings; and with a particular exemplarity in her "con-secrated" life, living it as secular persons. Priests in Secular Institutes At this point we would like to dwell on a particularly fruitful aspect of your institutions. We are referring to the numerous group of those who, consecrated to Christ in the ministerial priesthood and wishing to be united to Him with a further bond of donation, embrace the profession of the evangelical counsels, joining the secular institutes in their turn. We are thinking of these brothers of ours in Christ's priesthood, and we wish to encourage them, while we admire in them, once more, the action of the Spirit, indefatigable in arousing desire for ever greater perfection. What has been said so far, certainly applies to them, too, but it would require further study and clarifications. In fact, they arrive at consecration in the evangelical counsels and commitment to "secular" values not as laymen, but as ecclesiastics, that is, bearers of a sacred mediation in the People of Allocution on Secular Institutes / 7 God. In addition to baptism and confirmation, which constitute the basic consecration of the laity in the Church, they have received a subsequent sacramental specification in holy orders, which have constituted them hold-ers of certain ministerial functions with regard to the Eucharist and the Mys-tical Body of Christ. This has left the "secular" nature of Christian voca-tion intact, and they can therefore enrich it by living it as "consecrated" persons in the secular institutes. The requirements of their spirituality are very different, however, as well as certain external implications in their practice of the evangelical counsels and in their secular commitment. Ecclesiai Communion In conclusion we wish to address a pressing and fatherly invitation to everyone: to cultivate and increase ecclesial communion, to have it at heart always and particularly. You are vital articulations of this communion, because you, too, are the Church; never make an attack on their effi-ciency. It is impossible to conceive or understand an ecclesial phenomenon outside the Church. Never let yourselves be overcome by, or even give thought to, the temptation, too easy today, that authentic communion with Christ is .possible without real harmony with the ecclesial community gov-erned by the legitimate pastors. It would be misleading and illusory. Of what value would an individual or a group be, however lofty and perfect their intentions might be subjectively, without this communion? Christ asked us for it as a guarantee to admit us to communion with Him, just as He asked us to love our neighbor as documentation of our love for Him. You are, therefore, of Christ and for Christ, in His Church; this Church is your local community, your institute, your parish, but always in the communion of faith, of Eucharist, of discipline, and of faithful and loyal collaboration with your bishop and with the hierarchy. Your structures and your activities should never lead you--be you priests or laymen--to a "bi-polarity" of positions, or to an "alibi" of interior and exterior attitude, far less to positions in opposition to your pastors. This is our invitation; this is our wish, in order that you may be in the midst of the world authentic operators of the one saving mission of the Church, in your own characteristic way, to which you have been called and invited. May the Lord thus help you to prosper and fructify further, with our Apostolic Blessing. Address on Religious Life Paul On October 19 1972 Pope Paul gave an audience to the.representatives of the national conferences of religious institutes of men and women together with the "Council of the Sixteen," a group composed of eight superiors general of men religious and of eight superiors general of women religious. During the audience the Holy Father delivered the following allocution which is printed here in an adaptation of the English translation that appeared in Osservatore romano, English language weekly edition, November 5 1972, page 5. Dear Sons and Daughters: Let Us first of all express to you the joy and emotion that we feel on receiving you. With Us you bear the honor and the weight of a great responsibility: the guidance and the authenticity of religi-ous life today. Beyond your persons we behold the thousands of men and women who devote their lives to following Christ in the practice of the evangelical counsels. They represent an immense hope for Us and for the entire Church. You have responded to the appeal of the Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes to review during these few days the aggiornamento that the Council and your chapters have aroused and implemented, par-ticularly on the plane of prayer and common life. You have tried to ascer-tain how to overcome the tensions that are appearing--they are probably inevitable--within your different congregations and how to live, in a certain pluralism, the deep unity to which the disciples of Christ must bear witness. We are deeply satisfied with your collaboration with the Congregation which is charged with attending to and presiding over the solution of these problems and thereby with serving you. We hope that this collaboration will be more and more frequent, trusting, and fruitful. Religious Spirit Within the framework of this brief meeting today, it is not possible for Address on Religious Li]e / 9 Us to take up all the questions raised by the adaptation and renewal of religious life. Last year in our apostolic exhortation Evangelica testificatio, We set forth for you Our concerns and hopes on this matter. In the Lord's name We defined the criteria of discernment that will help to guide you along this demanding but compellingly attractive path to a more evangelical life. Webeg you to keep before your eyes and to meditate upon the various elements of religious life which We emphasized and to do this without ne-glecting any of them. This morning our only hope is to revive in you the "religious spirit" that must mark your persons and your communities as well as your positive adherence to the Church. You have chosen to live your baptismal vocation in the particular frame: work of the religious life; rather you have agreed to serve the Lord in this radical way which is a deep response to an evangelical appeal, a way which has p~'oved itself in the Church for centuries and which the Church has authenticated as an unequaled and indispensable testimony of the Beatitudes. We speak frankly to you: Be consistent with yourselves, be faithful to your vocation, do not let this essential character of religious life--which is youi" role in life--dissolve either in theory or in practice. Most Christians are called to affirm their faith and to exercise their charity as laymen with all the temporal responsibilities incumbent on them; their testimony is essential as We have often stressed. Some of them ale doing so today with the sup-port and according to'the requirements of a secular institute; and we have recently [see the preceding article in this issue of Review ]or Religious] praised again this new initiative. But all of thes6 laymen need your faith-fulness to your specific vocation as religious men and women. In addition to the vows of consecrated chastity, poverty, and obedience, religious life demands, as you know, a common life lived in complete brotherhood. It requires a particular kind of asceticism which leads you to renounce freely and joyfully the goods of this world as a sign of your attachment to the Lord Jesus loved for His own sake and above everything and even to the cross. It is manifested in an obedience which makes you completely available for the will of our Father. in heaven through the con-crete appeals of the Church and" of your superiors; it is the way that Jesus lived in obedience to His Father through the conditions of His incarnation (see Jacques Guillet, Jdsus-Christ hier et aujourd'hui .[Paris: Descl6e de Brouwer, 1963], pages 109-25). In short, you must aim at evangelical per-fection (see Mt 5:48) so as to be permanently living signs of the tran-scendency o[ the kingdom ot' God. Paradox of the Gospel Certainly, tl~is sign will not always be understood, and this not only by the "world," as understood by St. John, but even by men of good will and even by your Christian brothers and sisters. And as a result you will suffer. For this world is not only attracted--and sometimes enslaved--by posses- Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 sions, power, and the flesh, but it has become supersensitive to the demand for personal development in the framework of complete autonomy. Accord-ing to some, your life may assume an aspect that is somewhat mysterious, strange, and even inhuman. And yet you know that what is foolishness in the eyes of men is wisdom in the eyes of God (see 1 Cor 1:25-7). Besides, would not the real scandal be to perceive that, on the pretext of adaptation, you renounce the requirements of prayer, humility, poverty, sharing, purity, simplicity, and disinterested service that Christ has asked of His disciples? Let us be clear: The form of religious life must not despise natural talents or personal charisms; it must serve the vocation of each person. And it is a heavy task for you as superiors to see to it that each of your brothers and of your sisters may develop in it and may be treated with con-sideration. But the paradox of the gospel--which you more than others have the mission to carry out fully--must not be forgotten: "For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 16:25). Be assured that this love of the Lord, lived to the extent of renunciation of yourselves, cannot remain without fruit. As it brings you deep joy and the hope of eternal life, it will mysteriously open up for souls the way to the God of love. In this sense, do not fear to be fully religious. Concern for the Missions We will now deal briefly with the second subject of our talk. Such love of God, continually awakened by deep prayer and stimulated by fraternal life, cannot turn you aside from the missionary concern animating you today --a reality in which We greatly rejoice. Whether you live a contemplative or a directly apostolic life, love of the Church will be at the heart of your con-cerns. You will, of course, adhere to the true faith that she professes. You will welcome confidently the guidelines she lays down, the decisions she takes, in different fields for the good of all. At this time this testimony of loyalty of all religious in their union with the See of Peter seems to Us to be of vital importance. Look at history: This loyalty was always decisive at the periods when the Church undertook her great reforms. But, according to the specific charism of your institutes, you will also share the Church's determination to really meet this world, new as it is in so many respects. It is not a question of conforming to it, but of accepting it, of understanding it, and of loving it to the extent of announcing Jesus Christ to it with evan-gelical patience and according to the means best suited to its understanding. In each of your dioceses, regions, and countries, the bishops have the task, with their priests' and pastoral councils, of discerning priority needs, of directing pastoral efforts, and of coordinating them. Each institute must clearly define its personal identity in order to find its place in this service with its own vocation. There is no question of absorbing the wealth of your multiform, traditional charisms in an authoritarian grouping or in an impov- Address on Religious Li]e / 11 erishing leveling process. Nevertheless, each one must participate, in complete availability, in the mission of the Church in harmony with the apostolate ex(rcised in the People of God as a whole under the responsibility of the hierarchy. You will always remember that "exemption" itself concerns particularly the internal structures of your congregations (see Evangelica testificatio, no. 50); it must never be an obstacle to the implementation of a close, deep, cordial communion of sentiments and of action with your bishops. Conclusion Dear Sons and Daughters, We have been thinking of you these days and as we celebrated Mass in honor of St. Luke. You are among those disciples that the Lord is sending before Himself today. We beg the Master of the harvest to send you numerous companions, men and women, of tested loyalty. Already it seems to us that the moment has come for a revival of religious life in depth. Therefore go forth throughout the entire world. Take Christ's peace to it. By your own consecrated life, proclaim His good news: "The Kingdom of God has come near to you" (Lk 10:9). With Mary turn to the Lord in thanksgiving and with perfect availability. And We willingly im-part to you Our blessing. Instruction on Intercommunion Secretariat [or Promoting Christian Unity This English translation of the Latin text of the Instruction is taken from the August 1972 issue of ln[ormation Service published by the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity. 1. The Question We are often asked the question: in what circumstances and on what con-ditions can members of other Churches and ecclesial communities be ad-mitted to Eucharistic communion in the Catholic Church? The question is not a new one. The Second Vatican Council (in the decree on ecumenism Unitatis redintegratio) and the Directorium oecumeni-cure dealt with it.1 The pastoral guidance offered here is not intended to change the existing rules but to explain them, bringing out the doctrinal principles on 1The Decree on Ecumenism (Unitatis redintegratio), no. 8: "Yet, worship in common [communicatio in sacris] is not to be considered as a means to be used indiscriminately for the restoration of unity among Christians. There are two main principles upon which the practice of such common worship depends: first, that of the unity of the Church which ought to be expressed; and second, that of the sharing in means of grace. The expression of unity very generally forbids common worship. Grace to be obtained sometimes commends it. The concrete course to be adopted, when due regard has been given to all the circumstances of time, place, and persons, is left to the prudent decision of the local episcopal authority, unless the Bishops' conference ac-cording to its own statutes, or the Holy See, has determined other~vise." See also the Decree on the Eastern Churches (Orientalium Ecclesiarum), no. 27. Directorium ad ea qaae a Concilio Vaticano Secundo de re oecumenica promulgata sunt exsequenda (~ Directorium oecumenicum), A cta A postolicae Sedis, v. 59 (1967), pp. 574-92: "'1. Sharing in Liturgical Worship with Our Separated Eastern Brothers. Besides cases of necessity, there would be reasonable ground for encouraging sacramental sharing if special circumstances make it materially or morally impossible over a long period for one of the faithful to receive the sacraments in his own Church, so that in Instruction on Intercommunion / 13 which the rules rest and so making their application easier. 2. The Eucharist and the Mystery of the Church There is a close link between the mystery of the Church and the mystery of the Eucharist. (a) The Eucharist really contains what is the very foundation of the being and unity of the Church: the Body of Christ, offered in sacrifice and given to the faithful as the bread of eternal life. The sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, given to the Church so as to constitute the Church, of its nature carries with it: --the ministerial power which Christ gave to His Apostles and to their successors, the bishops along with the priests, to make effective sacramentally His own priestly act--that act by which once and forever He offered Him-self to the Father in the Holy Spirit, and gave Himself to His faithful that they might be one in Him; --the unity of the ministry, which is to be exercised in the name of Christ, Head of the Church, and hence in the hierarchical communion of ministers; --the faith of the Church, which is expressed in the Eucharistic action itself-~the faith by which she responds to Christ's gift in its true meaning. The sacrament of the Eucharist, understood in its entirety with these three elements signifies an existing unity brought about by Him, the unity of the visible Church of Christ which cannot be lost.~ (b) "The celebration of Mass, the action of Christ and of the people of God hierarchically ordered, is the center of the whole Christian life, for effect he would be deprived, without legitimate reason, of the spiritual fruit of the sacraments" (no. 44). "2. Sharing in Liturgical Worship with Other Separated Brethren. Celebration of the sacraments is an action of the celebrating community, carried out within the com-munity, signifying the oneness in faith, worship, and life of the community. Where this unity of sacramental faith is deficient, the participation of the separated brethren with Catholics especially in the sacraments of the Eucharist, penance, and anointing of the sick, is forbidden. Nevertheless, since the sacraments are both signs of grace and sources of grace (see the Decree on Ecumenism, no. 8), the Church can for adequate reasons allow access to those sacraments to a separated brother. This may be permitted in danger of death or in urgent need (during persecution, in prisons) if the separated brother has no access to a minister of his own communion and spon-taneously asks a Catholic priest for the sacraments--so long as he declares a faith in these sacraments in harmony with that of the Church and is rightly disposed. In other cases the judge of this urgent necessity must be the diocesan bishop or the episcopal conference. "A Catholic in similar circumstances may not ask for these sacraments except from a minister who has been validly ordained" (no. 55). See also "Una dichiarazione del Segretariato per l'Unione dei Cristiani: La posizione della Chiesa Cattolica in materia di Eucaristia comune tra Cristiani di diversi confes-sioni," Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 62 (1970), pp. 184-8. ~-See Lumen gentium, no. 3; Unitatis redintegratio, no. 4. 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 the universal Church as for the local Church and for each Christian.''3 Celebrating the mystery of Christ in the Mass, the Church celebrates her own mystery and manifests concretely her unity. The faithful assembled at the altar offer the sacrifice through the hands of the priest acting in the name of Christ, and they represent the com-munity of the people of God united in the profession of one faith. Thus they constitute a sign and a kind of delegation of a wider assembly. The celebration of Mass is of itself a profession of faith in which the whole Church recognizes and expresses itself. If we consider the marvelous meaning of the Eucharistic prayers as well as the riches contained in the other parts of the Mass, whether they are fixed or vary with the liturgical cycle; if at the same time we bear in mind that the liturgy of the word and the Eucharistic liturgy make up a single act of worship,4 then we can see here a striking illustration of the principle lex orandi lex credendi.~ Thus the Mass has a catechetical power which the recent liturgical renewal has emphasized. Again, the Church has in the course of history been careful to introduce into liturgical celebration the main themes of the common faith, the chief fruits of the experience of that faith. This she has done either by means of new texts or by creating new feasts. (c) The relation between local celebration of the Eucharist and uni-versal ecclesial communion is stressed also by the special mention in the Eucharistic prayers of the pope, the local bishop, and the other members of the episcopal college. What has been said here of the Eucharist as center and summit of the Christian life holds for the whole Church and for each of its members, but particularly for those who take an active part in the celebration of Mass and above all for those who receive the Body of Christ. Communion during Mass is indeed the most perfect way of participating in the Eucharist, for it fulfills the Lord's command, "Take and eat.''6 ¯ ~lnstitutio generalis Missal& romani, cap. I, n. 1. ¯ ~See Presbyterorum ordinis, 4. 5See Pius XI, Quas primas, Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 17 (1925), p. 598; Vatican Council II, Presbyterorum ordin&, 5; Sacrosanctum Concilium 2, 6. ~"'Perfectior Missae participatio"--Sacrosanctutn Concilium, n. 55. And see the in-struction Eucharisticum mysterium, n. 12, Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 59 (1967), p. 549. The fact of having received the same baptism does not of itself afford a title of admission to Holy Communion. Eucharistic sharing expresses the integral profession of faith and full insertion into the Church toward which baptism leads. This sacrament "constitutes the sacramental bond of unity existing among all who through it are reborn. But baptism, of itself, is only a beginning, a point of departure, for it is wholly directed toward the acquiring of fullness of life in Christ. Baptism is thus or-dained toward a complete profession of faith, a complete incorporation into the system of salvation such as Christ Himself willed it to be, and finally, toward a complete integration into Eucharistic communion"--Unitatis redintegratio, n. 22. Instruction on lntercommunion / 15 3. The Eucharist as Spiritual Food The effect of the Eucharist is also to nourish spiritually those who re-ceive it as what the faith of the Church says it truly isBthe body and blood of the Lord given as the food of eternal life (see John 6:54-8). For the baptized, the Eucharist is spiritual food, a means, by which they are brought to live the life of Christ Himself, are incorporated more profoundly in Him and share more intensely in the whole economy of His saving mystery: "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me and I in him" (John 6:56). (a) As the sacrament of full union with Christ~ and of the perfection of spiritual life, the Eucharist is necessary to every Christian: in our Lord's words, ". unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you" (John 6:53). Those who live intensely the life of grace feel a compelling need for this spiritual sustenance, and the Church herself encourages daily Communion. (b) Yet though it is a spiritual food whose effect is to unite the Christian man to Jesus Christ, the Eucharist is far from being simply a means of satis-fying exclusively personal aspirations, however lofty these may be. The union of the faithful with Christ, the head of the Mystical Body, brings about the union of the faithful themselves with each other. It is on their sharing of the Eucharistic bread that St. Paul bases the union of all the faith-ful: "Because there is one loaf, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the same loaf" (1 Cor 10:17). By this sacrament "man is in-corporated in Christ and united with His members.''~ By frequent receiv-ing of the Eucharist the faithful are incorporated more and more into the Body of Christ and share increasingly in the mystery of the Church. (c) Spiritual need of the Eucharist is not therefore merely a matter of personal spiritual growth: simultaneously and inseparably, it concerns our entering more deeply into Christ's Church "which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all" (Eph 1:23). 4. General Principles Governing Admission to Communion Where members of the Catholic Church are concerned, there is a perfect parallel between regarding the Eucharist as the celebration of the entire ecclesial community united in one faith and regarding it as sustenance, as a response to the spiritual needs, personal and ecclesial, of each member. It will be the same when, in the Lord's good time, all the followers of Christ rSee Presbyterorum ordinis, 5. sCouncil of Florence, Decretum pro Armenis, DB 698 = DS 1322. In the work of St. Thomas Aqu!nas we often come across the expression "sacra-mentum ecclesiasticae unitatis" (for example, S.T., q.73, a.2, sed contra). The Eucharist effects the unity of the Church or, more strictly, it effects the Mystical Body because it contains the real Body of Christ. 16 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 are reunited in one and the same Church. But what are we to say today, when Christians are divided? Any baptized person has a spiritual need for the Eucharistic. Those who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church have recourse to the ministers of their own communities, as their conscience dictates. But what about those who cannot do this, and who for that or other reasons come and ask for communion from a Catholic priest? The Directorium oecumenicum has already shown how we must safe-guard simultaneously the integrity of ecclesial communion and the good of souls. Behind the Directorium lie two main governing ideas: (a) The strict relationship between the mystery of the Church and the mystery of the Eucharist can nev+r be altered, whatever pastoral measures we may be led to take in given cases. Of its very nature celebration of the Eucharist signifies the fullness of profession of faith and the fullness of ecclesial communion. This principle must not be obscured and must remain our guide in this field. (b) The principle will not be obscured if admission to Catholic Eucharis-tic communion is confined to particular cases of those Christians who have a faith in the sacrament in conformity with that of the Church, who experi-ence a serious spiritual need for the Eucharistic sustenance, who for a pro-longed period are unable to have recourse to a minister of their own com-munity and who ask for the sacrament of their own accord; all this pro-vided that they have proper dispositions and lead lives worthy of a Christian. This spiritual need should be understood in the sense defined above (no. 3, (b) and (c): a need for an increase in spiritual life and a need for a deeper involvement in the mystery of the Church and of its unity. Further, even if those conditions are fulfilled, it will be a pastoral responsibility to see that the admission of these other Christians to com-munion does not endanger or disturb the faith of Catholics.9 5. Differences between Members of the Eastern Churches and o| Other Churches The Directorium oecumenicum1° gives different directions for the admis-sion to Holy Communion of separated Eastern Christians, and of others. The reason is that the Eastern Churches, though separated from us, have true sacraments, above all, because of the apostolic succession, the priest-hood and the Eucharist, which unite them to us by close ties, so that the risk of obscuring the relation between Eucharistic communion and ecclesial communion is somewhat reduced.1l Recently the Holy Father recalled that ~See Orientalium Ecclesiarum, 26. lOSee Directorium oecumenicum, nos. 44 and 55. liThe ~ollowing are two important passages from the Directorium derived from Council documents: "39. Although these [Eastern] Churches are separated from us, yet they possess Instruction on Intercommunion / 17 "between our Church and the venerable Orthodox Churches there exists already an almost total communion, though it is not yet perfect: it results from our joint participation in the mystery of Christ and of His Church.''1'' With Christians who belong to communities whose Eucharistic faith differs from that of the Church and which do not have the sacrament of orders, admitting them to the Eucharist entails the risk of obscuring the essential relation between Eucharistic Communion and ecclesial communion. This is why the Directorium treats their case differently from that of the Eastern Christians and envisages admission only in exceptional cases of "urgent necessity." In cases of this kind the person concerned is asked to manifest a faith in the Eucharist in conformity with that of the Church, i.e. in the Eucharist as Christ instituted it and as the Catholic Church hands it on. This is not asked of an Orthodox person because he belongs to a Church whose faith in the Eucharist is conformable to our own. 6. The Authority to Decide Particular Cases Number 55 of the Directorium allows fairly wide discretionary power to the episcopal authority in judging whether the necessary conditions are present for these exceptional cases. If cases of the same pattern recur often in a given region, episcopal conferences can give general directions. More often, however, it falls to the bishop of the diocese to make a decision. He alone will know all the circumstances of particular cases. Apart from the danger of death the Directorium mentions only two ex-' amples, people in prison and those suffering persecution, but it then speaks of "other cases of such urgent necessity." Such cases are not confined to situ-ations of suffering and danger. Christians may find themselves in grave spiritual necessity and with no chance of recourse to their own community. For example, in our time, which is one of large-scale movements of popu-lation, it can happen much more often than before that non-Catholic Chris-tians are scattered in Catholic regions. They are often deprived of the help of their own communion and unable to get in touch with it except at true sacraments, above all--by apostolic succession--the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are still joined to us in closest intimacy. Therefore some sharing in liturgical worship [communicatio in sacris], given suitable circumstances and the approval of Church authority, is not merely possible but is encouraged (Decree on Ecumenism, n. 15; see also the Decree on the Eastern Catholic Churches, nos. 24-29). "40. Between the Catholic Church and the Eastern Churches separated from us there is still a very close communion in matters of faith (see Decree or! Ecumenism, n. 14); moveover, 'through the celebration of the Eucharist of the Lord in each of these Churches, the Church of God is built up and grows in stature' and 'although separated from us yet these Churches possess true sacraments, above a.ll--by apostolic succession--the priesthood and the Eucharist' (ibid., n. 15)." 1"-'Letter to Patriarch A thenagoras, February 8, 1971, printed in Osservatore romano, March 7, 1971. It had been given to Metropolite Meliton of Chalcedon during his visit to the Holy Father on February 8, 1971. 1~1 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 great trouble and expense. If the conditions set out in the Directorium are verified, they can be admitted to Eucharistic Communion but it will be [or the bishop to consider each case. The Supreme Pontiff Paul VI approved this pastoral instruction and ordered it to be a part of public law through a letter of the Cardinal Secre-tary ot~ State dated May 25, 1972, and sent to the undersigned Cardinal President. Given at Rome in the offices of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity, June 1, 1972. JOHN CARDINAL WILLEBRANDS President JEROME HAMER, O.P. Secretary Commentary on the Instruction on Intercommunion Jerome Hamer, O.P. The following commentary on the preceding instruction was written by the secretary of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and was published in Italian in Osservatore romano, July 8, 1972. The English translation is that published in the August 1972 issue of the lnIorrnation Service of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity. 1. The instruction just published proposes to explain the doctrinal rea-sons for the regulation of the Church as outlined in the Conciliar decree Unitatis redintegratio and in the first part of the Ecumenical Directory which was published on 14 May 1967. It is intended as a help to the bishops in the concrete decisions they have to make in regard to admitting to Eucharistic Communion Christians not in full communion with the Catholic Church. The doctrinal reasons for the regulation made by the Church are to be found briefly expressed in the two documents mentioned above. It seemed useful, however, to give a more ample exposition of these reasons in order to facilitate the application of a regulation which touches on certain basic points of our faith. 2. On the one hand there is a close bond between the mystery of the Eucharist and the mystery of the Church, and on the other hand the Eucharist is a spiritual nourishment whose effect is to join the Christian in person with Jesus Christ and to bring him yet more deeply into Christ's Church. These two statements are of equal importance and have both to be safe-guarded, whatever may be the pastoral decisions which pastors are called upon to make in particular circumstances. As it is, generally speaking, on the second statement that those who ask for "Eucharistic hospitality" in the Church base their request, the instruction aims to remind those concerned what may not be done at the expense of the first statement in which the inde- 19 20 / Review lor Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 structible bond between the Eucharist and the Church is underlined. The regulation itself in regard to this matter, however, changes with the times. That brought in by Vatican Council II offers somewhat more of a welcome than the one in force previously. But the profound doctrinal reasons remain unchanged, because these are bound up with the very nature of our Eucharistic belief. The instruction does not simply take its stand on a general question of principle. It shows how the two statements can be safeguarded at the same time, and are in fact safeguarded, in the actual regulation laid down by the Church. Those called upon to express their views on this matter must constantly be concerned not to sacrifice the one statement in favor of the other. We have no intention of repeating here what can be found explicitly stated in the instruction. We wish simply to underline one point which this document puts very clearly. To ask a Catholic priest for the Eucharist, a member of another Christian community must feel "a serious spiritual need of nourishment from the Eucharist" (cf. 4b and 6). That sets the problem on a high level, that namely of profound spiritual needs. 3. The regulations laid down for admission to Eucharistic Communion are less stringent in the case of those belonging to the Eastern Churches, not in full communion with us, than they are in the case of other Christians. Why this discrimination? The reason is to be found in the first of the two statements mentioned above. On the question of profession of faith, of the sacraments, and of ecclesiastical structure, the Eastern Churches are very close to us, and so the risks of obscuring the essential bonds between the Church and the Eucharist are notably less. The instruction recalls the Holy Father's recent declaration as to the "communion almost total, though not yet perfect" between the Orthodox Church and our own. On the particular point of belief in the Holy Eucharist these Eastern Churches hold a faith conformable to ours in virtue ol the prolession ol ]aith made by the same Churches. On the occasion of being admitted to Holy Communion, therefore, their members will not be asked for a personal profession of faith in this sacrament "as instituted by Christ and in ac-cordance with the tradition of the Catholic Church." 4. The instruction ends with a brief comment on no. 55 of the Ecu-menical Directory. It recalls first of all the extent accorded by the Directory itself to the authority of the bishops in applying the general criteria to par-ticular cases. It then makes it clear that the two cases mentioned as examples in no. 55, namely deprivation of freedom and conditions of persecution, are not the only ones in which there is to be discerned a great spiritual need for the reception of the Holy Eucharist. It is clear that a need of this kind can be felt even apart from situations of suffering and danger. The case given of the diaspora (groups of non-Catholics settled in a Catholic country) is illuminating on this point. Instruction on lntercommunion / 21 5. The instruction is, then, an expansion of certain points of the 1967 Directory, which itself still remains in force. We may recall that this Direc-tory was the work of a "plenary meeting" of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity (this "Plenary" is the annual session on the part of the mem-bers of the Secretariat, composed of 7 Cardinals and 24 Bishops), to meet a need already made manifest in the Council. It was produced with the active collaboration of experts from different countries, of episcopal confer-ences throughout the world, and of various organizations pertaining to the Roman Curia, such as the Sacred Congregations for the Eastern Chu:ches, for the Evangelization of the Peoples, and for the Doctrine of the Faith. The Directory was approved by the Holy Father during an audience granted to the "Plenary" of the Secretariat on 28 April 1969. 6. A more or less similar procedure was adopted and followed in the case of the present instruction: --In February 1968 a mixed commission was set up, chosen from the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and from the Sacred Congrega-tion for the Doctrine of the Faith, to study the interpretation to be given to certain norms laid down in the Conciliar decree Unitatis redintegratio and in the Ecumenical 'Directory on the question of "communicatio in sacri$." --In November 1969, the "Plenary" of the Secretariat was informed as to the conclusions arrived at by the commission, and then discussed the whole problem on the basis of a document prepared by a committee of its own Consultors. The "Plenary" requested the Cardinal President to set up a commission limited to three bishops to pursue the study of the whole matter. --As a practical result of this resolution there was a meeting of the three bishops concerned from May 30 to June 2, 1970, in which the question was studied, use being made of nine considered opinions given by as many specialists (Biblical scholars, historio-patrologists, theologians). This com-mission produced a report which was submitted to the "Plenary" of 1970. --In 1971, a new mixed commission, chosen from the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, determined the line to be followed in the production of a new pastoral instruction. This commission worked on two basic documents: the conclusions of the first commission (1968-69) and the report from the meeting of the three bishops (May-June 1970). --Along the lines determined upon, a sample instruction was worked out, which the Cardinal President of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity submitted to the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith with a view to agreement and possible observations. A definitive reply was given by this Congregation on 8 February 1972. --On being submitted to the Holy Father, the present instruction was approved on 25 May 1972. 7. With this approval of the Holy Father the present instruction is Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 now offered to all those who have need to formulate exactly the motives for the practice adopted by the Church, whether it be in pastoral directives, or in preaching, or in teaching, or in catechetics. Both the faithful of the Catholic Church and also the other Christian brethren who read it can judge how clearly our mode of action in this matter flows from our most profound religious convictions. We feel sure that this text will be studied by all with the same anxious desire for truth, for understanding, and for fraternal charity, as that which has inspired all those who have contributed to its production. Rome, June 29, 1972. The Prophetic Challenge of the American Sister Segundo Galilea Segundo Galilea is the Director of the Instituto Pastoral Latinoamericano in Quito, Ecuador. His article was sent to the REVIEW through the kindness of Hermana Lucy Martinez; State Coordinator of Las Hermanas of Colorado; 3635 Humboldt; Denver, Colorado 80205. I write this during the Bishops' Synod in Rome. They are discussing situa-tions of injustice in the world--above all, in the Third World. I do not know what solutions they will arrive at, but the theme of the Synod is in itself a message: it reminds us that the Third World is a world of injustice and poverty. I write as a Latin American priest. This means that I belong to a part of the Third World whose population suffers from chronic conditions of misery and injustice, while at the same time it becomes more and more conscious of the causes and their possible solutions. This is why Latin America is a continent in the process of revolution: its people look for rapid changes in order to arrive at a more just society. The Old Vision and the New Until a short time ago there was talk of poor countries and rich ones, o[ progressive countries and backward ones. The United States was a progressive, rich country and Latin America was backward and poor. What was needed, then, was to help the backward regions to progress. Govern-ments and individual North Americans have dedicated themselves for several decades to make loans and investments in South America. Idealistic and generous individuals have continuously traveled south in a hardy pilgrim-age, to collaborate in that development. The Christian layman and the American religious have participated in the vision of these things by degrees extending from paternalism to the conviction that there is a need for more 23 24 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 intense help lent by the North to the Latin Americans towards a develop-ment of themselves by themselves. Nowadays, for the conscientious Latin American, the existence of this vision has ended. In this fact is rooted his awareness of change. He has seen that the poverty of some countries is not only backwardness, but that it is due in a high degree to the richness of others. That is to say, wealth in the modern world consists of the power to impose international systems of markets, of interchange, and of industry which benefit the rich coun-tries and do further harm to the poor. Today the whole world knows that the poverty of Latin America is simply the shadow of the wealth of the United States, that there are not underdeveloped countries and developed ones, that there are only independent ones and those dependent upon them from a socio-economic point of view. (Latin America depends upon the United States.) We know today, too, that there are no rich countries and countries on the way to development, but only rich countries and countries on the way to greater underdevelopment. While the United States becomes richer every day, Latin America becomes poorer in the same measure. The loans and investments of North America do not really help us; they only tend to make the masses of Latin America more beggarly. Every economist knows that for each dollar that the United States invests in Latin American countries today, it gets back four per year. Therefore, when President Nixon fourteen months ago asked of a South American President if in his judgment the United States had sufficiently helped along the progress of his country within the past decade, the answer may have come as a surprise to any malinformed North AmeriCan: "On the contrary, I believe that my country has contributed considerably to the enrichment of the United States." Principal Source of Third World Poverty This very serious situation is the principal source of the poverty and in-justice of the Third World, more especially of Latin America, since the African Poverty is due in a larger manner to Europe. But it would be sim-plistic to particularize responsibilities blaming the government, or the com-panies, or the citizens of the United States, or the South American oli-garchies which benefit from this situation. The blame lies not in groups or persons who in their good will have often thought they were of help, but in the system: a system of economic and social relations which has made slaves of poor countries and has left rich ones to bask in a dulled conscience, believing that they apparently cannot do much else outside of extending personal and economic help. This is sufficient to calm their worry but does not allow them a vision of the basic problem: the necessity to liberate poor countries and to convert rich ones into abandoning their privileges according to the system. The liberation of Latin America and the conversion of the United States within a system of justice and not Challenge o] the American Sister of domination depend one upon the other. It seems to me that the differ-ence lies upon the more vital conscientization of the Latin American, inso-far as his need for liberation is greater than the North American's con-scientization of his conversion to a system which would tear him out of a consumer society and an economic domination. Furthermore, this conversion is not made easier by the degree in which the people of the United States has become, because of its riches, closed in upon and satisfied with itself. If this conversion does not come about, though, there will not be justice in the world---which paves the way in the coming decade for the violent revolution of the Third World. Prophetic Role of U.S.A. Church Confronted by these circumstances, I think the Church in the United States has a decisive and prophetic role. It should be the moral force-- disinterested and.free--to voice the interests of the poor fighting for their liberation, be they Negro, Chicano, or Latin American. It should be a prophetic voice capable of awakening the consciences not only of Catho-lics but of every North American of good will, to his responsibility as an influence within his own country towards ch~inge ending in international justice. The reason is that nowadays it is no longer a matter of going to Latin America to work for its development but of remaining in the United States to work for the reform of a system responsible for the misery of others. More important than going to teach the poor children of the Andes is the formation of a Christian youth convinced of the necessity to push for internal change once they attain to influential positions. This is why I believe that the North American sister confronts a prophet-ic challenge. My impression is that she is still the apostolic agent exerting the greatest influence in the North American Church given her position, up to now, as educator and catechist. For the same reason I believe that she must re-examine radically her educational attitudes and decide up to which point in time she will continue to form Christian generations of conform-ists satisfied with the prevailing system and little conscious of any serious social responsibilities. Each sister, then, should represent the prophetic conscience of the Church who frees its sons out of their "good conscience" and leads them towards social change. On the other hand, many sisters who have discovered either the Latin American situation or the poverty of the world have thought that the best way to make a personal response is to migrate south as missionaries. This, I repeat, is today more and more unnecessary. The role of the religious is to work for the conversion and conscientization of her native country, to be an impulse toward its social justice, rather than work in development programs in neighboring countries which in the end do not solve the basic cause of poverty--found more with the United States than Latin America. Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 Escaping Future Mediocrity I believe that if the North American religious communities want to escape from future mediocrity, they will have to create ways of making their sisters aware of these problems. This work is the responsibility of every Christian seeking justice, and it is nothing distant or alien to him. Each religious community should make of each one of its sisters a prophet of justice and of war against misery, capable of transmitting her message to various groups and generations of American Christians educated by her to a diversity of social roles. This means that evangelization in the United States should remind each citizen and the whole society that conversion to the kingdom implies not only personal changes but also a collective responsibil-ity towards social and legal transformations opening the way for the libera-tion of the poor countries. If religious life avoids these problems in its preaching of the gospel, it shall remain at the margin of history and will become irrelevant--because, in the end, the surest signs of reform within religious life are not external ones involved in activity, but the capacity to give prophetic answers to the problems of today's history. Contemporary Religious Spirituality and the Signs of the Times Robert S. Pelton, C.S.C. Father Robert Pelton has served as the Vicar for Religious Institutes in the Arch-diocese of Santiago, Chile. He is now the theological adviser for the programs of religious renewal within the same archdiocese. He is also the theological adviser of the Sisters of the Holy Cross in the United States. His United States address is: The Presbytery; St. Mary's; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. The text of the article was originally an address given at Mundelein College on July 16 1972 at the request of the Theology Committee of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. Preliminary Observations In his 1971 Exhortation to Religious, Pope Paul said: The aspirations of men to a more fraternal life among individuals and nations require above all a change in ways of living, in mentality and hearts. Such a mission, which is common to all the People of God, belongs to you in a special way. How can that mission ever be fulfilled if there is lacking an ap-preciation of the absolute, which results from a certain experience of God? This does but emphasize the fact that authentic renewal of the religious life is of capital importance for the very renewal of the Church and of the world,x I now wish to reflect upon such an authentic renewal in the context of the reality of our world--the "signs of the times.'"- I wish to discern with you the hopeful implications of this document, relating this to other docu-ments of the Church, and in particular those of Latin America where a special effort is being made to relate to the extraordinarily rapid changes in our times. 1Evangelica testificatio, § 54. "A Scriptural expression (Mt 16:1-4 and Lk 12:54-7) which was used in the Second Vatican Council and in particular in the Pastoral "Cotzstitution on tile Church in the World (nos. 4, 11, 40, and 44). 27 28 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 Fresh Implications for Our Spirituality In a particular way we, as religious, are being called to a deeper in-volvement in the Church's contemporary mission? This implies a more Scriptural understanding of "world" and a fuller understanding of "ascetics." In the New Testament those who spoke about the world belonged to a small and threatened group. Thus, for the early Christians, "world" referred to an attitude hostile to the Lord? In Christ's actions we see that the sep-aration between God and the world is fundamentally that of sin. It is in the understanding of "new life" that we come to grasp what our attitude to-ward the world should be. It is in the context of redemptive life and growth that theology describes the world for us. In contemporary theology, we may say world is all that touches us in our human experience, that which gives meaning to our lives, that which affirms life, that which has been completed and that which is still in process and projection, that which suffers. In the documents of Vatican II we have a similar description: ¯ . . the Council focuses its attention on the world of men, the whole human family along with the sum of those realities in the midst of which that family lives. It gazes upon that world which is the theater of man's history, and carries the marks of his energies, his tragedies, and his triumphs; that world which the Christian sees as created and sustained by its Maker's love, fallen indeed into the bondage of sin, yet emancipated now by Christ.5 Christian Asceticism Authentic Christian asceticism in any age is essentially a Paschal exis-tence, a creative and dynamic struggle in which new life emerges only through death. Both theology and modern day social sciences contribute significantly to the understanding of this asceticism. 1. Theological Principles In the Gospels we find ample evidence of the necessity to renounce oneself in order to arrive at Christian perfection: 3Evangelica testificatio, §§ 52, 53. aSee Jn 17:15-21. This is a classic text which develops this point: "I am not asking you to remove them from the world, but to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world, and for their sake I consecrate myself so that they too may be consecrated in truth. I pray not only for these, but for those also who through their words will believe in me. May they all be one." The last sentence points out in particular the social mission of Christians. ¯ "Gaudium et spes, no. 2. The description of world and the later observations on asceticism are taken from Reflexiones pastorales, no. 4, 1971 (Vicario de Religiosos, Archdiocese of Santiago, Chile). This is a pastoral study prepared by the present author with a team of religious. Contemporary Religious Spirituality Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 16:24-5). Then he said, "If anone wants to be a follower of mine, let him re-nounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me" (Lk 9:23). We must see this call to renunciation in terms of. the central mystery of Christianity: that of the death and resurrection of Jesus, and in terms of man's existential relation to the world. For Jesus, His death was His total gift of self to the Father, and for man and the world who are in-separably related. In His final prayer at the Last Supper, Jesus speaks of his "sanctification" or "consecration" to God by means of a total renuncia-tion of self. He often repeated, "I go to the Father." There was a distance that He had to overcome between Himself and the Father. He returns to the Father by a sanctification, by dying to the world of sin, and by rising to God. In Christ's return to the Father the personal sanctification of Jesus and the redemption of mankind take place. Jesus experienced the incompleteness of man and the need to over-come the distance that exists within man himself and the distance that exists between man and the Father. This "distance" or lack of integration is part of man's lot. Perfection for Jesus, as for all men, was overcoming the forces of disintegration, the forces which tend to make communion with men and God impossible. Man's incompleteness, his situation of imperfection is one in which there exist forces of evil and sin; that is, forces which tend to man's disintegration. Man's existence is a constant struggle to overcome these forces and to attain a union, a harmony, an integration within himself, with his fellow man, with nature, and with the world which is the place where he realizes this process. For the Christian the more he comes to live the Paschal mystery, the more he attains integration. And in order to attain it, he must enter with Jesus into an attitude of "consecration" by a total renunciation of the forces which tend to his dissolution. In this way the Christian accepts the call to renunciation of self and lives in a very personal way the death and resurrection of Jesus. With Christ he thus reduces the distance between himself and the Father. It must be noted here more explicitly that the aspect of renunciation (death) for the Christian operates only in function of his perfection or integration (resurrection). A renunciation .which is practiced apart from this spirit is neither Christian nor humanly of value. 2. Creative Discipline If there is anything the movement toward secularization has taught us, it is that man's search for perfection or integration is at its core a deeply human process. This articulates what Irenaeus said many centuries ago 30 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 about God being greatly glorified by man who is fully alive." .We have also come to see with greater clarity that complete integration is only at-tained through our total harmony with God as well as with the world. Expressed differently, integration is a process which includes all the ele-ments of our human experience, our relationship with ourselves in our own unique psychological and physical make-up, our relationship with the world in which we live, and our relationship with God who is the ground and center of our being. Certain aspects of this process seen in secular terms help us to amplify our understanding of Christian perfection, salvation, and particularly the role asceticism plays in its realization. Let us consider, first of all, the example of a human interpersonal rela-tionship. For a relationship to be of deep and lasting value it must be rooted in the dynamic rhythm of a mutual active sensitivity as well as a certain mutual creative discipline. Both grow out of an interior harmony within ourselves. To attain this harmony we must be sensitive to ourselves, and the relation that exists between ourselves and our friend, including both our capabilities and our limitations. The depth of our relationship will de-pend upon the quality of our perception together with a type of interior discipline. A denial of self is essential to the development of a meaningful inter-personal relationship. In this there is a need for creative fidelity which demands a balance between activity and receptivity in struggling to over-come the distanc~ which separates us from the other. This fidelity includes a faithfulness to what is perceived through sensitive listening as well as an excrcise of delicate initiative. Such an interpersonal relationship is a fragile, delicate, and tenuous experience. We enter into a reflection upon ourselves in a simultaneous act of identification with and separation from the object of our love. At certain moments we will assume a posture of disciplined separation to gain perspective, to evaluate, while constantly maintaining a sensitivity toward further growth. In' such growth there is an analogy with that which Christ achieved as He approached the Father in the redemp-tive act. Such an interpersonal relationship frees a person to be even more crea-tive in dealing with others. This whole process might be described as an ac-tive sensitivity which is quite different from a determined manipulation of self which has been understood and practiced as Christian discipline by many in the past. 3. Christian Asceticism as Creative Discipline Now let us look at this same human process in a more specifically reli-gious context to explore more deeply our understanding of Christian asceti-cism. The Christian, therefore, finds himself in the world, which is the place in which he works toward a fundamental integration and union with "See Adversus haereses, V, 3, 2; IV, 2. Contemporar[y Religious Spirituality / 31 himself, with his fellow man, with nature, alnd with God. His vocation is precisely this struggle for perfection, or lntegrat~on, as it might more aptly be called. Redemption comes to us through Jesus who in His gift of self overcame the incompleteness of man and the distance tl~at exists between man and the Father. The Christian attains his own personal sanctification in his identi-fication with Jesus. The renunciation of self; in this process is parallel to that of the development of a true human friendship. In his work of inte-gration the Christian must be sensitive to him~self, to his possibilities, to his limitations. His work, which is defined in tertrns of his human and Christian I vocation, demands the same discipline: openn,ess and sensitivity to the world in which he lives, to the inspiration of the Spirit, to his fellow man. He must be open to the Spirit in order to recognize His inspirations. He must enter into reality, into profound relationships with the world, in an attitude of complete giving, presence, a~nd service to that portion of reality which is his. He makes his activity in Ithe world an extension of him-sel~ and his inspiration. At the same time hie draws back in a disciplined separation from his activity in an attitude ~f quiet listening. By attaining a clearer recognition of inspiration, his activity once again becomes in- I ¯ spired and attains a greater quality of expression. Active sensitivity might ¯ also describe Christian asceticism. The ~deas of asceticism expressed in I terms of disciplined separation, of a drawing close in identification and of active sensitivity, might also be expressed in terms of a "rhythm of develop-ment and renunciation" and of "attachment and detachment" according to the thought of Teilhard de Chardin.