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Issue 66.1 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; ' Spiritu:alilty Perspectives Community Tod:ay~s Saint QUARTERLY 66.1 2007 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the" holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: ~w.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious - 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ RO. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2007 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff l~ebmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell 0SB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehmer ASC Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 66.1 2007 contents prisms 4 Prisms 19 spirituality Aging and Christian Spirituality: Joy and Resignation Matthias Neuman OSB explores two challenges of aging, namel.v, the ability to enjoy and the need of resignation. Dreams in Prayer and Discernment Jennifer Constantine Jackson examines the human experience of dreams as one resource from the Lord that can assist us on ¯ the road to spiritual maturity. Reflection/Discussion Questions 3O perspectives Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist Rende Mirkes O~'S shows how being Franciscan can and does affect the way she does ethics. Review for Religious 40 58 Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue Colleen Mary Mallon OP explores dialogical communion, from the writings of the French Dominican Yves Congar, and reflects upon specific practices of discipleship that promise to deepen communal conversion while offering prophetic witness to a global world. Personal Reflection/Group Discussion community Rose Hoover RC says that being together on the inward journey is a subtly rigorous togetherness not to be missed. 64 An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers Robert Schieler FSC describes his congregation's Holy Week retreat in which three provinces saw a happily workable way to be energetically together as one. 74 today's saint Mother's Quest and Bequest: Theodore Guerin's Sainthood Mary Roger Madden SP provides a historical vignette of her congregation's recently canonized American foundress to show the greatness of her spiritual bequest. departments 90 Scripture Scope: The Bible and the Church 95 Canonical Counsel: Bona Ecclesiastica 101 Book Reviews 66.1 2007 prisms Do I want to be holy? When we ask our-selves the question, the answer would seem to be obvious. Since we believe in God and we want to enjoy life forever with God, we are trying to be holy. Probably many of us would find it a bit pretentious to say that right now we are making the effort to be holy. Why is it so off-putting for us to admit simply that we want to be holy? Trying to be holy sounds, well, sanctimonious. We judge that we are priding ourselves on some-thing we are not. We don't want to be people setting ourselves down at the head of the table in Jesus' parable, only to be told to take a lower place. All too often we think that to be holy includes all the things that we are not: unfail-ingly pious, always prayerful, never offensive, and ever patient and long-suffering. Perhaps images like the eyes-rolled-up to heaven, the hands folded, and the pallid face featured in many portraits of our saints hold us off from identifying with holiness. We likely need a reevaluation of what it means to be holy. God is the holy One. If God is by nature holy, then we are not naturally holy. But God calls us to be holy and empowers us to "be holy as I am holy." In the sacramental life, we identify these key empowerments in baptism, confirmation, and eucharist. God the Father, in the identifying of us with his Son and in the gift-ing of their Spirit, has truly made us sons and daughters. Being part of God's family--the ones adopted in Jesus' name--we merit being called holy ones, the saints as St. Paul frequently refers to his fellow Christians in the various churches to whom he writes his letters. Review for Religqous We might believe that we are called to be holy, in fact, that we are children of God. But what we are and how we act might be two different things. What does it mean for us to act like holy persons? Jesus is our way that we come to understand and live a divine holiness. Holiness, above all, is rooted in our love relationship with our triune God in Jesus. By watching Jesus in action, we discover how we are to live and act holily. Let's take some examples that we ordinarily do not associate with holiness. Jesus lives his holiness in his presence and in his participation in parties such as the Cana wedding feast and in banquets of all kinds, sometimes held in houses of those consid-ered public sinners such as Matthew and Zacchaeus and at other times in the homes of his pious "betters"--like Simon the Pharisee. Holiness, we see, is made real and strengthened in enjoying life, like parties and banquets. In all kinds of circumstances, Jesus expresses holiness in breaking the rules--usually surrounding Sabbath obser-vances- because of his compassion and love. Jesus, we see, teaches us that holiness is not to be identified just with "keeping the rules." Priests and Levites--good peo-ple- kept the rules of not contaminating themselves by helping a wounded traveler, but it was the foreigner, a false-believing Samaritan, who acted holily. Jesus says that we must act as one who loves neighbor as oneself. Jesus shows us that holiness grows in the conversations and interactions with all different classes of people, sometimes with people who think quite differently from him--the ways of Jesus' ministering in the gospels. Jesus shows us that dealing with others who think differently from us is a part of our being holy. Simply said, to live holily, as Jesus shows us, is to live an everyday kind of life, graced always by the love of God and love of neighbor. David L. Fleming SJ 66.1 2007 MATTHIAS NEUMAN Aging and Christian Spirituality: Joy and Resignation spirituality Aging, that universal human experience, is one of life's great mysteries. Why the various stages in the human life cycle: infancy, childhood, ado-lescence, adulthood, and old age? Why should human life be like that? Why do we grow up and then slowly break down, piece by piece, until death comes for us? Our creative God could have arranged matters differently. But the real-ity remains that human life, unless tragically cut short, ends with old age, dissolution, and death-- years that people often find extremely troubling. Old age is where aging really hits home. Aging, especially the last phase, "old age," has become a major social issue for many Western countries. The graying of populations looms in many of them as a social and economic issue. The recent report of the President's Council on Bioethics, Taking Care: Ethical Caregiving in our Aging Society, puts it pointedly: Matthias Neuman OSB has written for us often. His pres-ent address is Our Lady of Grace Monastery; 1414 Southern Avenue; Beech Grove, Indiana 46107. Review for Religious There is no question that we are on the threshold of a "mass geriatric society.," a society of more long-lived individuals than ever before in human history. For this great gift of longer and healthier life for ourselves and our loved ones we are, and should be, enormously grateful . At the same time, however, there are good reasons to be concerned about the human and moral shape that a mass geriatric society will take, especially if the "price" many people pay for the added years of healthier life is a period of protracted debility, demen-tia, and dependence stacked up at the end before they eventually die. Such a reshaping of the life cycle will create enormous challenges for nearly every family and for the entire society.! The Catholic ethicist Daniel Callahan pinpoints some of those troubling issues. By 2030 almost 20 percent of the American population will be over 65; the combined costs of Medicare and Medicaid will double; close to half of those over 85 will suffer from some form of dementia. He says: "The projected long-term institutional costs alone, quite apart from medical expenses, will be astronomical.''2 Aging also appears as an increasing pastoral care issue for the church. The 1999 document of the Pontifical Council for the Laity, "The Dignity of Older People and Their Mission in the Church and in the World," says that the increasing number of aging people in the developed coun-tries of the world will cause some significant shifts in the style and opportunities for pastoral care: The ecclesial community, for its part, is called to respond to the great participation which older people would like to have ih the church by turning to account the "gift" they represent as witnesses of the tradition of fai.th, teachers of the wisdom of life, and workers of charity. [The Church] must therefore reexamine its apostolate on behalf of older people, and open it up to their participation and collaboration.3 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality Aging doqs not need o be a series of losses th'a can only be eiid ¢ed::i In this article I explore two challenges that aging pres-ents for Christian spirituality. These challenges touch individuals, families, parishes, and the church as a whole. Aging does not need to be a series of losses that can only be endured. Indeed, it offers genuine possibilities for spiritual growth. I came to be interested in this topic for several rea-sons. Seven years ago my father fell on some ice and broke his hip. He never really recovered from that, and spent his last two years in a nursing home. In those two years my parents, my sisters, and I talked much about the reality of nursing-home life, about how many things aging compels the elderly and their families to give up. A year after my father died, my mother fell inside her house and broke her hip. She recovered much better than he did. She had observed the nursing home firsthand and had no desire to go there: "The smells and the food would kill me for sure." Her great effort to do her therapy and avoid the nursing home enabled her (at age 86) to finish the rehabilitation program three weeks early. She was able to return home, but my sisters and I felt she needed a watchful presence around her more than a duplex could-provide. So she moved into a home for the elderly, and Ibecame chaplain for the Benedictine sisters who run the home. My mother and I walk together frequently, our conversations returning now and then to the trials and opportunities of aging. At ninety-two she feels them acutely. I must face my own aging too. At sixty-four, I have had to accept it for some time now. In the last twenty years, I have given up physically competitive sports; my Review for Religious football, baseball, and basketball gear were given away long ago. I still have golf and the treadmill, but the clock is ticking there too. For the last three years, back prob-lems have cut short my summer golf. What encouraged me more than anything else to do some spiritual reflection on aging was a little pam-phlet titled The Grace of Old Age by Father Vincent M. O'Flaherty SJ. He.wrote a series of reflections while a patient in a nursing home himself. His view of aging is special, and he provides some excellent thoughts on the spirituality of aging. Here is one: "When I look at my tensions from the point of view of detachment, I see that each tension is a fear of losing the power to enjoy one of the goods of this life. As a grace, aging is a slow death of the power of enjoying this world.''4 That last cuts deep. But, as Father O'Flaherty adds, it also makes more spiritual growth possible. But wherein does that spiritual growth consist? Throughout Christian history, old age has not stimulated a lot of sustained reli-gious thinking.5 In developed Western countries, that is due in part to the fact that, until the latter part of the 20th century, most people did not live to old age as we know it. In 1790 the U.S. population over age 65 comprised only two percent. By 1980 that was eleven percent, and in 2004 it was approaching fifteen. The President's Council on Bioethics says that the fastest-growing age group in the U.S. is "the oldest of the old (people age 85 or over).''6 In the last quarter century, the increasing percentage of older people has created much investigation into all aspects of growing older. But there is a counterbalance to this increasingly aging population. As the number of older persons in the U.S. increases, the inherent value of any one of them decreases. Previously the elderly's very "scarcity" was a value. A household with an elderly per-son, with someone who could tell the family's history, was 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality considered honored and blessed. In our own day people are more likely to worry about how many older people there are and how they are going to be cared for. Both the joys and resignations, " of old agk can be seen~ hs ways of deepenin~ g onr . relationship with~ God. Perspective People generally have two ways of considering the onset of old age. Both appear in scientific as well as common thought, and both are mentioned by the Pontifical Commission's document "The Dignity of Older People.