~ f 1 Within the context outlined, we must be care u to recognize that Chris-tian asceticism is not merely an exercise of abnegation for the sake of ab-negation. Neither ~s it a practice that wdl automatically result in the per-sonal sanctification of the individual by the mere fact that he has denied himself. This concept of asceticism is an error that has continued too long ¯ in the formation of Christians and of relig~ou,s. Abnegation is part of a total process; apart from that process it has no value. God does not wish the suf-fering of men. The element of suffering that enters into the process of crea- I tive discipline defined in Christian terms is merely a side effect and not a goal. The Christian must not concentrate on the "value of his suffering," as if suffering were that which is of value. I~ itself, suffering has no value. It is merely an element of the dialectic into lwhich the whole person enters as a response to the Spirit and in identificati6n with Jesus in his self-giving. Asceticism depends not only upon man b~t upon the Spirit who invites the Christian to a free response and active cooperation. Christian asceticism consists in fidelity to the inspiration of the Spirit in a response of active sen-sitivity to that call. ;Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, The Divine Milieu (London: Fontana, 1965), p. 99. 32 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 It is only through such a liberating spirituality that we will be open to discover the "signs of the times" and thus contribute our share to the build-ing of the kingdom in Christ's vision that He may be fully all in all. An Integrated Vision In enabling our mission to have greater effectiveness it is essential to relate what has been said in the Exhortation with other documents. For instance, the necessity for religious to share in the Church's mission (§ 50) can be more fully understood when reflecting upon Vatican II's discern-ment of "the birth of a new humanism where man is defined before all else by his responsibilities to his brothers and to history" (G.S., no. 55). This, in turn, is related to a statement in the Development o[ Peoples: "What must be aimed at is complete humanism . . . the integral development of the whole man and of all men" (no. 42). This leads to a deeper apprecia-tion of Christian liberation which is: . . in its broadest meaning . . . the process of freeing man from all that prevents him from developing his potentialities and his obligations as a person who is created in the image of God.s Forming the New Person The Exhortation speaks of the necessity to form the "new man" spoken of by St. Paul (§ 38). But to achieve this newness it is necessary to go beyond what Pius XII referred to as the "technological spirit.''9 This is a spirit in which the quantitative and the measurable take precedence over the qualitative. Increasing material growth becomes an ultimate norm of a suc-cessful human society. To avoid being entrapped in such a mentality calls for a continuing conversion of heart. The Latin American Bishops said at Medellin that "new and reformed structures" cannot be built "without new men who know how to be truly free and responsible according to the light of the Gospel.''1° Necessary Discernment In order to make the necessary discernment in this dynamic process our prayer needs to be deep and constant as well as truly concerned with the needs of the "earthly city" (§ 49). It will be a prayer which, while it makes more profound our experience of God, will at the same time make us more aware of our own humanness and that of others. It leads us to a mor~ meaningful experience of what Douglas Steere refers to as "the prayer of presence": ¯ SFifth Inter-American Bishops' Conference, Statement, February 1970. ~'Christmas Address, 1953. 1°Second General Conference of the Latin American Bishops, The Church its the Present Day--Trans]ormation in the Light o] the Council (1968), v. 2, pp. 58-9. Contemporary Religious Spirituality / 33 ¯ . . in prayer where intercession is involved, I make those for whom I am praying present for myself by thinking of them and of their need and of the One who can meet that need in its deepest sense. Perhaps my friend is swept away by a persistent temptation to which he has yielded often enough to threate~ to glaze over his life, to numb the heart core in him, and finally to cut him off from ever sensing the deepest spring of love in another person or in the One that sustains him with both an unceasing and unspeakable love. In my prayer I make him present to me by thinking intensively of him and of the threshold over which both God's and my own caring must pass in order to reach him. I think, too, of this whole solace of intercessory caring which God's love and the love of the whole communion of saints is forever drawing at his life. My own caring for him is frail in comparison to this, but I feel that it is swept up into this greater net of attracting energy and that for all of its frailty it may be the decisive impulse that may touch my friend's decision and open to him those ever present forces that could change his whole perspective,al Our Spiritual Lives and the Signs o| the Times The Exhortation (§ 19) encourages us to avoid being carried away by an uncurbed seeking for our own ease, and in doing so repeats what the Council said about that bondage which modern man can suffer when he "indulges in too many of life's comforts and imprisons himself in a kind of splendid isolation" (G.S., no. 31 ). An authentic poverty and sense of justice (§ 18) must find a real echo in our lives since without these we shall contribute to what Medellin has entitled "institutionalized violence.''r-' Rather than being heralds of libera-tion and social catalysts we give scandal. By our failure to take social posi-tions, others can legitimately assume that we are in favor of the status quo. Spiritual Fruitfulness for the World It is in the building up of the earthly city with its foundation in the Lord that we give clear testimony to the presence of the Spirit among us. The religious life itself is a "little Church" in which the network of loving rela-tionships should become more and more evident among us. When the lov-ing bond among us is very evident we shall, in fact, be heralds of liberation and vital participants in the building up of the kingdom of God. Our Political Obligations In closing, it is appropriate to say a few words--particularly at this mo-ment in U.S. history--about our political duties. The construction of "a new humanity" cannot be left solely to the technocrats.13 Religious should contribute to this. This implies the art of politics, not in the narrowly parti- 11Douglas Steere, On Being Present Where You Are (Pendle Hill, 1968), p. 18. r-'This occurs when institutions do violence to others through unjust practices; for a development of this see Medellin, "Peace," no. 2,2,2. a3Paul VI, Acta ,'lpostolicae Sedis, v. 60 (1968), p. 393. 34 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 san sense, but rather that type of statescraft which fosters the common good through the moral use of power (Pacem in terris, no. 54). In the use of this statescraft we need to ask ourselves the type of searching questions which were proposed-at the World Conference on Religion and Peace at Kyoto, Japan, in October 1970:14 31. Religion cannot in good faith demand of society that it reform its struc-tures without honestly examining its own institutions and programs, including problems related to the ownership and use of property and the possibilities of self-taxation for development purposes. 32. In this examination we might ask the following, among other, ques-tions: What role is assigned to the young and to women in our institutions? Are these institutions designed to preserve the status quo or do they point the way towards the future? Is our institutional apparatus used to convey real knowledge to people, to relate them to their environment, and to teach them their rightful place in society? Is worship used as an escape from or as a means of relating men to reality? Do we fulfill our prophetic role by denounc-ing injustices not only in distant countries, but more dangerouly at home? Do we give voice to the voiceless or only echo the rationalizations of those who sit in the places of power? Finally we need to ask ourselves more explicitly just what is the con-temporary sense of politics and what should our competence be in this area in the United States. Recently the Confederation of Latin American Religious distributed a research text to pastoral leaders on "The Religious Life and the Socio-political Situation in Latin America" in order to probe more deeply into these relationships on that continent. As the text becomes more refined, thousands of Religious will be invited to respond to it. This in turn takes us back to the beginnings of our reflections which hopefully have led us to appreciate more the relevance of our religious spirituality in the context of the "signs of the times." We have seen that in Latin America at this moment there is a type of liberating theology which is very helpful in establishing these relationships. t~Working Group II on Development, Report, §§ 31-2. The Eucharist as a Central Theme in the Ghent Altarpiece Maurice B. McNamee, S.J. Maurice B. McNamee, S.J., is a faculty member of the English Department of St. Louis University; 221 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is becoming increasingly clear that, by all odds, the most persistent theme in Flemish iconography is the Eucharist. Some of my own studies have pointed up the pervasive interest in that theme in Medieval Flemish art;1 and other recent studies have called attention to the same fact.z The new-est ~orroboration of the importance of that theme in the art of Flanders is a recently published book by Professor Lotte Brand Philip, The Ghent Altarpiece.3 The work is something of a landmark in van Eyck studies. It presents a reconstruction and reinterpretation of the famous polyptych which is very persuasive and suggests new solutions to the many problems that, in the past, have intrigued and sometimes baffled such great art historians as Max Friedl~inder, Erwin Panofsky, Hermann Beeken, and Charles de Tolnay. Professor Philip's thesis that the twelve panels were originally part of an elaborate stone framed, multi-level altarpiece, which adapted ele-ments from reliquary shrine-altars, tower tabernacles, and rood screens, is brilliantly argued. It does handle the many problems of authorship (Hubert or/and Jan van Eyck), and apparent aesthetic and iconographic incon-sistencies between the various panels far better than any interpretation 1M. B. McNamee, "Further Symbolism in the Portinari Altarpiece," The Art Bulletin, XLV, 1963, 142-143; "The Origin of the Vested Angel as a Eucharistic Symbol in Flemish Painting," The Art Bulletin, LIV, 1972, 263-278. °-See, for instance, Ursula Nilgen, "The Epiphany and the Eucharist: An Interpreta-tion of Eucharistic Motifs in Medieval Epiphany Scenes," The Art Bulletin, XLIX, 1967, 311-316. :~Lotte Brand Philip, The Ghent Altarpiece and the Art o] Jan van Eyck, Princeton University Press, 1971. 35 36 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 previously advanced. The thesis advanced here, I am sure, will be discussed and perhaps challenged by art historians for many years to come. Methodology But what may be of particular interest to the readers of Review Jot Religious is a statement by Professor Philip in her Preface about the method-ology which she thinks ought to be followed by an art historian at-tempting the interpretation of a religious work of art from the past. She feels that too often these works have been approached in artificial isolation as "pure" works of art abstracted from the religious and sometimes liturgi-cal purpose for which they were created, with the result that their thematic, iconographic, and even aesthetic values have sometimes been misconstrued. This is Professor Philip's own pertinent statement on the matter: It is this isolated work of art which art historians have often sought to put into a broader context by linking its form and content to modes and trends of the period which were known to them from other fields. But while it may be instructive to see art in a general framework of Geistesgeschichte or sociology applied to it, as it were, artifically from without, we should not forget that for each individual work there had once existed a specific and natural "framework" quite palpable and concrete and supremely "sociologi-cal" in essence. Perhaps the simple and direct method of placing a work of art back into the very context of its own original setting and practical purl~ose can supply important new insights on the nature and meaning of a master-piece.' t Professor Philip's application of this method to the study of The Ghent Altarpiece is an excellent example of the fruitfulness of the method. I can-not here go into all the intricacies of the arguments for her reconstruc-tion of the .setting and purpose of The Ghent Altarpiece but I would like to call attention to some of the important new insights on the nature and meaning of this masterpiece that her study provides. General Plan In the first place she shows that the polyptych was probably planned as part of an altar complex in a chapel in Saint Bavo's Cathedral in which the Blessed Sacrament was reserved. It is this fact which may have suggested the all-pervasive Eucharistic motif of the whole polyptych. Professor Philip rather convincingly postulates the presence of a tabernacle in the center of a predella just above the mensa of the altar in the original compo-sition; and, on the analogy of The Mystical Fountain panel in the Escorial, which was undoubtedly derived from The Ghent Altarpiece, she further postulates a sculptured representation of Ecclesia accepting the mystery of the Eucharist on the left and of Synagoga rejecting it on the right. Above the tabernacle and predella and revealed through an arcade of columns 4Philip, ibid., p. viii. The Eucharist in the Ghent Altarpiece / 37 reminiscent of the supporting columns of a raised reliquary casket in a reliquary altar-shrine, would have been seen the existing panels of the Mystical Lamb and the four side panels of the judges, the knights, the her-mits, and the pilgrims . . . all converging on the Altar of the Lamb in the central panel. On the upper level, in the center, framed like the figures on a raised metal reliquary shrine, there would have been displayed the ex-tant great figure of Christ enthroned, accompanied by the Virgin Mary on His right and St. John the Baptist on His left, along with singing vested an-gels in panels on each side. This upper range would have been terminated horizontally at either end by the nude figures of Adam and Eve in a different perspective from that of the figures in the five central panels. They would have actually been incorporated into the sculptured frame of the entire composition rather than into the space of the center panels. And above this range Professor Philip postulates, again rather convincingly, the existence of a sculptured tower like the traditional Gothic tabernacle towers such as the one still in existence in St. Peter's Church in Louvain. And in it she further postulates, again on the analogy of several comparable com-positions in illuminated manuscripts and altars, the existence of a sculptured figure of God the Father. Christ the Priest Hence, in the complete composition as she reconstructs it, the icono-graphical program begins with the figure of God the Father on the top tower commissioning the Incarnation of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. (This scene of the Incarnation itself would actually be revealed in the An-nunciation scene which would appear immediately below the sculptured figure of God the Father when the panels were closed.) At other times what would appear in this position is the figure of Christ enthroned ful-filling the destiny consequent upon this Incarnation--that of functioning as the Eternal Highpriest offering Himself as the Eternal Sacrifice to God the Father. His priestly function is symbolized by the crossed stole He wears and by the triple tiara. He is accompanied to the right and left, as He always was represented in the Byzantine Heavenly Liturgy, by angels vested in the dalmatics and copes of deacons and subdeacons of the Mass, who join Him in offering up the Eternal Sacrifice of the Mass. Mary sits crowned on His right in recognition of her part in that sacrifice because of the human body she gave Him in which He suffered and died. And St. John the Baptist, the precursor who foresaw and foretold that Christ was the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world, is enthroned on the left and points to Christ in the central panel. On the far extreme ends of this upper range, but properly represented in a different perspective than that of the figures in the central panels, are the realistic nude figures of Adam and Eve. They do belong here be~;ause it was their sin that occasioned the De- Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 cree of the Incarnation by God the Father and because they are also the first fruits of the redemptive Sacrifice of Christ commemorated in this range by the figure of Christ functioning as the Priest of the Eternal Mass. Art historians have spoken of Adam and Eve as being out of place in this range and put there by the artist to fill up empty spaces created by a clumsy combination of panels originally meant for separate altarpieces. This is so far from being the truth, Professor Philip points out, that the whole com-position was originally called The Altar o[ Adam and Eve rather than The Mystical Lamb. The fact that iconography and decorative details of the three central upper panels are derived from and simulate the raised metal reliquary of a reliquary altar symbolize, Professor Philip suggests, both the arks of the Old Testament and the Eucharistic Tabernacle of the New Testament. This again brings us back to the central Eucharistic focus of the whole polyptych. Related to this, too, is the beautiful gemmed crown at the foot of the enthroned Christ--a reminder of Christ's own glorification which followed His sacrificial offering of Himself and His resurrection as well as of the reward that.follows the Martyrs' sacrificial offering of themselves with and for Christ. This symbolic meaning of the crown occurs in many early Christian representations and is often actually associated with the Of-fertory of the Mass as it is, for instance, in the procession of Virgin Martyrs carrying crowns in an Offertory procession in the beautiful mosaics of San Appolinare Nuovo in Ravenna. The Mystical Lamb On the lower painted range and seen through an arcade of columns at a simulated greater distance than the large figures in the upper range and therefore in a much smaller scale, appears the figure of the Mystical Lamb. He is mounted on an altar and is shedding His blood into a chalice. He is on a vertical axis with the postulated figure of God the Father, and with the enthroned figure of Christ as Highpriest. Between Him and the figure of Christ as Highpriest above appears the much controverted figure of a dove, the symbol of the Holy Spirit. The Mystical Lamb on His altar is the central focusing point of a vast landscape stretching across all five panels of this range and acting as a setting for the great processions of figures from all walks of life moving towards the Altar of the Lamb. The altar itself is sur-rounded by figures of the prophets and apostles and by angels, all vested in amices and albs, either carrying the instruments of Christ's passion or incensing the Lamb on the altar. The whole vast scene is obviously focused on another symbolic representation of the Sacrifice of the Mass--but this time represented in the Heavenly Jerusalem. And Christ appears here not as the priest but as the Lamb--the Sacrificial Victim pouring out His blood for the redemption of mankind. In the figure of the dove hovering The Eucharist in the Ghent Altarpiece / 39 over the scene we are reminded of the action of the Holy Spirit in the Incarnation by which the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity became man and was thus enabled to become the redeeming Sacrificial Lamb. The Great Fountain In" the foreground of the central panel and again on an axis with God the Father, Christ as High Priest, and Christ as Sacrificial Lamb, is the figure of a great fountain, which, as it were, is being fed by the Saving Blood of the Lamb above. And from the fountain runs a stream which, in Professor Philip's postulation, terminates at the tabernacle housing the ci-borium which contained the real Eucharistic presence of Christ Himself. She remarks pertinently of this probable juxtaposition: With the representation of the Lamb's sacrifice shown directly at his eye level, the viewer was compelled to feel that he was witness to this scene. He saw the sacred water, the result of the celestial sacrifice, flowing directly into the vessel from which the priest would hand him the Host. The believer thus virtually became a participant in the celestial rite.g In this way the work of art becomes almost a part of the liturgical and sacra-mental function and underlines the significance of that function. There are many other insights that this new interpretation of The Ghent Altarpiece provides but I have room to call attention to only one more. Professor Philip presents good evidence for the former existence of a water color antependium that once hung before the altar table of The Ghent Altarpiece which represented Hell. Hence, with this antepen-dium in place, the whole composition could also have been read as a Last Judgment scene arranged vertically very much as the Eyckian Last Judg-ment panel in the Metropolitan Museum. In such a reading it is the accept-ance or rejection of the Sacrifice of the Mass, represented by the enthroned figure of Christ as High Priest and by Christ as Sacrificial Victim in the Mys-tical Lamb, and of the Mass in time as offered by the priest at the real altar in the chapel of Saint Bavo's Cathedral, that results in either the welcome extended to the blessed in the Heavenly Jerusalem or the condemnation meted out to the lost in Hell. Conclusion But, however you read the various motifs combined in this great polyp-tych, and there are several other motifs discussed by Professor Philip be-sides those that I have detailed here, the central focus of all of them is the Mass and the Eucharist. Professor Philip's relook at this greatly con-troverted masterpiece "in the very context of its own original setting and pur-pose" has indeed provided important new insights on its nature and mean-ing. Her study shows a marvelous interplay in this great masterpiece be- ~Philip, ibid., p. 67. 40 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 tween theology, liturgy, and art. And this more contextual study of the work has suggested some cogent solutions to the problems that have plagued the study of it throughout its history. Whether the reader can accept all Professor Philip's postulations and suggested reconstructions or not, her study does show how intimately art can serve theology and the liturgy; and, in turn, how much inspiration both theology and the liturgy can bring to a creative artist when they are all as happily married as they seem to be in her interpretation of this great work by Jan van Eyck. To Pray Is to Work Sister Marilyn Feehan, C.S.J. Sister Marilyn teaches religion at Cohoes Consolidated Catholic School and lives at St. Agnes Convent; 32 Johnston Avenue; Cohoes, New York 12047. The strong reactions of years past to the "to work is to pray" adage indi-cated the seriousness with which the dictum was taken. Conflicting opin-ions have explored, exposed, and explained not only both sides of the question but also the solid base of agreement that will eventually underpin any solution. Would that the same expansive reaction could be expected to the state-ment, "To pray is to work"! The self-evident quality of those words may appeal to some, but to at least two points of view, the phrase hardly qualifies as a defensible opin-ion, let alone an axiom. Two Objections On the one hand, those who are deeply immersed in visible, concrete activity often view time spent in preparation for, and pursuit of, the prayer experience, as time "taken from" rather than "given to." Measured in the scales of the unfinished business remaining on the agenda of man in general, and the Church in particular, prayer seems to weigh light, much as the scholar's pen is easily outweighed by the soldier's sword. The tangible ex-haustion of pouring oneself out for another testifies to the work aspect of so many activities, but is prayer seen perhaps as a private, esoteric action, a relic of the God-and-I syndrome? For some, then, prayer is not work because it does not seem to demand the exertion and effort of the concrete apostolates. On the other hand, those who see life iri terms of free, spontaneous gift, view prayer as an instinctive turning of the heart in its overflow towards 41 42 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 the Source of all that is good. What place i~ there i'n this for "work," foi" serious directed activity towards a foreseen goal? Have not the days of meditation points, reflections, and resolutions at least been replaced, if not repudiated? The insertion of a serious work element into the prayer ex-perience seems to threaten the human freedom of the act, to foreshadow perhaps a return to confining structures that once satisfied and now con-strain. For others, then, prayer is not work because it ought not to be such. This segment of the Church is skeptical of any view of prayer as a discipline to which one responds in reason, rather than with feeling. Both objections, in seeing prayer from too restricted a point of view, miss the overall scene. By zeroing in on the work quality of one kind of activity, the first group ignores the effort required in true prayer because it is not recognizable to them as work. One might well say: "The work involved in prayer is not identical to the work involved in concrete activity." Agreed, but need one add: "Therefore, it does not call forth real effort"? In fact, dare one add that judgment? Contrarily, by pinpointing the spontaneity of prayer, as a free response to the ever-approaching, ever-approachable God, the second group ignores the human process and fantasizes that prayer is somehow excluded from rather than the culmination of the normal cause-and-effect character of man's actions. To fail to reach the goal of union with God in prayer is a great sadness; to cut oneself off from that goal in the very name of seeking it is a tragedy. Prayer Is Work The thesis of this article is indeed simple: To pray is to work. The two notions in the proposition could well be clarified if the phrase is to be properly understood. In this context then, what is prayer and what exactly is work? Prayer is the union of the human person with the very Person of the absolute Good by means of tentative responses to the overtures made by God in this present life. This union may be fleeting or steadfast, whole-hearted or weak, clear or confused, but always directed in some manner to the God who first called out, from the man who humanly responds. Of particular importance in the definition is the overriding creative role of the personal Lord who initiated the whole process and elicits from man all that he is capable of giving at any one time. Seen from the viewpoint of the pray-er, the union can be dissatisfying, often marred by his very humanness, so unsure in both its verbal and sensible manifestations, but always pointed in vague hope to the future when he will know even as he is known. This prayer involves real work, that is, the physical and mental efforts To Pray Is to Work / 43 and activities that are directed towards the accomplishment of something, in this case, union with God. Again, any restriction of outlook to this single aspect of prayer as work would be a serious error. Let no one assume that personal effort is the only element of importance or that striving ever takes the place of receptivity to God's initiative. No, but on the other hand, let no one ignore these fac-tors. What kind of work is usually helpful in the pursuit of union with God in prayer? Three classifications of human effort immediately suggest them-selves: the physical, the intellectual, and the psychological. Physical Work Because God is the initiator, no formula of quantitative physical activi-ties can possibly signal the prayer experience. However, one can mention two observable physical efforts that usually assist it to take hold: presence and place. By presence is meant the conscious choosing of a situation that to the pray-er is sacred. Just as the needs of the body are faced, met, and often celebrated, as at meals, the need to pray should be faced squarely, met honestly and celebrated openly. To be consciously present to the Lord once or twice a day can well be termed "work" because of the effort and dis-cipline a man must exercise to examine the day, to plan out a possible time, and then to set the seal of sacredness on it in a very real sense. To wait for an available hour, to let choice melt into convenience, is to forego the human right to choose and follow through, intimating that man's role in this adventure is mere formality, ritualistic at most. By place is signified the thoughtful selection of a particular setting that has proved to be a means for opening the person to life, especially to Life Himself. For one, the choice is the quiet of a chapel; for another, a hillside in the evening; for one, the noise and stimulation of a city street; for an-other, the silence and peace of a private room; for one, the strain of dis-comfort; for another, the ease of a favorite chair. This is indeed a worthy search for any man: to seek out the physical scene in which the hand of God has easy access to him. But if the search is not made, if the meeting place is left to chance, will God come? Yes, but not as forcefully and fully ¯ as He would have if the pray-er had reasonably prepared himself. Intellectual Work Intellectual work is the second kind of exertion that prayer calls forth, or rather, that calls forth prayer. Two areas of overriding importance are serious study of God and deep thought about life, both of which require real effort. To meet a person and be fascinated by him is to want to know more about him, to come closer to him. In prayer, one meets God in a strange, 44 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 personal way and the natural reaction is to wander off, awe-struck, in search of more knowledge of Him and closeness to Him. In very fact, the Scriptures serve just that purpose in explaining bits and pieces of His actions, in exposing aspects of His person, in hinting at His secrets. Leaving the sacred writings on the shelf is tantamount to asserting that one has no need of or interest in them. They represent the inexhaustible source of truth and inspiration, one that is accessible but useless unless man's intelli-gence reaches out to it. In a lesser category are the spiritual writings that collectively trace man's aspirations towards God across the centuries. No one is called upon to master that myriad of books but certainly insights can be gleaned and deep feelings triggered by exposing oneself to those movements of other men towards God. The second practical intellectual work that prayer fathers forth is serious thinking on personal questions, religious or not. Nothing is easier to do than to put off, sometimes indefinitely, the reasoning through of a troubling situa-tion or the planning out of a future course of action. The outcome is fre-quently an inability to pray because the unresolved problem lies in wait to capture the attention as soon as man turns to the Unseen. Of particular importance is the exploration of the question put by Jesus to Peter: "What do you think of Me?" Often the picture-book images of God fade with the years while man carefully avoids examining the change for fear of what he will have to face, a fear that feeds on his closed intellectual attitude. Can man reach union with God in prayer without serious intellectual ac-tivity? Yes, but in this culture and time, for most persons, the intellectual effort is a practical necessity, though not a speculative one. Psychological Work Psychologically, a man works to keep his person open and at the same time to channel negative intrusions into growth situations, both of which require considerable effort. Because the pray-er is so vulnerable in the very act of praying as he ex-poses himself to the Lord, he is often struck, almost mortally, by his own weakness. Reacting to this wound, he can turn in confusion and deny his prayer in hopes of obliterating the pain. Or else he can work to face the truth, examine it, feel its deep shame, and wait in faith for the calm that will eventually come when he accepts himself as completely as God has al-ready accepted him. Of equal importance is the work involved in man's use of negative emo-tions to nurture positive development towards God. Self-pity in all its guises drives one away from prayer because of its centering on the person rather than on God, as a kind of subtle idolatry. Effort is needed to accept this weakness, then offer it as sacrifice to the Lord, and receive back from Him the self-knowledge that means growth. Merely collapsing in the face of such To Pray Is to Work / 45 an embarrassing self-revelation is hardly a stepping stone to prayer, but the end result can be a meaningful asset. God is certainly not bound to unite Himself to a man on the basis of his psychological maturity but He is clearly worshiped by a person's attempt to reach out to the unseen hand that in turn reaches out so lovingly towards him. To repeat the original thesis: physical, intellectual, and psychological work are an integral part of the prayer experience, with no claims of absolute necessity but rather a serious call on man's consideration in view of his very human needs. To ignore or belittle the work aspect of prayer is to fail to understand either work or prayer. To pray is indeed to work, not as a slave to fulfill a command and escape a punishment, but as a son to experience a joy and answer a loving Father. The Prayer of the Heart Michael Azkoul Father Michael Azkoul is a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church outside of Russia and lives at 912 Bellstone Road; Shrewsbury, Missouri 63119. A preliminary version of this ,article appeared under the title "Out of the Heart" in the March 1972 issue of The Russia, Orthodox Journal. In the Western world, the "heart" is considered to be the scat' of the emo-tions, especially the emotion of "love." Eastern spirituality, however, dis-covers in the "heart," kardia, not the source of emotions, but the spiritual center of man. As Father Meyendorff once observed, the "heart" is some-thing akin to the "subconscious." In fact, it is the very fount of good and evil in every man. In the words of our Lord: "For out of the heart proceeds evil reasoning, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, lying, blasphemy . " (Mt 15:19). Without the "pure heart," it is impossible to "see God" (Mt 5:8). We are commanded to love God with all our "heart" (Lk 10:27). It is with the "heart" that we attain salvation, for St. Paul writes: "If you con-fess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved" (Rom 10:9). Guarding the Heart According to the Eastern fathers, the "heart" is the central force in human nature. A man becomes what his "heart" is and the "heart" is what we permit it to become. Therefore, it must be protected from all evil in-fluence. "Guard the heart," phylake kardias, they admonish. Keep away from anything which might pollute it, that is, any situation, person, or thing that leads to sin, amartia. The Scriptures, the fathers, a spiritual guide,1 and 1In the East spiritual guides are almost always monks. The word for such a monk is starets (Slavonic) or hegemon (Greek), that is, an "elder" or "old man" who by the grace of God has received spiritual gifts such as spiritual insight and discernment, enabling him to act in a special way to be a spiritual guide or director. Anyone accepting that direction must expect to be absolutely obedient. 46 The Prayer of the Heart / 47 sometimes our own experience teach us what to avoid. Generally, we can "guard the heart" through obedience, humility, chastity, fasting, prayer, and the sacraments. In particular, the "heart" is protected by controlling the faculty of "imagination." This faculty of the mind, nous, is the power with which we form, compare, connect, and separate images. With it we speculate, phanta-size, and ruminate. The "imagination," phantasia, arranges the data given to it, whether from the world of objects and persons, a priori knowledge, or the experience of the mind with God or demons. The devil and his angels are man's great antagonists, according to the fathers. From the imagination, the "image," now received by the mind, passes irresistibly to the "heart" and from the "heart" to the "flesh." The body, then, is excited, agitated, sometimes driven to acts of violence, murder, lust, and malice. St. Silouan of Mount Athos (d. 1937) observed that every "passion," pathe, is the result of a "sinful image." And since, as St. Macarius of Egypt (c. 330) says, "the heart commands and rules the whole body," what enters the "heart" must reign over all the members of the body. So long, too, as "vexatious and lying images" govern the mind (and, therefore, the "heart"), we have no right to "philosophize about God," as St. Gregory the Theologian (Nazianzus) tells us in his Theological Orations. Indeed, such "philosophizing" is useless, for the impure mind and "heart" will bring no true knowledge, no union with God. Conversion of the Heart Conversely, the Holy Spirit will, by our sincere effort to achieve "pur-ity of heart," bestow the grace for its realization: Grace engraves the laws of the Spirit in the hearts of the sons of light. There-for. e, they should not draw their assurances from the Holy Scriptures alone, but the grace of God also inscribes the laws of the Spirit and the heavenly mysteries on the tablets of the heart. For the heart commands and rules the whole body. And grace, once it has filled the heart, reigns over all our mem-bers and thoughts. For in the heart are the spirit and all the thoughts of the soul and its hope. Through it, grace passes to all the members of the body. We become unlike the children of darkness in whose heart sin rules and from which sin infects the the entire body . . . (St. Macarius, Homily 15). Spiritual perfection comes only when every haunting of memory, every se-ducing idea, and every wicked image is renounced whenever they presume to enter the mind. There is, to be sure, no end to the struggle for perfec-tion in Christ. Objectively, the cure for sin is, of course, the redemption of Christ, but His saving acts must be appropriated, subjectively acquired, and ap-plied. The principal way is "purity of heart," a "purity" which is accom-plished, in the first place, by "mental prayer." Now, this "prayer" is im-possible if the mind is continually exposed to evil sensations, that is, when 48 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 the senses are subjected to spiritually debilitating perceptions. Reception of them by the mind induces the "imagination" to act and the results are cast into the "heart." "Evil images" in the "heart" eventually affect the body and, if not removed, the body finds itself in the grip of evil habits or pas-sions- greed, lust, hate, envy, gluttony, pride, and so forth. By means of the passions, declares St. John Karpatbius, the demons "torment our flesh with all manner of sin and throw the soul into confusion" which leads to "fancies," "heaviness of body," "increase of animal needs," "arrogance and haughtiness," "vainglory," "rejection of repentance," "forgetfulness of death," "despondency and boredom," "a special inclination for earthly occu-pations," and "hardness." The devil is relentless. He uses every means to "drag the soul after him," warns St. Barsanupius. He bombards our sense with sights, titillating, agitating, and licentious; with foods and drinks, delicious and pleasant to the eyes, with voluptuous aromas, and so forth; and, indeed, all the allure and power of the aeon rush upon our weak and vulnerable natures, ever-enticing, ever-proliferating, mounting, everything soft and warm and tanta-lizing, anything to storm the suburbs of the soul in order to conquer the "heart," its citadel. The temptations men face are those of Adam which St. John described as "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (1 Jn 2:16). Spiritual Combat and Prayer The surest response to the incessant barrage of evil is "withdrawal," but not all men are called to be monks. We must, nevertheless, undertake the "spiritual combat" (Eph 6:10-9) which differs from the monks' struggle only by degree--only by the fact that "the field of battle" is slightly altered. It is true, nevertheless, that the spirituality of the Eastern Church is the spirituality for all her members. Monks are not a special class, only the highest stratum within the Church, albeit "the true and authentic Chris-tian," as St. Basil the Great calls him. For both monk and "ordinary Chris-tian," the enemy is the same, the weapons fundamentally the same. The great weapon is "mental or interior prayer," prayer with the Name of Jesus. In the words of St. Macarius: Be attentive to the Name of the Lord, Jesus Christ, by contrition of heart. When your lips are moving, draw it to yourself and do not lead it to your mind only to repeat it, rather ponder your invocation, "O, Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me!" Then, in your repose you will be aware of His Divinity present to you. It will drive away the darkness of passions . . . it will purify the inner man . . (Apoph, 16). The believer must turn away from the "outside world"-and seek the things of the Spirit--"The kingdom of God is within you"--a "turning," incidentally, symbolized by the Eastern Hesychasts who prayed with heads bowed and eyes fixed on the abdomen. To be sure, no one can avoid sense The Prayer o] the Heart / 49 perceptions altogether, but the believer can fortify himself against those in-imical to him. Also, the Church offers spiritually beneficial alternatives to the destructive sensations of the "world"--rites, icons, incense, psalmody, candles, vestments, prostrations, flowers, palms, and so forth. She well understands that man cannot exist within an "imageless world." Nor is the destiny of man to be a "pure spirit." The Jesus Prayer It follows, then, that Orthodox spirituality relates body to spirit in prayer. Posture and attitude, sound and sight are utilized. "Interior" or "mental" prayer also begins at the empirical level. It is initiated with words spoken aloud and only when we have perfected "interior prayer" does it become "prayer of the heart." The petition most common in Orthodox spirituality is the Jesus Prayer--"Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, Thou Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner" (an adaptation of the prayer of the publican in Lk 18: 10-4). This prayer is not only the epitome of Orthodox doctrine, but is implicitly the totality of her piety. As St. John Cassian wrote: "Let the Name of Jesus cling to your breath and your whole life, for it is your faith and your salvation." The technique of this prayer is not complicated. "Those who approach the Lord," writes St. Macarius, "should make their prayer in a state of calm (hesychia), peace, and great tranquility, without anxiety and con-fusion. Rather let him come to the Lord with complete attention (prosexein ton noun), with effort of the heart and sobriety of thought (nepsis)." When we come to pray, therefore, we must come humbly, without hate for anyone, without desire, ready to yield everything to God, confessing our sins, and holding to true doctrine. Neither must we be concerned what we are to say, for "the Spirit helps us in our weakness . . . himself interceding for us with sighs too deep for words. And He who searches the hearts of men knows the mind of the spirit, because the Spirit mediates for the saints according to the Will of God" (Rom 8:26-7). Furthermore, the body is involved in the Jesus Prayer (as in all types of prayer). There is no particular position, for it, although, in the Orthodox Church, kneeling is forbidden between Pasch and Pentecost and on Sun-days. Sitting, often in'a Yoga position, lying on the back are acceptable. When the invocation of God begins, we ought .to be relaxed. To keep the eyes from wandering, it is useful to use a candle and icon. Incense may con-tribute to the atmosphere, to give a sense of the Divine Presence and to set the mood for the great physico-spiritual task about to commence. Then, as The Pilgrim says, we must pray sincerely and ~lowly, "without ceasing," the Jesus Prayer. The words are repeated again and again. Some ascetics have recited as many as fifteen hundred in one night, some many more. Simul-taneously, the believer must str.uggle against contrary thoughts and fatigue, but persistence, night after night, will bring the victory. (Of course, there is 50 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 no reason to limit the Jesus Prayer to night and a certain physical posture; it may be recited at any time.) The Prayer o| the Heart Gradually, as we persevere in obedience to our guide (if one is avail-able) and continue diligently in prayer, the mind will be cleansed. The soul and body will be kindled with "the flame of grace," to use the phrase of St. Symeon the new Theologian. This is the sign of the Holy Spirit's presence. If we perfect ourselves sufficiently through prayer, fasting, obe-dience, chastity, and good works--prayer intensifying all the time--we may be privileged to see "the divine light," "the Light o~ Mount Tabor," "the Light of the Glorified Christ," "the Light of God's Uncreated Energies," "the Light of the Transfiguration." In other words, as the mind or spirit trains itself to resist evil sensations and control the imagination, the believer learns "to collect the mind in the midst of the heart and pray with silent words." Soon words will not be necessary, then, not even thoughts, because the Name of Jesus has entered the "heart" and is repeated, automatically, with the beat of the physical organ itself. The soul, like a flower reaching for the sun, ascends to God; the warmth of God's Uncreated Energies, Light and Grace, increase; the "heart" is "purged" (katharsis); and, finally, the total man becomes "di-vine" (theosis). Thus, being "like God," we shall "see" Him "face to face" (that is, the "deified" will "see" the eternal God-Man, the enthroned Christ --no one may ever behold the "face" of the Father). This "union" (he-nosis) is the final end of the Jesus Prayer, of all prayer, for, according to the Eastern Church, salvation is nothing else but "union with God," deifi-cation, the mortal becoming immortal, the corruptible becoming incorrup-tible, the sinful becoming sinless, eternal "rest," "partaking of the divine nature" (2 Pt 1:4). Bibliographical Note For those interested in making a more detailed study of Orthodox spirituality and of the prayer of the heart, the following books are recommended: The Arena: Art Offering to Contemporary Monasticism by His Grace, Bishop Ignatius Brianchaninov (originally published in Russian in 1867 but now rendered into English) (Madras, 1970). The Art o[ Prayer, trans, by Kadloubovsky and Palmer (London, 1966). The intro-duction to this work provides an excellent discussion of the Jesus Prayer. Early Fathers [tom the Philokalia, trans, by E. Kadloubovsky and G. E. H. Palmer (London, 1954). The same scholars have translated Later Fathers o] the Philo-kalla; at present, they are involved with other scholars in a complete translation of this formidable treasure of Eastern spirituality. The Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus, trans, by Archmandrite Lazarus Moore (London, 1959). Mystic Treatises by St. Isaac the Syrian (Isaac of Niniveh), trans, by A. J. Wensinck (Amsterdam, 1923). Ott the Prayer o] Jestts, trans, by Archmandrite Lazarus Moore (London, 1952), Prayer and Work: Protestant Religious Orders for Women Elizabeth Moltmann-Wendel The following article is a translation of a German article that appeared originally in Evangelische Kommentare, May 1972, pages 280-283. The translation was made by Charles W. Pfeiffer, a doctoral student in the Divinity School of St. Louis University; 3658 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. The translation is published with the kind permission of the editor of Evangelische Kommentare. The address of the author is: Dr. Elizabeth Moltmann-Wendel; Hausserstrasse 43; 74 Tiibingen, West Germany. In a poor quarter of Algeria there live three women. One works during the day as a teacher, another as a nurse, and the third keeps house. They subsist in the hot and arid poverty of those countless millions who live on the edge of society and suffer in their environment a spiritual and material deprivation which defies description and far outweighs any relief provided by social organizations. Their neighbors stand in amazement. The children are the first to approach and to quizzically explore the significance of this house which is always open to everyone. Out of these initial contacts a mutual trust begins to grow. The Muslim understand trust and come with their personal and social problems while the three women, having come from the security of bourgeois, European homes, learn from the Muslim how to survive and manage with a small amount of water. When the revo-lution breaks out, the white people hasten to flee the country, but the three women stay on to the even greater astonishment of their neighbors: "They have not fle!! God is present among us!" The Sisterhood of Grandchamp To live with neither missionary ambitions nor in direct diaconal engage-ment but in solidarity and friendship with the poorest of the poor is the basic premise of the Sisterhood of Grandchamp, a French-Swiss religious 51 52 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 order for women to which these three women belong. Similar to the French Catholic orders, the Little Sisters of Jesus and the Little Brothers of Jesus, without special words or deeds they "live friendship" at the apex of social distress. Thus they have founded cells in Lebanon, in the industrial area of the Parisian suburb of Saint-Quentin, in Vlaardingen near Rotterdam, in a high-rise apartment building in a suburban settlement near Lyons, in Israel, and in Lucerne. The sisters maintain their financial independence from the order by earning their keep as cleaning ladies, workers, nurses, and secretaries. One of them is always at home to keep the house or apart-ment open for those who seek advice or companionship. Their motto is "Pray and Work," and the community rule sums up their purpose in one sentence: "Be among men a sign of brotherly love and joy." In the beginning this order was actually of a quite different nature. During the Thirties some women from French-speaking Switzerland de-cided that through reflection and contemplation (retreats) they wanted to experience once again the meaning of their lives. They rented a house in Grandchamp near Areuse on Lake Neuenburger. An increasing number of guests desirous of some days of quiet meditation began to assemble. The reception of these guests allowed the women to gradually grow to-gether into a community. They designated themselves as sisters and asked the initiator of the first retreats, Madame Micheli, to join them in the capac-ity of Mother. In 1952, eight of the sisters and the Mother committed themselves to remain together for life. One year later they joined the young, Protestant, Swiss Brotherhood of Taiz6 in Burgundy and adopted the brotherhood's rule and liturgical prayer. During the closing years of the War the Swiss Brotherhood of Taiz~ grew fr

Issue 32.3 of the Review for Religious, 1973. ; 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 ~) 1973 by Review /or Reqgious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. 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 payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor May 1973 Volume 32 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, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. The Anointing of the Sick Paul VI The following is an English translation of an apostolic constitution dated November 30 1972 but not made publicly available until January 18 1973. The constitution represents updated provisions for the administration of the sacrament of the anointing of the sick. Subtitles in the following have been added by the editor. The Catholic Church professes and teaches that the sacred anointing of the sick is one of the seven sacraments of the New Testament, that it was in-stituted by Christ, and that it is "alluded to in Mark (Mk 6: 13) and recom-mended and promulgated to the faithful by James the Apostle and brother of the Lord. "If any of you is ill," says James, "he should send for the elders of the Church, and they should anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord and pray over him. The prayer of faith will save the sick man and the Lord will raise him up again; and if he has committed any sins, he will be for-given (Js 5:14-5).1 Ancient Testimonies From ancient times testimonies of the anointing of the sick are found in the Church's tradition, particularly her liturgical one, both in the East and in the West. Especially worthy of note in this regard are two testimonies: The letter which Innocent I, our predecessor, addressed to Decentius, Bishop of GubbioZ; and the venerable prayer used for blessing the oil of the sick: "Send forth, O Lord, your.Holy Spirit the Paraclete," which was inserted 1Council of Trent, Session XIV, De extrema unctione, Chapter 1 (see also ibid., Canon 1): CT, VII, 1, 355-6; DS, 1695, 1716. ZThe letter Si instituta ecclesiastica, Chapter 8: PL 20, 559-61; DS 216. 465 466 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 into the Eucharistic prayer:~ and is still preserved in the Roman Pontifical? In the course of the centuries in the liturgical tradition the parts of the body of the sick person to be anointed with holy oil were more explicitly defined in different ways, and there were added various formulas to accom-pany the anointings with prayers which are contained in the liturgical books of the various Churches. During ~the Middle Ages there prevailed in the Roman Church the custom of anointing the sick on the five senses using the formula: "Per istam sanctam unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid deliquisti" ["Through this holy anointing and His most loving mercy, may the Lord pardon whatever wrong you have committed"], followed by an adaptive addition for each sense.'~ Conciliar Teaching In addition, the doctrine concerning sacred anointing is expounded in the documents of the ecumenical councils, namely the Council of Florence and in particular the Council of Trent and the Second Vatican Council. After the Council of Florence had described the essential elements of the anointing of the sick,'~ the Council of Trent declared its divine institution and explained what is given in the Epistle of St. James concerning the sacred anointing, especially with regard to the reality and effects of the sacra-ment: "This reality is in fact the grace of the Holy Spirit whose anointing takes away sins, if any still remain to be taken away, and the remnants of sin; it also relieves and strengthens the soul of the sick person, arousing in him a great confidence in the divine mercy, whereby being thus sustained he more easily bears the trials and labors of his sickness, more easily resists the temptations of the devil 'lying in wait' (Gn 3: 15), .and sometimes re-gains bodily health, if this is expedient for the health of the soul.''~ The same Council also declared that in these words of the apostle it is stated with suffi-cient clarity that "this anointing is to be administered to the sick, especially :~Liber sacramentorum Romanae Ecclesiae ordinis amti circuli ed. L. C. Mohlberg, ~'Rerum ecclesiasticarum documenta, Fontes," IV, Rome, 1960, p. 61; Le Sacra-mentaire Gregorien ed. J. Deshusses, "Spicilegium Friburgense," v. 16, Fribourg, 1971, p. 172; and see La Tradition Apostolique de saint Hippolyte ed. B. Botte, "Liturgie-wissenschaftliche Quellen und Forschungen," v. 39, Miinster in W., 1963, pp. 18-9; Le Grand Euchologe du MonastOre Blanc ed. E. Lanne, Patrologia orientalis, v. XXVII1/2, Paris, 1958, pp. 392-5. 4See Pontificale Romanum: Ordo benedicendi oelum catechumenorum et infirmorum et conficiendi chrisma. Vatican City, 1971, pp. 11-2. '~See M. Andrieu, Le Pontifical Romain au Moyen-Age, v. 1, Le Pontifical Romain du Xlle siOcle, "Studi e testi," v. 86, Vatican City, 1938, pp. 267-8; v. 2, Le Pontifical de la Curie romaine au XIIle sikcle, "Studi e testi," v. 87, Vatican City, 1940, pp. 491-2. C'Decretum pro Armenis. G. Hofmann, Council of Florence, I/I1, p. 130; DS 1324f. ~Council of Trent, Sessio XIV, De extrema unctione, Chapter 2: CT, VII,. I, 356; DS 1696. The Anointing ol the Sick / 467 those who are in such a condition as to appear to have reached the end of their life, whence it is also called the sacrament of the dying.''s Finally, it declared that the priest is the proper minister of the sacrament.9 The Second Vatican Council adds the following: " 'Extreme Unction,' which may also and more fittingly be called 'anointing of the sick,' is not a sacrament for those only who are at the point of death. Hence, as soon as any one of the faithful begins to be in danger of death from sickness or old age, the appropriate time for him to receive this sacrament has certainly already arrived.''1° The fact that the use of this sacrament concerns the whole Church is shown by these words: "By the sacred anointing of the sick and the prayer of her priests, the whole Church commends those who are ill to the suffering and glorified Lord, asking that he may ligthten their suffering and save them (cf. James 5:14-6). She exhorts them, moreover, to con-tribute to the welfare of the whole People of God by associating themselves freely with the passion and death of Christ (cf. Rom 8:17; Col 1:24; 2 Tim 2:11-2; 1 Peter 4:13).''11 Revision ot the Rite All these elements had to be taken into consideration in revising the rite of sacred anointing, in order to better adapt to present-day conditions those elements which were subject to change?'-' We have thought fit to modify the sacramental formula in such a way that, in view of the words of St. James, the effects of the sacrament might be better expressed. Further, since olive oil, which hitherto had been prescribed for the valid administration of the sacrament, is unobtainable or difficult to obtain in some parts of the world, we decree, at the request of "numerous bishops, that in the future, according to the circumstances, oil of another sort can also be used provided it is obtained from plants, thus being closer to the oil de-rived from the olive. As regards the number of anointings and the parts of the body to be anointed, it has seemed to us opportune to proceed to a simplification of the rites. Therefore, since this revision in certain points touches upon the sacra-mental rite itself, by our apostolic authorit3~ we decree that for the future the following is to be observed in the Latin Rite. SIbid., Chapter 3: CT, ibid; DS 1698. 'albid., Chapter 3, Canon 4: CT, ibid.; DS 1719. 1°Vatican Council II, Constitutio Sacrosanctum Concilium, 73: AAS, LVI (1964), pp. 118-9. 11Ibid., Constitutio Lumen gentium, ll: AAS, LVII i1965), p. 15. ~See Vatican Council II, Consiitutio Sacrosanctunt Conciliutn, 1: AAS, LVI (1964), p. 97. Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 The Future Rite The sacrament of the anointing of the sick is administered to those who are dangerously ill by anointing them on the forehead and hands with olive oil, or, if opportune, with another vegetable oil properly blessed, and by saying once only the following words: "Per istam sanctam unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam adiuvet te dominus gratia Spiritus Sancti, ut a peccatis liberatum te salvet atque propitius allevet" ["Through this holy anointing and His most loving mercy, may the Lord assist you by the grace of the Holy Spirit so that when you have been freed from your sins He may save you and in His goodness bring you relief"]. In case of necessity however it is sufficient that a single anointing be given on the forehead or, because of the particular condition of the sick per-son, on another more suitable part of the body, the whole formula being pro-nounced. This sacrament can be repeated if the sick person, having once received the anointing, recovers and then again falls sick, or if, in the course of the same illness, the danger becomes more acute. Promulgation and Conclusion Having laid down and declared these elements concerning the essential rite of the sacrament of the anointing of the sick, we, by our apostolic au-thority, also appi'ove the Order of the anointing of the sick and of their pas-toral care, as it has been revised by the Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship. At the s, ame time, we revoke, where necessary, the prescriptions of the Code of Canon Law or other laws hitherto in forqe, or we abrogate them; other prescriptions and laws, which are neither abrogated nor changed by the above mentioned Order, remain valid and in force. The Latin edition of the Order containing the new rite will come into force as soon as it is pub-lished. The vernacular editions, prepared by the episcopal conferences and confirmed by the Apostolic See, will come into force on the day which will be laid down by the individual conferences. The old Order can be used until 31 December 1973. From 1 January 1974, however, the new Order only is to be used by all those whom it concerns. We desire that these decrees and prescriptions of ours shall, now and in the future, be fully effective in the Latin Rite, notwithstanding, as far as is necessary, the apostolic constitutions and directives issued by our predeces-sors and other prescriptions, even if worthy of special mention. Given at Saint Peter's in Rome, on the thirtieth day of November, in the year 1972, the tenth of our Pontificate. PAUL VI Candlemas Address to Sisters Paul VI I~[irihg the ceremony of the presentation of candles celebrated on February 2 1973, tHh Holy Father gave a talk on religious women presented here in the English trans-l~.[ ion published in Osservatore romano, English language edition, February 15 1973, pp. 3, I0. Oc~ursus, in Latin, Ypapant~, in Greek, was the name given to this festivity ifi ~he early Oriental Church. It meant the meeting, that is, the fact of meet-iO~ the infant Jesus, taken to the Temple of Jerusalem forty days after His bii:th, according to the law of Moses, to be offered to God, as belonging to Hiin. We all know that it was during this legal and religious rite that there tdok place the meeting with old Simeon, who, inspired by the Holy Spirit, r6~bgnized in Jesus the Messiah and proclaimed Him "a light for revelation t6 the Gentiles." Immediately afterwards there also took place the meeting with the venerable prophetess Anna, eighty four years old, who "came to give thanks to God, and spoke of the child to all who were looking for the r6demption of Israel" (Lk 2:38). A Me~;sianic meeting, therefore, which uil~s on prophetic significance and historical voice, and which publicly in-augurates the era of Christ, in-the very place sacred to worship of the one triJe God, and to the chosen People's awareness of its mysterious destiny. A Matter of Loyalties ,Well, let us begin our pious ceremony by giving the meeting, which gathers us here, the religious and spiritual significance which reflects, from s6ihe points of view, the one that the liturgy has us commemorate today. Ybh come here to carry out.an act of recognition of the mission entrusted t6 bur humble person, namely to implement and continue in time the mis- 469 470 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 sion of Jesus Christ, the light and salvation of the world. It is a meeting that expresses mainly two sentiments of yours, one of faith, faith in Christ, in His Gospel and His Church; the other of open adherence in filial respect to the Pope, your Bishop, to the apostle Peter, to whom the Lord entrusted the keys, that is, the authority of the kingdom of heaven, and at the same time the pastoral function over the whole Church. Aware of our human limits, we would be tempted to avoid this meeting, but the investiture of the apostolic office, transmitted to us in legitimate succession, forbids us to do so; in fact it lays upon us the important and sweet obligation to welcome it wholeheartedly. Yes, blessed by this meeting which offers us the welcome opportunity to have around us such a full, varied, and devoted assembly as the one that now surrounds us, which we ourself wished to see carefully arranged, in this monumental and holy basil-ica, not in our honor, but in yours, beloved and venerated sons. The meet-ing means unity, it means harmony, it means awareness of the hierarchial and organic society, which is at the same time religious and spiritual, that we together make up, love, and serve. The meeting means the Church, and here the Roman Church, the apostolic Church. Candle Rich in Symbolism This common awareness is made real and, as it were, experienced owing to the double fact of the presence of the representatives of so many ecclesial bodies, living in the same City, but not easily brought together in the same place and in the same ceremon3~; and the fact that each of these representa-tives comes bearing the offering of a candle, a symbo, l rich in multiple mean-ings, first and foremost the heartfelt bond whereby every institution repre-sented wishes to be connected in faith and charity with us, now brings us deep spiritual joy. We are honoring Christ together; together for Him and with Him we are honoring the Church. What else could make us so happy and bring us such consolation? We often think now that the great event, for which our century will be remembered, the Ecumenical Council recently concluded, was intended to serve, in the intentions of divine Providence, to revive, deepen, and harmo-nize that sense of the Church, which the conciliar doctrines have nourished with splendid themes, and which the evolution of the times requires to be more limpid and strong than ever. We are therefore full of joy and confi-dence when we have some almost tangible experience, however rapid and particular, of this "sense of the Church." How happy and moved we are to enjoy now with you, the ecclesial communion of our diocese! How easy it is for us to suppose that the Apostles, its founders, that its martyrs and its saints, with the Blessed Virgin, salus Populi Romani, are assisting us at this significant moment of spiritual meeting; nay more, to think of the mystery of the secret presence among us of Christ Himself, who promised to be in the midst of those gathered together in His name (Mt 18:20). Candlemas Address to Sisters / 471 Esteem |or Sisters We cannot fail to draw attention to a circumstance that characterizes this ceremony, and confers on it a splendid note of piety and solemnity. Do you see who has the larger and the better part in the Basilica today? It is the religi6us women. It is our sisters, it is the virgins and widows, consecrated to the Lord, living in Rome and belonging to our community. Greetings to you, beloved Daughters in Christ! You blessed religious, who have accepted our invitation to this meeting, whose purpose, as we said, is to gather us round the Messianic mystery of the presentation of the infant Jesus in the Temple and thus express the network of spiritual and canonical bonds which gives form and substance to religious and social unity in the Church of Rome. Why did we wish the "Roman" sisters (the fact that. they live or even are temporarily staying in our Diocese, qualifies them as such), to have a distinguished place in this assembly today? Oh! For many reasons! We will mention some of them. It is our wish that the diocesan community should have an opportunity for once to show its esteem and affection for these chosen daughters, humble and strong. They are not out on the fringe, no, they are the flowers of its garden. It is our wish that the style of their "evangelica testificatio," of their evangelical testimony, should be honored and vindi6ated in view of the devaluation of laicism which would like to secularize even the most ardent souls, those following most faithfully in Christ's footsteps. It is our wish that a reawakened gen-erous sensitivity of the community of the faithful should not forget the needs of the poorer sisters, often without the means of subsistence. It is our wish that the ascetic, contemplative tradition of religious life, or the active one, should be recognized by everyone, by the ecclesial community particular~ly, as valid and relevant updated as it must be according to the spirit of the recent Council and according to the norms suggested by the documents of this apostolic See, in conformity with ihe renewing effort that the individual religious families have succeeded in imparting to their own way of life, some-times wearisome and purely formal, by means of the wise revisions of their statutes, studied and carried out in their recent general chapters. It is our wish that the specific vocations which qualify religious institutes such as pray.er and penitence, isolation and silence for the purpose of more intense inner absorption in the pursuit of convers'ation wit'h God, or tireless dedica-tion in arduous and providential educational work, or in expert assistance to the sick or the various social needs, or with regard to the Catholic missions, and according to the inventive genius of their piety and their charity--it is our wish that these vocations should be given an honorable and organic place in the ecclesial structure, even, perhaps, by means of some sacred initiation. It is our wish, furthermore, to promote and perfect .the assignment of sisters, when they so desire and are qualified to do so, to cooperation in the pastoral ministry, particularly where there is a shortage of the clergy, or in parishes engaged in religious and moral assistance in popular districts and 472 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 poor suburbs, or in the desolate countryside. We want them to be together with the praying, teaching, operating, ~uf-fering, evangelizing Church, these generous and courageous daughters of ours, these pious and hard-working sisters of ours, these simple, dignified women, always exemplary, and, according to the title attributed to sincere members of the early Christian communities, holy! Following Mary's Way Oh yes! Beloved daughters of holy Church, let the spirit of communion by which she lives enter your houses, beyond the gates of your cloisters, into your souls, instilling the breath of the renewal desired by the Ecumenical Council, and giving you too, nay rather you especially, a vision of the great divine plans at work among mankind and marking its destiny with regard to its supernatural and eschatological salvation, just as they present to us our duties and our resources for the help necessary for the elevation of ~he world, its concord and peace. And here you have understood, blessed daughters, no less than eccles.ias-tics and laymen, and following the steps of the Blessed Virgin along the evangelic.al path interpreted by the liturgical rite we are celebrating, you come to the altar bearing, you, too, your symbolic gift, your candle. Y~ou make us think of the parable of the virgins of the Gospel of St. Matthew. You remind us of the many meanings that ritual and spiritual language at-tributes to the pure and primitive source of light, the candle. You give us the idea of recommending that you should make the candle the symbol of your persons" because of its uprightness and its sweetness, the image of innocen.c.e and purity; because of its function of burning and illuminating, for which the candle is destined, realizing in itself the definition of your life enti.rely destined for the one love, burning and complete, of the Father, for Christ, in the Holy Spirit, a fire-love. It is a love which, with prayer, example, action, providentially illuminates the room and the path of the Church and of the surrounding world. Finally, the candle is destined to consume itself in sile.nce, like your life in the now irrevocable drama of your consecrated heart: t~.he sacrifice, like Christ on the Cross, in a sorrowful, happy love, which will n.ot be extinguished on the last day, but surviving will shine forth forever in the eternal meeting with the divine Bridegroom. For you, for all those present, our Apostolic blessing, with affection_ate gratitude. The Supreme Court on Abortion' A Dissenting Opinion Patrick T. Conley and Robert J. McKenna Patrick T. Conley is associate professor in the Department of History at Providence College; Providence, Rhode Island 02918. His specialty is Constitutional History with degrees in both history and law. Robert J. McKenna is associate professor of Politics at Salve Regina College; Ochre Point Avenue; Newport, Rhode Island 02840. He is also a State Senator from Newport and is a specialist in Church-State relations. In the decade of the 1850s one of the most vexing constitutional questions concerned the status of slavery in the federal territories. For reasons which historians have not yet fully fathomed, this issue became a vent for the economic, emotional, psychological, and moral disputes generated by the institution of slavery itself. During this acrimonious debate three basic posi-tions emerged: ( 1 ) the pro-slave argument which held that Congress had a positive duty to protect a slave owner's property rights in the federal terri-tories; (2) a diametrically opposed view, advanced by anti-slavery Northern-ers, stating that Congress must ban slavery from the territories; and (3) the middle ground of "popular sovereignty" which left the decision on slavery to the residents of the areas in question. Then, in 1857, a Southern-dominated Supreme Court attempted toresolve this morally-charged dispute in what it considered to be a rational and impartial manner. The result was the Dred Scott Decision in which the Court novelly employed the procedural Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment to vindicate the Southern position. But it did so in disregard of historical precedents which made that view un-tenable. To compound its error, the Court contended that Negroes could not attain citizenship because such status contravened the intent of the founding fathers. The Dred Scott Decision did not resolve the great moral dispute over slavery and the status of the Negro in American society. It was so patently 473 474 / Review ]or Religious, Volutne 32, 1973/3 unsound that it was overridden--both by subsequent events and by the less violent process of constitutional amendment. The Decision of January 22, 1973 On January 22, 1973, the United States Supreme Court, in magisterial fashion, undertook to resolve another moral controversy in the case of Roe v. Wade, and a companion decision, Doe v. Bolton. These decisions con-cerned abortion, and here a right more fundamental than citizenship was at stake--in issue was the right to life. The Dred Scott analogy to Roe v. Wade is not an exercise in hyperbole; not only was a more basic right in-volved, but a much larger class was affected. In 1857, approximately 4,100,000 blacks and their descendants were judicially attainted; in 1973 alone about 5 million living human fetuses will be shorn of their natural right to life for at least the first six months of their existence. Unlike the Biblical decree of Herod, however, Roe v. Wade does not mandate a slaughter of the innocents. The Court, in fact, explicitly denied the contention of appellant Jane Roe (a fictional name) that a woman's right to an abortion is absolute and that she is entitled to terminate her preg-nancy at whatever time, in whatever way, and for whatever reason she alone chooses. "With this we do not agree," said Justice Blackmun for the major-ity. His statement was echoed by the Chief Justice: "Plainly, the Court today rejects any claim that the Constitution requires abortion on demand," affrmed Mr. Burge'r. Even the libertarian Justice Douglas admitted that "voluntary abortion at any time and place regardless of medical standards would impinge on a rightful concern of society. The woman's health is part of that concern; as is the life of the fetus after quickening." But though the decision was not a total victory for the abortion advo-cates, it was a substantial victory nonetheless. In essence, the Court con-cluded that a state criminal abortion statute, like that of Texas, which "ex-cepts from criminality only a life saving procedure on behalf of the mother, without regard to a pregnancy stage and without recognition of the other in-terests involved, is violative of the Due Process Clau~e of the Fourteenth Amendment." Mother's Alleged Right of Privacy The so-called right which the Texas abortion statute allegedly infringed upon was the expectant mother's right of privacy. In deference to maternal privacy the Court then proceeded to formulate the following abortion schedule: (a) "For the stage prior to approximately the end of the first trimester [the first three months], the abortion decision and its effectuation must be left to the medical judgment of the pregnant woman's attending physician; (b) for the stage subsequent to approximately the end of the first trimester [the second three months], the State, in promoting its interest in the health of the mother, may, if it chooses, regulate the abortion proce- Abortion / 475 dure in ways that are reasonably related to maternal health; (c) for the stage subsequent to viability [the final three months] the State, in promoting its interests in the potentiality of human life, may, if it chooses, regulate, and even proscribe, abortion except where it is necessary, in appropriate medical judgment, for the preservation of the life or health of the mother." Such was the fiat of the Court--a formidable pronouncement indeed. Justice Blackmun's rationale and argumentation, however, were not sufficient to support the Court's foray into the legislative domain because the decision contained several dubious moral, logical, biomedical, and legal contentions. The Question of Life First, the Court explicitly admitted that it "need not resolve the difficult question of when life begins . the judiciary, at this point in the develop-ment of man's knowledge, is not in a position to speculate as to the answer." Later it took notice of the fact that the Catholic Church, "many non-Catho-lics," and "many physicians" believed that life began at conception. In view of these considerations and the Court's candid admission of its own igno-rance, it seems incredible that the Court could proceed with confidence to schematize abortion according to the trimester system. It chided Texas for arbitrarily selecting conception as a basis for that state's abortion law, and then, in an equally arbitrary manner chose viability as the basis of its own formula. In effect, the Court said: "We do not know if human life exists prior to viability, but even if it does we choose not to protect it, and we bar the states from protecting it also." It has often been the practice of the Court when it could not resolve or define a key issue before it (like the nature of a "republican form of govern-ment") to declare the matter a political question and therefore nonjusti-ciable. If ever the doctrine of political question should have been invoked, it was when the Court asserted that the question of life's commencement was beyond its ability to resolve. To proceed in the face of that admission was reckless folly. It was, as stated by Justice White in his dissent, "an exercise in raw judicial power"; an "improvident and extravagant exercise of the power of judicial review." White could find "no constitutional warrant" for the Court's action, nor could he accept "the Court's exercise of its clear power of choice by interposir~g a constitutional barrier to state efforts to protect human life and by investing mothers and doctors with the constitu-tionally protected right to exterminate it." The Court did rush in, however, armed with its nescience regarding the origins of human life, and the results were disastrous. Rights of a Person and the Fetus Having thus disposed of the question of life, the justices examined four main theories regarding the point in time when the rights of a person at-tach to a human fetus, namely (I) conception, (2) quickening or first 476 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 movement, (3) viability, or (4) birth. Justice Blackmun concluded that "the word 'person,' as used in the Fourteenth Amendment, does not include the unborn." Here the Court buttressed its contention with formidable but not insurmountable evidence. With equal effort it could have reached the opposite conclusion, especially in view of the fact that no evidence was adduced to show that the drafters intended to exclude the unborn when they utilized the word "person" in the various sections of the Constitution where it appears. In the absence of a clear constitutional intent, arising ho doubt from t, he fact that the particular problem raised in Roe v. W~ide never oc-curred to previous constitutional draftsmen, the Court should have exercised restraint. Compelling State Interest The Court has applied the "compelling state interest" standard to those legislative acts which have set up classifications or categories, the members of which have been deprived of equal protection of the law. In several recent opinions a majority of the Court asserted that the strictness of the standard for decision in cases involving classifications made by legislative bodies ¯ varies according to the nature of the right placed in jeopardy; the more fundamental the right involved, the greater was the judicial requirement to "carefully and meticulously scrutinize" thc classification in the light of the following principles: (a) As ihe right in jeopardy becomes more fundamental, the more perfect must be the relationship between the classification excluding a human group from the en-joyment of the right and the purpose for which the classification is made. (b) As the right involved becomes more ftmdamental, the more "compelling" the state or governmental interest must be in making a classification exc!iading certain human groups from the enjoyment of the right. In Roe v. Wade the Court has not practiced what it preached. In effect, it has established a judicial classification consisting of those unborn' humans who have not reached the stage of viability and has deprived thes6 individ-uals of their right to life by making them fair game for the abbrti0nist. Several learned anti-abortionists who presented an amicus curiae brief to the Court for its consideration made this valid observation. They argued that "because of the fundamental nature of life, the most compellin~ of all interests would have to be shown on the part of the Court in order to carve out such a classification, which would exclude the lives of unborn huinans from the protection of the law." The Court's Rationale The Court did, indeed, advance a rationale to justify its conclusions by claiming that "the right of personal privacy" is "broad enough to encompass a woman's decision whether or not to terminate her pregnancy," though ad-mitting that the right was "not unqualified and must be considered against Abortion / 477 important state interests in regulation." When the Court tried to explain why this alleged right of privacy was fundamental enough to override a state's in-terest in the protection of fetal life, the shallowness of its value system was glaringly revealed. Justice Blackmun justified abortion on the grounds of privacy because "maternity, or additional offspring, may force upon the woman a distressful life and future," cause psychological harm, bring "distress for all con-cerned," or place a social "stigma" on the unwed mother. These were the "weighty reasons" for excluding the unborn from the enjoyment of the right to life. Justice Douglas, in a concurring opinion arising out of Roe v. Wade and its companion case involving a Georgia abortion law (Doe v. Bolton), went to more ridiculous extremes. Childbirth, said Douglas, "may deprive a woman of her preferred life style and force upon her a radically different and undesired future." She would be required "to endure the discomforts of pregnancy; to incur the pain, higher mortality rate, and aftereffects of child-birth; to abandon educational plans; to sustain loss of income; to forego the satisfactions of careers; to tax further mental and physical health . . . and, in some cases, to bear the lifelong stigma of unwed motherhood." One could scarcely imagine a more amoral and hedonistic rationale. For the highest. court in a land which professes spiritual values and claims foundation "un-der God" to use such criteria to justify the extermination of human life is a tragic occurrence in every sense of the word. Here is humanism incarnate-- man has become God. Selfishness and Self-love The Court and the absolute abortionists, who occupy a more extreme position than the high tribunal itself, are essentially concerned about the "quality of life." Adolf Hitler had the same concern. It is both ironic and appalling that many individuals and groups who vociferously deplored Hit-ler's misguided attempts to improve the quality of life in Nazi Germany are in the vanguard of the current genocidal attack upon the unborn. The justifications for abortion expressed by Justices Blackmun and Doug-las are the epitome of human selfishness and self-iove. The countervailing evils of easy abortion were thrust aside by the Court. Among these baneful effects, according to Dr. Paul Marx, are "the denigration of the traditional sexual morality distilled from centuries of wisdom, the abandonment of self-control as an indispensable human virtue, the substitution of subjective whim for the priceless heritage of human knowledge, the enthronement of ultili-tarianism over principled morality, the devaluation of life itself, the ruina-tion of the moral basis of natural human rights, and the obvious opening to euthanasia." A society that countenances the brutality of aborticn is one in which psychological ills, irreverence for life, and sexual promiscuity are likely to proliferate. In sum, therefore, we have paid an exhorbitant price to sustain a woman's right to per, sonal privacy. 478 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 Right to Privacy a Fiction That alleged right, however, is more a judicial fiction than a verifiable fact. Even Justice Douglas frankly confesses that "there is no mention of privacy in our Bill of Rights," nor is the type of privacy claimed in Roe v. Wade specifically mentioned in any other section of the Federal Constitution. The Court invented this right in Griswold v. Connecticut (1965) when it held that a state law forbidding the use of contraceptives was unconstitu-tional in as far as the law applied to married persons. The Court advanced the so-called "penumbra" doctrine which held that various guarantees in the Bill of Rights impliedly create zones of privacy. In Roe v. Wade a woman's personal decision to abort her child was placed inside that judicially pro-tected private zone. In their attempt to vindicate this alleged right appellants used a scatter-gun approach by claiming that the Texas statute abridged rights of personal privacy protected by the First, Fourth, Fifth, Ninth, and Fourteenth Amend-ments. One of these random shots found its mark when the high court held that the right claimed by the appellants was "founded in the Fourteenth Amendment's concept of personal liberty." In recent years, the Court has developed a complex formula to protect those rights which it uncovers in the mysterious recesses of the Constitution from invasion by the states. The test traditionally applied to state social and economic legislation is whether or not the law (for example, the Texas abor-tion statute) has "a rational relation to a valid state objective." Had this test been employed in Roe v. Wade the state statute may have been upheld. How-ever, the Court devised a more stringent standard in Shapiro v. Thompson (1969) which held that as the right involved becomes more fundamental, the more "compelling" the state interest must be in passing a law which abridges that right. In Shapiro and subsequent rulings the "compelling state interest" standard was used only in situations involving the equal protection provision of the Fourteenth Amendment. Justice Harlan attacked this new criterion when he asserted in a Shapiro dissent that "when a statute affects only matters not mentioned in the Federal Constitution and is not arbitrary or irrational" the Court is not entitled "to pick out particular human activities, characterize them as 'fundamental,' and give them added protection under an unusually stringent equal protection test." Such action, concluded Harlan, "would go far toward making this Court a 'super-legislature.' " Yet the Court went even beyond this in Roe v. Wade--it not only held a woman's private right to abort her unborn child to be "fundamental"; it also expanded the stringent "compelling state interest" test in a novel way to embrace the Due Process Clause (shades of Dred Scott!). Dissenting Opinions The majority's decision regarding the fundamental nature of the particu-lar right of privacy asserted in this case was vigorously and persuasively at- Abortion / 479 tacked by Justice Rehnquist in a dissenting opinion: "The fact that a ma-jority of the States, reflecting., the majority sentiment in those states, have had restrictions on abortions for at least a century seems . . . as strong an indication as there is that the asserted right to an abortion is not., funda-mental. Even today, when society's views on abortion are changing, the very existence of the debate is evidence that the 'right' to an abortion is not so universally accepted as the appellants would have us believe," concluded Rehnquist. In support of this latter statement he could have cited with telling effect the results of the 1972 abortion referenda in Michigan and North Da-kota. In the former state the pro-life advocates polled 61% of the vote, while in North Dakota their total was an overwhelming 79%. The right of privacy asserted by the Court is not only absent from the express provisions of the original Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and later Amendments, it is not generally recognized by law, by custom, or by major-ity opinion. How could such an alleged right, therefore, be "so rooted in the traditional conscience of our people to be ranked as fundamental." The Court does not satisfactorily explain its startling judgment. It "simply fashions," says dissenting Justice White, "a new constitutional right for preg-nant mothers and, with scarcely any reason or authority for its action, in-vests that right with sufficient substance to override most state abortion statutes." Unalienable Right to Life The Court with equal effort could have "discovered" the unborn's right to life, invested it with "fundamental" status, and clothed it with judicial protection. This right is not explicit in any part of the Constitution, but, un-like the right to abort, it is recognized by law, by custom, and by majority opinion. It can also be inferred from the phraseology of no less a document than our Declaration of Independence: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Li[e, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness." Traditionally the term "creation" is applied to conception rather than to the other definable stages of fetal life. This line of argumentation is at least as formidable as the privacy doc-trine which the Court concocted, but unfortunately the Court used its legal legerdemain to uphold the right of privacy at the expense of the unborn's right to life--a strange choice indeed, especially in view of the solicitude shown by the Court for criminals under a death sentence in Furman v. Georgia (1972). A Flaw in Argumentation Such was the decision of tile Court in Roe v. Wade and its companion Doe v. Bolton. Almost as an afterthought, however, the Justices alluded to a serious flaw in the arguments of those who sought to uphold state abortion 480 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 restrictions. The state appellees in Wade and Bolton asserted that the un-born's right to life was constitutionally protected by the due process clauses of the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments. Yet the state statutes which they defended, especially Georgia's more "modern" law, allowed abortion in special circumstances: (1) if the life or health of the mother were endan-gered (this was the extent of the Texas statute); (2) if the fetus would very likely be born with a grave, permanent, and irremedial mental or physical defect; or (3) if the pregnancy resulted from forcible or statutory rape. As Justice Douglas was quick to observe, the Georgia statute permits fetal de-struction in several instances without regard for due process or the develop-mental stage of the fetus. Justice Blackmun in a footnote in Roe v. Wade also spotted the dilemma. Despite a broad proscription on abortion, an exception exists in every state, at least to save the life of the mother. "But if the fetus is a person who is not to be deprived of life without due process of law, and if the mother's condition is the sole determinant, does not the Texas exception appear to be out of line with the Amendment's command," queried Blackmun, "and why is the woman not a principal or an accomplice" to the killing? This in-consistency can only be effectively resolved by recourse to the position that any direct taking of the life of the fetus is a moral and legal crime for all involved. Our dissenting opinion to the Court's abortion ruling would be merely an intellectual catharsis and an exercise in frustration if the Court's action could not be overriden. Our purpose thus far has been to show that the decision was patently unsound from either a logical, biomedical, moral, or legal perspective. Hopefully this knowledge of the decision's infirmity will provide an incentive to secure its reversal. Thus, in conclusion we offer guidelines for those who wish to challenge the ruling and vindicate the rights of the unborn child. Guidelines for Action At the State level the legislature has several plausible options. First, it can take advantage of the Court's failure to resolve "the difficult question of when life begins." It can declare as a conclusive presumption "that life commences at the instant of conception." This legislative finding of fact will reestablish protection for the unborn child, at least until the issue is settled as to whether or not the Court will accept a legislative determination in this area. Abele v. Markle (342 F. Supp. 800), in which this issue is raised, is now pending on appeal. Second, the legislature can memorialize Congress to adopt a constitutional amendment to protect the unborn child. Third, the legislature can petition Congress to call a constitutional convention to act on this issue and on others where the Court has overstepped its proper juris-diction. Fourth, it can require that the father's rights be protected in those cases where he does not agree to have his child killed. North Carolina has Abortion / 481 enacted such a provision. Fifth, it can and should provide that no person or institution shall be required to assist in any way with an abortion if such an act violates the values of that person or institution. Despite these State remedies, however, the most effective counter-mea-sures can be wielded by Congress. For example, the Congress can adopt and propose to the states a constitutional right-to-life amendment. While this is a time-consuming remedy it is also one that would be decisive and relatively enduring. It is the best course of action to pursue. Second, Congress can pass an act to establish the start of life at the instant of conception and thus answer the key question sidestepped by the Court. Third, the Congress can also remove the power of the Supreme Court to hear appeals in this area by altering the Court's appellate jurisdiction. There is precedent for such a move in the case of Ex parte McCardle (1869) and in the OPA cases of the World War II era. Such a course of action may seem drastic, but the Court's abortion ruling demands a vigorous and effective response. The Dred Scott Decision's denial of the Negro's right to citizenship was only overcome by the concerted and forceful effort of those who thought the Court's opinion morally, historically, and legally unsound; can we do less for those living yet unborn than to vindicate their right to life itself? How to Write Good Constitutions Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J. Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., is professor of theology and canon law at Fordham University; Bronx, New York 10458. To write constitutions for religious communities is a difficult job. It requires a great deal of grace and common sense. No document with pious generali-ties would do; something more practical is necessary. No wonder that great and good constitutions for religious are few and far between. The following rules for writing good constitutions are not exhaustive, but they can be of some help to those who are wrestling with the task of finding new bottles for the new wine that is presently fermenting in the Church and in religious communities. 1. Good Constitutions Respond to Present Needs and Give Stability for the Future A basic rule is that constitutions should incorporate lasting values. The writers should look beyond the present and should design structures which will uphold the community's spiritual inspiration for many years to come. Sound organization brings stability without stifling natural evolution. Let us take an example from secular history. The crisis and upheavals that many European states suffered in modern history were due largely to their constitutional instability. Unsatisfactory and weak structures contrib-uted to divisions and unrest and did not allow for healthy evolution. The relative stability and continuity that the United States experienced from the beginning is the fruit of the wisdom of th~ founding fathers who gave the country a reasonable instrument of government, broad enough to accommo- 482 How to Write Good Constitutions / 483 date developments, yet strong enough to keep the nation togetherl While European states were changing and rewriting their constitutions with an alarming rapidity, the United States remained faithful to the original one. Surprisingly, the constitutions conceived for the emancipated colonies re-main an excellent instrument of balance for a modern powerful industrial nation. Had the first drafters been clearer about the relationship of the States to the Union, maybe the Civil War could have been avoided--or it would have been fought under other pretext than the issue of the right to secede. Yet, even though the Civil War happened, the fact stands: Substan-tial stability was given to the nation through a well-designed constitution which did not hamper good developments. To incorporate lasting values means to look beyond our own times. Much that is up-to-date and fashionable today will look hopelessly out-of-date to future generations. Constitutions should achieve a certain timelessness. This can be done only by those who have some knowledge of past history. By looking back they have another point of reference than the present; their horizon is broadened. Of course, I am not suggesting that the past should be copied or codified in the constitutions; but I am suggesting that those who know the present and the past are better forecasters and planners for the future than those who are limited by the narrow vision of the present. If you are on the high seas and have no other point of reference than the spot where the boat is, you cannot plan any safe course for your future journey. Writers of constitutions who do not know the history of religious orders are like navigators who did not absorb the common pru-dence and learning of their ancestors. They did not learn the trade; they may rock the boat. No one should conclude, however, that the constitutions should not be a response to present needs. They should--with an eye on the past and the future. 2. The Constitutions Must Reflect the Spirit of the Gospel but They Must Contain Specific Provisions for a Given Community It is easy to write new constitutions by paraphrasing the Gospels, and leave it at that. The trouble with such constitutions is that whatever they say, it has been said much better, and usually more concisely, by the evangelists. Why should anyone bother to go to second hand sources about Christian life when he can go to the original ones? Good constitutions cer-tainly reflect the spirit of the Gospel; they should not be soulless legal docu-ments. Yet what makes them constitutions is that they integrate spiritual principles with practical rules and structures suitable for a given community. Lofty doctrine should lead to sensible rules that free the community for the service of God and men, and create a harmonious human and Christian en-vironment. It is right to speak about the beauty of community life, but that beauty should not be lost in chaos and confusion when it comes to vital decisions. Down to earth practicality is the mark of good constitutions. 484 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 3. The Constitutions Should be the Codification of a Way of Life That Has Proved Itself, Not a Blueprint Conceived in the Abstract and to Be Imposed on the Community When we reflect on the beginnings of religious orders and congregations, we do not find that the founders first wrote abstract constitutions and then looked for some persons who were prepared to try them out. Rather, they first gathered a group for a specific way of life, for a particular apostolic task, and when it all worked out and the group was forged together into one community, they committed into writing what they lived and experienced so intensely. Therefore, a community should not be afraid of letting good customs de-velop without any kind of fixed rules. If the love of Christ is alive among them and they have enough common sense, such a process should be possi-ble. A good system of planned and controlled experiments is more important in these years than the writing of new norms. But the experiments should be controlled; there should be a good machinery for the critical evaluation of new enterprises. The whole process of experiments is meaningful in the context of an ongoing conversion only. If the members are not moving toward Christ, but are just asserting rights and liberties without reference to Him, what started as renewal can end up as disintegration. Freedom in Christ is necessary for developing sensible practical rules. 4. The Constitutions Should Contain a Balance between Light and Dark-ness, Joy and Sorrow, Life and Death; They Should Be Similar to the Gospels We explain this rule by contrasting two mentalities. The one wants to put into the constitutions all the negative sides of Christian life, such as mortifi-cation, abnegation, penance, and so forth. A most depressing document would ensue; enough to scare away any healthy individual. The other wants to speak about the positive sides only, such as peace, joy, exultation, and so forth. A most uplifting document would follow--with hidden deception in it. Both mentalities are one-sided. The right approach is in a harmony that we find so well expressed in the Gospel of St. John. The light is there, but so often it is surrounded by darkness. Life is there, but it must go through the baptism of death. Also, the harmonious blend of frustration and enrichment is manifest in the Sermon on the Mount: "Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." Poverty and wealth go hand in hand. Incidentally, such balance is necessary in our liturgical celebrations" too. There we commemorate the whole life of Christ, His death and His resurrec-tion. The uninterrupted, one-sided celebration of joy can become inhuman and unchristian; in this life we need the quiet rhythm of sorrow and joy, darkness and light, to prepare us for the great final acts of death and life. How to Write Good Constitutions / 485 5. Keep in Mind that Faith, Hope, and Love Have No Measure; Everything Else Must Be Measur~ed A Christian can n.eve,,r. '.'exaggerate" in faith, hope, and love. He knows no limits to believing in God, to trusting and loving Him, because these "vir-tues" are gifts of grac~ ari.d, they originate m God's boundless generosity. Of course a man can distorf'tlie meaning of the gifts, he can express them one- ~,' sidely, he can even refu.s:e.them. But if he is open to the Spirit, there is a movement in his heart ffia( has no limit; it can expand indefinitely. Faith, hope, and love have an affimty with God's infinityi their growth is not sub-ject to any human measure. In all other virtues arid" actions, there is a measure. There is no limitless progress. There is a point b'eyond which the movement of construction be-comes the demon of destruction. In other terms, change is not equivalent to progress. A community b~ifit on change regardless of measure will eventu-ally destroy itself. R~al~,[ogress consists in finding the right amount of change at any given tithe, ~d no more¯ There is an obvious comparison: If you drive and do not press the ac-celerator enough, you db hot move, you crawl; if you oress ~t too much you are heading for disa~t6r. Movement and speed alone do not guarantee safe arrival. The history of religious life would offer olentv of examples to illustrate this truth. Let us g~ve lU.~t One. St. Franms of Assxs~ certa.inly loved poverty. He went far m giving a@a~.y, what he had, even to the point of deposmng h~s clothes at the feet of his '~.]]gry father. He became a pilgrim with no shelter over h~s head. But he d~d not sell himself into slavery as he could have done w~th a little ingenuity. Nor did he give his time away; in fact, he jealously guarded it. He estabfi'~he~d ~a measure in poverty, his own measure no doubt, but a measure nonetti~le~.°]-lad he not done so, had he been bent on giving all by selling himself ~'tl~b infidels as a slave on some galley, he would not have been free enough to start a great religious movement, he ould not have had ume and leigure t6 wander around and compose the Canticle o~ the Sttn.! ~"" After Vatican Council 1I many religious communities made great prog-ress in renewal, but s~n6~of them never thought of finding the right measure in change. They become intoxicated with new things and the movement that began under the ~nsplranon of the Spirit may eventually carry them too far, to the very bnnk of d~s~ster. A good question }"o¯r "~a' "c~onstitutional assembly, or for a general chapter, concerning every single 'i~ss uce is: What is the right measure in this matter? The measure, of course, '~oes change from time to time; no community should become static. But even if the measure changes, there is always a measure. The rule should be.~. a~plied. . to community life, to prayer, to apostolic 486 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 work--to everything, except faith, hope, and love. In those three the com-munity should open itself to the Spirit of God who can fill the members with His gifts beyond their desire and expectation. 6. Remember That Rules Are Necessary, but Persons Give Life to a Community Paradoxically, we could say that good persons can prosper even if the constitutions are bad, or, that good constitutions lead nowhere without the right persons to apply them. This is not to demean good constitutions. They work marvels with good persons. And bad constitutions can harm people. Rather, the paradox is a way of stressing that persons, not rules, give life to a community. Many religious institutes worshipped their own structures before the Council; the slightest infringement to the rule was considered a disgrace be-fore God and man. Today they understand better that the rules are means to open our hearts to faith, hope, and love and therefore there is nothing ab-solute about them. But structure-worship does not change easily; mentalities survive longer than we care to admit. Much of the naive belief in the mysteri-ous saving quality of the rule has been transformed into a utopian trust in the redeeming strength of committees. Committees are all right, although with measure. The greatest inspira-tions in the history of mankind never came from a committee. Legend has it that the camel owes its shape to a committee that wanted to design a horse. Be that as it may, the camel is a useful animal if you want to cruise in the desert. Yet we would hesitate to entrust the reshaping of this creation to a committee; it is frightening to think what would happen to the graceful flight of the seagull, to the playful nature of the chipmunk, or the trunk of the elephant. Government by committees is not well suited to the care of .persons. Who can open himself fully to a committee? Person to person relationship is necessary in religious government. Not on the pattern of father and child, or mother and daughter, but on the pattern of a wise and trusted companion caring for another. Therefore, in religious life there should be a way of recurring to a person above and beyond all committees. Take the example of a religious who has a serious personal problem--not the type he cares to preserve on files. He needs a change, perhaps a different job, at a different place. How can be ex-plain it all to a personnel board? 7. Good Constitutions Assure Both Broad Consultation and Efficient Action Good government in apostolic religious institutes is based on broad con-sultation among the members and on efficient action by the one in authority when it is needed. There must be in the community an upward movement of ideas. Every member has a right and duty to contribute to the welfare of How to Write Good Constitutions / 487 all. Therefore, at the base there must be a structure to assure that each can speak his mind and is listened to with respect. The result of this initial con-sultation process will be a mixed bag of ideas. Some will be excellent, some harmless, some to be discarded; in all they will be a fair representation of divine inspiration and human limitation. Therefore, some way must be found to screen them. This happens through the system of chapters. At the pro-vincial chapter elected representatives choose some ideas and proposals out of many. Eventually, an even smaller group, such as the general chapter, selects the best suggestions and makes them into guidelines and constitu-tional rules for the whole institute. Why this complex procedure? Because each has a right to speak, and God can speak through the smallest ones. But religious life is inspired by un-reachable ideals; therefore you want to choose the best of all suggestions. The clue to succcss is a wise combination of democracy and selectivity. The whole upward movement of ideas is a slow process. It involves long con-siderations and discussions. It is the proper field for committee activity! The application of the abstract policies and of constitutional guidelines to concrete individual cases is a different matter. The movement should mostly originate at the top where a trusted person leads and presides; he is the superior general. He is there to translate the norm into everyday actions. He should act with prudence, with the help of qualified counsel, and he should be swift and e~ficient too. He deals with particular communities and with individual persons. They need decisions, and they need them without much delay. The superior general's government can be spoiled in two ways. First, by distrust. The community may impose the duty on him of endless consulta-tions and impose all sort of checks, all to avoid a mistake. The result is a hesitant temporizing administration. Second, by cluttering up the line of ex-ecutive government by committees. They are never good for action; they are necessary for sorting our ideas, for setting policies. The superior general should be accountable. He should be responsible to the general chapter and should give a full account of his stewardship when-ever it meets. He should be removable; but as long as he is in once, he should be. trusted and free to take intelligent risks. Sbme communities built so many safeguards around their superiors that no intelligent and inspired initiative can be expected from them anymore; the safeguards from real or imagined tyranny will assure mediocrity for some time to come. Authori-tarianism was bad enough, but slowness and indecisiveness on the executive" level does not promise well for the future either. Let us remember also that a bad decision given with speed is frequently better than a good decision given with delay. Decision means movement; if it is a bad choice it can be corrected as long as there is life. No decision means lack of movement and lack of life. It cannot even be corrected. In all, we propose a healthy cycle, intended mainly for apostolic corn- 488 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 197~,/3 munities. It begins with full consultations; it gives the ultimate power to the chap(er; yet it retains person to person relationships in government. But we do not propose this pattern with any rigidity. Its basic simplicity allows many variations according to the traditions and desires of different communities; it can even be combined with other systems. 8. Community Means Unity in Diversity; Diversity without Unity Destroys the Community How far can a community go in pluralism without destroying its cohe-sion? To answer this question, consider the unity in diversity that you find in an orchestra. The players have different instruments; they even play different melodies. Yet, the product is a symphony with depth and harmony. Har-mony is possible because there is a limit to this diversity. Pluralism in a religious community can be interpreted in two ways. It may mean differences that contribute to the unity of the group; or, it may mean differences, that do not have an internal finality toward unity. The former makes the community, the latter destroys it. It follows that before talk begins about pluralism and its extent, the com-munity must define the type of unity they desire to maintain. Once the mem-bers know how united they want to be in their life style, in their apostolic endeavor, they can determine how much pluralism they can allow. There is no general rule for the extent of pluralism a community can bear; the unity they need is the measure of it. 9. You Will Know the Tree by Its Fruit, but Remember Some Trees Take a Long Time to Bear Fruit The constitutions should provide for an ongoing evaluation of the com-munity, in particular of the new experiments. Chapters on local, 'provincial, and general levels can be good instruments of evaluation. Each session should begin with an examination of conscience: how far in fact the com-munity lived up to its ideals. Most chapters are looking into the future; they are planning sessions. They should give equal time to the past, not in the form of debate, but in the form of a prayerful examination of conscience. They should give a good critical look at the fruit that was recently produced. The word experiment underwent many changes. Often it is used for change, an illegitimate use. We all would gain by restoring its primal mean-ing which is "to test something under controlled circumstances so that the process can be judged and evaluated." If we need change, by all means let us have it, but we must not call it experimentation; if we need experiments, let us do them properly. But experiments in religious life are not the same as those performed by physicists. The stakes are high in religious life; the faith, hope, and love of the members can be affected. Besides, fruits mature slowly because the ulti-mate test for any experiment is its contribution to a climate in which the How to Write Good Constitutions / 489 community is more open .and receptive to the grace of God. Often many years will be necessary to know the value of an experiment. Early judgments can be rash judgments. Take the issue of formation. No one can fully evaluate a particular pro.gram of formation until those formed have gone through many tests and trio!s in their religious vocation. I0. Good Constitutions Cannot Be Composed under Stress Peace of mind and he.a.rt is a necessary condition for wisdom and inspira, tion. Polarization and division in the community is an obstacle to grace and to human creativity. The c_0mmunity must be healed before it can produce. A community not .at p.eace may be tempted to write constitutions by way of reaction to past or t.o pre.sent trends, or to search for a feasible compromise which will not represent any high ideal. A disturbed group should not write constitutions. Peace i~ ne~e~sary to receive the Spirit and to create good and lasting structures. A group's first duty is to create life in harmony and attend to the task of writing .afte.r they have found peace with God, with the C. hurch, and with each other. Conclusion Good constitutions a.re. a blend of spiritual wisdom and shrewd practical judgment. The form.e.r is given by God, the latter is the result of human creativity. Constitutions .c.a.,nnot take the place of faith, hope, and charity, but they can be a powev.f.ul instrument to keep the process of conversion alive in a community, The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat Herbert F. Smith, S.J. Herbert F. Smith, S.J., a well known spiritual writer and director of retreats, is sta-tioned at St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. During the last decade there has been a rebirth of the directed Ignatian re-treat. The directed retreat is a marked departure from the familiar preached retreat in which we customarily spent some two hours a day hearing the word of God as it was spoken and interpreted by the retreat master. Origins in Experimentation The successful return of the directed retreat can almost certainly be credited to that widespread phenomenon of our day, the passion for experi-mentation. The experimental approach springs from a twofold conviction: that we can produce something better; and that, in an age wherein proliferat-ing options are overloading our decision-making powers, we must discover what is most relevant. We have all benefited from the experimental approach. Consider agri-culture. Ten years ago there was widespread talk of the impossibility of feeding the world's people. Today there is not. That is largely because, in the interval, agricultural experimentation was carried on in the Philippines to produce a new strain of wheat. The first objective was to produce a better wheat, one that would give a greater yield per acre. The second objective was produce a more relevant wheat, one hardy enough to flourish on poor land in cold climates. The result is 1R-3. It is revolutionizing the growth of wheat, turning traditionally wheat-importing countries to wheat exporters. In the field of religion, we have similar problems and similar inclinations. How can we raise up better Catholic Christians, people more in contact with 490 Directed Retreat / 491 God, more committed to Him, more faithful to the Church, more productive in the service of the kingdom? How can we form more relevant Catholic Christians, people who can responsibly handle the increased responsibility laid on each today? Enterprising men and women in the Church are pre-senting the directed lgnatian retreat as one answer. Is it? I think it is, but my objective here is not to give proof of that. My objective is rather to give information concerning the nature of a directed retreat. Judgments can come later. What is a directed retreat? I will proceed to answer that question by giving a series of progressively improving definitions until we ultimately reach the most illuminating definition I can provide. One-to-one Relationship The directed retreat is a retreat made neither alone nor in a large group; ]urthermore, it is made without the help of several talks a day. This incom-plete definition is meant to clarify the manner in which the directed retreat departs from the familiar preached retreat. The directed retreat involves one director and one retreatant operating in a one-to-one relationship. The di-rector may or may not be directing other retreatants simultaneously, but in any case he guides each retreatant as though he alone were on retreat. Of course, there may be some interplay between retreatants. They may cele-brate Mass together. They may do shared prayer. Smallest Possible Community The directed retreat is a concerted effort to seek God in the smallest possible community. In a directed retreat, everything is set up and directed to help the retreatant find God. All irrelevant and distracting persons and entities are withdrawn. That leaves us with the smallest possible community, a community of three, in the likeness of the Trinity. The community of three which results can be described in various ways. It can be seen as composed of the retreatant, God, and His Spirit; God is the goal, and the Holy Spirit is the agent. He guides the retreatant to God, and He is the Love between the retreatant and God. There is, from another viewpoint, the triad of the retreatant, the director, and the Holy Spirit. The retreatant and the director work out the retreat in concert, and the Holy Spirit is the one Guide of both. From a still more comprehensive viewpoint, the tripartite community is made up of the retreatant, God, and the Church (whom the director em-bodies and represents). The reason for setting up this smallest possible community is to promote the total personalization of the /etreat. All transactions are aimed directly at the one retreatant and his unique personal needs here and now. While it is true that God always can and does work as personally with an individual in a group as with an individual off by himself, the retreat director cannot. And conversely, the retreatant cannot. The fact that God can is the saving grace Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 197~//.