-7 The first way is to anticipate joys, to expect that each age possesses its own blessings, its own joys and achieve-ments. The last years of life offer particular graces: the joy of grandchildren, lessening responsibility, time for relaxation, oppor-tunity to do some things you always wanted to do. The Christian tradition often encouraged this, considering old age a blessing. The Bible provides some examples: "Gray hair is a crown of glow" (Pr 16:31). "You shall rise before the aged, and defer to the old" (Lv 19:32). Older persons are presumed wise, from their great store of life experience. A second way to deal with aging is resignation. This seems the predominant way. People work at accepting the inevitability of aging, and its conclusion. Aging always involves loss. People must give up many things along the way. At each stage of life, valuable and dear things are left behind. Resignation includes a fearful looking ahead to possible situations that one would rather not face. The fear of helplessness, of being a burden to others, remains Review for Religious extremely troubling for many people. With resignation, one tries to be ready for inevitable losses without becom-ing angry about them. There is a whole body of literature on "disengagement theory.''8 As they advance in age, most people probably experience some joy about their future and some resignation regarding things they fear. All of us have to learn the proper proportions for ourselves. This is a matter of our religious response. Both the joys and resignations of old age can be seen as ways of deepening our relationship with God. Enjoying Joys As people grow older, they do not lose their right to joy in life. They can still partake of joys and pleasures, simple though they may be. The church's teaching on pleasure and joy has not always been as positive as it might have been.9 From the perspective of Vatican Council II, people are beginning to see life's legitimate joys as our ini-tial sharing in the resurrection. A nursing-home resident make this point directly: "Despite pain, I am experiencing joy. If that is so, I am experiencing God. I am delighted to wake up in the morning, to have another day to experi-ence God in joy. The simplest things--the weather, the barren trees of winter, the sports scores, reading, staying in touch with families and friends--all give me joy. In all I find a taste of God. Yes, it is tough to grow old, but I have found joy that I did not know in my youth.''1° Some of the sharper slants of disengagement theory would urge the elderly to disengage themselves from any joys that keep them attached to this world. But a Christian spirituality would encourage older persons to enjoy what they still can. Indeed, other scholars of aging would assert that older people who are not too old can develop abili-ties that they never knew they possessed. Studies suggest that the brain's left and right hemispheres become better 66.1 2007 Neuman * Aging and Christian Spirituality integrated during middle age, making way for improved creativity in one's older years. Age also seems to dampen some negative emotions, making it easier to get rid of anger.1~ My own mother in her eighties developed a bet-ter attitude toward death than she ever had previously. It happens to others as well: An editor I know at a New York publishing company provides a case in point. He was in his sixties and con-templating retirement when he realized that he had finally matured into his job. Despite a sharp intellect and a passion for excellence, this man had spent much of his career alienating people with brusque, critical comments and a lack of sensitivity. Now . . . he was finally beginning to master interpersonal communica-tion. As his emotional development caught up to his intellectual development, he morphed from a brilliant but brittle loner into a mentor and a mediator of con-flicts . His best work was still ahead of him.12 This potential to be creative and surprising is some-thing that those who work with the elderly need to be more aware of. Often they do not give aging people a chance. Sometimes the elderly do not give themselves a chance. Learning new abilities, arriving at positions we could never previously attain, constitutes a great joy of one's older years. The Vatican document "The Dignity of Older People and Their Mission in the Church and in the World" urges that the legitimate charisms of older people be recognized. These gifts can be real blessings for the entire church.~3 The charism of disinterestedness, the ability to give some-thing or to give of themselves without any thought of return, is a special gift that older people can share with younger generations. Another charism of the elderly is memory, in particular carrying the past forward and creat-ing a shared identity for a family, a parish, or some other group. Similarly the charism of interdependence, the ability Review for Religious to overcome individualism and self-seeking and enter into genuine interactions with others, becomes very specific in the lives of the elderly. In many ways elderly people have a need of being interdependent. Their deeply felt awareness can teach :., ,-,, -. - o o., :::c~umauitz~te'sloysi~ndpteasures. nity, and integrity in being old and being old in public. That witness amazed many people, and there is much we still need to learn from it.~4 Let us consider some of the joys that are specific to old age. One is reminiscence--thinking back to the happy and satisfying events of one's life. That can surely be a genuine joy. My mother has often said that the vacations my family took together give her much to remember and delight in. (For twenty years we went on a week's vacation each summer.) Another joy as a person ages is to anticipate the contributions one can make by instructing a younger generation and see them grow to maturity, surely a joy for one who looks back on a lengthy teaching career. Father O'Flaherty reminds us that certain joys, although genuine, are limited: "Part of the confusion over the question of happiness in old age comes from a rela-tive definition of fun. Thus we might ask whether living in Sun City is fun. If we look at it from the point of view of entertainment, Sun City has everything. But we should not exaggerate fun in old age; it peaks out with grandma knitting in a rocking chair. Neither a young nor a mature man would be attracted by the fun in Sun City.''s 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality Christian spirituality invites the aging to have a deeper appreciation of human life's joys and pleasures. There are created joys appropriate to each stage of life. These should be identified and savored, even or especially by the elderly. Here Christian spirituality can take a hint from Jewish spirituality: A characteristic attitude is taken up by the Talmud towards the pleasures of life. Recognizing that what has been created by God for man's enjoyment must be essen-tially good, it not only counsels men to indulge in them but even condemns those who abstain from them. The rabbis assume the standpoint that God wants his creatures to be happy, and it must therefore be sinful deliberately to shun physical happiness and material well-being.~6 Vghile traditional Christian spirituality would allow a much more positive place for asceticism, s011 there is room in Christian spirituality for legitimate joys and pleasures at each stage of life. This means acknowledging and delighting in the pleasures (a sunny day, an exciting sporting event, a glass of wine). Then, going a step fur-ther, it means giving praise to God for these gifts of joy. Enjoyment is a part of God's providence for us. Facing Resignations Enjoying what pleasures one can in old age is part of Christian spirituality. Nonetheless, at the center of a spirituality of aging remains the reality of facing the many resignations life demands. No matter how great the joys are that elderly people may delight in, acts of resigna-tion are perhaps unavoidably greater. Giving up various pleasures of life is a never-ending part of aging: driving at night, strenuous or agile physical movement, certain well-liked foods, traveling to visit distant friends. The list goes on and on. To recall clearly something you have loved to do for Review for Religious twenty, thirty, or forty years and say "No more" both scares and humbles. So, as Christians, how do we deal with these resignations in ourselves and in others? First we admit that they are difficult and frightening. People coping with them should be patient with themselves and with others. Instant or pat answers like "Christ gave up everything, so should you" can do more harm than good. Elizabeth Kiibler-Ross showed five stages that people may experience as death comes closer: denial, anger, bargain-ing, depression, and acceptance.~7 These may be present when people have to use a walker all the time for mobility or have to enter a nursing home. We can help people to acknowledge the pain and loss they feel; denial does not help. We can be there with them, what Sheila Cassidy has called a "Stabat Mater" spirituality, a simple, silent, stand-with-them presence.~8 After each acceptance of loss, people may feel a loss of integrity. To their mind they will seem to be "less," "needier," a "bother" to others. The helping spiritual task assists them to regain a connectedness with people and things, to help them see that their life still possesses a fundamental meaning and purpose, that their own inner life will always have value in sight of God and for those who love them. We think back to Father O'Flaherty's comment: "Aging is a slow death of the power of enjoying this world." In our later years, aging is dominated by physical and mental decline and the giving up of many pleasures. There is also the fear of facing significant pain; that takes serious resignation as well. Father O'Flaherty puts it well again: "Modern medicine has increased my tensions. I am on 'their' side when they prolong my pleasures, but I classify them among nay enemies when they propose to prolong my pains . My fear is that they would lengthen my three hours on the cross to six.''