~ of group retreats. The fact that retreatant and d~tector cannot is the reason there is at times no substitute for a directed retreai; The tiny directed retreat community favors ~nt,~ate contact that helps the retreatant to come to know his God, himself, and .his Church in an intimate new way. By intimacy I mean an attentive, h~!thy, open, and receptive relationship with another that is productive of a ifilJ~aal identification in joys and sorrows. Directed to Spiritual Exercising The directed retreat is the engaging in sptr~tua.l exercises under the daily guidance oJ a di'rect6r who h'as the twoJold rDi~ ol retreat director and spiritual direc'tor. The function of the retreatant ~ ~o do spiritual exercises. The function of the director is to guide and mo,ri~tor the exercises. In the directed retreat, there is emphasis on ttlE aiztivity of the retreatant. We have all seen the retreat master of the prea@fid retreat deliver his four and five talks a day, hear confessions, hold interviews, and stagger out of the house exhausted six days later. The directed r~ii:Eat, bn the contrary, de-mands much more of the retreatant and focuseg bn what the retreatant is doing more than on what the director is saying. !f tti( rctreatant's activity still involves a great deal of active listening, it i~ ndt a human being he spends a lot of time listening to, it is God. St. Ignatius himself stresses the activity of th~ i'etr~atant, whom he calls the exercitant. He introduces his little book for r~ii'eat Jig "spiritual exercises Which have as their purpose the conquest of self iind t~ie regulation of one's life in such a way that no decision is made under: th~ influence of any in-ordinate attachment" (#21 ). The director gives the retreatant daily guidani~i~. Generally, the two meet once a day. The director provides spoken or writieh ~5oints for meditation, and they are generally given very briefly. If the iziirEctdr has more than one retreatant, he may give points in common to savd time, where this is not to the disadvantage of the retreatants. The retreatant gives the director a faithful afifi~Sufi~ of the inner experi-ences and responses which take place in the coti~se 6i' his meditations. He tells of joy or sadness, peace or unrest, hope 0i: [6ai'; and so on. This ac-count of one's personal experiences is always gi~,(h ili a private interview. This account is at the heart of the directed retiE~ii, as is the response the director makes to it. The practice of making ttiis reiSort develops the re-treatant's ability to discern the movements of ~.Sbd ~ind evil that play in man's mind, heart, and feelings. The guidance dt~ [he ~tirector helps the re-treatant learn how to distinguish between the godi:l ~iri~i evil influences more successfully. Most important, it helps him distili~iiist] the divine call from every other influence on him. This knowledge frdE~ iaiih from old slavery to whims and emotions and nagging feelings of guilt: ii h61ps him to put on the mind of Christ. Directed Retreat / 493 Functions of the Director From what has just been said, it becomes manifest that the director of the directed retreat has two clearly distinct functions. First, like the director of a preached retreat, he provides the retreatant with input for the meditations. Let it be added that, both in the brief way he provides this material and in the selection of the material he provides, he himself is guided in a general way by his source material, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. The director feeds in this input in harmony with the retreatant's actual accomplishments, thus moderating the advance and flow of the retreat in a fully personalized way. The director is fully aware that the graces sought in each meditation are necessary graces which have to be built up in their proper order like the parts of a building: sorrow for sin is the excavation, forgiveness the founda-tion, and so forth. This careful control of the process of the retreat is cer-tainly one of the great advantages of a directed retreat. Second, the retreat director is the retreatant's spiritual director. The great religions of the world, even in their most mystical traditions, all teach the need of a guide, be he a guru, a starets, a roshi, a spiritual director. Without a director, there can be no making of the Spiritual Exercises, as a reading of the introductory observations will establish. Without a director there has not been set up the necessary mini-community described in the second definition. The Discerning Process The director helps the retreatant to discern the mysteries of the interior life in a practical way that is meant to lead to practical decisions and practi-cal service of Christ. The retreatant himself is always the primary discerner, and the director the auxiliary discerner. Only the retreatant is present to his own inner experiences. Unless he gives a good and faithful report, the aux-iliary discerner cannot give the help he is meant to give. The retreatant, then, is the subjective discerner. The director is the objec-tive discerner. As objective discerner, he interprets the experiences of the retreatant in accord with the Biblical and doctrinal expressions of revelation as it is guarded and developed and handed on by the whole Church. If the retreatant too is learned in theology, and sometimes even if he is not, he may be able to interpret his experiences quite authentically himself. But in accord with the wisdom of the Church and of revelation, the People of God do not rely on themselves individually, but depend on one another in the effort to understand the meaning of God's communications, even the individual and personal ones. If the retreatant is guided by the Holy Spirit to come to a cer-tain decision, the director can hope to be guided by Him to confirm the decision. The Priest-confessor and the Retreat Director The role of the director as auxiliary discerner is made even clearer if we consider the distinction between the role of the priest-conJessor and the role 494 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 of the retreat spiritual director. The confessor in the sacrament of penance is concerned primarily with the moral order, with the person's conscious, sin-ful rebellions against God's will. The retreat spiritual director is concerned with the retreatant's inner experiences, his moods, attractions, and repulsions, even before he has made any deliberate free responses to them. The con-fessor wants to know what a man has done of good and evil. The director wants to know to what seeming good and what seeming evil the retreatant is being drawn through his inner experiences in prayer and meditation. St. Ignatius himself makes this distinction, and even makes it clear that the retreatant' should feel free to go to a confessor other than the director: While the one who is giving the Exercises should not seek to investigate and know the private thoughts and sins of the exercitant, nevertheless, it will be helpful if he is kept faithfully informed about the various disturbances and thot~ghts caused by the action of different spirits. This will enable him to propose some spiritual exercises in accordance with the degree of progress made and suited and adapted to the needs of a soul disturbed in this way (#17). It might be pointed out here that the director need not be a priest. He or she need only be a spiritually gifted person experienced in living the spiritual life, possessing the developed capacity to guide others, having a good knowl-edge of the faith, and knowing the Spiritual Exercises through exercise in them. This is a fact,to be underscored, since if the one-to-one retreat is to proliferate, many directors will have to be drawn from religious men and women and other members of the laity. Sisters and laymen are in fact al-ready active in directing retreats. The retreatant needs openness and courage to give his director the neces-sary account. Still he does not need to steel himself to bare his whole soul, as he sometimes finds it necessary to do with his regular spiritual director, and certainly finds it necessary to do with his confessor. Direct Communication with God .4 directed retreat is a retreat in which one is guided by a director to do spiritual exercises which will purge him, illumine him, and dispose him Jor direct communication and communion with God, direct guidance Jrom Him, and the readiness to do His will. This final definition gives a comprehensive idea of the directed retreat. The Ignatian directed retreat is divided into four parts or weeks. It was Ignatius' hope that the retreatant would really spend a whole month, apart from all other business, in making his retreat. Thirty-day retreats are being conducted today. More often, however, the retreat is condensed and made in a period of eight days. The first week provides spiritual exercises of purgation. The second week provides spiritual exercises of illumination which call the retreatant to a more wholehearted commit-ment to Jesus. The third and fourth weeks invite one to share Jesus' ex-perience of passion and resurrection as a preview of one's own future in His Directed Retreat / 495 service and life. In everything, Christ is the retreatant's life, his light, his salvation, his motivation. The directed retreat is a search for direct communication and communi-cation with God. To miss this would be to miss the meaning of the directed retreat. The preacher of the preached retreat is not really replaced by the director. He is replaced by God who Himself gives His message to the re-treatant here and now. The retreatant hears God, not by words in his ears, but by the various movements in his inner life which have been described in this article as the experiences which call for discernment. To come into a retreat with this expectation calls for deep faith in both the director and the retreatant. No doubt this faith frequently falters in both, perhaps most when they are least aware of the fact. Some directors may not even have the conviction that this direct communication and communion with God should take place, but then they are betraying their trust, for it is inescapably clear that this is the expectation and absolute conviction of the author of the Exercises. He writes: The director of the Exercises ought not to urge the exercitant more to poverty or any promise than to the contrary, nor to one state of life or way of living more than another. Outside the Exercises, it is true, we may lawfully and meritoriously urge all who probably have the required fitness to choose continence, virginity, the religious life, and every form of religious perfection. But while one is engaged in the Spiritual Exercises, it is more suitable and much better that the Creator and Lord in person communicate Himself to the devout soul in quest of the divine will, that He inflame it with His love and praise, and dispose it for the way in which it could better serve God in the future (# 15). What Ignatius expects is that the retreatant will, by making the Exercises, repeat some of his own experiences of God guiding him. Those experiences were so vivid that Ignatius called God his "Schoolmaster." Let me point out here by way of example that we customarily describe the attraction to the priesthood as a "vocation," a "call" from God. St. Ignatius is simply broadening the base of that belief by affirming that God calls us directly to many things, to little things, every day, if we can hear His voice and if we will respond to it. God's call is experienced through the inner movements of love, joy, peace, attraction to a better way, and so forth. According to Karl Rahner, S.J., this is a case of grace breaking into consciousness. In essence, therefore, the directed retreat is meant to be a mystical retreat. It is a series of spiritual exercises and prayers and contem-plations in search of the experience of God and the reading out of His will. It is a transcendental relationsh!p breaking into consciousness. Directed versus Preached Retreat It should be of help to add a brief comparison of the directed and the preached retreat. The directed ~'etreat is the authentic presentation of the 496 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 Spiritual Exercises. This is a fact of history, but it also stands from an ex-amination of the introductory observations in the Spiritual Exercises. Still, that does not mean that the directed retreat is always best for everyone, in every set of circumstances. St. Ignatius makes it clear in the Exercises them-selves that not everyone is suited for them or ready for them. Nor are they necessarily better for anyone, year after year. They have a certain inherent advantage in that they guide the retreatant to listen directly to God Himself. On the other hand, there are times when God Himself sends us to men, as He did Paul after his conversion experience. Many factors must be weighed in determining which type of retreat will be best: the level of human ma-turity; the level of religious maturity; the personal needs at the moment, such " as the need of making a decision concerning a state of life; the level of gen-erosity, of restfulness, of vitality. The preached retreat remains of immense value when it is well con-ducted. I support this simply by appeal to the years of experience which most of us have had in making such retreats and which some of us have had in con-ducting them. Furthermore, preached retreats are excellent opportunities for hearing the word of God, and men always remain bearers of that word. There is no substitute for the preached word of God, iust as there is no sub-stitute for the inner experience of God. Then, too, the preached retreat is an opportunity to share the personal faith vision and synthesis of the retreat master who can often communicate his experience with the help of some specialized theological, sociological, or psychological competence. What it comes to is that the preached and the directed retreat are two species of retreat. Each has its own unique value, and each addresses itself to unique needs. 3-he directed retreat is of unsurpassed value for times when serious decisions have to be made. It is also of unsurpassed value in provid-ing a guided and formative experience in living the interior life. It has great value in helping a person find direct communication with God and in coming to other primary religious experiences. The preached retreat is especially valuable for broadening .and articu-lating our knowledge and vision of the faith. This helps us overcome our per-sonal limitations and biases, so that we can formulate a more comprehensive response to God. It helps us supply for our personal lack of initiative in over-coming our deficiencies. It can stir new faith in us, for belief is communi-cated by believers; and it can stir new love of God in us, for love is com-municated by lovers. In brief; the preached retreat is especially valuable in those times when for one reason or another, we need the word of God preached to us through the agency of men. Editor's Note: For other treatments of the directed retreat and of the Spiritual Exer-cises of St. Ignatius Loyola, see Sister Margaret Baker, H.V.M., "My Experience of a Directed Retreat," Review Jot Religious, July 1972, pp. 573-7: William A. Barry, SJ., Directed Retreat / 497 If this information and these norms do not yet make it clear which retreat you should prefer, I would offer one piece of advice. Experiment. Try th~ one you haven't experienced. For St. Ignatius, the need for experimentation was one of the fundamental principles of the spiritual life. "The Experience of the First and Second Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises," Review ]or Religious, January 1973, pp. 102-9; William Connolly, S.J., "Story of the Pilgrim King and the Dynamics of Prayer," Review ]or Religious, March 1973, pp. 268-72; and William A. Barry, S.J., "Silence and the Directed Retreat," Review ]or Religious, March 1973, pp. 347-51. Father Smith's present article, "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," is available (at 20 cents per copy plus postage) from Review for Religious; 612 Hum-boldt Building: St. Louis. Missouri 63103; a previous article by the same author, Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," is also available from the same address at 25 cents a copy plus postage. The Healing of Memories Francis Martin Father Francis Martin, a member of Madonna House; Combermere, Ontario KOJ 1LO; Canada, is presently completing his doctorate in Scripture in Rome. Our memory is a mysterious thing. St. Augustine, in his Confessions (Bk 10) spoke of "the fields and vast palaces of memory," and "the huge court of my memory." In his Treatise on the Trinity, Augustine saw man as an image of the Trinity because in his one interior being there were the three realities of memory, understanding, and will. Memory is compared to God the Father because it is an image of eternity, because it is the point out of which spring understanding and love, and in relation to these it has no be-ginning. Growth in Spirituality and Growth in Memory The vast universe of inner being has its spiritual origin in what we call today "awareness" or "consciousness." It is this that St. Augustine called "memoria." In some ways his term is better than ours since it points to the mysterious fact that memory is the principle of continuity. In my awareness of myself, I know myself to be the same man who yesterday lived through a certain series of experiences--I answer to the same name; and the reason for this is memory. Thus, awareness of ourselves always involves knowing "where we come from" not only in the sense of our past, but also in the sense of our Source, our Creator. We come from our past since we are at any moment of our lives the person who has lived through and been affected by a whole concatenation of experiences which we recall only imperfectly. We come from God since He has made us and at this moment is present to us, holding us in existence, though we are most often unaware of this. There is a way, then, in which it is true to say that growth in spirituality is growth in memory: it is an increasing awareness of where we come from. 498 The Healing o] Memories / 499 A deep awareness of God present to us, creating, saving, and sanctifying us, is an intimate and essential dimension of self-awareness, just as, on the other hand, our memory of the experiences which have made us who we are is a necessary part of our total awareness of who we are in God. Since this is so, there come moments in our lives when those experiences which have hurt us and twisted us somewhat must be brought to awareness and healed so that our life of prayer may deepen and our presence to God be-come more conscious. This process is called the healing of our memories or the healing of our inner being. Memory as the Sacrament of God's Presence It is not that memory only serves to retain those wounds of the past that are imperfectly healed. Our memory also carries deep within it those effects of God's action in our lives, those moments that in a special way make up our own salvation history. In allowing ourselves to enter once again into those recesses of our being where the awareness of God's action is still a living thing, we put our present experience into perspective. Deeper than this, through this memory, this action of God still living in us as a sacrament of His presence, we enter into a knowledge of where we come from: our past itself becomes the chalice containing our awareness of God. The Psalmist sings: "God, you are my God; 1 long for you, my soul thirsts for you . Upon my bed 1 remember you, in the watches of the night I dwell on you. Yes, you are my Help; in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to you, your right hand holds me" (Ps 63: 1, 7-9). The remembering of God brings us to songs of joy as we find ourselves protected by the vast expanse of His overshadowing wings. In this sense our memory is our access to awareness of the presence of God: He who has made us and saved us, for whom there is no time, and who is at this moment holding us in existence and giving us His life, is He who "is and was and is to come" (Rev 1:4). Our memory of what God has done brings us to the awareness that the effects of His saving acts exist in us by the mystery of His presence. Thus, though we name God by what He has done, we are speaking to Him who is present, and we know that when we shall see Him as He is, we will recognize Him as He who has always' been with us. The command of Jesus in connection with the Eucharist applies to all prayer both in com-mon and in the secret of our own heart: "Do this in memory of me." Obstacles to Living Memory But what are the obstacles to this living memory of the past upon which faith is founded, and this living memory of the future which is the inner face of hope? The greatest obstacle is our inability to "remember" because our memory is protecting itself from the wounds it carries within it. The wounds inflicted by others and the effects of our own sins still lie hidden in our inner being. These wounds are like so many "black and blue marks" on 500 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 our psyche: they are areas too sensitive to touch and yet they impede our movement. Our Lord wants to heal those wounds, either by taking them completely away or by taking away our fear of them enabling us to live in simple acceptance of our weakness and limitation. No matter what the source of these wounds, they can be the means of our union with Jesus whose wounds still shine gloriously in heaven. Even now our weakness makes the glory of God all the more manifest: "About this thing, I have pleaded with the Lord three times for it to leave me, but he has said, 'My grace is enough for you: my power is at its best in weakness.' So I shall be very happy to make my weaknesses my special boast so that the power of Christ may stay over me. " (2 Cor 12:8-10). Consciousness and Forgiveness This healing from inner wounds and from the fear of them, this healing of our memories, takes place most often through a process of consciousness and forgiveness: consciousness removes the protective but smothering layers of forgetfulness and opens that area of our being to the light and air of God, and forgiveness is a healing balm that eases pain and fosters restoration. We should speak about this process for a minute. We are aware, sometimes more forcefully than others, that there are ob-stacles that prevent us from being at ease with the Lord. We attribute this uneasiness to our sinfulness, especially to those sins and infidelities of which we are conscious. We know, really, that having sinned is no obstacle to find-ing joy in the Lord's presence: we often quote to others and to ourselves those incidents in the Gospels where Jesus goes out of His way to "welcome sinners and eat with them" (Lk 15:2). We have the constant testimony of the lives and words of the saints, and we see many people around us who bear this same witness. Still, when we are alone with the Lord, we are un-easy. Sometimes, even in deep prayer when we are aware of our Lord draw-ing close to us, we can find our minds starting to wander, almost trying to create distractions because of a fear of His presence. There can be many reasons for this, but basically we instinctively know, as we do in any love relationship, that unconditional love once accepted from the beloved obliges us to the same commitment, and we are afraid. We fear for ourselves in a commitment that takes from us the control over our own lives and future: when once we admit that we are so loved, we are no longer "free." One of the fears occasioned by charismatic manifestations of our Lord's presence is precisely this: that the Lord, through these signs of His nearness and His love, becomes too real and too obviously committed to us to be kept at a distance by our careful rationalizations and our well-apportioned times for prayer. Such initiative on the Lord's part demands conversion from us. We are called to receive the kingdom of God like a littlc child (see Mk 10: 15), but we prefer that illusion of autonomy we have so carefully created for ourselves. The Healing o] Memories / 501 However, for most of us, our Lord exercises too great an attraction to be put completely behind the bars of our self-centered caution. As we become more familiar with His presence and a little more faithful to His Spirit in us, we are less uneasy. But we must go further. Very soon in a serious life of faith we must renounce our bondage to darkness, we must be freed from our attachment to those things that hold us back from a pure surrender to the action of God in us. We must live out totally those renunciations we made at our baptism and which we ratify at every Easter Vigil. And it is here we find great difficulty and meet with the obstacles of selfishness, sensuality, ambi-tion, resentment, pride, fear, and so forth. Healing Our Memories Now the source of some of these blocks that we notice in ourselves, some of that fear of God and shame before others, as well as our attempts to com-pensate for these feelings, can be traced, as has been said, to unhealed wounds left in our inner being by incidents of our past. Of some of these we are conscious, of some but half-conscious, and of others we may be no longer conscious at all. How does one proceed in allowing our Lord to heal these memories? There are three things to be done: inner prayer; a sharing, in some degree at least, with another; and faith contact with the Body of Christ. In other terms we could describe these three this way: we enter into the sanctuary of our inner being and allow our wounds to become conscious; we pray with another who, as bearing within himself the mystery of Christ and His healing power, can be an instrument of peace; and we open ourselves, through forgiveness of others and the discipline of authentic personal re-lationships within the sacramentalized context of a truly human community, to the truth that sets us free. The first step is individual prayer; the second is confession which achieves a particular power if it is sacramental; and the third is community whose deepest source and most powerful presence is the Eucharist. Renouncing Our Resentments Let us begin with inner prayer. When we are alone at prayer, we should quite simply and directly ask our Lord to heal our memories. This may be a very general prayer at first, and may remain so for many days as we re-peat this request in our prayer. Our prayer may go something like this: "Lord Jesus, may You be praised for the love and mercy You have shown me all my life; I praise You and I thank You for that love with which You died for us and with which You share the radiance of Your risen life. Lord, You see into the depths of my soul; You know that I am wounded. The reality of evil has touched me in my own sin and in the sins and imperfec-tions of others. Lord, heal me of these wounds, let the power and beauty of Your life shine in me. I renoun(e attachment to my resentments, I forgive anyone who has ever hurt me, and I pray for them. Jesus, I join myself to 502 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 that act of forgiveness in which You died, and I love all those people who have entered my life; I embrace them with the same love and tenderness You have for them. I hold them up before Your face, O Lord, that You may bless them and be kind to them." It may happen during this prayer that certain people or incidents arise in our memory, and we re-experlence all the hurt and anger we first knew when the event occurred. It may be our parents or some other adults during our younger years: teachers, priests, some authority figure. It may be someone in our mature years: friend, husband, wife, employer, .superior, someone who betrayed us. Or it may be something quite abstract: "the system," the Church, my education, society, though these latter abstractions are usually evasive symbols covering a person we do not wish to think about. In any case, when someone particular comes to mind, we should stop our prayer and gently, without forcing ourselves, take this person into our heart. Do not be surprised at the degree of repugnance such an interior gesture meets with. Go gently, but firmly. Resolve very quietly that you will to be de-tached from this resentment. It is better to go gently over a period of a few days with a clear awareness of the issue and a determination to share Jesus' love for this person, than to make a violent, emotional "act of the will" that only harms your own heart and is but counterfeit love for the other. When this person is in your heart, then look at Jesus and say in the name of both of you who have now become one in love, "Lord have mercy." In such a gesture, we admit our need for mercy and pray for the other person with the same desire for their well being as we have for our own. The Lord always hears this prayer. Offering the Fullness of Forgiveness It is very important in this prayer that we do not waste our time in some sort' of amateur self psychoanalysis. We are praying for our own healing with the faith-knowledge that we can never be healed without the healing of our relationships and this includes, of course, desiring that others be healed. A large part of our own personality is made up of our relations to others. We are truly and maturely persons when both the individual and the social dimensions of our being are in contact and harmony with Jesus Christ. It was this realization that led Origen to posit among the seven ways that sins are remitted, "that we forgive our brothers their sins." For, as this great teacher goes on to say: "Our Lord and Savior himself told us this when he said, 'If you forgive others their offences, your heavenly Father will forgive you, but if you do not forgive others then neither will your Father forgive you your offences.' Then too, the Lord taught us to say in prayer, 'Forgive us our debts as we have forgiven those who are in debt to us' " (Homily 2 on Leviticus). There are many emotional blocks to the fullness of the forgiveness we offer to others as they dwell in our hearts, but with prayer, honesty, and The Healing o] Memories / 503 gentleness with ourselves our Lord can heal these. This sanctification of our emotional relationships is an aspect of the way the Body of Christ "builds itself up in love" (Eph 4: 16). Since this healing pertains to the mystery of the Church in its reality as a divinization of that complex web of relation-ships by which all men are, in some deep way, linked to one another, it often happens that our Lord's action within us as we pray alone leads us to see that for deeper healing we should go and pray with another. In and through this other human being, we contact Christ, and thus also every other person in this world. We should go to someone in whom we have confidence and share with that person our burden to the degree of explicitness that the Lord leads to, as both of us pray. This is one way that we carry out that injunc-tion of St. Paul to "serve one another in love," and is a practical realization of that mutual care for one another that he describes as "carrying one anothers' burdens" (see Gal 5: 13, 6:2). Sharing Our Wounds with Others Early Christians often went to the holy men to share with them the wounds of their soul and to receive their blessing and their prayers for heal-ing. In ancient monastic life thig "manifestation of thoughts" (both good and bad) to one's spiritual father was a daily practice. Other Christians went to these men of th.e Spirit for a confession of healing whenever they felt the need. Often, but not necessarily, these spiritual fathers were priests. For, be-sides those upon whom the Church has conferred in a special and explicit way the power given her by the Lord for inner healing, there are many other people who receive this gift from the Lord by another kind of action of the Holy Spirit: "There are different ministries but the same Lord" (1 Cor 12:4). While it is always possible to share our burden with friends and pray with them for healing and have them lay hands on us, there are times when we should go to someone whom the Lord seems to have endowed in a particular way with gifts of discernment and healing. Such people, accord-ing to the unanimous witness of tradition, are recognizable by their humility, their gentleness and patience with others, and their chaste, other-centered love. In the early Church we find them described as "someone who encour-ages the brethren" or again, "a pool where the liv.ing waters ofGod's love for man are gathered." In their hearts, the love of Christ has worked a puri-fication which has brought the gift of understanding hearts and of healing them to a certain stability and power. Other Facets of the Obstacles in Our Souls As someone with whom we have shared our burden begins to pray with us, we may become aware of many other facets of the obstacles in our soul, blocking us from true freedom with the Lord. We should quietly renounce attachment to these obstacles; this is especially importantin the areas of sen-sual pleasure, anger, and resentment. Again, let the truth be strong and 504 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 undiluted in our soul, but let the truth come from theLord and not from our self-hate, fear, or shame. Perhaps our Lord will enlighten us by giving words of prophecy to the person or persons praying over us. Most often these words have an intensely personal content for us, unsuspected by the other: his message shows us our attachment to sin or calms and heals our fear. In either case, when it is the Lord who is acting, we experience the liberation and strengthening of hearing "the truth in love." Though most of the time the healing takes place through a certain remembering of past incidents that have wounded us and a consequent conferring and receiving of forgiveness, this is not always the case either in private prayer or in prayer with others. Sometimes the Lord heals us without bringing the wound to consciousness at that moment, or at all. This is why it is so important we do not attempt to force things from our memory, but simply be willing to see and acknowl-edge anything, no matter how painful or embarrassing, that occurs to us as we pray in this way. Mark the Hermit, in one of his maxims, reminds us that unhealthy concentration on our past sins "brings sadness and banishes hope." This is true of undue preoccupation with our weaknesses and inner wounds: that ceaseless "search and destroy" drive we find in ourselves does not come from the Lord. As a matter of fact, to spend time in anxious worry and endless self-investigation is to act as though our Lord did not really appreciate how weak we are and could not help our compromised honesty to a greater degree of simplicity and truth. When we ask the Lord for healing, we are asking the Lord to heal us. He will usually do this by working in us a greater con-sciousness of our wounds and deeper capacity to trust Him and love and forgive others: our role is to agree to the action of God in us as He answers our prayer. His healing will be an inner touch and sometimes also an exterior word of discernment, encouragement, or revelation of what lies in our heart. Forgiving Sins by Healing Them The ancient Church in Syria reminded a bishop on the day of his ordina-tion that because he had been given the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins, he had been constituted a "healer of the Church of God." In the Byzan-tine rite of today there is mention of healing in the prayer for the ordination of both bishop and priest. This is but another reflection of the deep connec-tion the Eastern Church has always seen between ordination and the min-istry of healing. Origen advises his listeners to think carefully about "the doctor to whom you should make known the cause of your illness." He should be someone who "knows how to be sick with someone sick, to weep with one who weeps; who knows the discipline of grieving and suffering with another," and who can decide wisely whether or not "your illness should be brought out and healed in a meeting of the whole Church, so that others can be built up and you canbe healed the more easily" (Homily 2 on Psalm 37). The Healing o] Memories / 505 Healing and the Sacrament of Penance The above passage has its difficulties, but given the whole context of the accent on healing in connection with the forgiveness of sins in the Eastern Church, and other statements of Origen's elsewhere, we can see that the priest was looked upon as being able to forgive sins by healing them in their source and prescribing the proper remedy. This same thinking is reflected in many early commentaries on our Lord's words as reported in John 20:22-3: "He breathed on them and said, 'Receive the Holy Spirit. For those whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven; for those whose sins you retain, they are retained.' " The link between the Holy Spirit and the for-giveness of sins was found in the active presence of love, and this in turn was manifested in the wisdom shown in healing the wounds of God's people. Healing is an act of the Spirit who is described in the Roman rite, in one of the Masses during the former octave of Pentecost, as being "Himself the forgiveness of sins." Thus, "therapeutic confession" and the presentation of one's sins before the bishop or his appointed representative in order to be re-integrated into the community by public penance, were not considered as completely dis-tinct. These two roles tended to blend, especially in the Western Church as the centuries progressed and, unfortunately, the legal preoccupation domi-nated. However, in the intuition of the faithful, it was most probably the desire for an inner healing that inspired people to practice regular confes-sion. This desire was only dimly realized and poorly expressed, but it was there. Today, a deeper understanding, on the part of both priest and peni-tent, of the healing power of penance could mean a greater presence within the Church of a ministry of inner healing. Father Michael Scanlon in his recent booklet, The Power in Penance (Ave Maria Press) has performed a great service in suggesting practical ways to exercise this ministry. Priests must pray deeply for a revitalizing of the healing power conferred on them at ordination. They must strive in their own lives to be mature men, those "seniores" described by the Rule of St. Benedict as men who "know how to cure their own and others' wounds without disclosing them in public" (Ch. 46). The Eucharist and Inner Healing Now that we have touched upon the sacramental dimensions of inner healing, it would be worthwhile to meditate, just briefly, on the role of the Eucharist in inner healing. The celebration of the Eucharist is the "source and summit of the whole work of preaching the gospel" according to Vatican 1I (On Priests, par. 5). It is in this reality that the Church expresses her own inner nature and realizes it ever more perfectly. If the community is truly gathered in love, then the mystery of the Church is vitally present: there is a sacred and living space of divine love, another pool where healing waters are gathered for all to drink. The authenticity of our mutual love and desire 506 / Review Jot Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 for reconciliation with God and with all men, and our praise of God and our prayer for ourselves and others, must be given a real and human expression. God expressed His love for us in a human way, and he does not expect us to be more "spiritual" or "interior" than He is. The deepest reason why the liturgy remains dead and unable to make present the mystery of Church is not so much a lack of faith, though this is an operative factor, as the fact that our human expressions of what the Spirit is working in and through us remain superficial, stilted, and dominated by human respect. Not only the sacraments, but the whole sacramental dimension of the Church exercises a causality by signifying something. When there is no sign at all, there is no sacrament--no bread, no Eucharist--and when the sign is not assimilated in faith but is merely something performed by rote, then the signifying power of the sacramental dimension is reduced to such a point that for most people nothing transpires at the conscious level of their being. On the other hand, when there is a living and beautiful human expression of what the Church as the primary sacrament really is, then the power of this mystery radiates to all, touching and transforming them. Christian Affection and Reconciliation In such a context, the dynamics already well perceived by psychology as necessary for human growth are caught up in a healing action of the Spirit. Love, thoughtfulness, acceptance, forgiveness, song, joy, friendship--all these become the mud and spittle rubbed on our eyes, so that when we wash, we see. The intimate union between body and soul has been so consecrated by the Incarnation that Tertullian could call the flesh "the hinge of salva-tion." For just as the water touching our body awakens our whole being and opens it to receive the action of the Spirit, so the psychological and physical reality of a true Christian community is an instrument of healing. To ignore the depth and power of true and chaste Christian affection and yet to expect the community gathered for worship to possess and confer an authentic reconciliation is like trying to baptize without water. In this atmosphere of love, we confess our sins, we praise God and pray for all men, and we hear in an intimately personal way those prophetic words that are contained in the Scriptures for all the Ch. urch for all time. The .words of the Scriptures enlighten, point out sin, encourage, and heal when they are heard with a heart that has already learned to set aside its fear and believe in the love of the Lord as He is expressing it through people gathered together. Memory and the Reception of Christ's Body And then we receive the Body of Christ. This is not only a touch with that flesh of Christ that healed so many, even,before the Resurrection and is now transformed by the fire of the Spirit; it is also an intimate, a mystical, union with all those who make up the Body of Christ. When our hearts are The Healing o[ Memories / 507 open, we receive and are reconciled in Christ to everyone in this world. Men may pray over us for the coming of the Spirit; Jesus enters into our body, and He is the source of the Spirit. This is the moment when our memories of the past blend with the passion of Jesus, and we forgive as He does; and we live, as He does, a life that is "unto God." Then memory becomes experi-ence of a healed past and a transformed future, somehow already present. Our inner being begins to know already the power of the Resurrection; the knowledge of where we come from, both as past and as God, becomes fused in a present awareness of Christ living in me. My memory becomes a living image of eternity where the name of God is uttered in awe and praise and the great deeds of God are proclaimed in the assembly of the faithful: "Yahweh, your name is forever; Yahweh, the memory of you is from gen-eration to generation!" (Ps 135: 13). A Community for Today and Tomorrow M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. M. Basil Pennington is a Cistercian monk of St. Joseph's Abbey in Spencer, Massachu-setts 01562. His most recent previous article in Review ]or Religious was "Christian Zen Retreat" in the September 1972 issue, pages 710-3. On my way to the annual Cistercian Studies Conference at Kalamazoo last May, I took the opportunity to visit the True House Covenanted Com-munity at Notre Dame. It was a very wonderful and gracefilled experience and I would like to try to share a bit of it with you. What I found and experienced at True House was quite different from what 1 expected. The press, Kevin Ranaghan's book, the annual conferences create a certain image, a good image, of Notre Dame, but something quite different from what one finds when he has the privilege of stepping into the True House Community. The popular image, at least as it strikes some of us back here in the East, leads one to expect a rather large movement, one made up mostly of students, a rather enthusiastic but changing scene. I was therefore surprised to find that the True House Community is a rather small group, including many non-students, quite structured and stabilized, and, apart from the annual conference which takes over the Notre Dame Campus when the students are not there, having relatively little apparent impact on campus. But what I "found, I must say, deeply impressed me. Quality of Life First of all and most fundamentally what impresses one is the quality of life. Here are men and women of different ages and backgrounds, truly committed in a very stable way to living as full Christians. Prayer is very much in the fabric of their lives. The Lord Jesus truly lives in them, in 508 A Community for Today and Tomorrow / 509 their hearts, in their households. Their day begins with prayer together. Or even before that, it begins with a personal get-together with the Lord as they slip, one by one, into the chapel to spend a few moments or an hour or two there before the household morning Office. Grace before and after meals is not a perfunctory duty fulfilled but a time--and time is really given to it--to praise the Giver of all good things. And in this community all strive to gather in the early evening to celebrate together a daily Eucha-rist. For one who comes from a scene where he hears mostly of people try-ing to break away from structures and tradition, it is a surprise to discover this charismatic community firmly holding on to the traditions of the Church universal. Apart from the beautiful outpouring of praise, thanksgiving, and petition at certain moments, a Catholic traditionalist would be delightfully at home with the morning prayer and evening Mass offered in the com-munity. Perhaps it is because of the immense freedom they have in the Spirit (which frees them from the need to react against structures to ex-perience freedom) and the satisfactory outlets which are wisely and with good order provided within the liturgy and at the prayer meetings, that the community feels no need to throw over the established structures. But I sensed something more positive present among them. There is alive in the community a wonderful sense of belonging to th~ Church. And, I be-lieve, they have a real need and desire to experience themselves as praying with the Church, spread across the world and through the centuries. Praise the Lord! This quality of life was not only present in their prayer and worship, it was evident in their whole way of life. "See how these Christians love one another"--and the stranger, or rather fellow Christian, who suddenly appears in their midst, like myself-~was a thought that constantly echoed in me during my visit with them, as it would again later when I was priv-ileged to spend a couple of days with the saints at Ann Arbor. As one moved about on the campus there was always a special quality presevt when one encountered and greeted another from the community. Sitting around the supper table, playing volley ball, or having a sandwich together at noon, there was present in the fabric of the very ordinary human give and take a weave of genuine love and reverence for a fellow Christian. Christ was always present. Praise Him! Structures I was perhaps most surprised to see how quickly and to what extent the charismatic community had been structured. But this is a very realistic thing. Men need structures to live together in justice and love. I only hope this and all charismatic communities, as they do realistically structure them-selves, learn at least one lesson from the traditional religious communities and never allow their structures to solidify and, instead of serving life, begin to dominate it. We must ever retain, even in our needed structures, the 510 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/3 freedom of the sons and daughters of God. This is a quality that is. visibly present in the True House Community. The community is divided into households. When ! was there there was the single men's household,, the single women's, the sisters, one married household, and a few on campus. New households, married and single and for guests, were in the planning. Each household off campus lived in an ordinary house, shared meals and chores, had a common exchequer, prayed together at different times during the day, and had its doors wide open to all the other members of the community and the community's guests. To their special contentment at least one of the households had the privilege of hav-ing their Lord live in their midst in His Eucharistic presence. The households on campus consisted of perhaps four, five, or six men living in the same dorm, who gathered daily for prayer and meals. As I have already men-tioned, the whole community gathers each evening for the Eucharist. Loving Concern The members of each household realize a special responsibility toward each other, one of very special loving concern. When the household is large, as the single men's household of ten, this breaks down into sub-groups, the three or four who share the same room. Herein it seems to me the True House ~ommunity is finding one of its special apostolates, or missions in the Church, one very much needed today. A vast number of our young people today have been hurt, damaged by the home they come from, with i~s lack of self-giving love and security. There needs to be healing before these young men and women can become fully mature and free Christians. And this healing can be brought about only by love. Within the context of a true Christian community this self-giving love can be administered. To effect this healing the love has to be very personal, direct, constant, and even in some real sense intimate. This the households and their sub-groups can make possible. In such a climate of concerned love, wounds are healed, a fully free Christian emerges. Then he or she can maturely and freely choose to follow the Lord and His way in marriage or in singleness for the Lord, in the community or elsewhere within the family of the People of God. Often today when a young man or woman graduates from college he or she is not yet ready for life decisions, and yet social pressures tend to demand them of them. The community provides a context where one, free from such pressures, can continue to grow as a free person in the Lord, until he is truly ready for such a decision. I think True House in its mission of healing through love and providing a context for Christian maturation is fulfilling and exemplifying an apostolate that is desperately needed in the Church today. The Sisters in the Community True House is singularly blessed in its leadership. In Jim Byrne it has a A Community [or Today and Tomorrow / 511 truly charismatic leader, one who inspires, in a very humble and Christlike way, real confidence and loyalty. I was privileged to spend a good bit of time with him and they were gracefilled hours. He is supported by real collaborators, men and women who are really with him. The community is especially blessed with the two sisters who form one of the households. I think, perhaps without their realizing it, they have something important to say to many religious today. One thing I would note in passing. The sisters are perhaps a full generation older then most of the community (Sor-ry to mention that, Sisters!), yet there is no trace of the well-known genera-tion gap. More important the sisters are playing a very important role in the heart of the community. I do not know if I can really express it accurately, and I probably will not express it the way they would; but as one looking from the outside in and seeing the whole, I might see it better than they. I think because they do stand as members of the community who do have a special consecration to the Lord, and in their particular household in some special way live this, without in any way withdrawing from full membership and participation in the life of the community, they say some-thing, minister something, more by life than by words, to the rest of the community. And I ask myself if they are not pointing toward the way in which in the future religious, other than those called by the Lord to go apart to seek his Face in monastic solitude, will find their place and fulfill their role in the Church by becoming fully integrated, yet specially conse-crated members of local Christian communities. The sisters have struggled to find how practically and meaningfully to live their commitment to two communities, the local community of True House, and their religious com-munity- and they seem to be succeeding well. The Priest and This Type of Community No word on True House Community would be complete if it did not speak of a man who is not officially a member of the Covenanted Com-munity yet is very much a part of it. I am sure that under God the quality of life at True Housc is due in great measure to the effective presence in their midst of a truly holy priest, Father Ed O'Conner. His ministry to the community at the daily Liturgy and through the many regular hours of personal spiritual direction is made powerful by the inspiring example of what he is and by his complete openness to