~9 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian Spirituality Vatican Council II's Constitution on the Church has some fine insights about offering our lives to God as spiritual sacrifices: "For all [the laity's] works, prayers, and apostolic undertakings, family and married life, daily work, relaxation of mind and body, if they are accom-plished in the Spirit--indeed even the hardships of life if patiently borne--all these become spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ" (§34). The chal-lenge is thus to see each resignation as a spiritual sacrifice. In their later years people offer their life's troubles. Their fragile and failing bodies and minds become gifts pleasing to God. Father O'Flaherty notes: "'vVhen a man gets old and his mind gets foggy, he cannot formulate flowery prayers. At the beginning of the countdown (age 65) he should start saying the prayer of simple presentation so that he will be in the habit of using it when his faculties are not keen. Just present yourself to God . Push your wheel-chair into the chapel and show your broken hip to our Lord. This throws the burden of giving you a cross on Almighty God. It is the resigned way of praying, with full resignation to the will of God.''2° " When people are young, faith shows itself in a lot of activity, vision, building. But in old age faith turns much more around seeking the peace of God. In facing the res-ignations of aging, giving up and faith are almost indistin-guishable. Sometimes all the elderly can do is bring their broken bodies as their spiritual sacrifice; that is their way of building the kingdom of God. The Constitution on the Church notes, too, that suf-fering can be a way to holiness. "In a special way also, those who are weighted down by poverty, infirmity, sick-ness and other hardships should realize that they are united to Christ, who suffers for the salvation of the world" (§41). In old age, that suffering becomes very real Review for Religion, s and sometimes omnipresent in aches and pains, some-times very severe pain. One of the challenges that aging presents to Christian spirituality is coming to believe and assert that pain in old age becomes a genuine prayer. In dealing with the many resignations of aging, we are always working toward that confession of Christ in the garden: "Not my will, but yours be done" (Mt 26:39). From a Christian perspective, that is the result of every resignation: it becomes a holy resignation, the offering of our lives as a spiritual sacrifice. Notes ~ President's Council on Bio-Ethics, 7~;king Care Ethical Caregiving in Our Aging Society (2005), pp. xvii-xviii. 2 "Curing, Caring, and Coping," America (30 January 2006): 13. 3 Pontifical Council for the Laity, "The Dignity of Older People and their Mission in the Church and in the Vqorld," in Autumn Blessings: Living Old Age in Faith (Little Sisters of the Poor Publications Office, n.d.), p. 43. 4 Vincent M. O'Flaherty SJ, The Grace of Old Age (Franciscan Herald Press, 1976), p. 31. s An overview of this topic may be perused in K. Brynolf Lyon, Toward a Practical Theology of Aging (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), "Aging and the Christian Theology Tradition," pp. 31-53. 6 Taking Care, p. 7. 7 Autumn Blessings, pp. 15-16. 8 Lyon, Toward a Practical Theology, pp. 64-66. ~ Jacques-Marie Pohier, "Pleasure and Christianity.," in Franz B6ckle and Jacques-Marie Pohier (eds.), Sexuality in Contempo~w~[y Catholicism (New York: Seabury Press, 1976), pp. 103-109. m Frank Moan SJ, "Prayer and Pain," America (19-26 June 2006): 19. ~ Gene Cohen, "The Myth of the Midlife Crisis," Newsweek (17 January 2006), p. 82. 12 Cohen, p. 12. ~s Autumn Blessings, pp. 18-20. ~4 Robert Proctor, "A Farewell to Remember: \~That John Paul II's Death Taught Us," Commonweal (3 June 2005): 19-25. ~s O'Flaherty, Grace, p. 20. 66.1 2007 Neuman ¯ Aging and Christian SpMtuality 1~ A. Cohen, Eve~yman's Ta&md (New York: Schocken Books, 1975), p. 230. ~7 Elizabeth Kiibler-Ross, On Death and Dying (Touchstone, 1969, 1997). ~s Sheila Cassidy, Sharing the Darkness (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1991), p. 66. ~90'Flaherty, Grace, p. 17. :o O'Flaherty, Grace, p. 55. via dolorosa it is their sorrow I bear yet they will never know how they have been beaten like a hanging rug stripped bare they are unaware of their nakedness and this is their anguish to thirst and not know why to bleed and not see the wounds Lou Ella Hickman IWBS Review for Religious JENNIFER CONSTANTINE JACKSON Dreams in Prayer and Discernment /~lthe past forty years, writings on Christian spiritu-ity, particularly on prayer and discernment, have given renewed attention to dreams (Doran 498). This article elucidates some movements in this area of study and then invites spiritual directors and discerners to make use of them in Ignatian spirituality. Dreams represent a way of true responsiveness, especially for the laity, to the church's call to an authentic obedience, an obedience that is at all times discerning and fulfilling God's will in the world (Lumen gentium, §37). Some of the earliest contributions to this recent attention to dreams are John A. Sanford's Dreams: God's Forgotten Language (1968) and Morton Kelsey's Dreams: The Dark Speech of the Spirit (1968). The key insight that begins with these works is captured in 1978 in Kelsey's Dreams: A Way to Listen to God (p. 9) and again in 1991 in his reflections on his teaching at the University of Notre Dame: "As I listened to my dreams, I found a presence Jennifer Constantine Jackson, a teacher, is currently a student of theology and Ignatian spirituality. Her address is 333A Harvard Street, Apt. 1A; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02139. 66.1 2007 Jackson * Dreams in Prayer and Discernment wiser than I trying to guide me through my difficulties to wholeness, a wholeness that was possible only when I con-tinued to be in touch with the infinitely loving Holy One" (God, Dreams, and Revelation, p. 213). Dreams take place within one's relationship with God. They invite listening in a process that seems to be initiated and sustained not by the dreamer but by God. Kelsey says that the current ambiguous, even fearful attitude about dreams in Christian spirituality is very dif-ferent from that of the first millennium of Christianity: "The early Christian church viewed the dream as one of the most significant and most important ways in which God revealed his will to human beings . We find this view in the Old Testament, in the New Testament, and in the church fathers up to the time of Aquinas" (God, Dreams, p. 17). Kelsey and others cite many church fathers acknowledging dreams as helpful for growing in relation-ship with God. In his response to the Epicureans' denial of this possibility, Tertullian "specificallysuggested that dreams have various levels of interpretation, and finally he asked, 'Now, who is such a stranger to human experi-ence as not sometimes to have perceived some truth in dreams?'" (109). Kelsey also cites the fathers' reservations concerning dreams in the life of faith. Clement details what must be the formation of one who interprets dreams (106), Origen says that evil spirits can enter dreams (108), and Gregory emphasizes the dangers for those not aware of the illusory nature of dreams (142). It is clear from these cautionary words that there was a shared under-standing that dreams must be discerned within faith. Concerning attentiveness to the needs of Christians today, Kelsey's emphasis on "wholeness" seems to be echoed in The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality. In its entry on "dreams," James L. Empereur SJ cites "the sig-nificance of dream work for spirituality and personal inte- Review for Religious gration" as "based on the conviction that every dream is in the service of wholeness through the integration of the inner and outer lives" (296). At the close of Empereur's four-page entry, the reader still wonders how the "service of wholeness" intentionally involves a participation in the life of the Trinity on the part of those involved in the work of dreams. In Spirituality in Depth: Essays in Honor of Sister Irene Dugan RC, Michael Cooper SJ's reflections on "A Spirituality of Balance" provide some assistance. Cooper says: "At the end of the 'discourse of antitheses,' the Beatitudes in Matthew, Jesus sums up all he has just said by exhorting his disciples, 'You must, therefore, be perfect, just as your heavenly Abba is perfect (Mt 5:48)'" (57). Contrary to the "strict and demanding tone" that the Greek word telios has often taken on, Cooper says that "the actual Greek New Testament meaning of telios is whole, complete, balanced!" (57). Herein lies a key to actualizing "that divine balance which lies at the heart of his gospel call to relationship and discipleship" (59). Highlighting the early communities devoted to religious life in the church, Cooper shows how an attentiveness to dreams in a community's faith life could contribute to this "divine balance": The hermits--male and female--lived alone but never too far from each other, so that they could cry out and be heard in case of threat or illness. Because of the isolation and sensory deprivation, some underwent the equivalent of today's Jungian analysis as their dreams and halluci-nations brought their demons and forgotten memories to the surface. Those who survived this descent into their own netherworlds and who were deeply grounded in their own humanity and in their own Christian faith eventually gained renown as wisdom figures. Individuals would come out to the desert to seek spiritual counsel and often stayed for weeks or months as they pursued their own spiritual conversion. (59) 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment For those committed to religious life in the first centuries of Christianity, the fruits of attentiveness to dreams could be pursued successfully only through grace and only if the purpose was life in Christ. As Kelsey notes, this very purpose brought St. TMr~se of Lisieux spiritual consola-tion through her own dream near the end of her short life (God, Dreams, 164). Are these matters relevant to Ignatian spiritual direc-tors and discerners today? In a 1979 series of lectures on For those committed. to religifus life in thee first centuries of Christi~nity)_ the fruits, of attent, iveness to dreams could.~be pursued, Successfully only through grace only, if the .purpose. was life in,Chris "Jungian psychology and contemporary Christian spiritual-ity," published in Review for Religious, Robert Doran SJ noted that, reserva-tions about Jungian psychology notwith-standing, "there is much that we not only can, but indeed must, learn [from Jung] in developing both a theology and an ascesis of spiri-tual transformation in the context of the contemporary world" (499). Working in the tradition of Bernard Lonergan SJ, and noting as well Karl Rahner sJ'S work in Ignatian spirituality, Doran provides an essential guide especially in the matter of dreams and discernment. Doran found himself more and more convinced that "a psychological understanding of the development and flow-ering of human affectivity., is pertinent to our spiritual self-understanding" (857). Both spirituality ("grace, the Review for Religious supernatural, self-denial, the following of Christ" [858]) and psychology are involved in the "realm of interiority," which is also the reahn of dreams and desire (500). "It is the task of spiritual theology," he says, "to mediate these two conceptual worlds [spirituality and psychology], the one with the other, by taking its stand in interior experi-ence, which is the dimension to which both sets of con-cepts refer if they are talking about anything real" (858). Doran emphasizes such a task because of what he has noticed as two severe problematic positions concerning the relation of spirituality and psychology. The first is "the reduction of spirituality to psychology" (857), and the second, "a tendency, once, perhaps, pronounced in Christian spirituality, [and] still to be found," divorces "spirituality from psychology so completely that discern-ment itself becomes impossible . Such an orientation, when put into practice, leads to a split consciousness and a compartmentalized life" (858). The tendency toward this second extreme, he thinks, is because of an ambiguity concerning, in particular, the work of Carl Jung. Here lies Doran's important contri-bution. He precisely identifies Jung's contributions to an Ignatian discernment of spirits, and he shows clearly where Jung failed to be true to his own scientific method. How Jung contributes to spirituality, he says, is rather by "helping us to recognize inordinate projections and disoriented affections, than in orienting us positively to the God of Christian faith and to Christ"; for, in this area of faith, "Jung, I find, is quite deficient, and his thought derails him from the appropriate orientation to the real-ity of God" (858). Doran emphasizes that, if it is clear where Jung's thought fails, Jung's con(ributions can be much more fruitfully employed. And so he elaborates with a special concern for how a false appropriation of Jung can seriously affect an authentic discernment of spirits: 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment Jung's theological ambiguities, and the alternative inter-pretations and evaluations that are offered of his work, are symptomatic of an underlying spiritual conflict that can be mediated only in the context of the dialectic of grace and of sin, of the standards of Christ and of Satan. David Burrell has indicated correctly that one cannot fail to meet God if one goes on the inner journey to individuation. But one will also meet much that is not God and that is even opposed to God. Not only does Jung not help one to discriminate these forces as they operate in the psyche, but he also contributes to and even encourages the confusion that can be experienced in such moments that call for discernment, and thus mires one in the conflictual forces that wage an ultimate battle in the depths of one's psyche. Jung's work, if left uncriticized, leads one into a psychological cul-de-sac that can assume demonic proportions. (499) Jung sees the issue of good and evil as something to be reconciled within the self, rather than acknowledging that the problem of evil remains and is not within our capacity to resolve. The only. solution can come from redemption, and redemption can come only from God, and God's exis-tence, knowledge, ~nd goodness are offered to us to be accepted or rejected: If we accept it, [it] will involve us in a whole new area of growth and transformation, an area which we would not even know in any explicit way if God had not come to meet us. This distinct area of development is related to our cognitional and mora.1 development. It is not the product of our knowing and our choosing. It is not something that we vainly imagine, or that we produce by wishful thinking. Rather, it is offered to our knowl-edge and our freedom as a gift. (501) Our acceptance of this gift means we are in the realm of "faith, which Lonergan defines as 'the eye of love,' the eye of the love that is ours, that is the atmosphere in which we live, when we know ourselves as uncondition- Review for Religious ally loved by, and rooted in, the love that is God's alone" (501). Any true attentiveness to dreams must take place in this context, where, as Rahner knew well in the tradition of Aquinas, "even in the direct vision of God, God will remain for us an incomprehensible mystery" (858). Now more than ever in history, says Doran with Rahner and Lonergan in the tradition of Ignatius, Christians long to see God and to know that God is the mystery that engulfs them and also to know what they are knowing and feeling. This, says Doran, involves not only self-transcendence, "an accepting of God's offer of both salvation and vocation," but also self-appropriation, which "is a matter of self-knowledge, of self-discovery, of self-understanding" in this acceptance (504) and which also constitutes for the Christian a commitment to prayer and discernment. He says that some factors of modern life make this self-appropriation necessary. His reason for seeing dreams as an important component in prayer and discernment, especially the discernment of spirits, is that they involve feelings, and, applying Lonergan's thought in the tradition of Ignatius, he says: To name one's feelings is to discover the dynamic images, the symbols, that are associated with them. To have insight into one's feelings is to understand the symbolic association. To tell one's stoW is to narrate the course of one's elemental symbolizing. And where does one's elemental symbolizing occur in its purest form, untainted by the biases that, in waking life, can lead us to distort our stow? The place . . . is in our dreams. It is in the dream that we first are conscious, and it is in the dream that we find a "stow" going for-ward that we cannot distort without being aware that we are doing so. If we want to know our "story"--the story of insight, the story of judgment, the stoW of decision, and the stoW of prayer--we can find it in our dreams. There is a psychic conversion that puts us into contact with that stoW. It affects us deeply once it has 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment occurred. For it enables us to judge ourselves in our waking life as authentic or inauthentic in our pursuit of understanding, in our seeking of truth, in our decisions, and in our search for God. (510) Dreams offer one way of being attentive to this mystery that is God. The dreams from the lives of the saints come to mind, and their careful, caring, detached attentiveness to them serves as a model for all Christians committed to a life of prayer and discernment. Since a way is clear for an authentic use of Jung's con-tributions concerning dreams, how such contributions can be employed in the service of prayer and discern-ment should be regularly considered and shared. Maureen Dreams offeron way of being at tentiVe . to this mystery that i God.:. Conroy RSM attends to this question and begins to answer it (by reflect-ing on anima and animus in relation to desolation) in the final pages of her book where she reflects on contemporary issues in the ministry of spiri-tual direction (236-238). First and perhaps most important in aiding "the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attach-ments" (SpEx ~5), dreams can invite people to notice whether anything other than God is at the center of their life. Dreams brought to discernment can serve as personal parables, offered intimately by the Lord for the discerner to explore. Conroy gives instances where discerners on their own initiative mentioned dreams in speaking of their prayer difficulties. In one case, the dream helped the discerner realize that she was "playing God" by try-ing to control the events of her life at the time (182-183). In another case, the dreamer felt wounded by someone he may have been trying to substitute for God, a situa- Review for Religious tion causing unrecognized angers inside him (232). Both Conroy and William Barry SJ (God and You, 52-53) note that such emotions can block prayer. The dreams, then, would be ways that the Holy Spirit invites us to bring our lives to Christ. Kelsey reminds us that dreams come as "receptions"; in the New Testament, visitations are generally received with some fear--and with the message "Don't be afraid" (173). Dreams may offer the gift of spiritual consolation. In the final chapter of his Weeds among the Wheat, Thomas Green SJ describes a woman's dream after the death of her husband, a dream that is clearly a spiritual consolation for her (163-164). In the "afterglow" of the consolation, "it seemed to her that this experience of God's love, of confident hope in bereavement, could not be merely for herself alone, and that it must be the Lord's intention that she write about it and thus provide hope and strength to others similarly bereaved" (165). As Kelsey recounts the dream of St. Thdr~se of Lisieux (God, Dreams, 164), it is clear that her dream, too, was a gift of consolation from the Lord. Dreams can beg contemporary pray-ers to be listen-ers. Attending to dreams requires making time for listen-ing, and, in a culture where people are not easily "hit over the head" with Scripture (Shannon 8), dreams can teach us how to be more receptive to God's word. "Authentic silence," Shannon says, "is pregnant with words that will be born at the right time" (3). Authentic listening is con-nected to authentic vision; both are arts we need to cul-tivate if we wish to be open to the Holy Spirit. As Jules Toner SJ says in his commentary on being open to the Holy Spirit in the Spiritual Exercises, "there is a factor in openness to the Holy Spirit which . . . is closely related to readiness to seek counsel . Sometimes, even with-out our noticing it, one or other of [our] prejudgments 66.1 2007 Jackson ¯ Dreams in Prayer and Discernment 28 can play a major role in blinding us to the evidence for the decision to which the Holy Spirit is leading us" (96). Being open to the "evidence" of our dreams, and pray-ing for this openness, are authentic ways of becoming genuine listeners and persons of vision in every aspect of our lives. Dreams also can teach us to trust in the Lord. With dreams as with other data from our lives that we bring to discernment or direction, there are times when we simply cannot see and do not have the answers. The data of a dream may simply be too confusing or unclear. At these times discerners must wait and trust in the Lord. A renewed attention to dreams in Christian prayer and discernment is a way of true responsiveness, especially for laypersons, to the church's call to an authentic obedience. Thomas Green says that "religious congregations' ideas of common life and obedience have often been distorted in such a way as to canonize the annihilation of personality" (38). In our day, prayerful exploring of dreams may be unique expressions of the life of the Spirit in the church. This can be a new way for the laity to participate more integrally in the life of the church, a wonderful oppor-t- unity for a new level of sharing gifts. At the same time, we continue to be called to greater participation in the life of Christ, who Willingly took the cross so that we might share in his resurrection. If a greater attentiveness to dreams in prayer and discernment is going to achieve anything, may it be to give greater glory to God through a radical participation in the life of him who gave himself for us. Bibliography Barry, William A., SJ. God and You: Prayer as a Personal Relationship. New York: Paulist, 1987. Conroy, Maureen, RSM. The Discer~ting Heart: Discovering a Personal God. Chicago: Loyola, 1993. Review for Religious Cooper, Michael, SJ. "A Spirituality of Balance." In Spirituality in Depth: Essays in Honor of Sister h'ene Dugan RC, ed. Avis Clendenen. New York: Chiron Publications, 2004. Doran, Robert M., SJ. "Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I, II, and III." Review for Religious 38 (1979): 497-510, 742-752, and 857-866 respectively. Empereur, James L., SJ. "Dreams." In The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, ed. Michael Downey. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993. Green, Thomas H., SJ. Weeds among the Wheat--Disce~vm~ent: Where Prayer and Action Meet. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1984. Kelsey, Morton T. God, Dreams, and Revelation: A Christian Interpretation of Dreams. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1991. Shannon, William A. Seeking the Face of God. New York: Crossroad, 1988. Toner, Jules, sJ. Discerning God's Will: Ignatius of Loyola's Teaching on Christian Decision Making. St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1991. Reflection/Discussion Questions 1. What does it mean for me to listen to my dreams? 2. Have I had the experience of a dream influencing a significant change or decision in my life? What were the circumstances? 