Issue 31.6 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS ANI) ANSWERS EDI'I'OR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be .sen.t to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Build-ing; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S,].; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by I~dculty members of the School of I)ivinity of St. Louis University. the editorial offices beihg located at 612 Humboldt Bnilding; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1972 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A. ¯ Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Subscription 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 r~encwal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. cur-rency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editori-al correspondence, and books for review shonld be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 tlumboldt Building; 539 North (;rand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. NOVEMBER 1972 VOLUME 31 NUMBER 6 CAttAL BRENI)AN DALY, D.D. Prayer in the Modern World [Cahal Brendan Daly, D.D., is the Bishop of Ardagh and lives at Bishop's House; St. Michael's; Longford, Ireland. The article was a lecture at the Carmelite College; Castlemartyr, County Cork and was first published in Mount Carmel, Spring 1972, pp. 204-12; Summer 19"72, pp. 23-35. The article is reprinted here with the kind permission of the editor of Mount Carmel. ] In the New Testament we not only find the example of prayer given us by Our Divine Lord, and the discipline of prayer as it existed in the first Christian community, but we find above all a theology of prayer. In fact, we find the whole message and mission of our Lord Himself presented to us in a context of prayer. The New Testament is, if you like, a whole theology of prayer. It is usual nowadays in modern theology to speak of Christ as the Man for others, and of course He certainly is; but we must not forget that before and above all else Christ is the Man for the Father. Christ is the Adorer of the Father; and it is only then and because of this that He is the Man for others. This is reflected in the commandments given by our divine Lord Himself in the form: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God" - this is the first commandment; the second, like to it indeed, but nevertheless, second to it, is the commandment to love our neighbor. In an age of horizontalism we do not need to remember this. But there is a crisis of prayer at the present time. It is a crisis, I think, which goes deeper than prayer, affecting faith itself. The contemporary religious crisis is one that involves our very sense of God, the reality of His transcendent Being, and of our relationship with Him. It could hardly be denied, l am afraid that through a one-sided emphasis on this-worldly values, we may be neglecting the direct service of the wholly Other who is God - the rights of man perhaps coming to rival, if not eclipse, in our consciousness, the rights and claims of God. But surely the first thing required of a People of God is "Godliness" - the sense of God which that untranslatable old English word "Godliness" conveys. Worship is God's "Worthship," our acknowledgement of what God is worth, it is our avowal that God is worth a lifetime of our praise, and admiration and adoration, and service and thanks - our attempt to pay tribute to the "worthness" of God. Is the crisis of prayer not just the obverse side of a decline in this recognition of God's "worthship"? But there are several prevalent themes of modern discussion which are contributing, I think, to the modern crisis of prayer. It is suggested, for example, that prayer should be spontaneous and not rule-regulated; that it should be communitarian rather than individual; that it can take the form of a dialogue and service among our fellow men, rather than of silent personal converse with God. The Bishop of Woolwich Perhaps one of the best known exponents of some of these themes is the former 902 Review fox Religious, Volume 31, 197216 Bishop of Woolwich, above all in his book Honest to God. This has a chapter on prayer - a chapter which contains many beautiful and profound things, including as I remember it, the opening sentence which is that "Prayer and Ethics are the two sides of one and the same coin." This I think is a very profound thought, that Christian morality is simply our prayer applied to living and our living is our prayer carried out in act. There are other helpful thoughts as well in that chapter. But the general thrust of the Bishop of Woolwich's thinking is away from the idea of personal withdrawal and aloneness with God: away from the contemplative aspect of prayer at least, to prayer as engagement, prayer as involvement, as dialogue and as service. The Bishop would, I think, regret having to withdraw from the world and the neighbor into what he might be tempted to call the ghetto of aloneness in order to pray. He would prefer to find God and to serve Him and to worship Him in the neighbor, in dialogue and service with the neighbor. Now this of course is excellent, but nevertheless one needs to ask some questions about this. It seems to me that some very penetrating questions have been put to the Bishop about this by a fellow Anglican called Martin Thornton in a little book, which is very impressive to my mind, called TheRock and theRiver. In this book, Martin Thornton remarks that while reading Honest to God,and, above all, this chapter on prayer, he finds himself on practically every page, scribbling in the margin cryptic letters "Y.B.H." and he said almost certainly if his books were being looked over after his death by his executors (or anyone else) they would wonder what on earth "Y.B.H." could mean, but he tells us that they mean "YES, BUT HOW?" The point that he wants to make is that it is magnificent to be able to find God in our neighbor; it is wonderful to be able to be conscious of the presence of God in the neighbor, and to be conscious of the presence of the adorable God in our work, in our apostolate, in whatever. It is possible, but very difficult. How are we going to arrive there? Then Martin Thornton goes on (because he is himself a specialist of the spiritual life, and of the history of mystical theology), to remind us that this is in fact what traditional spiritual writers called habitual recollection or the habitual sense of the presence of God. But, he said, you will find that the saints and the great doctors of prayer have all of them warned us that this is a culmination, a climax of the spiritual effort. It is what mystical writers and saints might hope to arrive at and to achieve fitfully and partially at the end of years and years of disciplined effort. Whereas he fears the Bishop of Woolwich thinks that anyone can do this at the drop of a hat. He says that this is too naive by half- it just does not happen that way. Spontaneity and Discipline The title that Mr. Thornton gives to his book, The Rock and the River, is deliberately symbolic. The river for him is the spontaneity of prayer - the habitual sense of the presence of God always, not requiring certain periods set apart for it, but coming spontaneously and naturally in the course of doing other things. This for him, spontaneity, is represented by the river - the river of the continuous novelty and joy of the finding of God. But the river flows from the rock - a deep Biblical theme - and the rock is fidelity; the rock is constancy; the rock is the discipline of fidelity and constancy in our relations with the constant and faithful God. He insists that all experience, including our own, will tell us that unless we practice this discipline, which Mr. Thornton calls the Rule, the Regula, and unless we are faithful to that discipline, we won't have the spontaneity either. By the regula, he is referring in a general way to the rules of disciplined prayer that have Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 903 been left to us in all the great spiritual traditions and religious families. Surely he is faithful to human pyschology and pedagogy in that insistence. Surely in this as in any other spiritual domain spontaneity does not come naturally, it doesn't just happen - spontaneity is acquired. If you want to acquire spontaneity in your practice and your love of music, you've got to go through the hard monotonous humdrum discipline of practice. If you do, but only if you do, then you will eventually arrive at an informed but spontaneous enjoyment of music. So it is surely with any other human skill. Spontaneity is acquired by discipline. We should not contrast the spontaneity with the discipline. Similarly it is only at the price of disciplined, controlled and persistent prayer life that we will arrive at habitual recollection, or have joy in the moments of our prayer. The Example of Jesus This is true, as I said, psychologically; it is true pedagogically. But what is much more important is to approach this problem of prayer from the standpoint of the New Testament itself, and what it tells us about the practice of our divine Lord Himself, and the insights it gives us into the place of prayer in the life of Christ and in the life of the Christian. A careful study of Christ's own personal prayer life in the Gospels shows that He adhered strictly to a daily discipline of rule-regulated prayer. The rules were precisely those prevailing in contemporary Jewish piety; but Christ deepened and extended their observance as he did with every detail of Jewish religious practice. Every pious Jew, for example, in Jesus' time recited the Shema, or the Jewish creed, first thing on waking and last thing before sleeping. The words are based on Deuteronomy: "The Lord our God is the one Lord - you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your strength." Jesus observed this custom faithfully as did all his disciples. For instance, when the rich young man asked our Lord "What must 1 do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus had only to remind him of the prayer he said that morning. This is what He does in fact when He says to him: "What is written in the law? How do you recite this?" (because the Jew normally recited his prayers aloud). Our Lord was simply asking him: "Do you remember your morning prayer? Do you remember what you said this morning?" This practice of morning and night prayer was regarded as an absolute minimum of religious practice and it is significant that in Jewish thought to omit morning and night prayer would be, in effect, to cut oneself off from the religious community. It was a minimum of recognition of God, a minimum of witness to the transcendence of God, without which one could not be regarded as a member of the praying community, the priestly community, which was the People of God. The pious Jew was further obliged to pray at least six times every day, and this of course is the basis of the Breviary, the Office, the Prayer of the Church, with its afternoon and evening hours. The many references that we find in the Gospels to Jesus' prayer are to be understood in relation to this rule of prayer. When Jesus impresses on the disciples the need to pray continually and never to lose heart, he is not referring, strictly speaking, to acquiring the sense of the habitual presence of God. The word "continually" has a technical meaning. Our Lord is referring to the regular, disciplined, rule-regulated periods of prayer in the course of the day; what He is requiring of them is faithfulness to the daily discipline of fixed times and rules of daily prayer. It is interesting that it is in that very same paragraph of St. Luke's Gospel that Jesus so poignantly asks "When the Son of Man comes, will he find any faith upon the earth?" a question which challenges every one of us always, but 904 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 above all now at this time of crisis. It seems to follow from this conjunction that to find faith on earth, according to the teaching of the Gospel, is one and the same thing as to find persevering prayer on the earth. It is also full of deep significance that each single one of Jesus' answers to the temptations of the devil are taken from the Biblical prayer-formulae prescribed for the daily prayer of the Jews. Every one of them is part of what one might call a domestic or personal liturgy of the pious Jew. The lesson surely is that prayer is our defense against the temptations which the devil continually brings against our faith. The Jewish Practice of Prayer We have in recent years had tremendous new light shed upon the prayer life of our Lord from a somewhat unexpected source - a Jew who knows very well the cultural tradition of the Jewish people. That is to say, it has been brought to public attention, because this man I am going to refer to has been of course depending a great deal on the research of more primary scholars. He is himself a more popular writer, but nevertheless one of impressive stature. He is a French Jew called Robert Aron; and he has written a number of books based on his knowledge of Jewish tradition and Jewish religious practice, to illuminate for us the pages of the Gospel. His two best-known books are: Les annbes obscures de Jksus (The Hidden Years of Jesus) and Ainsi priait J~sus Enfant (This ls how the Boy Jesus Prayed). Both are published by Grasset. Now Aron has shown how the whole life of the devout Jew in Jesus' time was saturated with prayer. One of the interesting quotations he gives us from Jewish tradition is: "Whoever enjoys anything whatever in this world without first saying a prayer commits an untruthfulness." The prayer or blessing which preceded and which followed every important act of the day would have been taught to Jesus as a child by His holy Mother and would have been part of His whole human religious psychology. The Apostles were faithful to Jesus' example and to His precepts. The Acts of the Apostles frequently referred to the observance of the fixed hours of daily prayer. St. Paul again and again talks of praying continually, praying without ceasing, praying day and night, praying always. He urges his converts to keep praying, to be "persevering in your prayers." Again I repeat, St. Paul is not talking about habitual recollection. He is talking about fixed and undeviating hours and rules of prayer. What he is urging in all these passages is fidelity to the regular hours of prayer. Indeed the whole of the day was, as I have just said, consecrated for the faithful Jew by prayer; there were prayers of thanksgiving or blessings to accompany every action, function, and happening, whether of work, leisure, or recreation, in everyday life. We know from the Gospels how Jesus observed these blessings, these prayers before and after meals, before journeys, before arrivals, before seasons, before preaching or teaching, before acts of healing, miracles, and so on. St. Paul followed His example when he bids us to be always and everywhere giving thanks to God who is our Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. There is a certain disaffection now from prayer of this kind, from the practice, for example, of blessings before and after meals, before and after journeys and undertakings; but it is salutary to remember that it came directly from Christ our Lord Himself. Of course it certainly is not part of the essence of our faith that we observe a particular set of fixed rules of prayer. Many of you know that this insistence could and sometimes did become a sort of legalism and a sort of spiritual burden which hindered rather than helped progress in prayer. One can bind heavy and insupportable burdens in this matter of devotions, trimmings, added to essential Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 9O5 liturgical prayer. Nevertheless, it is vital that there should be recalls of the presence of God in the course of one's day, and that in the course of one's life there should be moments of withdrawal from human contacts in order to be alone with God. This I think is absolutely fundamental in Christian life, both from psychological and from deeply theological reasons. Here again the contrast between spontaneity and regulation has been exaggerated and the contrast between love and law in this, as in many other spheres, has been overdone. After all, love creates its own self-imposed laws; and in any sphere you like to take of human relationships, you can easily see this. The man who says he is too busy earning money for his family, or for his wife or fiancee, to have any time to recall her birthday, or to remember her anniversaries, or to think of giving her a present, would be a humbug. Love is made of thoughtfulnesses of this kind. Love is the willing acceptance, the joyful acceptance, of certain patterns of conduct, which manifest our fidelity and which make our love to be real rather than just verbal. Law is the expression of love, and when it is, it is no longer felt as law, it is no longer felt as a burden. This perhaps is why some prayer practices became burdens, because they could not be assimilated into one's love of God. Nevertheless that there should be time for this withdrawal is indispensable, to remember what life is about, and what we are here for, to remember that we are a People of God. Those of us who are committed to the following, the exclusive following of Christ, have special need for these regular moments of intensive recall of who it is that we have chosen, or rather, who He is who has chosen us. Prayer and Eschatology A very meaningful contemporary way of expressing this is to say that these moments of withdrawal are necessary in order to give us an eschatological dimension, an awareness of what it is to be waiting for the Lord to come in glory. Schillebeeckx has some very interesting remarks in his book on celibacy. He suggests that the deepest meaning of celibacy is that a man who is really waiting for the Lord to come in glory has not time to be bothered with all the distractions and so on that are necessary to have a courtship and a marriage and to look after a family. He is too completely absorbed in the thought of the coming of the Lord and in the need of preparedness for the coming Lord to be bothered with anything else but the affairs of the kingdom. This 1 think is a very valid phenomenonological and existentialist explanation of the meaning and the relevance of celibacy. In passing, Schillebeeckx remarks, and 1 think that this too is profound, that this in fact is the basis of the Church's practice of fasting and of self-denial generally. Someone who is really intensely, excitedly waiting for a tremendous event to break through can't think of anything else, he can't think of eating, he doesn't even feel hungry. The Church, knowing that as an eschatological community we ought to have this feeling of excited waiting, on tip-toe of expectation for this great thing to break through, adopts the external behavior-pattern (e.g. not eating)which corresponds to the inner feeling. If we were really waiting for something important to happen, or for someone really loved to come, we couldn't be bothered to be hungry. The Church feels that we can as it were invert the process, induce the appropriate feeling by adopting the relevant behavior. Now it seems to me that in a similar way fixed times and moments of awareness of God are indispensable if we are to have the mentality of a people of faith, of a people of hope, of a people constantly aware that we have not here a lasting kingdom, but we seek one that is to come in Christ, "who is, who was, and who is to come." 9O6 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 Jesus, however, was not content with the rule-regulated prayer of the Jews; He deepened it, and He stressed the need for personal commitment rather than conformity, and for interior sincerity rather than routine. Jesus reinforced the rules, but He wrote them on the heart rather than as the Pharisees did on the palm and the forehead. You will remember what seems to us the incredible foolishness of the Pharisees in taking the words of Deuteronomy literally. Deuteronomy says: "You are to write this law on the palm of your hand and carry it perpetually before your eyes so that you shall never waking or sleeping, forget this law." The Pharisees did just that; they wrote sentences of the Law out on bits of paper and carried them in the palms of their hands and wrote them out on a phylactery, and carried it in front of their eyes and thought that this was carrying out the Law. But Jesus wanted the rules to be written on the heart, to be assimilated into our lives, rather than carried out legalistically. He told us therefore to pray to the Father in secret. Jesus' Solitary Prayer Jesus also extended the fixed hours of prayer, turning the regular evening prayer of the Jews into night-long vigils ending only with the dawn. The Gospels are at pains deliberately to emphasize that these were vigils of solitary prayer. The Gospels make a special point of remarking that Jesus left the crowds behind even when they needed Him, even when they clamored for Him and followed pathetically after Him, looking for His help and His healing. Jesus deliberately turned His back on people that needed Him, in order to be alone with His Father - this we must never forget. Here is how St. Mark described it: "That evening after sunset, they brought to Him all who were sick and those who were possessed by devils; the whole town came crowding around the door. In the morning, long before dawn, He got up and He left the house and He went off to a lonely place, and He prayed there. Simon and his companions set out in search of Him. When they found Him they said 'Everybody is looking for you.' " Later, St. Mark continues, after the miracle of the loaves, He Himself sent the crowds away, after saying good-bye to them: "He went off into the hills to pray, and about the fourth watch of the night, He came to His disciples." This was about 3 to 6 a.m. He came to His disciples after hours of vigil, hours of solitary prayer alone by night. "He came to them walking on the water." St. Luke is even more explicit. St. Luke says: "I-Iis reputation continued to grow, and large crowds would gather to hear him, and to have their sicknesses cured, but he would always go off to some place where he could be alone and pray." Not just once, not just a few times, but regularly, habitually, he would "always" go off "to some place where He could be alone and pray." Again, St. Luke writes: "He went out to the hills to pray and He spent the whole night in prayer to God." This was before the vocation, the calling of the disciples. "When day came, he summoned his disciples and he picked out twelve of them and called them Apostles." It is not fanciful, it is theologically accurate, to say that the vocation of each one of us was involved in that vocation of the twelve, for our vocation is only a prolongation of theirs; therefore, our vocation too was included in the prayer of Christ. St. Luke's Theology of Prayer St. Luke shows Christ's whole life as spent in an atmosphere of prayer. Indeed he interprets Christ's whole mission in terms of a theology of prayer. St. Luke's Gospel begins, remember, with prayer in the temple, and it ends with Jesus ascending into Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 907 lleaven in the posture of prayer, in the gesture of blessing. The blessing is not just any blessing, it is the blessing of the Holy Spirit and the promise of the Father. It is Jesus' prayer that brings this promise to fulfillment; it is Jesus' prayer that brings down the only true blessing, the gift of the Holy Spirit to the world. Then let us never forget that there is a continuity between St. Luke's first Gospel, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and what we might call his second gospel, the gospel of the Church and of the Holy Spirit, which is the Acts of the Apostles. There is a parallelism of structure between the two. St. Luke's Gospel, his gospel of Jesus Christ, begins with prayer in the Temple and with the Annunciation and it ends with waiting in the temple for the promise of the Father to be given by the blessing of Jesus. The Acts of the Apostles begins again in the Holy City and the Temple where they are to remain continually in prayer, praising God all the time and waiting for the power from on high and for the mission which in the power of the Spirit will send them to the ends of the earth. There is a parallelism between the conception of Jesus and the conception of the Church in St. Luke which is most striking and is theologically very profound. The Gospel begins with prayer in the Temple and the coming of the Holy Spirit, which makes Mary the Mother of Jesus. The Acts of the Apostles opens with a description of the Apostles joined in continuous prayer with Mary the Mother of Jesus waiting for the coming of the Holy Spirit to give birth to the Church. In truth we have to say that St. Luke has a clearly developed theology of prayer in which Jesus' whole life and work are explained in terms of prayer. Now this is not just a personal idea of St. Luke. This is divinely revealed and inspired instruction about the mystery of Christ as a mystery of salvation consummated in prayer. This revelation occurs with particular intensity at four points in St. Luke's Gospel: the Annunciation, the Baptism of our Lord, the Transfiguration, and the Ascension. Now there are remarkable parallelisms between these four scenes, these four theophanies if you like, in St. Luke's Gospel. These elements are constant throughout the Synoptic Gospels of course, but they are presented with particular vividness and explicitness in St. Luke. In each of these scenes we note the manifestation of the shekinah, the cloud of divine glory which everywhere in the Bible marks the awesome presence of God. Again, let me remark in passing that there has been a lot of nonsense talked about the "myths" of the Gospel and the need to "demythologize" the Gospel in order to get at its fundamental truth. Often this turns out to be a parabolic kind of truth, which has nothing to do with facts but is simply a subjective conviction of being addressed by God now, in my existential situation in the present. But what we have in the Gospels is not myth at all, but a technical, theological language. You couldn't expect the sacred writers to use our kind of language wltich has developed in our sort of Greco-Latin culture. Inevitably what they had to use was the theological language of a Semitic culture and particularly of a Biblical people. They used the theological language of the Old Testament. But make no mistake about it, the language of the Bible is not just the simple anthropomorphic talk of a people who knew no better; it is the work of a highly sophisticated and developed theology, with its own clearly recognized theological symbols. One of these is the cloud. The cloud is a theological description of the presence of the all-holy God. We have this cloud of divine glory in all of these scenes that I talked about. One could of course write a whole library of books about the theology of the shekinah in the Old and in the New Testaments. This cloud of divine glory marks above all God's presence in the Tent or Tabernacle where He dwelt among His people in the desert and it marked His presence in the 908 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 197216 Holy of Holies in the Temple of the Holy City. The Transfiguration Now, with this background, let us look first at the scene of the Transfiguration. St. Luke is careful to point out in all these passages that our Lord was in prayer, before the manifestation of the cloud of divine glory occurred. St. Luke is careful, for example, to point out that it was to pray that Jesus took Peter, James, and John up the mountain of Transfiguration, and that it was as He prayed that the fulguration of divine glory pervaded His body. So St. Luke is not telling us only about the actual event in the life of our Lord. He is also, in parenthesis, implicitly telling us about our prayer life as Christians. Here again we have an instance of the great blessings and graces that modern exegesis has brought to the Church. We can see now that the New Testament writers were all the time recalling the actual words, the actual events of the life of our Lord in the context of the Church, in the context of the life of the Church, in the context of the liturgy, and above all in the context of the Holy Eucharist. Therefore we are getting two messages all the time in the New Testament, one about what our Lord did in the past, and one about how the Church experiences her Lord in the liturgy of today. That is one of the reasons why the Gospels are never merely an account of what did happen once, long ago in history. They are always also a revelation, an unveiling, of what is happening now in our liturgy of today, which is essentially the same as the liturgy of the early Church. To return to this scene of the Transfiguration. This was the epiphany of God made one with human flesh in the body of Jesus, and it reveals Jesus as the new Tent, the new Tabernacle, the new Temple, replacing the old Tent, and replacing the existing Temple, and becoming then and for all time the only place where God could be encountered and worshiped in all future history. This incidentally, is why St. Luke smiles as it were at the nffive foolishness of poor old Peter - Peter said: "Let's make three tents." St. Luke is telling us in part: "Poor Peter, don't mind him. He didn't know what he was saying, he didn't know that there is only one tent, not three. There is only one tent where God dwells with men, the Tent of Christ's Body." We enter that Tent in prayer; and every time we pray in the name of Jesus, we enter already into the glory of God present in the Body of His Son. That's why it is good for us to pray. It is good for us to be here in prayer with Jesus in the glory of the Father. Never are we more praying in the name of Jesus than when we are praying in the Mass or before the Blessed Sacrament, because this is the transfigured Body. The Body of Christ in the Eucharist is the Temple, the only Temple of access to the Father. After the radiant glory of God had transfigured Christ's body, the cloud became a dark shadow enveloping Jesus along with Moses and Elias who stood by to acknowledge Him as the author of the new and eternal covenant. Not only here, but frequently, in fact habitually, you find this ambivalence about the cloud of divine glory. It is at once light and darkness. It is radiant blinding light, but also impenetrable, mysterious darkness. These are not contradictory. God's glory is darkness by excess of blinding light. When the light of the sun is at its most luminous, it is fatal to look directly into it, for example during an eclipse. So it is with the radiance of God's light. That is what it means to say God is mystery. At this point, out of the cloud comes a voice - the voice of the eternal Father: "This is my Son, the Chosen One, listen to him." Now we know why the cloud is Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 909 dark. The darkness is the same as the darkness that covered Calvary at the time of Christ's death. This is not just an astronomical phenomenon; this is mystery, this is revelation, this is the language of Biblical theology. It was the cloud of God's glory that covered Calvary when Christ was dying. Here, in the dark cloud of the Transfiguration we have the revelation of the coming Passion. These words "This is my Son," are taken from the prophet Isaiah and they refer to the Suffering Servant, not just the Son, but the suffering Son. When we are told to listen to Him, we are being told to listen to the lesson of His Passion. Here we have the revelation that Jesus is God's Temple precisely in and because of His Passion. It is because Jesus suffers that He enters into glory and brings us with Him into the Father's glory. Jesus the True Temple This theology of the Temple is, again, a tremendous new insight of recent exegesis and of recent theology. Take for example something that always puzzled us, 1 think, namely the question of what it means that, at the death of Christ, the veil of the Temple is rent in two from the top to the bottom. We must recall that in the Jewish Temple there were separate compartments for different categories of worshipers. There was one for the women who were not allowed to come more than to just the outer precincts. Beyond this there were the ordinary priestly people, the lay men. Beyond this was the place set apart for the priests. Finally beyond the inmost veil, was the Holy of Holies where only the High Priest himself could enter, and he only once a year. Beyond this veil the High Priest dared to enter only backward, for fear of looking at where the glory of God dwelt. But when Christ dies, the veil is torn apart, the curtains are all drawn back. There are no separations, no boundaries, no barriers, any more. We can all come up without distinction, without exclusion into the very presence of divine glory. We do this every day in our Mass and at our Holy Communion. This is one example of the central importance of the theology of the Temple in the reading of the Gospel. But, to return again to the Transfiguration; here we are entering into the heart of the mystery of Christian prayer. When we pray we are made one with Jesus in His prayer. This means we become one with Jesus in His divine Sonship; and over us when we pray the same voice of the Eternal Father is spoken "This is my Son, my Chosen One." Again, another example of the supposedly mythological, but really theological language of the Bible is to be noted in the words, "the heavens were opened." This means that the separation between God and man which sin is, is abolished by the redemption of Christ, and that in Christ we already share in the life of heaven, we are already admitted into the presence of the Father. That is what the opening of the heavens means. This happens in Jesus Christ and happens in our lives every time we pray. Every time we pray, the heavens are opened over us and around us, and we are enveloped with Jesus in the same love with which the Father loves His Son. It is not so much we who pray then, as the Beloved Son who prays in us. Or, as St. Paul says, it is the Spirit of adoption, it is the Spirit of the Son making us sons, who is given us by Christ to pray in us with groanings that are ineffable. All that we have to do when we pray - because we do get discouraged in our efforts and we feel we are making such a poor fist of it - but really all we've got to do is to try to remove the distractions which impede Christ from praying in us. We have only, as it were, to stand back and let Christ pray in us, let the Holy Spirit pray in us, to remove the distractions which impede and try to create the conditions which permit the Son and the Spirit to pray in us. The word "pray-in" is familiar now, but all Christian prayer is really Christ's "pray-in" in us. Christian 910 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 prayer is essentially Christ praying in us, and the Spirit praying in us. Therefore in us and through us as we pray glory is given to the eternal Father by the Son in us, through the Holy Spirit in us, as it was in the beginning and is now and ever shall be for ever and ever. St. John's Theology of Prayer We note in passing that this revelation of the meaning and the mystery of Jesus and prayer in St. Luke's Gospel agrees completely with the Gospel of St. John. In the very prologue of St. John's Gospel, we read: "The Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us." We know that these words are again a reference to the cloud of divine glory and the Tent of God's dwelling, because the words really mean "He pitched His tent [God's Tent] amongst us." These words are not just a description, but also a theology. Christ becomes in His very flesh the temple of true prayer, prayer which really encounters God, really gets through to God, really opens the heavens for us and reconciles man to God; and this is made possible through Christ's Passion. Note that the very first act of faith in Christ is that which is given by John the Baptist immediately afterwards in St. John's Gospel in the form "Look, there is the Lamb of God." This is the first act of faith in Christ, and we repeat it every day at Mass. Another reference to Christ's Passion is found when Jesus later says to the Samaritan woman that worship will not any longer be in any privileged place, but "true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth." A certain Protestant tradition, not a universal one, but a certain Protestant tradition has tended to interpret this in an anti-institutional and anti-liturgical sense. Worship in spirit and in truth would be something like Quaker worship where there would be no priesthood, no liturgy, and so on. This could not be further from the thought of St. John. St. John is the most sacramental, the most liturgical, the most eucharistic and the most ecclesial of all the evangelists. The words "spirit and truth" refer not to some disembodied deinstitutionalised form of spirituality; they refer to Jesus' own risen Body. There is no contrast between body and spirit. All the related contrasts, so often made nowadays between spirit and institution, between spirit and structure, are alien to the thought of St. John and indeed of the whole of the New Testament. Christ's Body is spirit, Christ's risen Body is life-giving spirit. To worship the Father in spirit and in truth is to worship the Father above all in and through the Holy Eucharist which is the Body of Christ. "Spirit and truth" is Christ's own risen and glorified Body become life-giving spirit. Here St. John is absolutely one with St. Paul. What Jesus is saying here is that His risen Body is the only Christian temple, and that it is only through His Body that we come to God. Therefore, the apex, what the Constitution on the Liturgy calls the source and the summit, of all Christian spirituality, is the Holy Mass, where God's Spirit (in the words of the Eucharistic prayer), "comes upon these gifts to make them holy so that they may become for us the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ." This is the moment when the words of our Lord to the Samaritan woman are realized and we become "true worshipers of God, the kind of worshipers the Father wants, worshiping Him in spirit and in truth." The Baptism of Our Lord Now, let us turn briefly to the Baptism of our Lord which contains another revelation of the mystery of Christian prayer. St. Luke again characteristically tells us that Jesus, after His own Baptism, was in prayer when heaven opened, and the Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 911 Holy Spirit came down upon Him, and the voice of the Father sounded over Him: "You are my Son, the Beloved, my favor rests on you." The mystery of our baptism is included in that of the Baptism of our Lord. We are baptized in order to pray - it is as siraple as that. We are baptized in order to pray in union with Jesus and indeed in His very person. Baptism, which the more traditional way of speaking called christening (a much more beautiful terns: christening) is our "oneing" with Christ. "One-ing" is another of those untranslatable old English words which you find in the medieval mystics - oneing with Christ. That is what our baptism means. We never realize this oneness with Christ more than when we pray. When we pray, as the Council puts it, we are "sons in the Son," and the voice of the Father is say-ing over us when we pray, as it said over Christ when He prayed - "You are my Son, the Beloved, my favor rests on you." Prayer is the highest exercise and the supreme fulfillment of our baptism. The baptized People of God are before and above all a praying people. The Ascension Finally we come to the mysteries of Ascension and Pentecost. The Ascension is another manifestation of the mystery of prayer. Jesus ascends to the Father enveloped in the cloud of divine glory. Remember the disciples were not interested in what the weather was like on the day when our Lord ascended, and the whole cloud is not something that happened to be there because it was a nice summer's day. The cloud is also the theological description of the glory of the Father into which Christ entered when He left earthly vision. Jesus ascends to the Father, therefore, enveloped in the same radiant cloud of divine glory that we have seen at the Annunciation, at the Baptism, and at the Transfiguration. He ascends in an attitude of blessing, the attitude of prayer which He keeps forever in heaven in the Father's presence. His blessing is above all else the gift of the Spirit, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. The priest at Mass is acting in His name, vicariously giving Christ's own Ascension blessing to Christ's people when he says "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all." In a sense - in a very true sense - the liturgy, the Eucharist above all, is the proof that it is all true. After His Resurrection, Christ invariably greets His people, His community, with the words "Peace be with you." If in our liturgy we can be greeted by His representative with the words "Peace be with you," this is the proof that it is true that Christ has risen and is with us. Nobody can give us peace, nobody has the right to say "Peace" except Christ. Therefore, if peace is given to us, if it is present in our liturgy, this is the proof that it is all true and that Christ is living and is here. Pentecost and Prayer The coming of the Holy Spirit on the infant Church is also linked with prayer. This time it is prayer "together with Mary the Mother of Jesus." 1 have said in passing already that it is certain that St. Luke intends to call attention to the analogy between the conception of Jesus which he describes in the Gospel and the birth of the Church which he describes in Acts. In both the glory, the glory of God and the overshadowing of the spirit, marks the end of the separation between God and man, and it shows that in Christ, in the Church, God has come to live in the very midst of His own and in prayer we infallibly meet Him in Christ and in the Church. Mary the Mother of Jesus is there, with an indispensable place in the mystery of salvation and with an irreplaceable part in the prayer of the Christian. In 912 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 passing it might be worth asking ourselves to what extent some of the problems and troubles in the Church today are linked with the manifest and deplorable decline' in devotion to our Blessed Lady. The Our Father I have said that the People of God is above all a people that prays. Now this is shown very clearly in the Evangelists' account of how Christ gave a special prayer, the "Our Father" to His disciples. The disciples had just watched Jesus praying, and when He finished one of them said: "Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples." For the Jews in that particular cultural situation a religious group was identified by its specific form of praying. So the disciples are really asking for a prayer which will mark them as members of Christ's new Messianic people, partakers already of the coming kingdom of God. In answer Jesus gives them the Our Father. Its most striking word is the word Father. Jesus never once prayed without calling God "Father." But what is not usually recognized is that neither the Old Testament, nor Jewish tradition ever addressed God as Father. This is a remarkable fact. It has been brought to our notice by (among others) a Lutheran exegete called Joachim Jeremias. This vocative use of the word "Father" in praying to God is new and unique in the prayer of Jesus and in that of His followers after Him. What is even more striking is that Jesus uses a special term for "Father" in speaking to God, the word "Abba." This is a family word, a child's endearing word for father, "my dear Father." It would be going too far and would suggest something childish to say that He called God "Dada" - "Abba" is a familial, not a familiar term - "my dear Father." Never before in history did any man dare to speak so intimately and so affectionately to God. Jesus in the Gospel, according to Jeremias' count, uses it 177 times. This term is something characteristic of Jesus' own prayer and of Jesus' own attitude to His Father. Jeremias in one of his books called The Central Message of the New Testament regards this as perhaps the central message and says that even if we had nothing else than this to prove the special, absolutely unique Sonship, the divine Sonship and therefore the Divine nature of Christ, His use of the term "Abba" for Father would be enough. This is the supreme manifestation of the unique filial relationship between Jesus and His Father. The disciples never ceased to be amazed at this way of addressing God. They were even frightened by it. They couldn't bring themselves without an effort to repeat the words after Him. The touching effect is that when they say the words after Jesus they always repeat his own words "Abba" in the very language that Jesus used, Aramaic, even when they didn't use or know the language. This explains the odd sort of repetitions, or duplications that you get in St. Paul, "Abba," "Father," the two words mean the same thing; but the disciples could not say "Father" to God without reminding themselves that Jesus said "Abba" and that He ordered them to say it after Him. This was as though to say: "We couldn't say it unless He did and He told us to do so." This is the explanation of our own introduction to the Our Father in the liturgy: "Because of the divine command and following the divine example we dare to say Our Father." I am afraid the translation that ICEL have given here is not a good one. "We pray with confidence." This is not enough. It does not convey the full force of the Latin words, "audemus dicere": "We make bold to say," "We dare to say." This is what the Church has always meant by this introduction to the Our Father. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 913 But the Our Father is not just a prayer that we say; it's a prayer that makes itself true as we say it. God becomes our dear Father, and we become His favorite children, in and through and with Jesus Christ when we pray. That is what our prayer is, our sharing in the mystery of the Divine Sonship, our entering into the unique relationship between Jesus and His Father which is expressed by His use of the word "'Abba" - "'my dear Father." The Our Father is the realization of our salvation, it is the proof that we are saved. If we were not baptized we could not say it. That is why every baptized person in the early Church was given the Our Father to learn by heart (which is perhaps a commentary on a certain reaction at the present time against prescribed forms of prayer for children). Here is what St. Paul says to the Galatians: "The proof that you are sons is that God has sent the spirit of his son into your heart, the spirit that cries 'Abba Father,' and it is this that makes you a son." The whole theology 1 have been trying to suggest to you is contained in that sentence - "the proof that you are sons is that God has sent the spirit of his son into your heart, the spirit that cries 'Abba,' 'Father,' and it is this that makes you a son." The kingdom has come when we pray Our Father. The glory of the final coming is already present and we share in that glory in the very heart of the blessed Trinity. Jeremias has said that the Our Father is eschatology making itself true as we say it - eschatoiogy realizing itself - a very profound thought. Infallibility of Prayer 1 have said that the Our Father, and indeed all Christian prayer, makes itself true as we say it by the power and in the person of Christ. Now we are bound by Our Lord's own words to believe that prayer is infallible, that every true prayer is infallibly heard. What then are we to say of unanswered prayer? There can be no answer to this problem, in the light of the Gospel, other than that no prayer is unanswered if it is in the name of Jesus. What Jesus Himself said was: "Whatever you ask the Father in my name, will be granted to you." Note the qualification, "in My Name." If a prayer is in His name truly, truly and really in His name, then it must be answered by the power and promise of our Divine Lord Himself. Jesus said something even stranger; He said: "Whatever you ask the Father in my name, believe that you have already received it, and it will be given to you." Is this some curious, almost pathological form of auto-suggestion? It cannot be. But there is a mystery here and it is the New Testament which gives us the key to this mystery. No prayer is unanswered, because every prayer admits us to the presence and the glory of God. In heaven's name, what else have we to pray for but that? What else do we want but that? Is God not enough for us? Every prayer gives us oneness with Christ, and again, in heaven's name, what are we praying for but that? What do we want, but that? What do we need but that? Is Christ not enough for us? St. Paul said "Since God did not spare his own Son but gave him up to benefit us all, has he not also with him given us everything." Is there anything he has refused? Like Jesus Himself, then, we can thank the Father before our prayers are answered. You remember our Lord, before the raising of Lazarus, said: "I thank You, Father, because You have heard my prayer." Prayer is our privilege before it is our duty. The same is true of our faith. Karl Barth says that what we should be saying now is not, "You are bound to believe," but "You are permitted to believe." The faith is a privilege, not a burden, and so is prayer. All our prayers are answered in Christ - Christ is the answer to our prayer. All our prayers end with "Amen." The word 914 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 does not mean so much "may it be so," but rather "it is so." It is so in Christ. Christ is God's Arden to our prayer. St. Paul says: "With Him it is always "Yes" and however many the promises God has made the "Yes" to them all is in Him." And He goes on to say: "That is why it is through Him, that we answer "Amen" to the praise of God." Prayer is in crisis in the modern world. T. S. Eliot in "The Rock" says: Endless invention, endless experiment brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness knowledge of speech but not of silence knowledge of words but ignorance of the Word all our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance. The cycles of heaven in twenty centuries brings us further from God and nearer to the dust. There is a certain truth even though a certain pessimism in what Eliot says. But it is consoling to recall another great man of our time, the outstanding humanist and servant of humanity who was Dag Hammerskjold. It was prayer and specifically the Our Father which inspired Hammerskjold to give his life for others. "Murderous Angels" notwithstanding, Hammerskjold was a very great man. "The only value of a life," says Hammerskjold, "is its content for others; and therefore in my great loneliness, to serve others. How incredibly great is what I have been given and how meaningless is what I have to sacrifice. 'Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done.' You wake from dreams of doom and then for a moment you know beyond all the noise and the gestures, you know the only real thing, love's calm unwavering flame in the half light of an early dawn." In this Carmelite setting, I am happy to end by suggesting that this is a contemporary echo of St. Teresa's epilogue of her life of prayer, written on a scrap of paper found after her death in her breviary in 1582: "Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you, All things pass, God never changes, Patience attains all that it strives for. He who has God is lacking in nothing. Only God is enough. Solo Dios Basra." SISTER MARY GARASCIA, C.I'P.S. Prayer and Spirituality ISister Mary Garascia is a member of the Theology Department of Gerard High School; 2252 North Forty-fourth Street; Phoenix, Arizona 85008.1 Introduction It is Fall as these thoughts are being written, and across the nation the past summer produced the usual spate of chapters and meetings which will in turn generate programs and conferences and discussions in the community houses of American religious this apostolic year. Private prayer continues to be one of the most frequently discussed topics, demonstrating the persistent concern felt by many sisters with this area of their religious life. The statements which follow are not a systematic development of the nature or methods of prayer; neither are they original. They are, it is hoped, things which are said too softly or too seldom, and which may help to give discussions of prayer and spirituality a certain perspective. Perspective on Prayer: Prayer as Positive Perhaps the idea that is most often not uttered at the beginning of prayer discussions is that prayer is supposed to be a positive human experience. It should be, in general, enjoyable and easy. Prayer is an experience of contact with God, and the God of Christianity is the Approachable One. Both the Old and New Testaments present God as a departure from the magical-mysterious pagan gods and the philosophical-mystery gods of the Greco-Roman world. God is revealed, instead, to be lover, friend, father, savior. Because that is the way God is, Jesus could respond with the simple and natural Our Father when someone asked Him how to pray. Certainly at times prayer will be difficult because life itself is, at times, difficult. But the times when prayer is a deeply rewarding experience should predominate. A God who must be sought in tortuous ways is not lovable or attractive, nor is He the God of Jesus. The "dark night" of the mystics is not meant to characterize the spiritual life of man. It is only a temporary stage, as all suffering and dying is temporary and is oriented toward resurrection and future life. Probably the first rule of prayer should be to enjoy God, to relax and pray naturally. It should be clear, whenever prayer is discussed, that behind all the words there lurks a God of nearness, approachability, and overflowing generosity. Perspective on Prayer: Prayer and Autobiography Possibly one reason why prayer becomes unnatural or strained is that it becomes separated from autobiography) Each person writes a story with his life. The story IMichael Novak, Ascent of the Mountain, Flight of the Dove (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), pp. 43-87. 916 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 is sequential and hopefully has direction and meaning. If a person is religious, his story is also religious. In other words, if he were to tell his story to another, he could not tell it merely in terms of vital statistics, places of residence or employment, achievements, and so on. All these things would be seen by the religious person in terms of a greater reality: the times, places, and experiences when God entered his life, the development of his own religious consciousness. Prayer needs as its ground an awareness and appreciation by the praying person of his own religious story. The person prays not to an unfamiliar God, but to a God whom he has come to know in a process of time and experience, to a God whom he can take for granted on the one hand, and yet to a God who enters his life so constantly and insistently that their relationship is a continual source of awe and rejoicing to him. With this consciousness of story, prayer takes place at the meaning core of the person. It can never become an exercise or a duty because it is always an extension of experience. It will more often be affectively rewarding, as it should be, and natural. An underlying assumption of this point of view is that a person is willing to trust himself and his own religious experiences. This is not to say that man never errs, becoming proud, presumptuous, idolatrous, or that it is not important to imitate others or seek guidance. But there quickly comes a point when the praying person must accept the fact that God has spoken to him, is really calling him in a unique way. Unless he accepts God in this way, believing and accepting his own experience of God, prayer will tend to be marked by insecurity, darkness, distance. Perspective on Prayer: Prayer and Conversion The notion of trusting one's religious experience in order to pray leads to considering how important the quality of religious experience is. All the methods, spiritual systems, directors, and rules with which prayer gets surrounded have only one purpose: to lead the person toward certain basic conversion experiences. These are the peak experiences of the person's religious story, the turning points when the person begins defining himself in terms of his relationship with God, the point of decision to believe in the face of insufficient evidence, the assent to take seriously certain gospel precepts. These conversion points are absolutely essential if prayer is to be more than a passing phenomenon. Once certain conversions have been experienced, changes in the cultural underpinnings of prayer, such as theological upheavals or the declining influence of organized religion, are not perceived as basically threatening to prayer life. Pseudo oppositions like work and prayer, God and neighbor, resolve themselves into situations of healthy and prayer-supporting tension, if they continue to be of concern at all. Preoccupation with how to pray or with the quality of one's prayer tends to disappear, and the person begins, in freedom, to seek out for himself his own prayer rhythm. Finally, through conversion the person becomes capable of handling suffering, the great testing-point of anyone's spiritual life. It is hard to stop being concerned about methods, rules, spiritual systems because of the recent past history of ascetical training which, unfortunately, came to be dominated by the personal spiritualities of Saints Teresa and John of the Cross. Thomas Merton, one of the most serious pray-ers of contemporary America, also said some of the most freeing things about prayer: Systems are fine, up to a point, but all they are for is to help you get to the point where there is no more system, where you deal with God absolutely in your freedom and his Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 917 freedom.2 There is really no opposition., between praying alone and being with people. Both are true, both are right, and you don't divide one against the other and say it's purely horizontal or purely vertical. It is both horizontal and vertical, and you should follow what is right for you at a given time. When you are dealing with people for as long as it works, go on dealing with people; when you get tired of dealing with people, go pray alone. There comes a time when you just get tired of a particular prayer form unless you have a charism of never getting tired of it! All right, that is your charism, your thing. But most of us should simply follow the natural rhythm of the way we are constituted, and follow the Holy Spirit. There is a time and a place for everything,a Sometimes statements such as Merton's are accepted up to the "yes-but" point. Yes, but is it not possible, if a person really lets himself go, does his own thing, that he may cease to pray, or pray very infrequently? Yes, of course, it is possible, because man always has the option of choosing things which bring him death instead of life. The reasonable person will be aware of the possibility and take reasonable precautions. However, this possible catastrophe will certainly be the unusual and extraordinary case. Every person who walks along a street risks being hit by a car, but only the neurotic stay home. Perhaps this statement sounds facetious, but it is based on some of the assumptions already developed: that prayer is, basically, a happy and rewarding experience and therefore even very busy people will come back to it with the naturalness of a man seeking recreating leisure; that prayer is an outflowing of religious experiences so deep that the idea of a converted man forgetting God would be as unthinkable as the Jews forgetting Jerusalem during the exile.'* Finally, fidelity is not something that can be produced by following a regimen: Fidelity does not come out of a personality we have safely banked. Fidelity arises from our inter-relationship with the flow of life. It is something that comes out of a person who is mature enough to deepen his convictions in moments when they are severely challenged. Fidelity, in other words, is not something that exists because we stay the same. It is a dynamic quality that exists because we are capable of growth and constructive change,s Out of the desire for God and the pleasure of his company will flow a certain discipline. Prayer will be chosen over other things because it is important, at the core of the meaning system of the person. The search for God will seem worthy of time and energy. The person who has experienced conversion will find it hard to forget the experience; he will tend to remain conscious of the possibility of future conversions and will work to keep himself open to conversion. Any worthwhile human endeavor has its built-in asceticism. Someone once pointed out that there are three ways of viewing man: as evil, as good but with certain dangerous impulses which need caution, or as growth-oriented. Everything written above opts for the growth-oriented view of man, who relates to a God of abundance and nearness, and a prayer life which feels good and is guilt free and peace-filled.6 2Thomas Merton, "Prayer, Tradition, and Experience," Sisters Today, February 1971, p. 28"/; see also the same author's "The Life That Unifies," Sisters Today, October 19"/0, p. '71. 3Thomas Merton, "Prayer, Personalism, and the Spirit," Sisters Today, November 1970, pp. 133-4. 4 Psalm 13"/:5-7. 5Eugene Kennedy, In the Spirit, in the Flesh (Garden City: Doubleday, 1971), p. 85. 6George A. Lane, S.J., Christian Spirituality (Chicago: Argus, 1968), p. 92. 918 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 Spirituality in Crisis For some time, even years, there has been talk of a prayer crisis; and certainly the universal and continuing concern with prayer among religious would point to the existence of many problems in this area. However, there is another way to see the situation. All types of prayer are problematic these days, personal private prayer, group prayer, formal liturgical prayer. It is possible that the reason why prayer problems are so resistant to solution is that there is an underlying spirituality crisis. There have been so many fundamental changes in Church and culture that prayer has been placed in an impossible position: it is expected to help the person combat secularism, to support his faith, to keep him from becoming lost in work, to save him from mere humanism, to aid him to achieve emotional calm and survive crises, to give meaning to his life, to put him in contact with God, and so on. No wonder there is a prayer crisis. Prayer is carrying the whole burden of what should be the shared task of a viable spirituality. Prayer has come to dominate spirituality when actually prayer is only one function or aspect of a man's spiritual life. Perhaps the best solution to prayer problems is to forget them for a time and turn to the task of finding paths to God which cut through and join together all the reaches of the world of the praying person. Space does not permit a description of forces which have caused a breakdown in spirituality, a discussion of schools of spirituality, or even a definitive definition of the word. As a working definition, spirituality can be thought of as a particular style of approach to union with God,7 an approach which encompasses elements like prayer, penance, activity, and so forth. Personal spiritualities will differ in accord with personality, level and type of intelligence, perception of reality, life experiences, and other individualizing factors. Yet much of a man's approach to God is shaped in common with other men out of the culture in which he lives. Today man's life is the product of a period of cultural erosion of faith and spirituality, and he confronts a world deprived of a generally accepted integrating principle. Many people have come to accept as normal a schizoid world of oppositions:8 individual-community, freedom-law, service-prayer, human-divine, and so on. The need is to seek a more unified approach to God, one in which the whole life of man, rather than mainly his prayer, becomes the point of interaction between man and God. This task belongs to the whole Church, to dialogue, and to time. Below are listed some rather obvious and not at all original areas where the discussion could begin. The reader will want to add others. Sacramentality "To be, so to speak, submerged by the 'divine milieu' of the whole universe., is the fundamental gift for which man can only pray: Lord, that I may see.''8 Seeing the world as a sacrament is a very Christian thing to do, for the Incarnation has transfigured all nature starting with the unique sacredness of the Son of God. A sacramental spirituality is probably the only answer to a world of increasing secularity since the sacramental order of things does not set itself in opposition to the secular order. Man needs, therefore, to come to experience the secular world as 7james Carroll, Prayer from Where We Are (Dayton: Pflaum, 1970), p. 16. 8Thomas Sartory, "Changes in Christian Spirituality," in Life in the Spirit ed. Hans Kiing (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967), p. 82. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 919 a sacred sign. How can this happen? How can man's awareness of and receptivity to signs be increased? In addition to answering these questions, the search for a viable spirituality needs to speak to the problem of evil, suffering, death, frustration, anxiety, and the other negative elements of life in order that these, too, may be sacred contact points. Work Jobs in American society today are regarded as mainly functional: they supply the money to take care of the person's needs. Few people claim to have any great feeling of reverence for or dedication to the goals of their employers. In addition there is an enormous distrust of the society's institutions, a distrust which increases even as more and more people are employed by them. Religious up to the present time have stood in sharp contrast to this picture. However, in the face of open placement, vacations, increased freetime, higher salaries, doubt about institutional apostolates, and so on, there is a need to reaffirm a spirituality of work. Work is not just a means to purchase leisure. The work of a religious is dedicated work. It must be seen as and really be redemptive and fiealing. Religious can bring a permanence of dedication to their work. They are capable of being neutral persons, free of the need to seek power and to manipulate others, a freedom facilitated by the vows. If work is perceived as redemptive, it will no longer divide the spiritual life of the person; it will nourish it. A Renewed Asceticism "To continue to make ourselves present to others requires a possession of ourselves and a sensitivity to our own complexity that all too few people develop.''9 "Growth in maturity requires death to selfishness, irresponsibility, undisciplined instinct so that we may rise to a new life of mature, generous, and trusting freedom.''