3. Can I relate to the statement "Dreams may offer the gift of spiritual consolation"? If so, let me review the experience. 66.1 2007 RENEE MIRKES Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist perspectives Confessions are never easy. Typically, the stage is set by a .collage of eye-openers. In my case, the events that propelled me headlong into this pub-lic disclosure are interlaced with the common thread of what-it-means-to-be-a-Franciscan. First, some while ago, a new acquaintance of mine innocently asked, with clearly spoken ital-ics, "So, what's it like to be a Franciscan ethi-cist?" Second, for the last fifteen years or more I, together with all the members of my religious congregation, have been encouraged to immerse myself in, and be formed by, not only the ideals and vision of St. Francis of Assisi, but also the eponymous religious tradition fathered by him. And, third, while reading several months ear-lier Cardinal Ratzinger's 1996 address critiqu-ing moral relativism, I was revisited by an old uneasiness.~ I kept asking myself: Are you suffer- Ren6e Mirkes OFS, a Franciscan" Sister of Christian Charity, is ethics director at Paul Vl Institute; 6901 Mercy Road; Omaha, Nebraska 68106. Review for Religious ing from some kind of Franciscan schizophrenia or what? My difficulty, in a nutshell, was this. From one side, I was perfectly at peace with the fact that new pope's exposition confirmed me in the way I help my clients, students, and readers to identify the fallacies of moral subjecfivism. But, from another side, I was unsettled by realizing that my way, like the pope's, was not Franciscan in approach but Dominican and Thomistic. The first incident urges me to confess--t0 acknowl-edge- that until I was questioned I honestly never thought of making a practical connection between being an ethicist and being a Franciscan. The second experience encourages me to confess--t0 declare my si,l or failing--that I have dragged my feet when expressly recalling how Franciscan spirituality actually shapes the here-and-now manner in which I "do" ethics. The third episode prompts me to confess--t0 admit my belief--that Franciscans and Dominicans can learn a .lot from each other, specifically from the charisms of their respective traditions. For the details of this tripartite confession (and a summary critique of moral relativism to boot), I invite you to read on. I confess that I previously neglected to give seri-ous thought to whether my being a Franciscan could affect my ethics work. Learning from the lessons of life is a lot about making connections. And making con-nections is all about understanding what things mean. Before facing the question I began.with, I confess that "Franciscan" is not on.e of the adjectives I routinely used to describe my avocation. I was a Catholic ethicist; I was a Christia~? philosopher; I was an ethicist who is a vowed re/igio~ts. But I had just not taken that seemingly small step toward saying--and comprehending what it means to say--that I am a Francisca~z ethicist. In other words, before I did some careful analysis of the matter, being a 66.1 2007 Mirkes ¯ Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist Franciscan was just a footnote of, rather than organically related to, my work as a vowed religious ethicist. So, wittingly or unwittingly, the questioner forced me to confront a real hiatus in my thinking and action. Why did I fail to connect the dots of being a Christian, an ethicist, and a Franciscan? The longer I thought about it, the more deeply convinced I became that the crux of my problem was not a rift between my avocation and vocation but my intellectual failure to link my Christian and consecrated-life vocations to my Franciscan calling. I was letting my Franciscan identity wither, and so it was not having its full effect on my life and apostolic work. Lacking attention from me, it was overshadowed by my Christian and religious vocations, becoming a dim sem-blance of what it should have been. Suddenly all those instructions I had received before and during my formation began flowing through my mind. To live as a Franciscan is to respond to Christ's call to follow him, to follow the universal call to holiness, the call I received at my baptism, the call to live and think with the church. To be a Franciscan sister is to incarnate the gospel life that inspired Francis to total discipleship through the vows: ."go and sell," "take nothing along," and "deny yourself." Hence, distinct but interrelated com-ponents simultaneously guide my following of Christ. I have dedicated myself to the evangelical call to holiness, to the long church tradition that draws on prayer and the authentic sources of Christian spirituality, on the recent instructions of the church on the vowed life, and on the particular lifestyle proposed by St. Francis of Assisi. There it was: the proper frame within which I could think anew about being Franciscan in my work as a Christian ethicist. And, for me, seeing Franciscan identity against its proper background was to understand, as if for the first time, its close relationship to my Christian and Review for Religious consecrated vocations. Within this frame, I understood why being a Franciscan is essential in my avocation, my vowed life's apostolic mission to be a Catholic ethicist. I confess that I had never given serious thought to the manner in which being Franciscan did, does, and will affect the way I do ethics. I am confessing here my past failure to explicitly recall the leaven of Franciscan values in the dough of my apostolic service. You see, I had forgotten to note their here-and-now effect, not so much on the content and method of my profes-sional activities, but on the style, manner, and spirit in which I do my work. Once I had explicitly adverted to that leaven, however, I realized I had here a virtu- '.tion on.,[rn .,iFra ci can Values ever more ous circle. Frequent meditation on my Franciscan values fostered an ever more Franciscan self. The more spirited my Franciscan heart, the greater likelihood its values-- continual conversion, poverty, humble "minority," and prayer--would be evident to those I serve.2 First, take the Franciscan charism of pove~-ty. Where every consecrated religious takes vows to live as the poor, chaste, and obedient Christ lived, followers of Francis embrace his special love for poverty. Note that, for il Poverello (the little poor one), poverty was a code word for living the gospel. As such, the vow encompassed not merely being monetarily and materially poor but also the more demanding challenge of imitating the kenosis, the radical self-emptying, of Jesus. For Franciscans, then, special esteem for the vow of poverty means asking for the grace to be formed into the image of the Servant- Lord who washed the feet of his disciples and gave up his 66.1 2007 Mirkes ¯ Confessions of a Franciscan Etbicist life out of love for sinners. For this Franciscan, then, the ethics consults that are "baked in the cake" of my every-day service afford me the precious gift of correcting and encouraging, praying with and, yes, sometimes sharing a good cry with, my clients, moving them ever more surely, moral choice by moral choice, toward their ultimate end of the Good. I frequently remind those who consult me that, because their love of the Truth and the Good is so profound, our exchange puts me in their debt. Indeed, these consultations provide me and them the double blessing of serving Christ in each other. Second, while every religious order requires its mem-bers to conform to Christ by living virtuously, Francis put humilit.y at the top of his list. Imitating Francis, I am called to give first place to the truth about myself as well as my abilities. The former lets me see that God can sing through this poor instrument as long as it is emptied of self; the latter helps me to know that all is gift. While it is true that God has blessed me with the ability to inspire people in their pursuit of the Good, I pray that my being a Franciscan shines through in the way I respond to acco-lades. After a lecture, for example, I always, but always, turn people to the real source of their inspiration: "Oh, I am so pleased you were moved by the truth of Humanae vitae! Isn't it a powerful document?" or "I see that the wisdom and holiness of Edith Stein really spoke to you. Thank God for the living witness of his saints." Third, all religious congregations encourage living in community as an explicit way to serve fellow religious and strengthen them in their service of the larger society. But Francis wanted friars and sisters to be minores, persons who lived together and claimed no special rule or domi-nation or power over anyone. Striving for that attitude as an ethics consultant, lecturer, and teacher, I provide knowledge and advice not in an imperative or domineer- Review for Religious ing way, not in a manner that makes nay moral authority felt, but in a way that appeals to the freedom and dignity of others. In doing so, I reflect and "preach" the value of "minority" by being submissive to those I serve for the sake of God. Fourth, where the church has always encouraged reli-gious to a deep conversion and self-emptying, St. Francis insisted that penance/continual conversion take primacy of place in the mindset and practice of his followers. Pursuant to a Franciscan vocation, the disposition of metanoia means letting one-self be totally cap-tured by Christ. It means unremitting movement toward the Good and avoid-ance of evil. These are the very desires I continually try to foster in those I serve. Frequently I exhort couples, "You will be tempted to give up, to cease wanting to convert to the Lord in the midst of challenging procreative issues. But resist the quick fix 'solutions' of contraception, ster-ilization, abortion, and IVF. The trade-off for expediency in these matters is an attenuated spousal relationship, a weakened family bond, and lost opportunities to lay down one's life for the other out of love." Finally, from his lived experience of the gospel, Francis understood that love must include mission. To demonstrate this he turns our attention to Mary, the per-fect disciple. Francis's way of being Marian was to emu-late the boundless love of Mary for her Son, love which flowed into the spiritual and corporal works of mer#. . Francis God ~ombats evil through holy~,-rn~n and: women, ~ ,.~.aro~gh tho~ who are dedicated 66.1 2007 Mirkes ¯ Confessions of a Franciscan Etbicist encourages every follower of his to frequently recall the scene of Mary standing beneath the cross, standing in the center of the struggle between good and evil, reminding all--but especially a female Franciscan ethicist like me-- that God combats evil through holy men and women, through those who are dedicated to instructing the ignorant by teaching morality. I confess my belief that today's moral climate requires me to morph into a hybrid ethicist: a Franciscan-Thomist. Recall that my uneasiness with the pope's response to moral relativism was largely because his position--and mine--were in the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition rather than in the Franciscan tradition. If we had sought a Franciscan answer, it would have come from Bonaventure or his theological successors, Duns Scotus or William of Ockham. Had these men fought a heresy of relativism in their day, they would characteristically have appealed to a voluntarist solution. That is, the best way to avoid the errors of relativism comes from the Platonic way of understanding universal truth, namely, participation in innate ideas. In sum, to avoid the intellectual pride all too easily associated with philosophical speculation, these Franciscan theologians would have insisted that people do best by simply submitting their wills to the universal moral truth brokered by the church's magisterium. The Franciscan/Augustinian solution to moral relativism, then, would not have included rational arguments that yield a reason why people should submit their wills to the church's objective moral teaching.3 Against this background, I take personal solace from a central theme of the pope's theology (which is Augustinian, after all): the need to return to reason as a first step in combating moral relativism. The pope proposes, not naked reason, but reason purified by faith--or clarified by the God who is Logos, who is reason and the Word. A Review for Religious faith that opens people to the living God "liberates reason from its blind spots" so it can be "more fully itself.''4 Implicit in Benedict xvI's critique of relativists--those who contend that judgments about good or bad, right or wrong, are time-and-circumstance matters of personal opinion--is his reliance on Aquinas's philosophical vision of human nature and its transcultural basic needs.5 Since all persons unhampered by ideology, bias, or intellectual sloth can see that these natural needs/goods apply to every human being irrespective of time and culture, they should also agree that these goods ought always be pursued and honored and never denied or suppressed. With these objective human goods in mind, one can set up a series of syllogisms whose conclusions define them as objectively true and universally normative--employ-ing a first premise that has the certitude of self-evident truth and a second premise that cites an observed datum about human nature.6 The following example focuses on the human good of life. First premise: self-evidently, all human beings ought to do all those things and only those things that are really good for them. Second premise: as experience demonstrates, being alive is really good for human beings. Conclusion: every human being ought to seek life and vitality. When we apply this syllogistic argument to other human goods such as wealth, family, procreation, friends, society, play, and the higher goods of wisdom, worship, and contemplation, a set of goods emerges that is not relativist, that is, good for this or that person because of his or her desires or cultural pref-erences, but objectivist and universal, that is, good for all human beings whatever the time and circumstances. Furthermore, since all human beings have a right to this set of real goods, they also have a duty to require legisla-tures and judiciaries to enact and uphold laws forbidding their destruction or suppression. 66.1 2007 Mirkes * Confessions of a Franciscan Ethicist Pope Benedict XVI understands why a Dominican and Thomist solution to moral relativism is the way to go. It offers a discussion matrix within which to address the many fellow pilgrims of his who, by dint of being mari-nated in the skepticism and moral relativism of our day, require cogent persuasiveness for submitting to universal moral norms. And so I must be Aristotelian and Thomist in the content of my moral methods, all the while endeav-oring to have the Franciscan spirit shine through the way I do ethics.7 To conclude, then, I need only repeat my opening statement: "Confessions are never easy." But I can honestly add that this tripartite confession has con-tributed mightily to the lived mission of this Christian, religious, and F~:anciscan ethicist. Notes ~ Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, "Relativism: The Central Problem for Faith Today," available through http://www.ewtn.com. See also The Ratzhlger Repo~7 (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1985); Priuciples of Christian Morality (Ignatius Press, German 1975, English 1986); Without Roots (New York: Basic Books, 2006), and Values in a Time of Upheaval (Ignatius Press, 2006). 2 For an historical analysis of Franciscan charisms, I recommend an article by Raffaele Pazzelli TOR on Franciscan spirituality at www.fran-ciscanfriarstor. com/vocations. Mso the commentary at another section of the same website: www.franciscanfriarstor.com/resources. -~In the 13th century, the Dominican Albert the Great produced vast commentaries on Aristotle. In them Albert took full account of the work of the great Aristotelian translator and commentator Averroes (Ibn Rushd), while not neglecting to cgrrect his anti-Christian errors, hnportantly, Mbert began to clarify, why Aristotle criticized Plato. The latter had a dualistic notion of the human person that made a correct theory of the human body impossible. It was, however, only with Albert's pupil Thomas Aquinas that this point was fully developed. Unfortunately, Aquinas's work got confused with Averroism in the list of propositions condemned by the archbishop of Paris in 1277. As a result the Franciscans thought it best to retain their dedication to St. Augustine and to minimize the influ-ence of philosophy on theology. This is evident in the great works of St. Bonaventure, who tended to think of philosophy as a pagan tradition and Review for Religious strove to keep theology free of the errors of that tradition. Later Blessed John Duns Scotus and V~illiam of Ockham made more use of Aristotle, hut still remained skeptical of the power of human reason. Consequently--and tragically--the Franciscan and Dominican traditions were never recon-ciled. Ockham became a Nominalist and finally schismatic, and his distrust of reason to prove the existence of God was basic to Luther's thought and the split in the church brought about in the Protestant Reformation. 4 Pope Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est, §29. SMortimer Adler, Adler's Philosophical Dictionary (New York: Touchstone Books, 1995), p. 13. Perhaps the most egregious example of judicial moral relativism is encapsulated in the opinion of Justice Anthony Kennedy in Planned Parenthood v. Casey: "At the heart of liberty, is the right to define one's own concept of existence, of the meaning of the universe, and of the mystery of human life." (' Mortimer Adler, Ten Philosophical Mistakes (New York: Touchstone Books, 1985), p. 126. Y The Franciscan tradition has made great theological contributions to the church: the understanding of the doctrine of Mary's Assumption, St. Bonaventure's reflection of the Trinity. in creation, remarkable advances in natural science in the 14th and 15th centuries, and influential tracts on spirituality. On the other hand, as regards the theology of the body and virtue theory in ethics, the Dominican Thomas Aquinas has been con-stantly praised as the Common Doctor of the church. Since I work princi-pally in bioethics, I use his contribution and assimilate it to my Franciscan tradition in a harmonious, and not merely eclectic way. I encourage more Franciscans to do research in this field. Franciscan humility, it seems to me, demands as much. 66.1 2007 COLLEEN MARY MALLON Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue To recent experiences frame my reflection on pe in a global world. Recently, as part of a theo-logical update program for our diocese, I spoke on the Spirit and the chui'ch, focusing on themes that emerge from Yves Congar's great work I Believe in the Holy Spirit. Following the presentations, a number of the participants told of having new sources of hope opened up to them. I, too, was struck by the longing of these faith-filled minis-ters to connect to a vital and vibrant hope, to be deeply, ecclesia@ alive in the Spirit, and to share that life with others. There were charisms in that room that, wisely nurtured and supported, could set the diocese ablaze with the Spirit. Clearly, the desert is seeded; with more water, what a riot of flowers there would be. My second experience comes from St. John's University in New York, where I teach the introductory Colleen Mary Mallon OP first presented this essay as a talk on 21 April 2006 at Molloy College's Women of Spirit symposium. She is assistant professor of theology and religious studies at St. John's University; 8000 Utopia Parkway; Jamaica, New York 11439. Review for Religious course in theology. Early in the semester the students discuss Marcus Borg's explication of religious faith. Borg speaks about faith as assensus, intellectual affirmation, fiducia, complete trust, fidelitas, loyalty, and visio, how a person perceives the world from the perspective of faith.~ In each class the difficulty is not faith as trust or loyalty; it is faith as vision. Their vision of faith is stymied by the suffering, the struggle, and the pain that they encounter in the world. At best they hold a cautious hope that God might be at work in it all, but for most of them we live in a thoroughly indifferent universe. The fundamental faith/ hope in a gracious universe is all but nonexistent. These experiences press me to reexamine my own sources and senses of hope. With what theological visio do I see the present moment? How do I bear witness to gospel hope in these times: war in Iraq, worldwide trafficking of women and children, irruption of sectar-ian violence, the ever escalating divide between the have-mores and have-nots, the continuation of white privilege. And, closer to the bone, how do I claim a gospel hope in a church beset by the scandals of abuse and neglect, by clericalism, and by the antipathies of diverse members of the Body of Christ. My search for a response to these questions brought me back into the work and thinking of the French Dominican theologian and ecclesiologist Yves Congar. His experience of intense social, political, and ecclesial upheaval tempered his own sober confidence in the church as the continuing event of Jesus Christ in the world. I believe his perspective brings gospel hope and historical reality into a fertile, albeit tensive, dynamic. He and other French Dominicans contributed in no small way to the refashioning of theology in the 20th century. Their pertinence to wise theological vision in a global world is not to be overlooked. Using a feminist methodology which asserts that 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue "God is be discovered in human experience," let us look at the hungers and obstacles that we face at this time both as individuals and as members of a diverse and complex Christian tradition.2 Seeking what the Divine Presence desires of us at this time is, I believe, the very stuff of engaged discipleship. Discerning how contradictions and struggles mark our ecclesial experiences calls for both vir-rue and skill. I propose that the virtue is hope and that the skills include practices and behaviors that witness to our hope and even expand the horizon of our own gospel faith. If we listen carefully to what lies beneath our experiences so as to attend to the Mystery--infinitely beyond and yet intimately present to our present--we may encounter, even in "the incomplete" and "the lack," a power and a grace worthy of our freedom. I want to sketch a little more thoroughly thesigns of these global times and then turn to Yves Congar for his theological vision, for how it may inspire hope in the church today. The Signs of These Global Times There is no lack of scholarly analysis of globalization and the religious questions that emerge from the unprec-edented movement of people, ideas, and commodities.3 I want to look at the challenges that living in "glocal" presents.4 The anthropologist Roland Robertson uses the term "glocal" for the juncture where the global and local meet.5 Our contemporary experience of this global-local situation is a significant historical factor in our lives today. This is where we discern signs of the times and make decisions as disciples of Jesus. The theologian David Tracy is famous for the claim that we live in an age that cannot name itself.6 Our global-human existence contains such conflicting world-views that no one way, no single story, can hold us as a human family. Moreover, the very stories that perceive Review for Religious individuals and communities in significant patterns have become mobile. Peoples once geographically distinct are now mixing, interacting, and living in patterns that may be completely foreign to their nextdoor neighbor. Sociologists and anthropologists tell us that we, as global residents, are experiencing "flows" of people, resources, and information in ways never before experienced on the planet.7 Dual factors, media and migration, cause the global experience of compression and expansion? We experience global compression whenever we become aware of the nar-rowed space between once distant geographic entities. Exotic strangers now live close to each other in global cities that have drawn peoples together for a host of different reasons: as tourists, as migrant workers, as refugees, as executive elites. Globalization is reshaping our economic, political, and cultural worlds, and this brings a variety of ways of perceiving and evaluating the production of today's tech-nologically sophisticated societies.9 The flow of the classic Enlightenment notions of "democracy," "freedom," and "sovereignty" into new global spaces stirs in them new instances of these Western ideas. What would "democ-racy" look like for women'in a predominantly Shiite Iraq? What does the "sovereignty" of a Palestinian state, led by a newly elected Hamas government, mean for the established national states of the world? In truth, there is no longer one kind of modernity; many modernities are competing around the globe.