~° Man today is helped to have deep insights into himself through the advances and availability of education and psycholog)). These resources should make it increasingly possible to choose a way to God which fits the particular personality structure of each individual. But living spiritually requires a tremendous amount of self-discipline which is perhaps not obvious to those who set out to "do their own thing." A person has only a certain amount of time and psychic energy. If these are used on self-defeating or self-destroying activities, there is no possibility of praying well or serving well. Living spiritually means, for example, declaring all out war on the moods and depressions which Americans love to indulge in; it means forsaking jealousy and infighting and competition for status; it means facing old age gracefully; it means ceasing any form of manipulation of others; it means really forgiving other community members for things that happened at their hands in the past; it means facing reality about ourselves. If a person is to be a sign of Christ, he must first be a fairly attractive human person. Christian spirituality should help the person to be in tune with himself and to accept himself and to direct his self. "Prayer, then, takes place by a man's believing acceptance of himself, by laying hold in a discriminating and yet reconciling way, of all the levels of his life, including feelings, sexuality, and the body, to hear the music, not of his own making, which is sounded at the root of his being." i ~ 9Kennedy, In the Spirit, p. 42. 10Andrew Greeley, "The New Agenda," Critic, May-June 1972, pp. 4 I-2. Gregory Baum, Man Becoming (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970), p. 83. 920 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 A Communitarian Spirituality Spirituality flows from community. The Biblical concept of salvation is of a saved people and of individuals who work out their holiness within the salvation community. The sociology of knowledge reveals the disturbing truth that man never knows God definitively but only God as he is perceived and defined by men today. Peter Berger says that under the immense array of human projections there are indicators of a reality that is truly other, and that it is important to turn to all religious traditions, past and present, to recapture their "moments of truth," the sacred contact points of each age, their signals of transcendence.12 A spirituality which moves away from absolute and changeless conceptualizations must become grounded in a deep trust in the presence of the Spirit in the living community. Theqe must also be a corresponding willingness to expose oneself to the community for the guidance which saves a spirituality from becoming magical or singular or presumptive, and a willingness to share one's spiritual riches with the community. A communitarian spirituality will be especially needed as the pressing moral issues of the next decade arise, issues for which there are no adequate precedents or philosophical principles and about which Christians cannot afford to remain neutral or undecided. Finally, the spirituality of today must be concerned with creating a society in which the next generation will find it just a little easier to seek God. It is, in fact, within the energy-sapping fight to build a better world for mankind that some of the most profound contacts between God and men take place. Conclusion What has been said about prayer and spirituality is incomplete and ignores most aspects of both topics. Prayer is basically a joyful, simple openness to God, no matter what else it is made out to be; but prayer is in turn dependent on the whole of the spiritual life style of a person. "I have one longing only: to grasp what is hidden behind appearances, to ferret out that mystery which brings me to birth and then kills me, to discover if behind the visible and unceasing stream of the world an invisible and immutable presence is hiding." ~ a 12peter Berger, A Rumor of Angels (Garden City: Doubleday, 1969), pp. 59, 99-112. 13N. Kazantzakis, Saviors of God (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1960), p. 51. JOHN WILCKEN, S.J. Religious Life in the Church I John Wilcken is a professor of theology and lives at 175 Royal Pole; Parkville, Victoria 3052 ; Australia. ] it is probably true to say that religious life has always been a problem in the Church. I do not find this fact either surprising or alarming. I think religious life is of very great importance in the Church -- I am thinking here primarily of the Catholic Church - and it has a tremendously important part to play in the Church's life. Briefly, religious must keep the Church faithful to the radical demands of the gospel. But inevitably religious will sometimes - perhaps often - be unequal to this task, and then their lukewarmness and infidelity will be a source of serious harm in the Church. For both these reasons, that is, the importance of their task and the inevitability that they will at times be unequal to this task, religious are always likely to be a problem in the Church. Where religious are in earnest, they are a problem because they are challenging "vested interests"; where they are lax, they are a trial to those who have the welfare of the Church at heart. Whatever they do, religious must resign themselves to being a problem. This problem was well to the fore in the debates and behind-the-scenes struggles of Vatican I1. The struggle crystallized in what might seem to be a relatively unimportant procedural question, namely whether there should be in the Constitu-tion on the Church a separate chapter on religious) The European group of bishops and theologians who had the leadership at the Council - men like Karl Rahner and Cardinal Doepfner - wanted religious life to be dealt with in the general chapter on the holiness of the Church. Thus they hoped to avoid perpetuating the impression that there are two standards of holiness in the Catholic Church, namely the following of the evangelical counsels in religious life for those who aim at perfection, and the following of the commandments in secular life for those who simply aim at salvation. But the bishops who had been religious and the major superiors of religious orders felt that this would be an undervaluing of the importance of religious life and pressed for a separate chapter on religious. On paper the religious superiors won - there is a separate chapter on religious - but one might consider that the result was really a compromise, since Chapters 5 and 6 of the Constitution on the Church are really one long chapter with an artificial division in the middle. It has been constantly pointed out that the theology of religious has not yet been satisfactorily worked out and that Vatican 11 has certainly not said the last word in this matter. The main treatment of the subject is in paragraph 44 of the Constitution on the Church, a paragraph which is somewhat confused in its Isee the discussion of this in R. M. Wiltgen, The Rhine Flows into the Tiber (New York: Hawthorn, 1967), pp. IO3-9. 922 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 structure. It makes a number of different statements not very clearly connected with each other and remains finally somewhat unsatisfactory. One might take from it two propositions which are helpful. The first is this: Furthermore, it [i.e., religious life] not only witnesses to the fact of a new and eternal life acquired by the redemption of Christ. It foretells the resurrected state and the glory of the heavenly kingdom. Religious life is here presented as a form of kerygma: it is a sign of God's kingdom. The second proposition is: Thus, although the religious state constituted by the profession of the counsels does not belong to the hierarchical structure of the Church, nevertheless it belongs inseparably to her life and holiness. The close connection between religious life and the Church is here emphasized; and it is pointed out that the connection is not with the institutional structures of the Church, but with "her life and holiness." There is another quite illuminating reference to religious life earlier in the Constitution on the Church, namely in paragraph 31 where the Council is distinguishing the special contribution of lay people in the world from that of clergy and religious. Here we are told that "by their state in life, religious give splendid and striking testimony that the world cannot be transfigured and offered to God without the spirit of the beatitudes." Once again religious life is presented as a form of kerygma: it is a sign indicating how the world is to be transformed and offered to God. There is also a helpful reference in paragraph 18 of the decree on the Church's missionary activity. It reads: Right from the planting stage of the Church, the religious life should be carefully fostered. This not only confers precious and absolutely necessary assistance on missionary activity. By a more inward consecration made to God in the Church, it also luminously manifests and signifies the inner nature of the Christian calling. This reference I find particularly significant. Once more religious life is seen as kerygma, but the vital importance of this sign is brought out. One gets the impression that the true nature of the Church cannot be manifested to people in mission lands unless religious life is there to reveal her inner life. Once more religious life is seen as belonging inseparably to the Church's life and holiness. Moreover, there is here a mention of diakonia: "precious and absolutely necessary assistance" is conferred on missionary activity. Vatican II has helpful things to say about religious life, but scarcely provides an adequate theology. The close connection between religious life and the nature of the Church is mentioned, but this ecclesiological view is not sufficiently developed. The Council in general tends to adopt a kerygmatic approach to theology and in speaking of religious life stresses the kerygmatic aspect. The aspects of koinonia and diakonia do not get adequate treatment. The term "religious life" is a rather odd-sounding one, and it has recently come trader considerable attack, for example in the book Experiences in Community by Gabriel Moran and Maria Harris.2 The word "religious," meaning someone belong-ing to a community of sisters, brothers, or priests, is simply a translation of the Latin religiosus or religiosa, and perhaps the word is more bearable in Latin. Canon 487 of the Code of Canon Law, which came into force in 1918, gives this description: 2(New York: Herder and Herder, 1968), pp. 54-7. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 923 "Fbe religious state is a stable manner of living in community, by which the faithful undertake, besides obedience to the commandments which bind everyone, also the ob~rvance of the evangelical counsels, by vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty. This description comes from a body of law. It portrays a state of affairs that had already existed for many centuries and codifies legally a life structure which had first been worked out in practice. Moreover this description - which is over 50 years old - reflects a theology that is now out-of-date. The clearcut distinction between those who merely seek to obey the commandments and those who undertake the practice of the counsels was rejected by Vatican II which saw the whole people of God as called to perfection {Lumen gentium, no. 40) and recognized that the practice of the evangelical counsels is not restricted to those in religious life (Lumen gentium, no. 39). Briefly, the Code of Canon Law describes a way of Christian life which had in fact existed in the Church for many centuries and describes it in accordance with theological ideas which have now been superseded. The aim of this article is to reflect theologically on this phenomenon known as religious life which exists in the world at the present time and has existed in the Church in varying forms for many centuries. The approach is theological, rather than sociological, although 1 think my conclusions would to a considerable extent be in harmony with the views of such sociologists as Max Weber and Ernst Troeltsch.3 So the starting point for reflection is religious life as it actually does exist and as it has actually existed for so long. It seems to me that what makes religious life important is that in this state of life the gospel message has been lived out in a radical and thorough-going way, thus giving leadership and inspiration to the rest of the Church. This radical interpretation of the gospel need not, of course, be limited to those in religious life. But it has happened, as a matter of history, that in the Catholic Church this thorough-going acceptance of the gospel demands has been a feature of religious life in particular. Those wishing to respond in a special way to the call of Christ have, very frequently, found themselves drawn to religious life, and have seen this kind of life as giving them scope for the following of Christ's call. Now there are, of course, Churches today which do not encourage religious life, and presumably the radicalism of the Gospel message is preserved in them in some other way. I am speaking of those Churches in which religious life is in fact encouraged, notably the Catholic Church. The matter might be expressed in another way. There are certain very important values in the New Testament which have, in fact, been preserved in the Catholic Church largely by means of religious life. Whether they will continue to be preserved in this way may seem uncertain to many people. Clearly the styles of religious life are changing rapidly; and a new form of dedicated Christian life that of the secular institute - has appeared. What seems quite certain is that the fundamental values of the gospel must be, and will be, preserved somehow. Leadership must be given by those who are willing to follow Christ so whole-heartedly that the pattern of their lives will be radically changed. In this way the complete dedication of the whole Church to Christ will be both signified and strengthened. Moreover, the unity of the human race which Christ brought about by His death and resurrection will be exemplified in a community life that triumphs 3See, for example, J. Milton Yinger, "The Sociology of Ernest Troeltsch," in An Introduc-tion to the History of Sociology ed. H. E. Barnes (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1948), pp. 311-2. 924 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 over differences of background, character, and natural interests. And the service of mankind which Christ the suffering servant came to render will be continued. That is, leadership will be given in the kerygma, the koinonia, and the diakonia of the Church. To put it another way, the faith, the charity, and the hope of the Church will be strikingly manifested. First, let us consider the role of religious in the kerygma, or proclamation of faith, of the Church. There is, I think, a fairly general consensus among New Testament scholars that the center of Jesus' preaching was His proclamation of the kingdom (or reign) of God. He declared that the definitive intervention of God in history, to wttich the Jews had looked forward so eagerly (see Daniel 7), was near at hand and, indeed, already beginning. God was acting decisively in the world through the preaching and work of Jesus Himself, and men were called to accept this preaching in faith. But the acceptance of this preaching was no small matter because Jesus made radical demands on people, involving a marked change in their way of life. The demands of the Sermon on the Mount were drastic enough, but particular people also received individual calls - Peter, Andrew, James, and John had to leave all to follow Jesus; the rich young man was asked to sell all his goods and give the money to the poor. The followers of Jesus were promised hardship and persecution. Loyalty to Christ had to come before the closest family ties. The Apostle Paul, who is perhaps the New Testament figure about whom we know most, found that his meeting with the risen Christ changed his life out of all recognition. He regarded all his earlier religious privileges as worthless. He led an apostolic life which involved constant labor, hardship, and persecution; and he seems to have regarded his sufferings as precisely the visible guarantee of the genuineness of his apostleship (see 2 Cor 11). He remained unmarried to devote himself fully to the Lord (1 Cor 7). In the apostolic period and during the early centuries of the Church, martyrdom was often looked upon with longing as the crown of the Christian's life. Paul wanted "to be gone and be with Christ" (Phil 1:23). Ignatius of Antioch implored the Roman Christians not to intercede for him with the civil authorities lest his martyrdom be prevented. Cyprian's letters reflect the persecuted Church's extra-ordinary esteem for the glory of martyrdom. Thus the early Church had this consciousness that Christ's preaching called for a radical response - a response that could even be so total as the sacrifice of life itself. This spirit of total self-giving was seen as essential to the Church's life. But the Church was not always persecuted. The possibilities of martyrdom grew less - especially after Constantine had guaranteed to the Christians freedom of worship, and even more so by the end of the 4th century when Christianity had become the sole accepted religion. But the spirit of total self-giving still had to be preserved in the Church. Leadership had to be given by those who undertook the radical living out of the gospel message. The Church's willingness to renounce everything for the sake of Christ still had to be signified and exemplified. St. Anthony, in the middle of the third century, set the example of the renunciation of earthly goods for the sake of Christ. Hearing the gospel of the rich young man one day at Mass, he felt that the words were addressed directly to himself, and he carried out literally the command of Christ. He lived a solitary life in the desert as a hermit. By the beginning of the 4th century, organized religious life had begun with the monastery of St. Pachomius. Thus when the age of persecution was passing and the possibility of martyrdom becoming less, a new way was being discovered of making a total response to the gospel message, namely the living of the monastic or Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/6 925 eremitical life. This kind of life must be seen entirely in the context of the Church. With the acceptance of Christianity by civil society, there was the danger of too much accommodation to comfortable living. The Church's way of safeguarding itself from this danger was to demonstrate in a striking way that the following of Christ makes total demands on the person. This was signified and exemplified by the monks and hermits. The monastic and eremitical life might be looked on as a social manifestation of the Church's faith in Christ. And there is an added reason why one should see religious life as belonging to the Church as a whole. Recruitment to religious life must come continually from the ranks of the whole Church. A sect can propagate itself, since children born into the families of the sect will presumably follow the beliefs of their parents. On the other hand, monasteries of celibate monks and nuns must draw their recruits continually from the Church as a whole. Thus religious life is a function of the whole Church, manifesting the Church's faith and proclaiming the radical demands made on mankind by the Gospel.* Next 1 want to consider the role of religious in connection with the Church's koinonia. Vatican II speaks of the Church as the sacrament of union and unity: By her relationship with Christ, the Church is a kind of ~crament or sign of intimate union with God, and of the unity of all mankind. She is also an instrument for the achievement of such union and unity (Lumen gentium no. 1 ). There are two aspects of the Church's sacramentality mentioned here: the Church is the sacrament firstly of union with God and secondly of the unity of mankind. The Church must first of all remain utterly obedient to God and closely united with Christ. The vine and branches image brings out admirably the necessity of union with Christ: "I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty; for cut off from me you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5). This union with Christ, which is based on faith and love, must be nourished by prayer: the Church must be a praying community. And 1 want to discuss now the union (or koinonia) with God through prayer. The Gospels speak surprisingly often of the prayer of Jesus Himself. Even Mark's account of the early public ministry of Jesus, with the impression it creates of intense activity and of the crowds continually pressing on Jesus(see Mk 1:45; 3:9; 3:20; 4:1), includes several references to His prayer. After the evening of cures at Capernaum, Jesus went off to a lonely place early in the morning and prayed there (Mk 1:35). Again, after the first miracle of the loaves, Jesus sent the crowds away and went off into the hills to pray (Mk 6:46). Matthew and Luke give an account of Jesus' instructions on prayer and record their versions of the Our Father (Mt 6:7-15; 7:7-11 and parallels in Luke). Luke in Acts describes the early Church as a praying community. For example, there is that verse at the end of Chapter 2 which is almost a definition of the Church: "These remained faithful to the teaching of the apostles, to the brother-hood, to the breaking of bread and to the prayers" (v. 42). After Peter and John had been released by the Sanhedrin, Luke describes the prayer of the community (Acts 4:23-31). Paul, in Chapter 12 of Second Corinthians speaks of his mystical experiences when he was caught up into the third heaven (2 Cor 12:1-6). He frequently speaks of his prayer of thanksgiving at the beginning of his epistles (e.g., 4On religious life as sign, see Karl Rahner, "The Theology of the Religious Life" in Religious Orders in the Modert~ World by Gerard Huyghe and others (London: Chapman, 1965), pp. 41-75. 926 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 Rom 1:8; 1 Cor 1:4); and he tells the Thessalonians to "pray constantly" (I Thes 5:17). The Church must be a praying community. It must be in union, that is, in koinonia, with the Father and the Son. The Church must be the sacrament of this koinonia, that is, its sign and instrument. But prayer, as we all know, is difficult, and leadership must be given in this matter. In Chapter 7 of First Corinthians Paul at least hints at where this leadership might come from. "An unmarried man can devote himself to the Lord's affairs, all he need worry about is pleasing the Lord" (v. 32), he writes, and a little later he adds, "In the same way an unmarried woman, like a young girl, can devote herself to the Lord's affairs; all she need worry about is being holy in body and spirit" (v. 34). The one freed from earthly cares can devote himself or herself more fully to those of heaven. Then again, the author of First Timothy writes of widows as people who can give themselves fully to prayer: "But a woman who is really widowed and left without anybody can give herself up to God and consecrate all her days and nights to petitions and prayer" (1 Tim 5:5). In fact profound prayer has always been seen as one of the absolute essentials of religious life - and this is true also of the orders founded specifically for external apostolic works. For example, a characteristic phrase to describe the Jesuit is, "contemplative in action," and this phrase indicates that the Jesuit, for all his outside activity, is meant to be a man dedicated to prayer. And of course the great contemplative orders of the Church, Cistercians, Carthusians, and so on, have been centers of prayer and sources of teaching on prayer for the whole Church. Thus one of the vitally important roles of religious life has been to give leadership in prayer, or koinonia with the Father and the Son. The second aspect of the Church's sacramentality mentioned by Vatican II is to be a sign and instrument of the unity of mankind. This function of unifying mankind through the grace of God is very solidly founded in the New Testament. When Jesus was asked, "And who is my neighbour?" He replied with the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10), thus indicating that there is no place in Christian love for any kind of bigotry or prejudice. In the Fourth Gospel Jesus speaks of community charity as the sign of Christian discipleship: "By this love that you have for one another, everyone will know that you are my disciples" (Jn 13:35). Presumably, this love must triumph over natural causes of division, such as differences of temperament, interest, background and so forth. Paul brings out explicitly the fact that Christ has rendered unimportant the natural distinctions between people: "All baptized in Christ, you have all clothed yourselves in Christ, and there are no more distinctions between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, but all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:27-8). Thus Christ came to bring mankind to the unity of charity in spite of the natural causes of division in the world. Vatican II sees the Church as the sign and cause of this unity. I would like to give two illustrations from the New Testament of how this koinonia function of the Church was lived out in practice. One is Paul's collection of money for the poor of the Jerusalem Church. As is well known, this was not simply an act of charity on the part of the Gentile Christian Churches. It was a "peace offering" to the Jewish Christians of Jerusalem, Paul's effort to heal the deep division between the Jewish and Gentile wings of the primitive Church. If the saints of Jerusalem accepted this money offering, Paul hoped that this would represent their full acceptance of the Gentile Christians as brothers in Christ. Differences of culture and tradition could not be allowed to divide the Christian Church. This was a striking and wonderful example of Christian koinonia, and Paul Review for Refigious, Volume 31, 1972/6 927 labored untiringly for its success. The other example of early Christian koinonia is the description in Acts of the primitive Jerusalem community. Luke describes the early Christians as living together, sharing their goods, owning everything in common, and being united heart and soul. Certainly this is an idealized picture. Even the account in Acts gives hints of the divisions that were there from the beginning. There is the Ananias and Sapphira episode, and, more significantly, the dispute between Hellenists and Hebrews in Chapter 6. One might have expected that the Greek-speaking Jews, who had had experience of living outside Palestine in the broader context of the Hellenistic world, would have found it hard to get on with their fellow-countrymen of Palestine, who knew nothing but Jewish culture and tradition. The division seems to have been so sharp that it resulted in the setting up of a separate organization for the Greek-speaking Jews, namely, the appointment of the Seven. Nevertheless, in spite of the very real natural divisions that were there from the beginning, Luke sees this earliest period of the Church's history as exemplifying in a remarkable way the unity and charity that Christ came to bring. Even the division caused by private property seems to disappear, and there is the sharing of possessions and the common ownership of property. There is a joy and fellowship in this group of believers that is seen as a direct result of Christ's resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit. The implication seems to be that Christ has destroyed division in the world and brought unity to the human race. Even the account of Pentecost at the beginning of Acts,Chapter 2 confirms this: the coming of the Holy Spirit has destroyed the language barrier. And this fact of the restoration of the unity of mankind does not remain hidden. The phenomenon of tongues at Pentecost was apparent to all and remarked on publicly (Acts 2:7-1 I). Luke tells us a little later that the community of believers was "looked up to by everyone" (Acts 2:47). The infant Church is the sign and the beginning of united mankind. The radical manifestation of this in Luke's account is the sharing of goods and the common ownership of property. What actually happened in this matter of property in the early Church is not clear. Certainly Luke looks upon common ownership as an ideal for the Church, as something that occurred back in the Golden Age, in the Church's first fervor. Presumably, there was some basis in fact for the traditions that came down to Luke. But the practice of common ownership did not last long in the Church at large. The exercise of charity in the matter of material goods certainly did last, and the Christians continued to show strikingly their love and concern for one another: "See how they love one another, and how ready they are to die for each other" (Tertullian). But it is easy for fervor in these matters to grow less: the pull of material possessions is strong, and the causes of division in mankind are both manifold and powerful. Yet the Church must continue to be the sign and cause of unity in the human race. Christ came to make mankind a community of love, and the Church must strive constantly towards this goal. Those who want to give wholehearted obedience to Christ's call to unity and koinonia have felt themselves drawn to community life within the Church. There, property is no longer a division, and the choice of one's fellows is entirely in God's hands: one does not choose one's companions in religious life, but must accept in love the brothers or sisters whom God sends. The love of Christ and the common vocation must triumph over natural differences and antipathies. In this way the koinonia of the Church is lived out in a radical way, and an example of community life is given which may be an inspiration to others. 928 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 This is the task of religious. Of course, they often find themselves unequal to the task. There can be bitterness and division in religious communities, just as there can be anywhere else in the world. But the structure of religious life is one which, of itself, calls for a radical living out of Christian koinonia, of Christian charity: one accepts in love the companions whom God sends, regardless of natural antipathies. Christ's love must triumph over natural inclinations. One other point could be mentioned in this connection. Religious are often spoken of as an eschatological sign. For myself, I do not find the relationship of religious to eschatology particularly enlightening - unless one is simply referring to the fact that the Church is essentially an eschatological community and that religious life "belongs inseparably to her life and holiness" (Lumen gentium, no. 44). But it is significant that both the examples of koinonia in the New Testament which I mentioned do seem to have an eschatological dimension: Paul does seem to have seen his collection for the saints of Jerusalem as being in some sense an eschatological event, and the primitive communism of the early Christians was no doubt largely due to their expectation of an early Parousia.5 However, I do not want to stress too much this aspect. Suffice it to say that religious life is essentially eschatological precisely because the Church is essentially an eschatological com-munity. The word diakonia is heard a great deal in theological discussion these days, and the Church is being thought of more and more as the "Servant Church." This function of diakonia is connected with recent writing on the theology of hope and "political theology.''6 The servant Church, the Church concerned with the renovation of the present social order in the light of its hope for the future, necessarily enters into the public life of mankind. The Church can never remain a purely private organization, just as Jesus of Nazareth could not remain simply a private person. The preaching of Jesus - His denunciation of legalism and hypo-crisy, His stress on rightness of heart before God and genuine love of neighbor,His proclamation of the kingdom of God and call to repentance - this preaching soon brought Him into conflict with the upholders of the established order. And His own manner of life - His going out to the sick and the distressed, His forgiveness of sinners and table-fellowship with tax-collectors, His acceptance of the outcasts of society - this manner of life was a disturbance of the normal social order. Yet His great popularity, the crowds that came to hear and be helped by Him, showed that He was a force in the land to be reckoned with. The gospelHe preached, the human values He stood for, made Him into a "radical" in the best sense of the word: one who got to the roots of the problem. He manifested in His own life of service God's universal love for mankind, especially for the sick and suffering. His life and preaching were a dynamic force which was in fact to transform human society - and it was to do this by being continued in the life and preaching of the Church. It is not easy for the Church to preserve this true Christian radicalism. Again, leadership must be given - and in fact it has always been given, for example by many outstanding bishops of the patristic period. But this leadership in social radicalism came to be taken over, to a considerable extent, by religious orders. For example, the Benedictine monasteries gave stability and order to a world falling 5See the discussion of Paul's enterprise in K. F. Nickle, The Collection: A Study in Paul's Strategy (Naperville, Illinois: Allenson, 1966), pp. 129-42. 6See J. Metz, The Theology of the World (New York: Herder and Herder, 1969), especially Chapter 5, "The Church and the World in the Light of a 'Political Theology.' " Review for Refigious, Volume 31, 1972/6 929 into chaos after the decline of Rome. The Franciscans brought the spirit of the gospel and of poverty to a medieval Church weakened by wealth and power. The many teaching and nursing orders founded since the Reformation were established precisely to care for children and sick people who were being neglected. Mother Teresa's Missionary Sisters of Charity were founded to meet the problem of utter destitution in our contemporary world. Meeting the real needs of people who cannot help themselves requires dedication and self-sacrifice; yet it is a vital task for the Church. This task has often been carried out by religious orders. In fact, this is how religious orders came to be founded. A great need is recognized, a gifted founder or foundress gathers together a group of dedicated people, and thus a new religious order arises - this is the general pattern for the foundation of religious orders. And this pattern implies the giving of leadership in the Church's task of reforming and renewing society. It is a manifestation of the Church's hope - hope in the possibilities of this world's social institutions, and confidence that God is in fact working to transform our world. 1 am not saying, of course, that religious orders are the only groups of people that give leadership in this matter of renovating society. Nor would I claim that all religious orders today are clear on their social task - this is far from the case. But I do wish to claim that the essential thrust of a religious order - seen especially at its foundation - involves leadership in the renovation of society. And this, I think, is true even of contemplative orders. They too, in their own way, deeply influence social life. The heart of the Church's life can, I think, be summed up in those three words: kerygma, koinonia, diakonia. Vatican 11 states that religious life belongs inseparably to the Church's life and holiness (Lumen gentium, no. 44). 1 have been trying to expand this statement by showing that the task of religious orders is to give leadership in the Church's kerygma, koinonia, and diakonia. To put it another way: the Church proclaims radical renunciation for the sake of the kingdom, a union with Christ resulting in a living together of human beings in charity despite human divisions, and a service to the world that transforms society. Religious orders were founded precisely in order to give leadership in the putting of this program into practice. Whether an order should survive or not depends, 1 suppose, on whether or not it is still giving this leadership. I would like to make a couple of further comments before going on to a brief discussion of the future of religious life. What I have said about religious may possibly give the impression that it is all a rather emotional affair, and very grim and serious. This is, of course, simply not true of religious life as it is actually lived. Like all Christian living, religious life must be characterized by sober wisdom and a spirit of Christian joy. The New Testament does not have a great deal to say about wisdom - except to say that Christ is our wisdom (Jn !:1-14; 1 Cor 1:30) -and we have to go back to the wonderful sapiential books of the Old Testament. Monastic spiritual writing through the centuries has in fact been filled with healthy, down-to-earth commonsense, and this surely is one of the things that has made possible the survival of religious life. One might mention also the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, written with such prayer and labor by St. Ignatius Loyola. These have been so influential over the last few centuries precisely because they are so realistic, practical, and wise. Then, in the matter of Christian joy, religious life has been able to survive also because of the spirit of deep happiness that has been preserved there. Trials and problems abound, as they do everywhere in this world, but those who really have a divine call to religious life find in it a joy that they have 930 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 never known elsewhere. One might cite St. Teresa of Avila in this connection. In spite of the incredible trials and hardships of her life, she remained a very merry soul, a source of joy and happiness for the communities in which she lived. Finally, something should be said about the future of religious life. There are certainly the prophets of doom. For some people, the age of religious life in the Church is simply over. I do not myself share this view. No doubt there are more stormy days ahead for religious orders in the Church; and they will, of course, continue to change - this is essential if they are to survive. Those that refuse to change, or to change soon enough, will be in a dangerous situation. But it seems to me that religious life in its essentials corresponds so fully to the Gospel message that it will last as long as the Church lasts. No doubt the Christian values preserved and encouraged in religious life could be preserved in other ways; but, given the Church's actual traditions, I cannot see this particular way of preserving them dropping out altogether. Keeping in mind the analysis given in the body of this paper, I would like to outline what seem to me to be the essential elements of religious life which must be preserved in the various changes that are taking place. The first is the celibate life. Jesus called for the willingness to make radical renunciations for the sake of the kingdom even to the extent of changing the whole pattern of one's life. Paul saw the celibate state as extremely helpful for the full dedication of oneself to God (I Cor 7). In fact, throughout the centuries of Christian history people have felt themselves called to make this radical renuncia-tion for the sake of the kingdom. I do not anticipate that this vocation will cease in the Church. Although the eremitical life had its vogue in the early centuries, the Church has found by experience that life in community is more helpful. Not only is there mutual support, but a demonstration is given of the power of Christian love which can transcend the natural barriers between people. But the existence of community immediately raises also the problem of authority. These communities will have to demonstrate to the world that the kind of authority described in the Gospels (e.g., "anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant" - Mk 10:43) can be lived out in practice. Those called to celibate community life will need to be sustained by a deep spirit of prayer, and their communities will need to be centers of prayer for the whole Church. Prayer is difficult, but essential. The whole Church needs inspiration and instruction from these communities. Property is one of the sources of division among people. Wealth, against which we are so constantly warned in the Gospels, seems constantly to bring with it pride, lack of concern, selfishness, harshness. These communities will need to guard against these dangers by the sharing of possessions and moderate living. Finally, there must be essentially an outward look. These are communities of the Church, peopled by vocations from the Church at large. Religious must give leadership in the humble service of mankind, especially where the needs are greatest. To sum up the picture: celibate life, in community, under an authority of service, prayerful, moderate in style of living, not divided by property barriers, existing for the service, of mankind. In this picture I am merely trying to describe the evangelical essentials. Many other elements will have to come in - such as wider; even world-wide, organization. But if we try to keep our eyes fixed on the essentials, which are firmly based in the New Testament, we are in a better position to see that the changes which do take place are in the right direction. JOIIN CARROLL FUTRELL, S.J. Living Consecrated Celibacy Today [John Carroll FutreU, S.J., is the Director of the Spirituality Program of the Divinity School of St. Louis University; 220 North Spring Avenue; St. Louis, Missouri 63108; an Indonesian translation of this article has appeared in the October 1972 issue ofRohan£ I The meaning and value of consecrated celibacy as a Christian way of life has been severely challenged during the last few years, not only by Freudian or secularized mentalities, but also even by priests and religious who at one time made the permanent commitment to a life of consecrated celibacy. It has been argued that a life of consecrated celibacy is unnatural and inhuman, and that, consequently, no celibate can attain true personal fulfillment and human maturity. The life of celibacy has been attacked as an at least implicit belittling of marriage as a Christian way of life, as contempt for a less perfect vocation for those who are incapable of living the "perfect" life of virginity. The law of the Latin rite which requires celibacy of its priests has been attacked as an unjustifiable act of tyranny denying the basic human right of human fulfilhnent through sexual union to men who wish to be ordained. Undoubtedly, these arguments have had influence upon some persons who have left the priesthood or the religious life in order to marry. These theories also brought about the aberrations of the "Third Way" a few years ago, which was a naive attempt to enjoy affective fulfillment in an exclusive relationship with another individu',d of the other sex through all the bodily expressions of love short of sexu',d union. The purpose of the following reflections is not to discuss or defend the law of celibacy for priests in the Latin rite. This law has been studied and controverted in many books and articles during recent years. It is well to recall, however, that any community has the right and the duty to demand certain qualifications of those members of the community called upon to carry out specific functions within it. A "job description" always includes the qualities which the community feels the persons who are to serve it in particular capacities should possess. It is not, therefore, a violation of human rights that for historical reasons the Church decided that its priests in the Latin rite should be chosen from only those among the faithful to whom the charism of virginity has been given. Whether in the light of contemporary pastoral needs it is a wise decision to retain this law universally is another question. But the issue is one of pastoral discernment, not of violated human rights. The following reflections are concerned, rather, with the meaning of consecrated celibacy as an authentic Christian alternative, a specific and valuable vocation within the Church both for individual persons and for those called to celibate communities. After recalling the basic motivation for celibacy as a Christian way of life, some practical considerations will be offered on the particular challenges in the contemporary world to those persons who feel called to live their lives as 932 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 consecrated celibates. First of all, it should be recalled that celibacy is a charism - a special divine gifting of the Holy Spirit to individual persons for the service of the whole People of God and of all mankind. Christ said that only those can make themselves "eunuchs" for the sake of the kingdom of heaven "to whom it is granted" (Mt 19:10-2). In his First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul, in his instructions on marriage and virginity, after remarking that he would be happy if all remained as himself celibate, adds that, nevertheless, "everybody has his own particular gifts from God, one with a gift for one thing and another with a gift for the opposite" (7:7). The Holy Spirit pours out a variety of charismatic gifts upon the members of the community of the faithful for the good of the entire body. The foot needs the hand, the hand the eye, the eye the ear (1 Cor 12:12-30). Thus, those who receive the charism of celibacy are given a gift from the Spirit which is authentic and valuable for the whole people. To discern that one has been given this charism and to choose to accept it and to live out its consequences is not a priori~ to destroy the possibility of true human fulfillment and maturity. This depends upon the way a person integrates his celibacy into his growth as a person. Human maturity and fulfillment are no more automatically achieved through sexual union in or out of marriage than they are through consecrated celibacy. There is abundant human evidence to demonstrate this fact. Human beings are totally sexual beings, and to come to human fulfillment we must assume our sexuality in our personal integration through a growing maturity of loving, finally leading us to the full expression of our deepest urge to love - totally self-giving love - which is also what gives human meaning to physical sexual union. But human sexuality is not identical with genitality. There are other authentic ways to express the deepest meaning of human sexuality, which is to enter into personal union with other persons through self-giving love. It is the experience and the expression of personal, self-giving love which is the fulfillment of human sexuality, whether this expression is through physical sexual union or through a life of consecrated celibacy. To discern that one has received the charism of celibacy and to choose to accept it is not a belittling of marriage, whatever may at times have been the mistaken attitudes of certain individuals. It is not as a matter of fact to show contempt for marriage if otte recogtttzes that cottsectated celibacy ts a Christian alternative (chosen by Jesus and by St. Paul also) and that one is called to it. Whether one Christian vocation is "better" or "more perfect" than another is at best a theoretical question, the answer to which depends upon the norms one uses to establish his hierarchy of values. For the individual person, this question is always concrete, existential, and relative: "What is better for me? What am 1 called to through the gifting of the Holy Spirit to me?" The fundamental motive to live a life of consecrated celibacy is the experience through the charismatic gift of celibacy of being called to give all one's love totally and personally to Jesus Christ and to symbolize the totality of this love by foregoing the physically sexual expression of love during one's whole life. Consecrated celibacy, then, is grounded in an all-encompassing personal relationship of love with Jesus Christ, whatever other secondary values it may involve, such as mobility and freedom for apostolic service. The functional value of celibacy cannot be the fundamental reason for living it. For one thing, in certain circumstances. good functional arguments can be given for non-celibate apostles. Furthermore, merely functional motivation will be inadequate for most ~persons to live con- Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 933 secrated celibacy authentically and deeply for a lifetime. Their celibacy must be experienced as the full exercise of their love for Jesus energizing their love for all other persons. Only a celibacy which is the human expression of deep personal love for and identification with Jesus Christ, Himself a celibate for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, can bring the consecrated celibate to true growth as a mature human person who gradually experiences progressive self-fulfillment through his personal relation-ship with Jesus and his life of witness and service to mankind. He grows to authentic personal development through the experience of being like Jesus and with Jesus a "man for others," who gives away his life in love to all other men and women through his celibacy. Consecrated celibacy, then, is a sign embodied in a human life of the true meaning of all personal love which in every case, including marriage, is realized only through self-giving to the other. Consecrated celibacy also has a unique value as a striking, visible witness to mankind of the depth of the faith and hope of the People of God in the complete fulfillment of the kingdom of God when the Lord Jesus will come again and God will be all in all in the Parousia. Those who, following a charism from the Holy Spirit "bar themselves from marrying for the sake of the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 19: 12), give the same testimony of their whole lives and of all their love to belief and hope in the Paschal good news of Jesus Christ which a martyr gives through his death. Through his life-time fidelity to his commitment of love, the consecrated celibate is a living sign of the Church's belief in the irrevocable promise of God, in His eternal fidelity. The celibate's renunciation of the physical expression of love is proclamation in one human life of the Church's hearing of the word of the Lord that love will never end. Consecrated celibacy is perhaps the most telling testimony of faith in Christ's promise of everlasting life, of life after death. Men can feel that the celibate is a fool, but they must confess that the faith and hope of Christians is powerful indeed, since it can inspire men and women to such a life, to such a love of Jesus who is encountered only in faith, to such a hope in God as the Absolute Future of man. The first practical challenge to the person who feels called to the life of consecrated celibacy is to discern authentically that he truly possesses this charism, a discernment which must be confirmed by the community if his vocation is to enter a religious congregation. A charism is known by its visible effects. The presence of the charism of celibacy is discerned, therefore, by evaluating the psychological, emotional, and spiritual maturity of a person for indications that he is capable of living a life of authentic celibacy. At the beginning of such a life, it is necessarily a matter of judging the foundation within the young person for growth into a full life of consecrated celibacy. One important evidence of possessing this foundation is the fact that he has no great emotional or moral problems in living a chaste life already. It is necessary also to ascertain that his motivation for chastity is based upon a true appreciation of human sexuality at the person's level of human maturity and spiritual development and not upon fearful anxieties or false notions about sexuality. Since the fundamental motive for freely choosing to respond to the charism of celibacy is personal love for Jesus Christ, it must be discerned that the person's desire for this life is rooted in his faith experience of the person of the risen Jesus. The growth and depth and permanence of this charism depends upon the growth and depth and permanence of his personal relationship with Jesus in love, which depends upon his continuing and deepening life of prayer. Thus, he must have 934 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 initiated already an ongoing practice of profound personal prayer and be convinced of the need of continuing it and growing in it throughout his lifetime. The second practical challenge to the consecrated celibate is the authentic living out of the consequences of his commitment. Each individual must possess a realistic recognition of the necessary consequences in his concrete life style of commitment to consecrated celibacy. That is to say, he must conduct himself in his interior, personal life and in his external behavior and in his relationships with other people in a way that will guarantee constant and loyal authentic living of his celibacy. The individual exigencies of such a life style are relative to the great variety of temperaments and the psychological and physiological conditions and experiences of individual persons. Therefore, it is impossible to give more than a few very obvious general prescriptions. What is required of each person is absolute honesty with himself before God in discerning his concrete actions in here and now situations, so that he does not permit himself to behave in a way that will "chip away" at his authentic celibacy, rather than in a way that will deepen it and strengthen it. To guarantee this honesty in such a delicate area of life, true openness with a competent spiritual director is of great importance. Particularly, the celibate must be sensitive to "non-verbal" communication - the risk of sending messages to other persons which go counter to a relationship of truly celibate love, even when the verbal conversation is quite in accord with it. A truly honest person who prayerfully reflects upon the authenticity of his living of celibacy develops this sensitivity and will be aware when a relationship is beginning to be dangerous to his own celibacy or detrimental to another person. Most celibates will at times experience "falling in love" with someone. Perhaps even more often, at least after several years of authentically living celibacy, they will experience others falling in love with them, when this is not reciprocal. Here, the celibate's temptation may well be to a subtle form of seduction or manipulation of the other person because of the flattery he enjoys. Any of these situations must be confronted with the means honestly discerned as those demanded in order to maintain true celibacy and true charity. These means might range all the way from non-verbal communication, through discussing the situation with the other person, to the necessity for completely breaking off the relationship. Once more, true prayerful discernment and the help of a spiritual director are necessary to discover what actions are called for in each concrete situation. The consecrated celibate must accept the fact that in freely choosing to respond to this charism he is deciding to live the rest of his life in tension with "the couple that might have been," just as any person who makes a life commitment to a specific personal identity must live in tension with what he might have chosen to become. The "couple that might have been" may be one face or a succession of faces. At certain moments of life, this tension will be felt as a heavy burden, a true cross, especially when one wants to share a great joy or a great grief with another person in the way of sharing that can only develop within the uniquely intimate relationship of marriage. It is perhaps in moments such as these that the celibate is aware of making the least falsified act of love of God that he will make until his ultimate act of love on his owrt death bed. A third practical challenge to the consecrated celibate is to achieve true, human, affective fulfillment within his life of celibacy. Human, affective fulfillment is developed only through the self-transcending experience of love with other persons. Thus, the celibate must have truly complementary relationships of love with other human persons - celibates and non-celibates, men and women. The "incomplete- Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 935 ness" that seeks completion through self-giving love relationships with other persons is at the root of human sexuality, and the integration of sexuality into consecrated celibacy requires such complementary relationships. What is renounced by choosing to respond to the charism of celibacy is the relationship of exchtsive complementarity with one other human person, as happens in marriage. The celibate must experience the relationship of exclusive complementarity in his personal love relationship with Jesus Christ encountered in faith. This means that the celibate must have a deep pr