~° These observations point to the growing tension between the global and the local which Roland Robertson describes as the "contemporary manifestation of the universal-particular dilemma.''~1 We 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue live in a world where we truly grasp universals (such as freedom, peace, prosperity) only in particular instances. And there seems to be no end of particulars; we keep discovering uniqueness, singularities, and individualities. We have come to accept, in a sense, one universal: that there are limitless particularities.~2 As Christians we recognize something of this dilemma in the wide range of our ecclesial experiences: the rise of local, base communities of gospel reflection, the renewed focus on particular denominational identities (what does it mean to be a Catholic college or university or hospital?), young people's search for their Christian identity, the rise of religious fundamentalism. Even the concerns regarding the proper role of local episcopal conferences expresses this global-local tension. The question of subsidiarity and collegiality is a much different question today than it was forty years ago at Vatican II. The experience of great diversity raises new questions about the "taken-for-grantedness" of the underlying unity of humanity. Various interpretative frameworks and femi-nist, postcolonial, and postmodern sensibilities foster a new global consciousness of "the other" and "difference." Indigenous stories, newly valorized, emerge on the global scene and inspire local resistance to ideas from outside; these "new primordialisms," freshly reshaped and refash-ioned cultural identities, whet deep appetites for mean-ing and consequence that seemingly transcend, for some people, their own existence.~3 Suicide bombers testify in ways we never expected to the power of meaning in human lives. Disconnected in their storied worlds from wider significance, people become anxious, aggravated, even deadly. New claims for authoritative traditions raise all sorts of questions about identity and symbols and whether our belonging to a particular group prohibits other kinds of Review for Religious belonging. It is in these particularisms that we often expe-rience the tensions of our ecclesial life. Can I be a Catholic and a Democrat? Can I be a feminist and "pro-life"? Like the world we are inescapably a part of, our ecclesial iden-tifies feel the pressure of the global-local predicament and challenges to past certitudes. As these new horizons open, our shared understandings of the gospel cross over into disputed spaces of lived experiences. Within those spaces there appears to be diminishing tolerance among us. Our particular community niche imposes limits on both our imaginations and our practices of tolerance. Many within the church find it increasingly difficult to engage in civil conversations across the wide diversity of perspectives. As the theologian Joseph Komonchak noted in an address to the Catholic Common Ground Initiative, "to judge from a few Internet discussions., many Catholics could learn a thing or two about elementary courtesy, about how to listen and how to speak, about give and take.''14 What hope can we have for a truly "catholic" future when our practice of dialogue mirrors the enclave mentality of our global world? Yves Congar's Incarnational Approach What might a thoroughly 20th-century, white, European, friar-preacher and theologian offer in support of hope in these times? Congar's incarnational, historical approach to theology certainly contributed to the theol-ogy in his day. Early in his theological vocation, Congar understood that he was called to serve the unity of a pain-fully divided Christian community.is Within this call grew his conviction that the dominant mode of doing theology was unnecessarily abstract and all too disconnected from the lives of ordinary people.16 His approach to theology developed from his fraternal relationships with Marie Dominic Chenu and Henri Ma]'ie Feret. Living and 66.1 2007 Mallon * Reclaiming Hope, Recovetqng Dialogue teaching at the French Dominican studium Le SaulchoiT; these three Dominicans plotted the demise of what they called "baroque theology." Congar recalls a particular day when they conceived of a research project on the history of theology. One day, chatting at the entrance of the old Saulchoi,; we found ourselves in profound accord--at once intel-lectual, vital, and apostolic--on the idea of undertaking a "liquidation of baroque theology." This was a moment of intense and total spiritual union . It was not a question of producing something negative: the rejections were only the reverse of aspects that were more positive. One day the balance will be drawn up, but already the positive quality can be sensed. What would a little later be called "ressourcement" was then at the heart of our efforts. It was not a matter either of mechanically replac-ing some theses by other theses or creating a "revolu-tion" but of appealing, as P4guy says, from one tradition less profound to another more profound.~7 This historical approach, learned at Le Saulchoh" and prac-ticed throughout his life, allowed Congar to develop a theology that was more deeply rooted in revelation and at the same time open to the pressing questions of the 20th century.~s It is Congar's approach to revelation that I believe is a critical point of departure. Many theologians regard Congar as the foremost expert on the Christian tradition, and anyone engaged in a theology of tradition cannot pro-ceed without Congar. Some contemporary scholars have noted that, while Congar's view of tradition is stunningly comprehensive, it lacks a necessary attention to the way in which meaning and power are inexorably intertwined. One theologian calls Congar's approach highly idealistic.~9 I have wrestled with this critique because, in some sense, it is a legitimate one. Clearly, Congar missed the post-modern critique of power/knowledge, and his very small Review for Religious reflections on women in relation to ministry and God-language betray his incomplete grasp of feminist concerns and questions.2° I do believe, however, that Congar's intu-ition concerning revelation and history is still significant because it is a profoundly catholic intuition. By this I mean that part of Congar's genius is his confi-dence in the fertile ground found at the intersection of the gospel and the ultimate concerns of people. As I read his theological project, I believe that the starting point of the-ology for Congar is the God-human relationship. Only in and through this relation-ship is knowledge of God possible: a relationship initiated and realized in history, in specific bodies, within unique and diverse human cultures. To make the God-human relation-ship the starting point ointp theologyfor Congar is the ,;, !GOd h :r an Telationship. of theology is to refuse to dissolve the tension between transcendence and immanence; it is, in fact, to claim that tension is integral to our graced existence in this world, in these bodies, at this time in history. I believe that this is a remarkable source of hope for us today. The mind-numb-ing, spirit-quenching materialism of much of our world has laid us low. Our own mystery as beings-made-for-love-and- truth is threatened by the pervasive consumerism that warps our sense of what it means to be human and happy. Our wishes are marketed to us as needs, things we lack are represented to us as inalienable rights, our unwise choices are blindly considered joys of freedom. The God-human Relationship To make the God-human relationship the starting point of our reflection is to reclaim both history and mys- 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue tery, and to do so in a way that is not naively romantic nor overconfident either, overreaching our finitude as crea-tures. If we allow materialism to flatten our perceptions, we lose the .meanings and values that animate our worlds of sight and sound, the very worlds through which the Divine Life communicates. In the words of Congar, "the regenerative power that will finally operate is already at work in our world, transiently, precariously, fragmentarily, and generally unperceived.''2~ This power is nothing less than the life of God poured out so that all may have life in its fullness (Jn 10:10). The "good news" manifest in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus makes explicit this divine intention for all creation, overcoming every possible alienation, division, obstacle, and separation. For Congar, this is the heart of the incarnation. God's involvement with creation is utterly personal and pro-foundly existential. "God is not the 'eternal celibate of the centuries,' but love and goodness," who creates beings "animate[d] . . . with a movement and., a desire that is an echo in them of [God's] own desire . . . revealed to us as [God's] spirit.''22 48 The Gift and Task of Discipleship For Congar, we cannot speak properly of the human outside the graced relationship that has called all creation into existence for the divine purposefulness that is agapic love. To be human is to have as gift what grace alone brings to completion.23 For Christians, the deepest, truest realization of the project called "humanity" is in receiving the embrace of a Trinity-imbued life; nothing less than the Word and the Spirit continue to effect the fulfillment of "all things in God.''24 And this fulfillment is not some-thing abstract or ethereal. "The Spirit makes it possible for us to know, recognize, and experience Christ. This is not simply a doctrinal statement. It is an existential reality Review for Religious which comes from a gift and involves us in our lives.''2s Our lives, lived Godward, immerse us in the Christian mystery that is simultaneously a gift received and a task entrusted. For Congar, the gift character of Christian life lies in Jesus' mystery becoming our mystery.