Issue 30.3 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 RI~VIEW Fog R~LIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63~o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3~ Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania + + + 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 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. I'ublished for Review flw Religious at Nit+ Royal & (;uilford Ave. Baltimore, Md. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage lmid at Bahimnre. Maryland and at additional mailin~ offices. Single copies: $1.2.'3. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a yeitr, Sl 1.0(} for two yeats: 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 paya-ble to REvmw vog RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent gEvmw t'og RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW EOa RELIOIOUS; P. O. Box 1110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Buildings; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Lores, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. MAY 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 3 JOHN R. SHEETS, S.J. Profile of the .Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits For various reasons the subject of what is traditionally known in Christian spirituality as discernment of spirits is coming to the fore. The literature on the subject is growing.1 Without pretending to discover something new we hope to add another point of view to the traditional way of looking at the discernment of spirits. Ordinarily the idea of discernment of spirits is con-cerned for the most part with the interior motions in the individual.2 With tbe help of prayer, purification, and spiritual direction one attempts to sift out the various movements to see what is genuinely prompted by the Holy Spirit from what is alien, in order to come to a decision in accord with the movement of the Spirit. The emphasis in discernment has been located mainly in the individual subject and with the attempt to discern the various elements at work in himself. Today, however, it seems necessary to bring out other complementary 1 See the excellent study lgnatian Discernment by John Carroll Futrell, S.J., "Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits," n. 2 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970). In the third footnote of this work there is a select bibliography of works on discernment. -" "Discernment. involves choosing the way of the light of Christ instead of the way of the darkness of the Evil One and living out the consequences of this choice through discerning what specific decisions and actions are demanded to follow Christ here and now. The diakrisis pneumatfn---discernment of spirits--is a 'sifting through' o1: interior experiences in order to determine their origin and to discover which ones are movements toward following the way of light" (Futrell, Ignatian Discernment, p. 47). j. R. Sheets, S.J., teaches in the De-partment of Theol-ogy of Marquette University in Mil-waukee, Wisconsin 53233 VOLUME .~0, 1971 363 4. 4. 1. R. Sheets, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 364 aspects in order to do justice to a wider view of man. There has to be a broader view of discernment of spirits to keep pace with a developing Christian anthropology. We would like to view discernment as the two mutually interdependent loci of an ellipse. Traditionally only one of the loci has received attention: the subject and the internal movements of his soul. This view has to be com-plemented with the other focus of ~ttention which is concerned with what is "ahead of" the subject. This takes into consideration the term of all discern-ment which is closer ~znion while not neglecting the origins of the movement. It emphasizes discernment as a way of seeing the convergence of various elements to effect greater union. It lays stress on the "Spirit-ahead" of us, calling us, rather than concentrating only on the "Spirit-behind-us," moving us from within. Further, it brings out the fact that discernment is not simply a way for one's own spiritual advancement, but that it has a larger dimension. It is the way that history becomes weighted with the power of the Spirit, the way that the Spirit inserts Himself into the movement of history, giving it a Christic orientation. Instead of what can often be simply self-analysis it pints the emphasis on the char-acteristics o~ the Holy Spirit which form a profile against which we project the incipient movements in ourselves. Discernment, therefore, is a process of seeing incipient growth of the Spirit, distinguishing this from what is in reality incipient death. It is like trying to see the face of someone at a distance. That is only possible if one is well acquainted with the "face of the Spirit" before one at-tempts to recognize Him from a distance. For this reason in the last section of what follows we have tried to sketch the main features of His face. Discernment, therefore, has to do with the pneumatic self, the spirited self. Too often, however, it is looked upon as some kind of a supernatural psychoanalysis. We approach a spiritual phenomenon with an attitude and apparatus that are unspiritual, as if we had some kind of a water witch to detect where the genuine fountains lie. We must approach the spiritual spiritually. Discernment is related to human prudence but is not identified with it. Through discernment we try to see how the Spirit-ahead is drawing things into a Christic focus. The place where all of these converge is the epiphany of the Spirit. The tighter the convergence the closer the union, and the more does the Spirit place His imprint on the self and on history. This type of discernment is not simply a good prudential judgment. It does not arise out of the data presented, though it makes use of all the data. It is a judgment which is the result of an encounter of the Holy Spirit from above with the human spirit from below. It is larger than the data though it makes use of all the data. It involves not only good sense but an affinity with the person of the Spirit and empathy with His goals. Human prudence is also a judgment about convergence, but it arises entirely from a correct assessment of the data. There is not anything in the prudential judgment which was not in some way in the data before. Prudence draws the various elements into a judgment for action by draw-ing them into a human focus. Spiritual discernment draws them into a Christic focus. The two processes of judging are related to one another in a way analogous to the re-lationship of reason to faith. This also helps us see how the Christic focus can be achieved even though, after doing all that is possible, the human focus fails. This is the mystery of Christ's Passion and Resurrection. Failure, frustration, death o1: the hu-man point of focus can be taken up into the Christic focus and result in an even greater epiphany of the Spirit. Before we attempt to draw up some norms for the dis-cernment of spirits, it will be helpful to present very briefly some preliminary ideas concerning (1) the need for discernment, (2) the difficulty, (3) the dynamics of dis-cernment, namely, the presence of the Spirit in the Christian, (4) the moments and the modalities of dis-cernment. The Need for Discernment Discernment is necessary to answer the fundamental question: Along which path does life lie, not life simply as existence, but life in greater abundance? All discern-ment is a matter of determining the path of life from the path of death: "And you are to say to this people, 'Yahweh says tiffs: Look, I now set in front of you the way of life and the way of death' " (Jr 21:8). The difficulty comes from the fact that the path of death simulates that of life. The very first temptation presented in Scripture shows the need for discernment. The life offered by God is presented as death, and the death offered by the serpent is presented as life: "You would not die at all: for God knows that the very day you eat of the tree your eyes will be opened, and you will be like gods who know good from evil" (Gn 4:5). In the Old Testament two main types of discernment are shown to be necessary: the necessity of the prophet to discern within himself what comes from God's word from his own "dream," 3 and secondly the need for the people n"The prophet who has a dream, let him tell a dream; and he who has a word, let him speak my word faithfully, says the Lord. What has the chaff in common with the wheat? says the Lord" (Jr 23:28). There ~ire many places where the prophets distinguish what comes from them and what comes from God; /or example, Am 7:2-9,15; 8:1-2; Mi 7:!-10; Is 6:5-12; 16:9-11. 4- + + Spirit's Profile VOLUME 30, 1971 365 4. 4. 4. ]. R. Sheets, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~66 to discern the false prophet from the true.4 The experi-ence of Elijah is a paradigm for the discernment of spirits. He did not find God in any of the commotions ordinarily associated with a divine epiphany, the wind, earthquake, fire, but in the gentle breeze, which was the least likely form of God's manifestation (1 Kg 19:9-13). In the New Testament there is much more stress than in the Old on the need for discernment. Christ Himself as filled with the Holy Spirit is the discerner: "And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wis-dom and understanding, a spirit of counsel and power, a spirit of knowledge and of the fear of Yahweh. (The fear of Yahweh is his breath.) He does not judge by appear-ances, he gives no verdict on hearsay." (is 11:2-3). He discerns the temptation of the evil one in the desert, the activity of the devil in Judas, and the evil hearts of those who want to kill Him (see Jn 8:33-4). He discerns His own heart as always open to the Father: "I always do what is pleasing to him" (Jn 8:29). He stressed the need for dis-cernment because there will be many who claim His own authority to speak (see Mt 24:6). John stresses the fact that spiritual phenomena in the Church have to be discerned: "But do not trust any and every spirit, nay friends; test the spirits, to see whether they are from God" (I Jn 4:1). He goes on to describe the norm for discernment: "Every spirit which acknowl-edges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, and every spirit which does not thus acknowledge Jesus is not fi-om God." The Holy Spirit speaks one word wlxich is rich in its tonality: Christ. Botl~ in lais own life and in his instructions to others Paul emphasizes the need for discernment. The point can-not be developed here, but it would be instructive to study Paul's own life as one who discerns the Spirit. Surely the advice he gave to the Galatians was lived first of all in his own life: "If the Spirit is the source of our life, let the Spirit also direct our course" (Ga 5:25).~ He insists constantly on the need for discernment in the lives of the Christians. Often he uses the word dokimazo which means to test, prove: "Try to discover what the Lord wants of you, having nothing to do with the futile works o1: darkness bnt exposing them by con-trast" (Ep 5:10-1). "Bring all to the test" (I Th 5:21). 4 This is a favorite theme in the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, aud Ezekiel. See, for example, Is 28:7-13; 29:15-24; 56:9-12; 57:1-5; Jr 5:4,31; Ez 13; La 2:14; Ho 4:5; Dt 13:2-3. ~Paul sees his own conscience as cooperating with the Holy Spirit in forming his judgment: "I am speaking the truth as a Christian, and my own conscience, enlightened by the Holy Spirit, assures mc it is no lic: in my own heart there is great grief and unceasing sorrow" (Rm 9:1). The word he uses is "co-witnessing." "Put yourselves to the test" (2 Co 13:5). "A man must ~est himself before eating his share of the bread and drinking from the cup" (1 Co 1'1:28). There is a very special gift of discernment which belongs to the charismatic mani-festations of the Spirit: "There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit. and another the ability to distinguish true spirits from false" (1 Co 12:4-10). This is the gift o[ discerning whether the spirits are truly spiritual, or evil. Finally he stresses the need for discernment in order to preserve the purity of the Gospel message: "The Spii-it says expressly that in after times some will desert from the faith and give their minds to subversive doctrines inspired by devils." (1 Tm 4:1). Paul sees that it is the evil spirits who are ultimately responsible for the defec-tions from the truth of the Gospel (see 2 Th 2:9-11; 2 Co 2:11). The same idea is brought out when Peter speaks of the fact that there will be false prophets among Christians just as there were among the people of Israel: "But Israel had false prophets as well as true; and you likewise will have false teachers among you" (2 P 2:1). The Scripture, therefore, in both the Old and New Testaments, shows the importance of discernment in two ways: first of all, by showing the practice of discernment in those who bring to ns the word of God (the prophets, Paul, John, Peter, and in an eminent way in Christ Him-self); and secondly by showing the need ~or discernment corresponding to three different ways in which the Spirit acts: through discerning His will for us in our personal lives, through discerning the true Gospel from the false, and through discerning a genuine charism from what is inauthentic. The Di[ficulty oI Discernment Experience shows us that it is no~ easy to discern the spirits. This is the lesson we read in Scripture, in history, and in our own personal lives. This could be developed at length. For the present, however, we would like to comment briefly on the three main sources o[ the dif-ficulty: from the term to which the Spirit is moving, from the sell, and from the circumstances. The term of all activity of the Spirit is toward greater union with Christ and through this toward union with one another. When the union which is aimed at is more personal, it is also more delicate and fragile. In love relationships the bond has more of invitation and less of physical force or compulsion, more freedom, less entrap-ment, more speaking through silence rather than through words, more awareness throngh mutnal attunement than through external signs. This is the first source of the dif- 4- 4" + Spirit's Profile VOLUME 30, 1971 367. ÷ ÷ ÷ 1. R. Sheets, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ficulty of discernment. We are trying to pick up signals that are invitations to a union that is deeper. The second difficulty comes from the self. Before one can discern, he has to be discerned. He has to allow the Word of God to discern him. He must be purified by the coal from the altar of God's holiness. Religious discern-ment is not simply a matter of finding out right answers, as one does in mathematics; nor is it simply a matter of depth analysis practiced in psychology. Discernment im-plies the docility of heart which is the same as purity of heart. What is being discerned is not simply a truth as an abstraction, but a love-truth. For this reason discern-ment involves not simply knowledge but identification with the truth, and a desire for progressive assimilation. The Holy Spirit is the ~absorbing Spirit. To discern one has to open himself to allow death to be swallowed by life. The difficulty of discernment, therefore, comes from the human heart itself: "The heart is treacherous above all things, and desperately sick--who can understand it?" (Jr 17:9). We are all aware of the proclivity of the hu-man heart to rationalize any position, to overlook what-ever might direct our eyes to the truth, to adapt the truth to ourselves, rather than to adapt ourselves to the truth. The third source of difficulty of discernment comes from the circumstances. Sometimes the issue is so com-plicated that even presupposing openness to the Spirit and purity of heart it is not easy to see where greater union lies. An obvious case is that of discerning one's vo-cation. After one has taken all of the steps necessary, with the proper consultation, he has to let his net down into the unknown with trust in the Spirit who is drawing him. In describing the music of Beethoven someone wrote that when you hear it you have the feeling that the one particular note just had to follow the other, that it was, so to speak, made in heaven. No other note would have fitted the "logic of beauty." This remark about music can easily be applied to the discernment of the note of the Spirit that simply "has to" follow. It is not easy to discern it, but it does follow a sequence that is the "logic of the Spirit." If one is attuned to the Spirit he has a sense for the "logic of the Spirit." The Dynamics of Discernment: The Presence of the Spirit in the Christian We have to recover the New Testament sense of the role of the Spirit in Cltristian life. What the soul of man is to his natural life, the Spirit is to Christian life. The Spirit is the source, guide, atmosphere, tone, pattern of Christian life. Once again we have to content ourselves in the interests of economy of space to some brief allusions to this im-portant truth without developing it at length. The gift of the Spirit sums up the whole purpose of the Messiah's coming (Jn 1:33). The Gospel of St. John stresses the fact that through Christ's passion, death, resur-rection His own body becomes the source for the Spirit. Paul emphasizes the new life of the Christian, with the new dynamics of the Holy Spirit: "The love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given us" (Rm 5:5). The whole of Romans 8 is a description of the new spiritual order of man as contrasted with his old, unspiritual self: "So then, my brothers, there is no necessity for us to obey our unspiritnal selves or to live unspiritual lives" (Rm 8:12). The Spirit we have re-ceived has made us sons (Rm 8:15). He has revealed to our spirit the deep things of God (1 Co 2:10-1). His presence is the proof of what we cannot see, that we are sons of God (Gal 4:6-7). Through him we are renewed (Tt 3:5-6).6 It is important, therefore, to recognize the encompass-ing role of the Spirit. In discerning we are not only trying to discern the presence of the Spirit, but the very process of discerning is from-with-in-by-through the Spirit. It is Spirit as possessed and possessing attempting to discern "Spirit on the way," the movement toward greater and greater union. The Moments and Modalities of Discernment Finally, before taking up the norms for discernment, we want to say a word about the moments and modalities of discernment. By moments we mean the qualities that distinguish in importance different periods of time, either by reason of special gifts of the Spirit or special decisions to be made. Modalities of discernment refer to the various ways in which the spirits are discerned. Not every human moment is a divine moment. Sacred history teaches us that there are certain moments which are kairoi, special moments of grace, where history re-ceives a special impetus of the Spirit. This is true in one's personal life as well as the life of the Church. These are moments of special invitations by the Spirit, of special response, and of special discernment. Further there is a modality of discernment which be-longs to the ordinary day-to-day living of our lives and one which belongs to special occasions. In the ordinary more or less routine events that make up our workaday world, discernment is not conscious or reflective but takes place through the vital dialogue between our new self as OThe Jerusalem Bible in footnote, Rm 5:5, gives an extensive series of references to the doctrine of the Holy Spirit in the New Testament. ,4- 4- 4- Spirit's Profile VOLUME 30, 1971 369 graced through the Spirit and the circumstances of our lives. The habitual "spiritual set" that comes from the Spirit equips a person with an instinct for the Spirit and spiritual values. On other occasions discernment is conscious, reflective, prolonged, methodical. The rules given by St. Ignatius are among the best known help in this process of con-scious discernment. Under modalities of discernment we could also in-clude personal and group discernment. Personal discern-ment takes place in dialogue with God, the self-as-graced, and the circnmstances. Group discernment adds the social dimension. It can be imagined as a pyramid. Those in-volved have a common base, the dialogue is with God, one another, and the circumstances, searching for the point where all of these converge into the greatest union possible. The main examples of group discernment are the general councils of the Church (see the Council of Jerusalem, Acts 15:28: "It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and our decision"). Other groups with a common bond and goal can engage in discernment. This is differ-ent from group, discussion because it takes place in a whole new order with conscious and constant reference to the communion with God and with one anotl~er in the Spirit. We have spoken of theneed of discernment, especially as this is brought home to us through Scripture, the various difficulties in discernment, the dynamics of dis-cernment which come with a new existence in the Spirit, and the moments and modalities of discernment. With these thoughts as a background we would like to give some norms for the discernment of the presence of the Holy Spirit. They are not expected to be some kind of a handy kit for spiritual discernment. They are an attempt to present a profile of the Spirit so that we can recognize Him when we see Him. We cannot be expected to recog-nize, Him in our inner selves unless we have some idea of what He looks like in Himself. We have taken thirteen characteristics as a help to discernment basing them on the nature of the Spirit Himself. Some Norms for Discernment I. The first norm comes from the fact that the Spirit is ÷ the Holy Spirit. He is the consecrating Spirit, drawing ÷ men and the world into the orbit of God's own life.~ ÷ Holiness is one of those rich words which defies ade-quate description. It means that one's life is inauthentic, ~. R. Sheets, S,]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~ The theme of the consecration of Christians is a common one in the New Testament. For example, Rm 15:16, where Paul speaks of his ministry as a life of consecration; 1 Co 6:11; 2 Th 2:13; Rm 8:1-13; 1 Jn 3:7,8; 1 P 2:5. no matter how good a person is, unless it is authenticized with the special life of God, that is, unless the ways of God are incarnated in the ways of man, so that man is not simply made to the image and likeness of God through creation, but is shaped to the inner life of God by be-coming the incarnation of God's ways, that is, His holiness. The sense of consecration has the concomitant feature of bringing an awareness of the desecration in our lives, a sense of sin: "He will confute the world, and show where wrong and right and judgment lie" (Jn 16:8). For this reason, the Holy Spirit will~ never be the in-spirit, the spirit of the times. Though He is the comforting Spirit, he will never be the comfort~ible Spirit. He has to il-lumine darkness, and men do not want their deeds il-lumined. Augustine's remark i~s perennially true: "They love the truth when it enlight,ens; they hate it when it reproves; they love it when it reveals its own self, and they hate it when it reveals themselves." The first rule for discernment, then, is this: Does it bring a greater sense of consecration, an integration of life through holiness, and at tl~e same time the need for purification, the sense of our distance from God? 2. The second norm is dra~n from the fact that the Holy Spirit is Spirit. Everything produces its own likeness as far as possible. The Holy Spirit by His very nature spiritualizes. It is difficult to appreciate what spirit and spiritualiza-tion mean not only because of the depth-nature of spirit, but also because of the false im'pression most people have of spirit. For many spirit means non-human, or less than human, unreal, foreign to the world of man. ~In the Scrip-ture, however, spirit connotes p',ower that is creative, over-powering, sustaining, surprisirfg, inspiring, gentle in its force, but forceful in gentleness' (see Elijah, 1 Kg 19). The spirit puts life into the dry bones of humanity: "I shall put my spirit in you and you shall live" (Ez 37:1). How does an act that is me~'ely human become spiri-tual? It becomes enveloped with, impregnated with a new life. St. Paul describes in detail the spiritual life of the Christian (Rm 8:lff): "The unspiritual are interested only in what is unspiritual, but the spiritual are inter-ested in spiritual things. It is death to limit oneself to what is unspiritual; life and peace can only come with concern for the spiritual" (Rm 8:5,6).s This provides us with the second norm for discerning the presence of the Spirit: is an act more spiritual, that is, does it bear the imprint of the Spirit? This is the same Sin the footnote to Rm 1:9 the Jerusalem Bible presents an extensive list of references to the word "Spirit" in the New Testament both as it pertains to man's spirit and to God's Spirit. + + ÷ Spirit's Profile VOLUME 30, 371 4, 4, 4, I. R. Sheets, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS paradoxically enough as asking: Is the act more human, because it is the nature of Spirit through His creative power to make things more what they should be by draw-lng them into a new source of authenticity. A spiritual act bears the mark of the new creation. On the contrary, an act that is unspiritual is one that bears the marks of death, inversion, self-centeredness. Admittedly it is diffi-cult to apply this norm in some sort of an empirical fashion. It is a norm which only a spiritual person can apply because he alone can pick up the signals of spiri-tuality. 3. The third norm comes from the fact that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth: "If you love me you will keep my commandments, and I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever, the Spirit of Truth, whom the world can never receive since it neither sees nor knows him" (Jn 14:15-17). It is not easy to express all of the nuances in the Scrip-tural word "trnth." We often equate it with a mental category. In Scripture, however, it describes a way of being, or more explicitly, a way of living. It is being-faithful or living faithfully. In God's providence there are four notes that make np the one chord of fidelity: first of all, God's faithfulness to Himself or to His promise, which incarnates itself in Christ who is the manifestation of the Father's fidelity, whose fidelity in turn is poured out among men through the Spirit, who is the Spirit of Fidelity, who in turn creates the Church, which is de-scribed as the "pillar and foundation of the truth" (1 Tm 3:15). Fidelity is a way of being where one's being and acting are shaped by a relationship to a person. The real, the unsubjective, what is there, is allowed to shape one's choices. Fidelity means that the past-self is not a matter of memory but is the present-self. It is the way past identity shapes present and future identity. In philosophy being is the highest expression of what existence means. In Christianity fidelity is the highest expression of the real. In the discernment of spirits it is important to look for the note of fidelity, the degree to which we allow the word of God and His will to shape each moment of our lives, the extent to which we allow the Church as the pillar and foundation of fidelity to mediate to us God's word and will. As a negative norm for discernment any act is to be rejected which makes us less faithful, which loses the sense of the absolute, reducing everything to what is relative, seeing truth in terms only of opinions like conservative, liberal and so forth, embodying an at-titnde which sees truth only from a subjective point of view--all of these are signs that point out the spirit of infidelity, "in whom there is not truth" (Jn 8:44). The Spirit of Fidelity leaves his own stamp of fidelity. 4. In the fourth place, the Spirit of Christ is the eschatological Spirit. He is the Spirit of the Christ-who-has- come and the Christ-who-is-to-come. He is the per-sonal tension of that which is already done in Christ and that which is yet to be done in His members. His whole purpose is to pour forth the gifts that are in Christ: "Ascending on high he gave gifts to men" (Ep 4:8). The Spirit as eschatological gift is the Spirit of Per-spective. He gives us the vision of the relationship be-tween the past event in Christ, our present living out of this event, and' the future fulfillment. He gives, then, a sense of the direction of time and its relationship to eternity, of this world to the next, a sense of what is simply means and what is goal. This serves as a norm for discernment of spirits. Is there a sense of value of eternal life over temporal life, of what is permanent over the transient, of the presence of Christ as .the absolute over the relative, of awareness of the overplus of meaning over non-meaning, of direction over drift in history? Negatively, is there a loss of perspective? Are means made into ends? Is eternal life seen as the climax of love or as an abstraction? It must be confessed that eternal life does not play too large a part in our contemporary mentality. We are like people .who keep throwing life jackets to pull those who are drowning into a sinking ship. 5. In the fifth place, the Spirit of Christ is the Spirit who creates the Christian community. The various terms used for the Church in the New Testament bring out the aspect of community: one body with many members, family, people of God, temple, vineyard, city, spouse. The Holy Spirit creates community by creating unity: "Do all you can to preserve the unity of the Spirit by the peace that binds you together. There is one Body, one Spirit, just as you were called into one and the same hope when you were called" (Ep 4:3). The unity of the Church is not based on common interests, bonds of blood, or even a common goal. The bond is the Spirit who draws the members together through their faith, which is the this-side expressio.n of the inner union of the Spirit with the Father and the Son. This serves as a help to discern the spirits. Does an action tighten the bonds of unity in the community? Negatively, does it bring about division and fragmenta-tion? 6. In the sixth place, the Spirit of Christ is the Spirit of the Word made flesh. He is the sacramental Spirit, the incarnating Spirit, the "material" Spirit. Proceeding from 4- Spirit's Profile VOLUME 30, 373 + + J. R. Shee~s~ $4. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 374 the flesh of Christ He draws all flesh into the flesh of Christ: "On the last day and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood there and cried out: 'If any man is thirsty, let him come to me. Let the man come and drink who believes in me.' As Scripture says: 'From his breast shall flow fountains of living water.' He was speaking of the Spirit which those who believed in him were to receive; for there was no Spirit as yet because Jesus had not yet been glorified" (Jn 7:37-9). Here we see the importance not only of the sacraments formally so called, which in reality are points of Christic concentration, vortices drawing men into°Christ, bnt the drawing presence of the Spirit through all that is material --other people, circumstances, the sacramentals of the Church. In this connection we cannot emphasize enough the importance of sign and symbol as vehicles of the Spirit. The Spirit is a hungry, thirsty Spirit. He draws men through every pore of matter into the flesh of Christ. As a norm, then, to discern the presence of the Holy Spirit we should see to what extent His sacramentalizing presence is brought OUt. Negatively, the Spirit is absent where there is a tendency towards desacramentalizing, a false depreciation of matter, or a false internalization that devalues the drawing power of sign and symbol. 7. The Spirit of Christ is the Family Spirit. The same Spirit of Christ animates Christians of all centuries, cre-ating a kindred Spirit. He creates a basic identity that transcends differences of culture, philosophy, manners, and customs. The Christian is at home with the prophets of the Old Testament, the Apostles of the New, the fathers of East and ¼Zest, and so on through history. As a norm for discernment of spirits it is helpful to ask to what extent some mode of action bears the marks of the kindred Spirit. 8. The Holy Spirit is the charismatic Spiri[. There are two ways in which He distributes His gifts: to the person for the social, and to the social for the person. He gives His gifts to individuals to build up the Church for the person. He gives His gifts to individuals to build up the Church, and gifts to the Church to sanctify persons. He is the author of both types of charism: institutionalized charism, which is the Church, with the special role of the pope and the college of bishops; and the personal charism, given to an individual for the whole Body. It is a sign of the presence of the Spirit where there is due respect for both modes of the Spirit's charismatic presence. Negatively, any spirit which puts these gifts in opposition is not the Holy Spirit. 9. The Spirit of Christ is the Spirit who opens ns to the will of the Father: "He will not speak on his own authority, but will tell only what he hears" (Jn 16:14). The Spirit is "all ears" for the will of the Father. He tries to open our ears to hear His voice. Paul makes this one of his main concerns, that the Christian seek the will of God (Ep 5:17; Col 1:9; 4:12; Ph !:9; 2:13). This acts as a norm of discernment: the extent to which we are concerned with the discovery and the living out of God's will. 10. The Spirit of Christ is the Liberating Spirit: "Now the Lord of whom this passage speaks is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty" (2 Co 3:17; see Rm 8:1-13). Much has been written about freedom. Unfortunately we have to limit ourselves to a few observa-tions. Freedom is that mysterious power at the heart of a person by which one can open oneself to other selves. It is a power of excentration, bv which the self is given, and other selves are received. It is the way in which life be-comes a sharing of persons, not simply a sharing of things. Christian freedom is a share in Christ's own free-dora through His Spirit, a power to open oneself to the Self of the Father and the Son, and to love others as Christ Himself has loved. It is a sign of the Spirit's presence where there is genuine growth in freedom, which manifests itself in a greater sense of responsibility to the Father and to others. 11. The spirit is the Spirit o[ Christ. His whole work is to reproduce the image of Christ (2 Co 3:17if). If some-thing leads to a greater awareness of Christ, then it comes from the Spirit of Christ. 12. The Spirit of Christ is the Organic Spirit. He is the Spirit who creates nnity through variety. He is the Spirit who gives not only His gifts, but shares His own power to give: "There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit" (1 Co 12:4). There are two ways to destroy an organic unity, either through dismemberment, or by reduction of differences to make one homogeneous mass. The true Spirit is present where there is respect for the distinctiveness ot~ His gifts and their complementarity. The evil spirit destroys either by dividing or by reducing everything to an nndiffer-entiated mass. 13. Finally, the Holy Spirit is present where he pro-duces the symphony of His life in dae Christian: "What the Spirit brings is very different: love, joy, peace, pa-tience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and selLcontrol" (Gal 5:22). This is another way of saying that He creates the image of Christ. The Spirit is present to the extent that a spiritual harmony is found in one's life. + ÷ ÷ Spirit's Protile VOLUME 30, 1971 375 Conclusion We have perhaps attempted to cover too much in such limited space. Each one of the topics touched on could be expanded indefinitely. We have tried to stress the follow-ing points. We need to see the Spirit not only as working in us and behind our actions, but as the Spirit ahead of us, drawing our lives into a Christic convergence. We have to discern the movements of the Spirit not only from the be-ginnings but from the term. Besides seeing discernment as a means for greater personal union, we have to see it as the way in which history becomes freighted with the Spirit. We stressed the role of the Spirit Himseff in our process of discernment, and familiarity with His personal characteristics in order that we might more readily recog-nize His operations. In this way we can be "transfigured into his likeness, from splendor to splendor. Such is the influence of the Lord who is Spirit" (2 Co 3:18). 4. 4. I. R. Sheets, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS EDWARD J. FARRELL Fraternity and Review of Life For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them (Mt 18:20). ! am longing to see you: I want to bring you some spiritual strength, and that will mean that I shall be strengthened by you, each of us helped by the other's faith (Rm 1 : 11). Your mind must be renewed by a spiritual revolution . You must speak the truth to one another, since we are all parts of one another . let your words be for the improvement of others as occasion offers, and do good to your listeners (Eph 4: 23-9). Let the message of Christ, in all its richness, find a home with you. Teach each other, and advise each other in all wisdom (Col 3: 16). Some years ago, Romano Guardini expressed his con-viction that a basic cause for diminishing faith is our inability or unwillingness to share our faith experiences with one another. Without this sharing, he believed in-dividual faith is weakened. Fifty years later, in the midst of our present theological traumas, a spiritual evolution is happening in the emergence of small-group faith com-munities which I describe as fraternities. What Is a Fraternity? A fraternity is as new and as ancient as this morning's liturgy. It is the fundamental Christian experience. The first fraternity was that begun by Christ in his calling together the Twelve. The fellowship and brotherhood (koinonia) of the early Christian communities were a fraternity experience. Today's fraternity continnes that pattern. A group comes together tO pray, to listen to the word, to share, to be responsible for one another and to one another. Its members celebrate both the present mys-tery of their life in Christ and Christ's life in and through them in the world. In a deep sense, the fraternity lives out the Eucharist in the actuality of the ordinary of life. Openness to Christ in the presence of one another de-velops a givenness to each other. This experience embodies -I- '4- Edward J. Farrell is a s~aff member of Sacred Heart Semi-nary; 2701 Chicago Boulevard; Detroit, Michigan 48206. VOLUME 30, 377 ÷ E. 1. Farrell REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 378 the true meaning of co-responsibility, and this co-respon-sibility nourishes the grace and charism given to each for the service of all. Through a fraternity one grows in the capacity to see more and more in the light of faith and to draw and call each other to a more complete response to the Father. Fraternity is, simply stated, the actualizing and living out our love for one another through the recognized presence of Jesus in our midst. Why Fraternity? We are caught in a time of great changes in which familiar ctdtural patterns, customs, structures, and guide-lines have been swept away. "Crisis" is on everyone's tongue--crisis in faith, crisis in education, crisis in cities, crisis in marriage. "Crisis" is a good Greek word meaning and signifying judgment, discernment, decision. In that sense, life is a crisis! Because we are free, the human condition will always be in crisis. We are always in proc-ess of growth and development and its dialectic, canght in "overchoice" and "alternate eternities." We are polarized between anonymity and community; alienation and over- .involvement; loneliness and people-suffocation. In the paradox of our life today we need commnnity, perhaps more intense community than ever. We need privacy, a solitude richer than we have ever experienced. Yet too much community stifles and depersonalizes; too much solitude begets a barren and sterile loneliness and alienation. Change generates new perceptions and fresh needs emerge. There are new levels of self-awareness, per-sonal consciousness, the quest for inner freedom, for self-determination, resistance to authority, structnres, systems. Personal relationships have displaced rules. The people yon choose to be with become themselves the structure. In times of transition and instability human institu-tions contract to basic and primary units. There is too great a gap between the large community and close friend-ship and it is into this vacuum that fraternity has moved. It neither displaces or is a substitute for either because both are necessary. Rather it is a response to a new need, a new life situation not previously known. Value of Fraternity A fraternity offers an adult experience of a family. When we were young we could not wait to move out from onr families, and then we spend the rest of our lives seeking and developing a family of friends. This family of friends, a wall of friends, is a need, a human universal which no one ever outgrows. This is not only a human need but a personal right guaranteed by the essence of the Christian experience. Fraternity is built upon the truth that we need an inner commnnity of friends. This faith commtmity is essentially for balance, for matttrity, for continuing growth. In this family of friends one can be wholly himself, loved not io mt~ch, of cottrse, for what he does, but simply that he is. Fraternity is built npon the truth that Christ willed men to be saved by men. We need one another; In fra-ternity we make onr life in Christ visible before our brothers, asking them to hold ns faithful to our call and to our grace. Perhaps the great weakness in ot~r faith life is that it remains too invisible, known only to God in that vertical I-Thou relationship. Fraternity enables that vertical relationship to touch the horizontal life where Christ must be made visible. In nay own experience, the first effect of fraternity is to help me in fidelity. "How often have I seen myself in a mirror and walked away, forgetting what manner of man I am." The common sin of good religious is non-response to grace. It is not a matter of being bad priests or sisters, but it is plateat~ing year after year in a slowly contract-ing self-gravitational orbit. The grace of fraternity is to enable one to break out of that orbit and to be given that thrust which is impossible to attain alone. Size o[ Fraternity The size of a fraternity is conditioned by the psycho-logical limits of relationship. No one can relate deeply to twenty people at the same time. The group range is generally from eight to twelve persons. There may be several fraternities in the same honse. There is no com-pnlsion to belong. Fraternity does not mean a clique. It stands rather for inclt~siveness not for exchlsion. There can be both diversity and spirit of t, nity. Everyone will benefit; those not in a fraternity will belong by affinity. Growth in Fraternity Week after week one becomes aware of the effort an-other is making and the prayer he is living. Each one sees another in his strnggle and becomes aware that when he fails he is in some way allowing the others to fail. No one's faith can be lived in isolation. What one does af-fects all. Fraternity brings home with unassailable impact that we are brothers and are entrusted with ultimate responsibility for each other. I deeply know that as I go, so they go; as they go, so go I. Growth in ,'i faith com-munity is growing together in Christ through one an-other. Review o~ Life The dynamic of a fraternity is called a review of life. Every fraternity meeting is like the meeting on the road to Emmaus. Like the disciples we are "deep in conversa-÷ 4. 4. Fraternity VOLUME .30, 1971 379 4. 4. 4. E. .J. Farrell REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 380 tion about everything that has happened. And while they were absorbed in their serious talk and discussion, Jesus himself approached and walked along with them." Like the disciples, "the Scriptures are made plain to us" and "all that has happened" takes its right place in God's plan. "Our eyes are opened and we recognize Jesus walk-ing beside us, when he broke bread." The review of life rests on one fundamental fact: God acts through the events or at least through certain events and experiences of our life to become present to us, to manifest His love and bring us to renew and deepen our union with Him. The review of life helps us to discover the presence of Jesus and His expectations of us in all the aspects of our life. It develops our fraternal openness and brings us to a more total giving of ourselves to God. Each member becomes the responsibility of the others. It forms in us the habit of seeing everything in the light of faith and draws us to a fuller response to the will of our Father. The review of life is the reading of our weekly experi-ences in the light of the word of God. The quality of our review of life will be in real dependence on the qual-ity of our life of prayer and our familiarity with the word of God. The review of life is not an examination of conscience. It is essentially an effort to look together at our life and to what Jesns is calling us. We are tanght by our daily events and experiences if we "review" them with faith. This is why the review of life must start from precise facts drawn from our actual (lay and week. The review of life must not be thought of as just an external review of some of our duties. It must be past the state of simple exchange of ideas and must be situated at it deeper level. We must be convinced that we need the help of onr fraternity with each other even in the matter of our interior fidelity to Jesus. We cannot go alone to Him. The review of life is a searching together to discover in the light of the word of God the presence of Jesus in the facts and experiences of our daily life. The review of life is a new spiritual exercise, a way of prayer, a means of reading Scriptnre. It calls for discern-ing of spirits, it demands a re-vision of life. It is not so much an examination of conscience as it is a daily enter-ing into a fuller consciousness of Christ's presence in our life through His Word in Scripture and His Word re-fracted in the people and experiences of each day. The fraternity review of life is preceded by an hour of prayer during which each member reviews his own week or month in order to recognize how Christ has acted in him and how he has responded. Each prays for discern- ment to speak and to listen to Christ in the presence of one another. Usually it is difficult to recognize a fact of one's life, accustomed as we are to speak of ideas and thoughts and opinions. We are used to speaking in terms of "they," and "we," and "you." In contrast, the review of life is in the first person singular, forcing one to confront the facts and habits of one's daily life. One can always be more objective about others than about oneself. The review of life comes no more easily than deep self-knowledge. It is a slow and stumbling process with no step-by-step guide. In every review of life, every fra-ternity is the uniqueness of its members. Life growth and personal growth are rarely obvious. In" Patd's Epistles we can discover how often they become a review of life. Dynamics of the Review As a general rule, a review of life begins with each one expressing a particular fact of one's week: "I feel I have been neglecting personal prayer." "I'm avoiding this per-son." "I have a new understanding of forgiveness through this happening this week." Or one might ask a question: "What made this week for yon? . What do you feel you are to share? . What of your week brought a new light on"the Gospel or what demands were made on you?" "What decisions are you facing? . How are yon following throngla on your commitments?" In these ways, we come to each other with our needs, sharing our bread and ask-ing for bread. We gradually come to ask one another: "Teach me your prayer, your fidelity, your poverty, your love." "Share with me your Jesus." In some meetings there might not beany clear experience or grace to share at any one particular review of life. One might not be ready to express what is developing or happening. No one is to feel any pressure to share. No one responds to what another has said except at the invitation of that person. In essence, then, a review of life is primarily a prayer experience, an experience of Jesus and of oneself before Him and in Him. As we have said, no fraternity with one another is possible unless it is rooted in fraternity with Jesus. 0nly through His presence can we enter into deeper presence of one another. In the review, we ask Jesus to help us to discern His presence in ns, to reveal what He is calling us to and how to share Him with the fraternity. New levels of faith and charity emerge. A new sense of His presence is recognized in the way others ex-press what it is for them to be with Jesus. One learns to discern what the Word is saying in this situation and to be sensitive to the Word. Since fraternity means rever-ence, a deep reverence for the mystery and secret that an-÷ ÷ ÷ Fraternity VOLUME 30, 1971 381 + .I. + E. J. Farreli REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 389 other person is and who it is that is at work in each; psy-chological or moralistic probing has no place.in the re-view of life. Each person is respected for the inner rhythm of this life in the Spirit. No one may decide: "This is the hour. Now is the moment of grace," or "I have the an-swer to your problena." Although we are called to be min-isters of grace to each other, it cannot come precipitonsly, brashly, or insensitively, it is a beautifnl experience to watch the unfolding of the unknown grace in each other as we search together to li~,e our life according to the gospel. It is important to "call" one another, to hear an-other's expectation of me and for them to hear my ex-pectation of them, their need of nle and mine of them. In many ways the fraternity review of life is a living out, an actualization of the sacramental reality of the Eucharist and penance. The effects of the Eucharist is to bond us to one another to enable us to hear Jesus deep within us always uttering His transforming words over each person in every situation of our life: "This is nay body; This is my blood." The presence of Jesus in ns makes us "an altogether new creature" (Gal 6:16). He enables us in a new way to relate to others. His presence enables us to experience a new presence in others ". that each part may be equally concerned for all the others. If one part is hurt, all parts are hurt with it. If one part is given special honor, all parts enjoy it. Now you together are Christ's body; but each of you is a different part of it" (1 Cor 12:26-7). "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, every joint adding its own strength, for each separate part to work accord-ing to its function. So the body grows until it has built itself up, in love" (Eph 4: 15-6). Eucharist, the fraternity with Jesus, creates our capac-ity for fraternity with one another. He alone can free us from our inability to love as He loves ns. Fraternity is the environment for penance, the sacrament o~ reconcil-iation, to reach a new fullness. For so long a time Encha-fist and penance have been contracted to the private individual sphere of I and Thou. So little of these sacra-ments is corporately and communally experienced. These sacraments give us power but rarely do we find an en-vironment to actualize His grace in us for others. Many have left religious life and the priesthood not so much because they have been hurt by the community hut be-cause they have not been healed. The hungry continue to be sent away empty. Fraternity means healing, it is for giving--forgiving. We discover that we have a power in Christ to forgive sin, the offense against us. It is a real power, just as we have the power to bless, because of the reality of Christ's presence in us. We have real power even though it is not the sacerdotal power of absolution, a forgiveness through the power of understanding and compassion. We are peacemakers and joybringers because we express visibly Christ's p(rson and Christ's forgiveness in love. Fraternity and review of life is a risk. It is as dangerous as prayer--one never knows where He will lead. Fra-ternity and review of life are contemporary ways of re-sponding to His Word: "By tliis love you have for one another, everyone will know that you are my disciples" (Jo 13:15). His words of judgment cannot but haunt us: "1 know all about you: how you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were one or the other, but since you are neither, but only lukewarm, I will spit you out of my mouth . I am the one who reproves and disciplines all those he loves: so repent in real earnest. Look, I am standing at the door, knocking. If one of you hears me calling and opens the door, I will come in to share his meal side by side with him . If anyone has ears to hear, let him listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches!" (Rev 3:15-22). Fraternity VOLUME 30, 197! 383 PAUL M. BOYLE, C.P. Small Community Experiences ÷ ÷ Paul Boyle, C.P., president of the Conference of Ma-jor Superiors of Men, lives at 5700 North Harlem Ave-nue; Chicago, Illi-nois 60631. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 384 As part of the renewal process initiated by the recent Vatican Council many religious institutes are trying new styles of communal life. It is difficult to characterize these new approaches to life in community. They have received a variety of names in various institutes, such as Experi-mental Communities, Small Community Living, Apart-ment- Style Living, Yet none of these denominations des-ignates those elements which are common to the new approaches. The word "small" comes closest, perhaps, but it is a very relative term. Whatever their common characteristics, it is clear that these new approaches to community living are wide-spread. The Conference of Major Superiors of Religious Men (CMSM) thought it would be well to ~valuate some of these endeavors. A series of six workshops was arranged in different parts of the country. About 30 major superi-ors were invited to each workshop, half men and half women, plus ten resource persons. Generally between 30 and 35 persons participated in each workshop. Many of the major superiors invited had personally participated in these small community experiences. Prior to each workshop the participants received papers describing, very briefly, one new approach to community living in each of the religious institutes represented. Some of these endeavors had already ended in failure. Others were floundering. Some were flourishing. Originally the workshops were entitled "Experiments in Small Community Living." However, the word "exper-iment" was quickly dropped both because it was mislead-ing and because it was apparent that small communities were here to stay. They were no longer considered an experiment, even though the particular mode or style in which this specific small group expressed itself was open to revision. The small size of communities was not precisely the point of consideration either. The participants were stud- ying a significantly new style of community life in small groups. Any common characteristics or integral elements constitutive of this new style could best be learned from the observable data at band. Eventnally the workshop members drew the conclusion that much more than a new style of life was under consideration. It was a differ-ent Christian culture, a different spirituality. The two styles of life in religious communities were expressive of two divergent views of the Christian life. The workshops made no effort to propose specnlative solutions. The approach was an entirely existential one. Current projects on new styles of small community living were studied and discnssed. Information was exchanged and experiences were studied and analyzed. Certain ten-tative conclusions seemed to emerge. Through the days of the workshop the participants attempted to discover common elements in these various efforts. When experiments failed, were there any recur-ring components which contribnted to this lack of suc-cess? Could we discover any factors which angnred well for the success of an endeavor? Where these projects have perdured, have they made any significant contribution to religious life? The workshops were, in other words, attempting to do three things: 1. Evaluate the sti'engths and weaknesses of current programs in small community living. 2. Discover any features to foster in attempting future projects. 3. Discover any features to avoid in initiating further such efforts. As a resnlt of this sharing it was felt there may be some nseful information instructive for the planning phases in preparation for such projects. Obviously an evalnation demands some basis of com-parison. Generally speaking these assumptions were not clearly articulated although they can be gleaned from the discussions. One assumption was clearly stated. Groups which have separated from their religious institute were considere'd failures in respect to their forming a vital part of the parent organization. Hence there was no effort in the sessions to study subseqnent developments within such groups. Indeed it seems that few of them survived their separation from the parent religions organization. It might be well to indicate, briefly, the other norms nsed for evaluation. As mentioned, these were not explic-itly enumerated bnt they were the recurring points under consideration. + 4- 4- Small Communities 1. Personal maturity. Does this style of life promote growth in VOLUME 30, 1971 maturity? 2. Interpersonal relationships. Are the personal relationships 385 "4- "4- ,4. Paul Boyle REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 386 supportive in these communities? Are there clear manifesta-tions of love, trust, and respect? 3. Evangelical counsels. Does this project provide a believable manner of living out one's commitment ;to the evangelical cou nsels? 4. Prayer. Does the individual and communal witness to a life of prayer deepen in communities free to determine their own norms and forms for prayer? 5. Fiscal responsibility. Do such practices as community plan-ning of communal budgets and personal management of funds contribute to fiscal responsibility? 6. Apostolate. Is apostolic ;~ctivity fostered by these renewal efforts? 7. Corporate commitment. Do the individuals and groups find their interest in the larger parent organization is strength-ened or, perhaps, attenuated? Possibly because a nmnber of the superiors ltad been through some very painful experiences, the sessions began by considering the negative aspects of these new styles of life. Then the group brainstormed the positive values of these small groups. Positive and negative elements were then gathered into areas of similarity and discussed at length. Negative Aspects The participants were painfully aware of a host of problems connected with these new approaches to com- ~non life. A number of the areas, however, were quickly seen to be tensions common to other forms of community life also. These problems bad simply been highlighted by the experiment. After some consideration other problems were recognized as not so much connected with this man-ner of life as with the method by which Stlcb projects were initiated or with the people who participated in them. Other difficulties, however, were intimately con-nected with the style of life itself. GOALS AND EVALUATION An often repeated mistake was lack of clear planning. The goals of the project were not enunciated explicitly. Neither the participan(s nor the institute bad anything clear against which to evalnate the program. The mem-bers of the group bad no framework within wtiicb to locate themselves. Often the experimenters were ktealists or visionaries wbo eschewed the mundane realities of goals and organization. A recent study~ of 50 commnnes (30 from the 19th century and 20 contemporary ones) shows some remarka-ble similarities between those of the past and the present. The stndy cites one of the constants by quoting a mem-ber of one current failure: We weren't ready to define who we were; we certainly Psychology Today, July 1970, p. 78. weren't prepared to define who we weren't--it was still just a matter of intuition. We had come together for various rea-sons- not overtly for a common idea or ideal . The differ-ent people managed to work together side by side for awhile, but there really was no shared vision. INITIATED FROM ABOVE Small groups which were regarded as a project of the total religious community fared quite well. The more closely the members of the small group were united with the other religious in the congregation, the better was their chance of success. Sm~tll groups which were alien-ated from the larger parent group had a poor survival rate. Indeed this factor of alienation was probably tlie most constant indicator of failure. Projects which were initiated by decree of the chapter or decision of the administration seem to have been re-garded as a project of the full community. Rarely was there alienation from the parent group. Conversely where these projects were initiated as a result of pressures from those who wished to begin such a small group, almost every one of them dissolved within two years. There were many explanations offered for this fact. Probably the real-ity is as diverse as the persons involved. But the fact remains and is something to be seriously considered. SIZE OF GROUP All recognized that the size of the group was an impor-tant ingredient for the success of a ventnre. Yet experi-ence compelled the members to conclude that there were no absolutes in this matter. For a wide variety of reasons groups consisting of less than five had little success. With some exceptions communities smaller than five disbanded after one or two years. Most members of the workshop thought that groups with more than 10 or 11 merabers Wotlld be too large to attain the goals of this new s~,le of community life. However, they recognized that tl,ey were not speaking from extensive experience. The vast major-ity of the successful small groups consisted of from five to nine religious. There were a few institutes with new styles of community life where the membership was a bit larger than this. Yet the consensus seemed to be that, generally speaking, the best chance for success is in a group from five to nine persons. MEMBERSHIP Perhaps one of the biggest surprises came when the qualities of the membership in these small groups was considered. Were the members of successful groups in similar age brackets, of similar tastes and interests? Or did the membership span the spectrum of age and experi-ence? ÷ ÷ ÷ Small Communities VOLUME 30, 1971 387 Few, indeed, were the homogeneous groupings which survived. Many of the participants in the workshops reg-istered their surprise at this fact. Some interesting specu-lation developed in an effort to explore the reasons, but it is sufficient here to record the phenomenon. On the other hand it would not be correct to say that the small gronps were so heterogeneous that they in-cluded each element in the institute. One essential quality for inelnbership was a willingness to dialog. Granting that and the minilnal maturity re-ferred to above, the presence of diverse age groups and attitudes seems to be a very healthy ingredient. HORARIUM Another frequently mentioned problem was schedul-ing. Small groups fonnd it difficult to get together for community prayers, discussions, and recreation. It was believed that the problem was the same in larger group-ings but its harmful effect was not felt as keenly. Yet, after a period of time, the small groups were able to make suitable adjustments in their schedules. Recogniz-ing the need and value of being together at certain times, they accepted the implied limitations imposed upon their choice of other benefits and valnes. Positive Values The workshops devoted the major portion of their time to the positive values evidenced by this new style of community life. Here the participants discovered some-thing which led them to conclude that this style of life would be normative for apostolic communities of the fu-ture. ÷ ÷ ÷ Paul Boyle REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~88 INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS This was the most common goal desired by those enter-ing these projects. They wanted to establish an atmos-phere which would foste]- close personal relationships. It was their belief that thi~, in turn, would give a basis for an enriched relationship with Christ. Many religious began these small community projects with unreal expectations. They believed that they could establish a primary relationship with each member of the community. Moreover, it seems they considered these close interpersonal communities a panacea for all the problems of life. One of the significant factors in the faihlre of early efforts was that the participants were frequently imma-ture. Perhaps they were idealists who needed the support of people able to cope with the daily realities of life. Some found the increased demand for personal responsi-bility in small communities too much for them. They longed for the benefits of community but were unable to pay the price demanded. Yet the majority of the religious seem to have found that their experience in the new groupings deeply enriched their lives. They have formed close, personal friendships. It was interesting to note that an increase of personal responsibility was experienced in these new styles of life. Not every religious will thrive in such small ~roups. Some people, for instance, find such satisfaction in their work that they do not need th~ support of interpersonal relations at home. Religious life, for them, is more func-tional than personal. They are religious to perform an apostolic work and the institute exists to facilitate this work. In and through the structures of the institute, moreover, they find that incentive to sanctity which helps them perform their work in a way befitting a consecrated Christian. A growing number of religious, however, need or desire a different kind of relationship in community. An active and persistent striving to realize the opportunities for full development of each person in the small group must be one of the expectations of persons participating in these programs. A certain acceptable level of matnrity is a pre-requisite. In and through these small communities many reli-gious have come to a deeper self-awareness. This has ena-bled them to develop their potential and reach a satisfy-ing level of maturity. Small group living, for reasonably mature people, can clearly contribute to personal growth. Obviously there are tensions and problems experienced in the small communities. One of the most important was the lack of privacy. There was a great need for personal privacy, for places or periods o[ quiet so that a person could be by bi~nself. Too much "togetherness" was harm-rid. Physical and psychic privacy were prerequisites for successful interpersonal community. PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY One of the common characteristics of these groups was their mutual sharing of community responsibilities. Al-though the name was rarely used, in a number of in-stances there was a superior. Yet the role of the superigr was seen as significantly different from that of the tradi-tional decision-maker. The majority of these small groups, however, were without any designated superior. Nor did it seem correct to assert that one person usually emerged as the de facto leader in the group. Initially the groups generally began by discnssing all decisions to be made. After a while, however, routine decisions were del-egated to varions persons with a periodic review by the group of the manner in which these may have affected ÷ -I- -I-Small Communities VOLUME 30, 1971 389 the community. Harmoni6us community living required a clear delineation of rights and responsibilities spelled out tbrougll months of dialog. There were regular sessions to evaluate their progress in attaining the goals, to consider the policies determined by the group as well as the administrative decision by way of implementation. Conflicts and tensions must be brought into the open in a continuing effort to resolve them. + + + Paul Boyle REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 390 PRAYER A consideration of the various endeavors in the differ-ent institutes reveals a curious pattern in regard to prayer. When these new connnunities first started communal prayer fell off notably. In many instances the only com-munity act of worship was an occasional Eucharistic cele-bration together. At the same time the. religious were gradually experiencing a deeper faith orientation to their life. Through their community discussions they were coming to an awareness of tile place of a living faith in their lives. In a new way they were becoming conscious of the workings of the Holy Spirit. They were experiencing tile faith as a dynamic force in their lives. Then, after many months, something marvelous began to develop. Communities began searching for new forms of communal prayer. Frequent dialog prayer, sharing re-flections on the Scriptures, personal petitions addressed to God, hymns and psalnas of praise, all of these started evolving around the flow of daily life. This is something still very such in tile developmental stage in most com-munities, but it is one of the more exciting prospects. A deep desire for prayer is vibrant in these small communi-ties. Eager and earnest efforts are beingmade to achieve a life of prayer which fits comfortably into the patterns of life of the individual conmaunities. An interesting contrast kept recurring between the quality of these prayer experiences and the relative infre-quency and comparative brevity of these communal pray-ers. The Eucharist is often celebrated with other sectors of the larger community, the parish or the religious institute or work groups. But regular and informal celebrations in tile local community, frequently quite protracted through additional readings and shared reflections, are highlights in their prayer life and cherished experiences. APOSTOLATE Taking the term "apostolate" as the kind of service performed by the religious, s.nall group living does not seem to have any particnlar bearing on the apostolate. Considering the apostolate in a broader sense, however, as meaning the mission of religious to bear witness to the world, these new approaches in small group living have ,;ome significant developments. For one thing, unlike the typical monastery or convent, these residences are a normal part of the neighborhood in both location and appearance. The physical facilities .;,~em to help establish a rapport with the local citizenry. Religious in these groups generally establish bonds of friendship with their neighbors and participate in the parochial and civic life of the neighborhood. Frequently, they evidence deep concern [or the social problems of the areas. As the summary from one of these workshops stated: An important test of this quiet witness is whether those around them come to know them as alert, compassionate reli-gious people who have a genuine concern for others. This will depend on whether their style of life speaks quietly to those caught up in an acquisitive and competitive society. It will also depend on the degree they can in proper time and place realize reciprocal influence with their neighbors in the areas o~ spiritual and moral insight or support. In each workshop there were a number of other wflues and dangers, but the above represent the recurring ones which were considered significant. Despite some bad be-ginnings the new style of community life is flourishing. It provides the atmosphere for some wonderful experiences. The experience of those in these new groups and their major superiors strongly suggests the conclusion that this style of life will be normative for the future. + ÷ + Small Communities VOLUME 30, 1971 39] THOMAS H. GREEN, S.J. The House of Prayer: Some Reflections Based on an Experiment Thomas H. Green, S.J., is a faculty member of San Jose Major Seminary; Box 4475; Manila, Phil-ippines. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 392 1. The Need and Conventional Forms of Meeting It The idea of a house of prayer for apostolic religious is a very new one in the Church.t But the fundamental spirit is that of Christ Himself who both taught and exemplified the need for the apostle to "come aside and rest a while."'-' The rest which the Lord gave to His disciples and which He sought Himself was the recreative rest of time and space to truly encounter God. To rest in this way involved many things: the opportunity to get enough distance from apostolic involvement so that the disciples could understand the real meaning of what had happened to them; the chance to "return to the sources" and to deepen their reflective understanding of all that the Lord had previously taught them; the oppoi'tnnity to consolidate their own lives and thus to be open to future growth. They had to learn a lesson that is very important in our time--that certain kinds of devils are driven out only by prayer and fasting, that is, by the quality of the inner life of the exorcist, and not by any techniques or devices of his trade,s That first missionary journey, where they learned the possibilities of God's word in them, appears to have been an essential part of their formation. x For an early statement of the idea, see the article on the subject by Bernard H~iring, C.Ss.R., in REwv.w fOR R~L~CaOUS, September, I967. The early history of the house of prayer movement is sum-marized in Exploring Inner Space by Sister Ann Chester and Brother David, 1970, pp. 8-11. '-'Mk 6:30--4; Lk 9:10; see also Mk 6:46; Lk 6:12; 11:1; Jn 7:53. ~ Mk 9:29. But it was to prove a source of growth instead of despair only on the condition that they returned to the Lord to share with Him, in leisure, their successes and failures, and to learn from Him the true meaning of both. In this work, above all, what the apostle is counts far more than what lie says or does. Saint Paul, the greatest of apostles, was fully aware of this need.4 And, if we are to judge from his own mis-sionary life, the alternation of apostolate and reflective integration is a continual process as long as the apostle lives. Throughout her history, the Church has continued to realize this need. And the Holy Spirit has inspired her to provide various means for meeting it. The idea of daily periods of mental prayer has long been stressed in apostolic commnnities. Moreover, in recent centuries, an annual retreat has been a central spiritual feature of these communities. Finally, many communities have seen the need for a tertianship or "third probation" (postulancy and novitiate being the first two probations) to solidify and confirm the mature interiority of the apostle. All these ideas have proven valuable; but each of them has its limitations today. Perhaps a consideration of these limita-tions will help to snggest why a new instrument of apos-tolic maturity has appeared in our time. The oldest and most basic of means to interior depth is the daily mental prayer of the apostle. It remains a central featnre in any true instrumental union with God. But there are two kinds of difficulties which modern man en-counters. The first is the difficulty of discerning the spirits at work in the soul at prayer--of interpreting prop-erly what God is or is not doing. This has always been a problem, and it led St. John of the Cross, among many others, to insist upon the paramount importance of a good director."~ Such direction is hard to come by, however, and few souls seek until they find it. More often they grow un-certainly, and all too often they read the interior signs wrongly and take for failnre what is really growth. At this point a second, and more distinctively modern, difficulty enters. We live in a higly complex and intensely paced age. The apostle is a child of his times. As a result, he often finds his work occupying most of his energy and attention, even at times which he has kept "free" for prayer. The regular and measured pace of early monasti-cism where the fulfillment of the command "labora" distributed itself evenly and naturally over the days and seasons of the year is but a celestial dream for many mod-ern apostles. The result of these two difficulties combined ~ For an excellent resum~ of the Pauline teaching on prayer, see Romans, Chapter 8, footnote "'o" in the Jerusalem Bible. ~ Living Flame o[ Love, III, 26-53; see also St. Teresa, Interior Castle, pp. 50, 53, 68, and passim in the Image Book edition. 4- Prayer House VOLUME :~0, 1971 393 4. 4. 4. T. H. Green, S. J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 394 is frequently a mystique of work: Good souls despair of ever truly finding God in this life, and they decide, in effect, to lose themselves in their work for God, post-poning nntil eternity any genuine encounter with the Reason for their work. Two of the interior giants of our time, Karl Rahner and Caryl Houselander, have written movingly abont the holy wrongness of this decision.6 Prayer becomes a repetition of canonized formulas and resolutions, combined perhaps with a vagne unease that there should be more. The second means to interior depth, the annual re-treat, has arisen precisely as a response to the need, felt by members of apostolic communities, for periods of as-sessment and consolidation. The apostle cannot give what he dqes not have. The retreat is a chance to come aside and rest a while, and many find it an invalnable part of the year. Like the Biblical Sabbath rest, one of its natural (but not to be despised) fruits is physical rest. For many apostles, it has become the only real vacation they take in the year. And often they find that, rested, they can indeed pray fruitfully. The retreat, however, is very short: in some counnunities, three days; in others, six or eight. And everywhere the tendency is toward shortening it. Partly because retreats have become very impersonal en-counters between one retreat director and a very large group of retreatants. This results, often enongh, in a re-treat which is strongly moralistic, focusing on practical resolutions and planning'for the year, rather than on the "present deep experience of God which should be central to the retreat,v The physical sitnation makes adaptation to the personal needs and situation of the retreatant vir-tually impossible. Another reason why retreats are losing their vitality is the professionalism which characterizes so much of our work, and the failnre of the retreat struc-ture to provide that distance from our daily concerns, along with a real sense of direction in the retreat itself, which will challenge the modern man to seek and find a maturity in Iris prayer commensurate with his profes-sional maturity. The third traditional means to interior depth is the "tertianship" or third probation of many religious com-munities. Similar to this is the summer of renewal which some communities of sisters make available to their mem-bers, perhaps 25 years after profession. This is a true at- ~ K. Rahner, On Prayer, pp. 7-9; C. Houselander, This War Is the Passion, pp. 33-5. ~ This question of the proper purpose of a retreat has been much discussed in recent years. In an Ignatian context (and, I believe, even more generally), the remarks of Wm. Peters, S.J. (The Spirilual Exercises o~ St. Ignatius: Exposition and Interpretation, pp. 4-9) are very helpful. tempt to enable the religious to update themselves theo-logically, but it is even more what St. Ignatius calls a "schola affectus," 8 a chance for the heart to renew its commitment to God and to make new again that love which alone justified "leaving all things" in the first place. There is the time to settle down and to live deeply --something a retreat scarcely affords. There is the dis-tance from routine worries and preoccupations which even the most mature souls rarely find in their daily lives. And indeed, the house of prayek concept has much in common with the tertiansbip or summer of renewal. Too often, however, these familiar opportunities for renewal come only at a fixed and (,niform time in the life of religious, and the interval of renewal is uniform for all. Moreover, in these times when the communal character of our Christian and religious life is highly valued, there is often little community continuity to these forms. That is, the only principles of continuity from one renewal group to the next are the director (or directress) of the house and, perhaps, the instructional staff. There are, it is trne, customs and traditions which the director will commt, nicate verbally to each new group, but each has virtually to create from scratch that sense of Christian community which is integral to any post-Vatican II re-newal. 2. The Evolution o[ One New Response The house of prayer idea, then, is a recent proposal for meeting,an ancient religious need. One of the earliest and most eloquent advocates of'such houses is Father Bernard H~iring. And the importance which he attaches to the idea may be gathered from the fact that he has been known to say that this may be the most important work of his life. The idea of houses of prayer, though, has not always been as dearly defined as this may suggest. That is, many people have felt the lack of genuine leisure and of interi-ority, as well as of the freedom to respond to the apostolic "sacrament of the present moment," in modern religious structures. But the views as to how to remedy this lack have been almost as numerous as those who have felt it. I was a participant in early discussions at the University of Notre Dame in 1966-67, in which perhaps twenty sis-ter graduate students from as many different communi-ties took part)) At tbat time, we were in close agreement on the need for greater interiority and leisure, but we were far from agreed as to the forms necessary to meet this need. As the group began to establish contact with other like-a lgnatius Loyola, Constitutions o] the Society o] Jesus, n. 516. See the article cited in footnote 1 for the results of these dis- CL1ssiolls. ÷ ÷ ÷ Prayer House VOLUME 30, 1971 ÷ ÷ ÷ T. H. Green, S. ]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 396 minded religious, and to carry the idea back to their own communities, the possible forms gradually began to crystalize. While my own personal obligations1° prechtded close contact with the developing "movement," I followed indirectly but with great interest the emergence of the IHM Clearing Center in Monroe, Michigan, the various intercommunity conversations (and the involvement of such distinguished advisors as Thomas Merton), and the varions summer experiments in house-of-prayer living which were undertaken. But I felt, particularly when I returned to the Philippines in June of 1969, that my own involvement in the movement was at an end. I was mistaken. Through a series of those accidents and coincidences by which providence so often works, I soon found myself involved in an experimental house of prayer conducted by the Philippine province of the Sisters of Saint Paul of Chartres. The experiment has some inter-national importance, for the provincial superior of the St. Paul Sisters secured approval for it with a view to re-porting on the results at the community's next general chapter in 1971. If successful, it conld be extended to other provinces. At any rate, our experiment began full-time operation at a remote and beautifnlly situated mountain house in the northern Philippines.~ The two sisters with whom I had worked in planning the experi-ment during the preceding six months were then joined by two others, for a core group of four. Our house is called "The Home of the Spirit of God," since that seemed to express best wlmt we hope it will be. 3. Complementary but Diverse Options This brief historical excursus was necessary for two reasons. In the first place, the honse of prayer idea is one that has taken shape gradnally and experientially. We did not have a fully articulated concept of what was needed. Indeed, I at least have long believed that it was necessary to stop planning and start living the house of prayer. I felt that we could only learn the problems and possibil-ities- more deeply, that we could only learn whether and where the Spirit of God was leading ns--i[ we gave Him the time and the space to show us.v' Secondly, the living out of our experiment, within the matrix of concrete pos-sibilities afforded us by obedience and circumstance, has ~o First in writing a doctoral dissertation, anti then in pursuing postdoctoral studies at Cornell University aXAt Mount Pico in Trinidad Valley, about 6 kilometers from Baguio City. = For a further discussion of this delicate balance between plan-ning and living, sec Exploring Inner Space, pp. 79-81, 96-7, 111-2. shaped our understanding of God's design for this house of prayer. As I look back on the Notre Dame conversations in the .light of our Philippine experience, it seems to me that there are two basic options open to the house of prayer movement. The first is to establish centers of apostolic availability, for example in the inner city, where religious would be freed from tile institutional demands of our highly structured works and could offer to the people a flexible and prayerful community response to their actual present needs. This less structured type of Christian witness certainly appears to be an essential feature of the post-Vatican II Church. In fact, such a witness will un-doubtedly be a touchstone of the adaptability and rele-vance of the contemporary Church. But this type of experiment will not, by itself,'meet the needs of modern religious--particularly the need [or in-terior growth of which we spoke in the earlier part of the paper. It seems utopian to expect that we could abandon our structured works in the foreseeable future, or that a majority of our apostolic religious could be committed to free-form apostolates in this age of increasing profes-sionalism. And even if these goals could be realized, an elementary knowledge of human nature suggests that these new forms of witness would progressively take on structures of their own. More deeply, however, flexible response by itself would not guarantee mature interiority or the putting on of Christ. Thus there is a second option open to the house of prayer movement--one whose direct finality would be to provide apostolic religious with the . opportunity for full interior 'growth.-It-is this-type of. house of prayer which the Spirit appears to be forming here in the Philippines. Such a house would have as its aim providing a con-temporary response to the needs discussed in the earlier part of this article. It would complement the daily periods of prayer, and the annual retreat, of the apostolic religious. This means that it should provide the leisure and the spiritual direction necessary to read the signs of interior growth correctly, and to avoid that mystique of work which threatens to rob dedicated souls of the perspective described by our Lord in the Last Supper discourse. Moreover, it should provide a much more realistic op-portunity than does tile group annual retreat for apostles to personalize their experience of God and to deepen the sense of the utter uniqueness of their vocation. In this way, an interior maturity commensurate with our pro-fessional maturity would be fostered: a development which would resolve many of our contemporary "identity Prayer House VOLUME 30, 1971 397 crises," and consequently equip us much better to speak the healing word to modern man.1:~ Perhaps the most fruitfid way to conceive this type ot~ house of prayer is as a sort of "floating tertiansbip." That is, it would be a true "schola at~ectus" for people experi-enced in the apostolate and well aware of the difficulty of achieving true spiritual maturity. But it would be avail-able to them when they themselves felt the need for it. Moreover, it would be a continuing community--with a core group providing the continuity--whose whole apos-tolic function would be to provide a climate of peace and prayer and joy into which others could easily enter for that period of time (whether a summer or a semester or a year) which seems best to them. Since this seems to be the type of house of prayer taking shape among us here, per-haps a Jew preliminary experiential comments are in order.1~ 4- 4- 4- 4. Some Reflections Based on Experience The question of the location o[ houses of prayer was much discussed in tile Notre Dame conversations. In the light of our experience, I believe the location shonld be a function of the type of house of prayer envisioned. For our type, whose apostolate is directed to the active reli-gious themselves and which is geared primarily to people coming for a lengthy stay, the best location would be that which best meets their needs and desires--that is, one sufficiently removed from their daily concerns to sacra-mentalize their coming aside to rest a while. At the same time, however, an important part of their growth will be their continuing education. St. Teresa of Avila wisely mistrusted a deliberately ignorant piety. For this reason (unless the core members themselves can provide classes, especially in Scripture and spiritual theology), the house should be near a sister-formation center or a university with a good theology program. The question of continuing education brings us to the broader question of the program of the house of prayer. Since the whole reason for the existence o~ snch a house is to provide tile leisure to hear God, it is clear that the program should be so arranged that whatever is done, especially the liturgy and other forms o~ communal and private prayer, can be done deeply and well. At tile same time, if there is not a common and reasonably busy rhythm to the day, leisure can easily deteriorate into mere idleness; our hearing God can become a mere intro- T. 11. Green, $. ~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 398 a'~ For moving evidence of the liberative and maturing influence of actual house of prayer experiments, see the reports in Exploring In-ner Space, pp. 40-75. ~ A basically (but not totally) similar idea of the house of prayer is found in Exploring Inner Space, pp. 12-4. spective analysis of ourselves,is ~Ve have tried, gradually and as experience dictated, to articulate a program which provides for daily private prayer (1~/2 hours), study re-lated to prayer (2 hours), classes in conjunction with a neighboring formation program (from 2 to 6 hours a week depending upon the interests and aptitudes of the individual sisters), and work--in addition to the litnrgy antl an adapted form of the Divine Office with which we are experimenting. In addition, the sisters have agreed upon assigned days for receiving guests and inquirers and for handling the small shop which helps to support the house. (The mountain peoples are expert weavers, and locally woven cloth is the principal object for sale.) Various other activities, such as catechetical work in the neighborhood and a coffee hour for the people after Sunday Mass, have arisen naturally. But perhaps enough has been said to indicate the general program of the house. As far as possible we try to work out the details of living communally in the light of experience. One detail which has evoked a uniformly enthusiastic response is an hour in the evening devoted to "creative leisure," a somewhat pretentious title for a time "to do those things you have always wanted to do, but for which you have never had the time." The results have been wonderful in their variety: so much so that the adviser is developing a sense of cultnral inferiority! Thus far the experiment has been enthusiastically re-ceived by the core members and the guest members. The latter have been relatively few until now since we have tried to give the core group an opportunity to get to know one another and to establish the spirit of the house. But there appears to be considerable interest, both among the St. Paul Sisters and among other religious com-munities in the Philippines. Sevkra( of the latter have sent representatives to inquire about our project, anti also to participate in the life--sometimes with a view to establishing similar honses,t~ And within the year we hope to hold an intercommnnity retreat in the house of prayer itself. a~ As Exploring Inner Space makes clear, this was not a problem iu the shorter summer experiments there reported o,~. But we have recognized the danger in a continuing house of prayer; that the danger is real for any small community is suggested by the remarks of Brother Gabriel Moran in his recent book, The New Community, pp. 58-62. He refers to "the uarcissistic obsession with the experi-ence of commu,fity," and quotes with approval Father Henri Nouwen's "spoiled child" analogy. Our experience would tend to confirm these obser\'ations. ~6 The question is ofteu asked whether houses of prayer should be intercommunity or intracommunity. The a,~swer is unclear to me, but experience does suggest that an intracommunity begimting has definite practical advantages in terms of common background, com-munity support, and so forth. + 4- + Prayer House VOLUME 30, 1971 399 + + T. H. Green, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A final question may be raised: What qualities should be sought in a member of the house of prayer? Guest members (those there for a temporary period) should, we believe~ be mature women, experienced in and dedicated to the apostolate of their community, who have felt the need and expressed the desire for greater interior growth. The house would not normally be for those in, or newly out of, formation. Nor, it goes without saying, should it be a last stopping-off point for those preparing to leave religious life. Some, it is true, will come to the house of prayer with questions about the real relevance of many of our contemporary structures (particularly our mystique of work), but they should be anxious to find the answers within the context of their fimdamental religious com-mitment. The core members should possess all these qualities and should also have a genuine desire to make this house their apostolate. Sound emotional and psychological bal-ance should be especially sought for, since they are to be "bridge people" committed both to a continual openness to the experience of God (a more difficult task than any of the exterior works we undertake) and to the sharing of their search with others. Since community appears to be a central feature of our evolving experiment, they should also be adaptable people, and chosen with a view to the general compatibility of the particular core group in question. Beyond this, it seems very desirable to have a healthy diversity of talents and personalities. For example, it would be ideal to have in the core group a sister well trained in Scripture and another in spiritual theology, who could offer their services to the community and to guest members. But all need not be scholars, providing they are at peace in accepting their own limitations and anxious to put their own gifts at the service of the com-munity. 5. Conclusion These, then, are the reasons I see for a house of prayer, the nature of such a house, and some points of detail which our experience with one house of prayer has sug-gested. It would be wrong to imply that there have not been problems. There have been so many, and such unusual ones in fact, that I have become convinced that the Lord is doing something very important here. More-over, the very problems, and the equally unusual ways in which they have been resolved, suggest that the experi-ment must be approached with great openness and de-tachment. Since the cry for the "liberation" of woman is by no means as loud among Filipinas as among American sisters, the priest adviser can still play a more explicit and less self-conscious role here. But it is no less true here that the life style must be determined, and the problems re-solved, from within. From the outset we have sought to "hang loose" in the hands of God and to let Him lead ns wherever He wished. This has not been easy, and I am sure we have failed often. Bnt the success of our experi-ment will ultimately depend upon our learning to bang loose, particularly since the masters of the interior life all tell us that this "disponibilitd" is the ultimate achieve-ment of mature nnion with God. Our conviction that this is the reason for our existence, and our principal con-tribution to the apostolic life, is sacramentalized in onr name: The Home of the Spirit of God. + 4- + Prayer House VOLUME 30, 401 SISTER MARY JEANNE SALOIS, R. S, M. Pilot Study of xperimentation in Local Community Living Sister Jeanne is Director of Re-search Services; Sis-ters of Mercy; 10000 Kentsdale Drip, e, Box 34446; Bethesda, Maryland 20034. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Religious communities of women are experimenting with many new practices in their living together in com-munity. There is, however, a dearth of reliable and valid evaluation of this experimentation, largely because it is difficult to assess outcomes so subjective in nature. The study reported here was made in a large religious congre-gation (545 local houses) to (1) identify the new practices being implemented and the ends which these practices were to promote, and (2) assess the attitudes of sisters re-garding the effects of this implementation. Procedure: The 73 local conamunities participating in this study were volunteers who agreed (1) to construct ;t plan for local community living for the year, 1969-1970, which would include goals, a plan of action, and meth-ods of evaluation, and (2) to complete an Attitude Scale to be administered to all participants at the close of the year. The investigator visited each local community in the study to: 1. develop the basic assumptions for the study with the lo-cal group in keeping with the new practices they were imple-menting and the ends they hoped to achieve. 2. interview a random sampling of one-fifth of the sisters to obtain an oral expression of opinion regarding the results of changes in government, prayer life, and temporalities. 3. obtain the information necessary for an accurate descrip-tion of the living situation. Treatment of the Data: The Attitude Scale entitled "Scale to Evaluate Sisters' Attitndes Toward Experimen-t; tl Practices in Local Community Living" was sent to 73 local houses totaling 875 sisters. Four hundred and seventy (54 percent) responded, representing the follow- ing cross section of sisters: TABLE I Distribution of Sisters Responding to Attitude Scale Sisters in Religion Over Sisters in Religion Less Sisters Giving No Indica- 25 Years than 25 Years lion of Number of Years in Religion Consensus* Coordinatort 32 155 Consensus Coordinator 70 153 Consensus Coordinator 11 49 * Local houses with government by consensus with no authority figure. "~ Local houses with elected or appointed coordinator. Thus, respondents include 113 sisters with government by consensus and 355 with ;t local coordinator. Respond-ents represent 187 sisters in religion over 25 years, 233 in religion less than 25 years, and 60 sisters who did not indi-cate the number of years in religion. The split-half reliability coefficient was obtained for this scale by correlating individnal's scores on the odd-numbered items with their scores on the even-numbered items, rising the deviation score method of computing the Pearson product-moment coefficient of correlation cor-rected by the Spearman-Brown formula. Tile obtained coefficient of equivalence for the Attitnde Scale was .85. Findings from. local plans. Goals enumerated in tile plans placed heavy emphasis on the spiritual aspects of re-ligious life. There was ~t frequently expressed concern for the psychological aspects of the person, especially for the nniqueness of the individual. The sisters also aimed at improving the apostolic dimension of religious life. The desire to witness to an authentic community of love was evident in m~tny of the goals formnlated. Some plans emphasized the elements of freedom and informality. Procedures for achieving goals inchtded variations in government: 33 houses were governed by consensus, 25 had elected coordinators, and 15 had an appointed co-ordinator. There was much participation and shared re-sponsibility in the local situation. In all personal aspects of living, sisters assumed responsibility for their own de-cisions. Daily prayers said in common varied from the usual Lauds, Vespers, and Encharistic Celebration to Grace be-fore dinner in the local community. Some innovative ap-proaches were tried to enrich the liturgy. In general, lo-cal communities fouml that unless communal prayer was strnctured as to time and place, not much communal prayer took place. Personal monthly allowances ranged from $5 to $80. Ahhough there was some variation in the items to be + 4- 4- Pilot Study VOLUME 30, 1971 4~3 ÷ ÷ Sister M. Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 4O4 pnrcbased with the personal allowance, in many instances tbe same items were to be purchased with $20 in one house and $40 in another. Local comlnunities found ewdnation the most ditficult, partly becanse objectives were not sufficiently specific and they were not expressed in measurable terms. Methods nsed inchlded community discnssions, reports, question-naires, minutes of meetings, periodic assessment of goal achievelnent, and schedule of activities which took place. Findings from interviews. The investigator found much polarity, with sisters in younger, middle, and older cate-gories differing significantly in their thinking about reli-gions life. Older sisters (over 60 years of age) would like to see many things being (lone under the name of ex-perimentation discontinued. They believe that unless sisters return to former practices, soon there won't be any religions. Many middle-aged sisters (35-59) believe that the actnal growth of each sister as a resnlt of the new freedoms depends on each individual; some will profit and some will not. Younger sisters (up to 35) are happy to have the freedom which they are being given, but the grave questions concerning the purposes and values of religious life which they are asking make freedom some-what dangerous from the standpoint of actually living .the religious life. Without an understanding of the pur-poses of religions life to gnide decisions, young religions are uncertain concerning the best means to take in practi-cal situations. Older and middle-aged sisters are happy about many of the changes--participation in decisiou-making, having an allowance, being able to visit relatives more fre-quently, having the freedom to dress for the occasion-- all of these changes are considered helpful to religious living. Changes observed which do not meet the approval of these sisters include the wearing of inappropriate lay clothing, the sharing in the social life of the laity, and being free from a local antbority figure. Older sisters fear that religions are becoming worldly and that prayer life is disappearing; younger sisters [ear that there might be a division in the community and re-ligious life may have no future. Sisters of all age groups are recommending that younger sisters be given more direction and guidance, that forma-tion programs becolne more structnred. When asked their views on reasons for sisters leaving, the sisters mentioned the following reasons: 1. Some sisters don't have anything to hang on to because of inadequate training for religious life. 2. Some sisters are disillusioned with the pettiness of re-ligious life. 3. Some can't live the life and they don't know why. 4. Sisters who are leaving see no purpose in religious life. They wish to marry. 5. Some sisters don't want to become like some older reli-gious they know. Findings from Attitude Scale. Respondents completed. a Likert-type Attitude Scale in order to provide evidence in support or rejection of basic assumptions formulated by the investigator and sisters in each local community at the time of the site visit. These assumptions will be listed followed by a summary of findings from the Atti-tude Scale as completed by the sisters. 1. A basic condition of equality in Christian dignity and freedom will provide a meaningful way of living out one's commitment of obedience. Sisters were asked their understanding of the phrase "equality in Christian dig-nity and freedom" when applied to religious in a local community. Most of the sisters believe that equality in Christian dignity and freedom flows from one's common membership in the People of God with God as Father of all. 56 percent of older sisters (in religion over 25 years) believe the person designated as superior in a commu-nity represents the authority of God, whereas only 14 percent of younger sisters (in religion under 25 years) believe this. 74 percent of younger sisters believe that all sisters have equal responsibility for discerning the will of God for the group, compared to 48 percent of older sisters. 30 percent of younger sisters do not consider di-rection and correction when needed part of the role of the authority figure; 9 percent of older sisters support this view. If the concept of "equality in Christian dignity and freedom" held by the majority of younger sisters is to provide a meaningful way of living out one's commit-ment of obedience, obedience needs to be defined in terms which exclude an authority figure who represents the authority of God (70 percent do not accept this). If the vow of obedience requires that one see in the author-ity figure a representative of the authority of God, then a basic condition of equality in Christian dignity and freedom as defined by approximately 70 percent of sis-ters professed under 25 years does not provide a mean-ingful way of living out one's commitment of obedience. One item in the Attitude Scale was "The concept of equality which excludes a superior can be reconciled with the vow of obedience." 53 percent of all respondents agreed with this statement. This percentage included 47 percent of older sisters with consensus government, 30 percent with a coordinator, 97 percent of younger sisters with consensus government, and 67 percent with a co-ordinator (total of 228 sisters). 2. Opportunities to make personal decisions in an open 4- 4. 4. Pilot Study VOLUME 30, 1971 405 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister M. Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 406 atmosphere where adult professional roomen act as peers will promote growth in maturity as expressed by concern for the other person's welfare, sensitivity to others' needs, and a sharing of responsibility [or the welfare of the group. The group which believes most heartily that sis-ters readily assume responsibility on their own is the younger sisters with consensus government (76 percent). In the older group, only 31 percent agreed with this opin-ion. Younger sisters had the highest percentage agreeing that sensitivity to the needs of others increases as author-ity decreases (85 percent); 41 percent of the older sisters agreed with this statement. In the opinion of a majority of the sisters, added opportunities to make personal de-cisions provided during this period are promoting growth in maturity as expressed by a sensitivity to the needs of others and the assuming of responsibility for the wel-fare of the group. 3. When sisters participate in organizational planning, the amount of structure zoill vary with each community and it will be appropriate to the situation. A majority of sisters believe that organization for community living in the local house this year met the sisters' needs better than was true in the past. Highest gronp in believing this was younger sisters with consensus government (86 percent); lowest was tim older sisters with a coordinator (48 percent). Among older sisters, the schedule planned was most satisfactory to those with a coordinator; among younger sisters, the schedule planned was most satisfac-tory to those with consensus government. 4. Unity will grow as local communities accept a di-versity o[ living styles among their members, and sisters in the total province community accept diversity of living among local groups. Approximately 75 percent of older sisters believe that acceptance of diversity has much to do with promoting unity in community; over 90 per-cent of yotmger sisters believe this. Respondents were practically unanimous in their opinion that a full re-sponse to the totality of Christian revelation on the part of each sister will promote unity. Over 60 percent of older sisters consider integration of differences and bar-riers conducive to unity; only 23 percent of younger sis-ters agree with this. The great number of undecided responses to an item suggesting that identification with the goals and values of the foundress is conducive to unity (ahnost 30 percent) seems to indicate that these are not consciously functional in the lives of many sisters today. Responses to items related to assumption 4 permit the acceptance of this statement; however, these responses indicate that much more than acceptance of diversity needs to be considered in promoting unity. 5. Community will be fostered on a local level as au-thority effective in the apostolate can be kept from in- [htencing decisions and planning related to home living. Younger sisters are opposed to dual authority (70 per-cent) more than is true of older sisters (44 percent). A majority of sisters agree that authority in the apostolate when exercised in community makes living difficult. 6. A supportive, Christ-centered community attempt-ing to establish interpersonal relationships based on love, trust, and respect will redound to the benefit of the apos-tolate. Groups with consensus government in both younger and older categories were most ready to say that noth-ing had greater effect on their apostolate than their living situation. 64 percent of all sisters agreed that sisters in their local house profited from their day-to-day experi-ence in community living in .meeting the challenges of the apostolate. 7. Spirituality deepens when each sister is free to de-termine her prayer life with no specified prayers. Older and younger sisters differ greatly in their thinking on specified daily requirements in the area of prayer. 76 per-cent of older religions believe there should be specified daily requirements; 38 percent of younger religious be-lieve this. Polarity of younger and older sisters is also shown in beliefs regarding benefits of traditional forms of com-munal prayer. 47 percent of older sisters and 16 percent of younger sisters believe that traditional forms of prayer do much to promote a religious spirit among local groups. Most sisters acknowledge the need for daily personal prayer (90 percent). A majority of older sisters (56 percent) believe that when no prayers are specified, fewer and fewer prayers are said; 18 percent of the yonnger sisters believe this. The sisters are ahnost unanimous in rejecting the no-tion that discussion and/or apostolic work is an ade-quate substitute for personal prayer. The 6 percent who believe this number about 28 sisters out of 470 respond-ents in this study. In summary, sisters in religion over 25 years tend to reject assumption 7, and sisters in religion less than 25 years support it. 8. Community life deepens when local communities are free to respond to their common needs for prayer, and group members support individuals who introduce new forms of common worship. 83 percent of younger sisters with consensus govermnent and 52 percent with a co-ordinator believe that their communal prayer which flowed from the felt needs of the group was a help in ,4, .4- ar Pilot Study VOLUME 30, 1971 407 Sister M. Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 408 promoting community. Over half o[ the Older groups responded in a positive manner to this item. At this time when so much emphasis is placed on the commnnity-forming aspects o[ communal prayer, over 90 percent believe that communal prayer is an expres-sion o[ adoration, praise, and thanksgiving to God. While emphasizing spontaneous small intimate group-ings in prayer, sisters are continuing to emphasize the vertical dimension. Communities which introduced new [orms o[ communal prayer [onnd these condncive to a deepening of community li[e. 9. Personal management of money and cooperative planning of community budgets will promote an appre-ciation [or the value o[ money, be practical, and be conducive to a responsible use o[ material goods. The per-sonal responsibility which sisters are assuming in finan-cial affairs is making them aware o[ the cost of living. Sisters are finding the allowance (average $26 per month) practical and, in general, adequate. Many sisters are un-certain as to the effects of increased responsibility in fi-nancial matters on the practice of poverty. Some sisters find it difficult to speak in terms of poverty at all because o[ the many connotations the term has, for example, synonymous with destitution. 10. Emphasis on personal responsibility in financial a[- [airs will el]ect greater simplicity o] liIe style or more meaning[ul "ordered minimalness.'" Opinions of over hal~ of the sisters do not snpport the concept that empha-sis on personal responsibility in financial affairs will ef-fect greater simplicity o[ li[e style. The investigator sought to determine the thinking o[ the sisters on the meaning of the vow o[ poverty. A ma-jority of sisters identi~y poverty with a collective sharing of material goods, o~ availability, and o~ love for the poor. Concepts accepted by older sisters and rejected by younger groups are a "willingness to divest onesel~ o~ all things here on earth in order to obtain the riches o~ heaven," and "abandonment of oneself--sacrifice o[ com- [orts and material possessions." Both older and younger sisters agree that poverty means complete and fidl com-mitment to Christ; both groups reject the notion that poverty means dependence on superiors [or material things. 11. Diversified living will enable each sister to develop as a total person and encourage individual initiative in the use o[ her unique talents in promoting the good o[ the community. 25 percent o[ older sisters believe that total development o[ each sister was promoted by partic-ipation in a wide range o[ activities outside the primary apostolate, as compared to 75 percent o[ younger sisters with consensus government and 54 percent with a coordi-nator. In the thinking of most sisters, diversified living does promote the development of each sister and the good of the community. A majority of sisters rejected the idea that diversified living promotes individual satisfaction rather than the total good of the community. 12. Community living will improve as the sisters imple-ment the proposals in Mercy Covenant which are related to community life. Over two-thirds of the sisters indicated that there has been much implementation of Mercy Cove-nant (interim guide for the Sisters of Mercy of the Union). All groups believe that Mercy Covenant has improved community living, with the younger gronp with consensus government being the most enthusiastic (78 percent), and older sisters with a coordinator the least favorably im-pressed (41 percent). Of the groups involved, younger sisters with consensus government believed they experience(! community togeth-erness in a spirit of creativity to the greatest extent (60 percent), and older sisters with a coordinator, to the least extent (45 percent). In summary, most of the sisters in this study believe that proposals on community living have been imple-mented, and that this implementation has made a con-siderable difference in community living. 72 percent say that acceptance of others whose opinions differ from one's own is one area of improvement. 13. Problems and advantages of group living vmy with the size of the group. Nearly 70 percent of all sisters in the study think size has something to do with successful group living. Over half of the sisters prefer a group size of 7 to 12. Advantages cited for small gronps (4-9) were (1) deep and personal relationships, (2) sensitivity in dis-covering the needs of others, (3) less chance of cliques forming, (4) cohesiveness, togetherness, and a sense of belonging, (5) simplified group planning, dialog, and communication, (6) unity through an understanding and acceptance of each individnal, (7) flexible, more easily changed plans, and (8) homelike atmosphere. Disadvan-tages listed were (1) insnfficient variety in personalities for maximum growth opportunities, (2) heavy workload, (3) incompatibility of community members, (4) loneliness when one is not closely related to other members of the gronp, (5) lack of privacy, (6) individual problems affect-ing all members, and (7) demand for much cooperation from each member. Advantages of medium size groups (l 0-18) included (1) diversity in relationships, (2) adequate number available for community activities, (3) reasonable distribution of ÷ 4- ÷ Pilot Study VOLUME ~0, 1971 409 Sister M. Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 410 work, (4) flexibility of life style and constant presence of community nucleus, (5) adequate privacy, (6) less chance of someone being left out, and (7) easy interchange of ideas. Disadvantages listed were (1) too many divisions possible in community, (2) consensus is difficult, (3) quiet people are swallowed up, (4) lack of personal concern, (5) can make for institutional living, (6) too large for total group activities, (7) too many bosses. Advantages of large groups (19-) included (1) variety of talents, activities, personalities, (2) shared responsibil-ity, (3) better apostolic coverage, (4) easier financially, (5) greater freedom, (6) uncongenial members do not dis-rupt harmony as seriously as in small group, (7) much company and companionship. Disadvantages included (1) lack of family spirit, (2) tendency to form cliques, (3) lack of personalism, (4) difficult to assemble gronp for meet-ings, (5) only a few are heard, (6) can become efficiency oriented, (7) too easy to isolate oneself from community, (8) less responsibility assumed by individuals, (9) lack of communication, (10) too much structure needed. 14. Advantages and disadvantages ol group living vary with the amount of diversity in apostolic worhs repre-sented by group members. Half of the sisters in this study see no particular advantage or disadvantage in profes-sionally diversified groups, with many sisters undecided, perhaps because they never had this experience. In order to obtain further information regarding the effects of diversity of apostolic work, self-selection, and assignment to a group on community living, the sisters were asked to cite advantages and disadvantages of these situations if they had experienced them. Results are summarized be-low. Advantages of diversity of apostolic works in the same community included (I) diversity of viewpoints and inter-ests, (2) conversation not bogged down in perpetual dis-cussion of work situation, (3) can lead to involvement in other works, (4) forced to leave undesirable problems be-hind, (5) source of enrichment, (6) encourages sharing, and (7) promotes appreciation for other's difficulties. Disadvantages included (l) difficulty in planning ac-tivities for entire group, (2) failure to understand other apostolates, (3) confidential information can be unknow-ingly disseminated, and (4) minority groups are sometimes left out of considerations. Adw~ntages of self-selected groups mentioned by re-spondents included (1) provides the satisfaction and com-fort of living with people who accept you as you are and insures a feeling of belonging to the group, (2) contributes to peace and harmony in community because of common ideals, interests, attitudes, goals, (3) increases nnity among members of the group and a sense of responsibility for each other, (4) enhances group spirituality and depth of commitment to apostolate, (5) reduces personality con-flicts and violations of charity, (6) encourages sisters to take responsibility for their own actions, (7) promotes community by size and flexibility of group, and (8) re-duces time and energy needed to adiust to one another. Disadvantages of self-selected groups included (1) group members may be disappointing, (2) can cause loss of com-munity spirit in the larger community, (3) is divisive, (4) is a means of self-gratification, (5) is an unrealistic divi-sion of age groups, (6) can be a cause of added expense, (7) is less a living on faith, less the living of witness to religious life. Advantages of assigned groups mentioned by respor~d-ents included (1) true life style with its variety of ages and temperaments, (2) challenges sisters to new heights of love and consideration for all, (3) provides opportunities for the cultivation of new friends, (4) implements the principle of "being sent" to form community of love, (5) facilitates the keeping of corporate commitments, (6) re-duces the rejection of undesirable persons. Disadwmtages of assigned groups included (1) lack of agreement its to life style with resulting conflict and lack of adjustment, (2) incompatible persons can create prob-lems, (3) unity in diversity is often lacking, (4) restdts in submissiveness and dependence, (5) work may be nnde-sirable, (6) nnhealtl~y friction is often present, (7) lack of personalis~n. One item on the Attitude Scale attempted to find out which areas in the lives of sisters shonld be governed by personal, community, or higher authority decisions. Find-ings were as follows: Areas of Decision Making a. Daily personal prayer b. Daily communal prayer c. Leisure activities within community d. Leisure activities outside community e. Primary work commitment f. Work commiunent in ad-dition to primary apos-tolate Conclusions Source of Decisions Individual (83%) Local Community (58%) Individual (31%) Local Community (29%) Individual (63%) Individual (24%) Higher Authority (20%) Individual and Higher Author-ity (18%) Individual and Higher Author-ity (26%) Individual (22%) Higher Authority (21%) All of the assumptions listed can be accepted with the exception of the four given below which need to be modi-÷ ÷ ÷ Pilot Study VOLU~E 30, 1971 fled and explained in terms used in the text of this manu-script. A basic condition of equality in Christian dignity and free-dom will provide a meaningful way of living out one's com-mitment of obedience. Advantages and disadvantages of group living vary with the amount of diversity in apostolic works represented by group members. Spirituality deepens when each sister is free to determine her prayer life with no specified prayers. Emphasis on personal responsibility in financial affairs will effect greater simplicity of life style or more meaningful "or-dered minimalness." In the opinion of the writer, an understanding of the theology of religious life and mnch dialogue on the real issues which are causing conflict are the needs of the day. Only if conflict, distrnst, and disunity can be replaced by love which can cope with various forms of outward ex-pression will religious turn the present confusion into hopefulness for the future. + + + Sister M. Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 412 Pra.,ver as CARL STARKLOFF, s.J. "Justi cation by Faith" Although the title may not indicate it, this article will deal with prayer and activity. To explain why one should risk further cluttering the storeroom of spiritual theology with another such study, let me hasten to add that our di