-'6 Our immer-sion into Christ makes us new creation, or, as Joseph Komonchak says, "Faith discloses a new world of great depth and breadth and a new self within it.''27 In a global world where the media and the Internet hawk lifescripts to eager, vulnerable consumers, we must not lose sight of the liberating gift disclosed in Jesus; we must never forget Jesus' attractiveT~ess. Through his life, death, and resurrection, we encounter the agapic love that alone is worthy of our freedom. Moreover, we touch upon what Gustavo Gutidrrez has called the first step of all theo-logical reflection: adoration.28 The gift character of our discipleship opens us to God's utterly gratuitous love for all creation. Our only adequate response is the searingly silent gratitude of the mystic heart. To be found by this love is to find ourselves in a new relationship with all of reality, and to allow it to govern our existence both individually and communally, as both mystery and history. The gift given in revelation and received in our very being discloses to us the potential within all creation. We can only know a small part of this all-surpassing gift, but the task entrusted to us, to realize the potential of our graced existence, is of utmost importance for humanity. Our global-local world teaches us that particularity counts, that only in the bodies and histories and cultures of actual, unique persons can the transformation of the whole happen. The gift inspires the task. The gift of God's agapic love points and directs us towards the places where mercy, peace, justice, and reconciliation ache to be realized. Our 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue hope does not lie in some perfect world without the great risks that our freedom in history poses. Our hope lies in our unflinching reliance on the gift of the Spirit as we humbly and confidently put our freedom at the service of in some perfect wqrld without the great risks our freedom in history po eS.- the Love that has called us into existence. We recognize today, more than any other time, just how difficult that is. Our freedoms are conditioned by diverse worlds of meaning, some of which do not easily or comfortably coexist. We acknowledge an exasperating pluralism: global technologies that isolate just as much as they bridge. What ways of being disciples might help our hope and deepen Love's grasp, of our lives? Can diverse Christian reflections on the meaning of Jesus speak to each other? Can we practice curiosity and abstain from obstinate judgments? To imagine our discipleship as gift and task in a global world demands, I believe, a new asceticism that curbs our penchant to overindulge in communities of like-mindedness, that calls us to be different from nar-rowly framed groups around us, that calls us to the hard work of dialogical communion, expressed in new practices of ecclesial hospitality. The Task of Dialogical Communion There are behaviors and skills that can show widely that "the regenerating power that will finally operate is already at work in our world." There are disciplines that, if embraced, can witness to human life as dialogical communion. The diversity of the cosmos is authored and authorized by the Source of all life, in whose Mystery Review for Religious diversity poses no threat to unity. In the divine economy, unity stimulates diversity. The gift inspires the task. Dialogical communion challenges us to attend to how the Spirit continues to communicate God's life in and through our historical unity, a unity that is more than mere uniformity. Emerging from enclave mentalities into the liminal spaces of dialogue is, indeed, risky, business. Transgressing the boundaries of worlds of shared commitments and understandings takes great courage, and not only because of the encounter with difference. In a recent talk at St. John's University, Gerry Adams, leader of the Sein Fein party, spoke of the Irish Peace Process. The single most important element of the peace process, according to Adams, is dialogue: getting people to step out of their hard-fought divisions and to speak to each other. But Adams insists that the hardest dialogue is not with the perceived enemy; it is with your own group. Transgressing the boundaries of our habitation disturbs our communi-ties of like-mindedness. We put our identity at risk; our loyalties may be questioned; we may seem to have lost our regard for once-shared values and visions; we may be accused of undermining the very distinctiveness of our group. And we may become agents of change: midwives to the gestating life of redeemed humanity. If our diversity is no mistake, if our global-human condition confronts us, not only with challenges, but with the deep truth that our differences and particularities are the only way we have to express our essential humanity, then we will have to practice a new ldnd of countercultur-alism. When we become aware that the very diversity that delights God troubles and disturbs us, we have stepped into a moment ripe for conversion. I have the privilege of being a board member of the Parable Conference, an organization whose purpose is to make space for dialogue 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue Embracing the task Of_ dialogical commun_ion mopes us from false impressions and prejudgment~ to respect and curiosity. among all the branches of the Dominican family in the United States. No other entity for that dialogue exists in the United States. I remember the moment when I saw how mistaken my perceptions of the Dominican laity were. My prejudgment was an obstacle mercifully revealed and dispelled by new relationships with women and men whose embrace of the Dominican charism is truly inspiring. The Parable Conference struggles to keep the dia-logue alive among U.S. Dominicans; it is not an easy task. Ideology, apathy, and enmity challenge our attempts to be in authentic communion across the wide scope of the Dominican .family. Yet the very existence of this group is a good example of the order's preaching charism. Without the witness of an actual, historical community struggling to hold and engage the truths emerging from diverse God experiences, our words are empty and ~ our witness a mere shadow of what it could be. Embracing the task of dia-logical communion moves us from false impressions and prejudgments to respect and curiosity. In a contentiously divided global world, the practice of dialogical commu-nion bears witness every time we risk the hospitable effort to "make space" for each other. In his book Exc&sion and Embrace, the Lutheran theo-logian Miroslav Volf writes, "The will to give ourselves to others and 'welcome them,' to readjust our identities to make space for them, is prior to any judgment., except that of identifying them in their humanity.''29 When I attended Good Friday services last April, I observed a Review for Religious couple in the pew ahead of me struggle to "make space." It was an odd scene, because clearly there was enough space for everyone in the pew. For some reason, however, the woman-already-seated would not move all the way over; when another couple arrived, they had to practically sit on each other. I waited, thinking she would see the problem and adjust, move over just a bit more. No. She looked, made a fussy little head movement, and remained; eventually the intruding couple sat elsewhere. Then she moved over! Now there was plenty of space, and a few minutes later two others filled the pew. Why is it so hard to make space? Why is hospitality so difficult at times? I do not pretend to have a simple answer. I only know that there is a simple answer, and that this incident serves as a parable about the demands of dialogical communion. We need to secure a place where dialogue can happen. We have to cultivate the skills and disciplines that allow for the dignified existence of oth-ers. Without this space we risk the loss of real encounter and the grace it may hold for us. We lose an opportunity to witness to an authentic faith-filled visit, a gospel hope worthy of our fragile freedom. Congar reminds us that theology is not a deadly repetition of neatly worked out dogmatic statements. Disconnected from the existential reality of "someone's living thought," theology "will not bear its fruit.''3° We stand in danger, today, of losing that precious space where we respectfully, thoughtfully, and critically engage the "living thought" of someone else. Dialogical communion might be thought of as the inten-tional practice of hospitality towards those with whom we may not fully agree, or simply do not understand. People securing space for the complex and contrasting truths that emerge from deep diversities are signs of these times: "deep diversity" calls for an equally deep curiosity.3! 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue If our starting point remains the God-human rela-tionship, then we will be convinced that Mystery touches us only in history. The truth that embraces us in each encounter with the God of life is one, but its manifesta-tions are multiple. Indeed, genuine engagement of the God-human relationship continues to yield wise and chal-lenging expressions of Christian discipleship: the irrup-tion of the poor into history and the holistic vision of the reign of God as presented in theologies of libera-tion, the gospel reflection of women bringing forth new constructive theologies and the prophetic link with eco-logical consciousness and responsibility, the theologies of human rights that seek out space where diverse religions may work together for peace and the dignity of human life, and the emerging reflection on the other face of rac-ism, namely, white privilege and continuing exclusion of people of color. These truths of discipleship call us to examine anew the precious gift of our graced and historically precarious human existence. They call for a deeper asceticism and humility; they inspire a wondrous reverence for God and a curiosity about the things of God. They invite us to sus-pend our judgments so as to make space for each other and, in the very act of "maki~g space," encounter the God, who does more in us and with us than we can ask or imag-ine (Ep 3:20). "Making space" may well be the greatest and most fruitful spiritual discipline we can practice as a global church so as to be genuinely attentive to the Spirit in a world newly awakened to its divinely conceived diversity. Hope lies in our courageous and sober confidence in the Spirit's power to bring all that is God's to fullness. In the spaces where fragile human hearts meet the Love and Truth that alone overcomes all alienation, there is the hope for a different kind of history, a different kind of humanity. The gift inspires the task. Shall we take up the task? Review for Religious Notes ~ Marcus Borg, "Faith: The \a, ray of the Heart," in The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2004), pp. 25-42. 2 Mary Catherine Hilkert, "Tradition and Experience," in Freeing Theology: The Essentials of Theology in Feminist Perspective, ed. Catherine Mowry LaCugna (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993), p. 60. 3 For an overview of the many facets of the phenomenon of glo-balization, see The Globalization Reader; ed. Frank J. Lechner and John Boli (Maiden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2000), and Patrick O'Meara, Howard D. Mehlinger, and Matthew Krain, eds., Globalization and the Challenges of a New Centmy: A Reader (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000). 4 See Robert J. Schreiter, The New Catholicity: Theology between the Global and the Local (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1997). s Roland Robertson, "Glocalization: Time-Space and Homogeneity- Heterogeneity," in Global Mode, v,ities, ed. Scott Lash and Roland Robertson (London: SAGE, 1995). ~ David Tracy, On Naming the Present (New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 3. 7 See in particular Arjun Appadarai's seminal essay "Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy," in Mode~vtity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1996), pp. 27-47. s See in particular Robert Schreiter, "Globalization and the Contexts of Theology," in his New Catboliciq, pp. 1-27. 9 See Saskia Sassen, Globalization and Its Discontents: Essays on the New Mobiliq of People and Money (New York: New Press, 1998). ~0 Mike Featherstone, Undoing Culture: Globalization, Postmode~ism, and Identity (London: SAGE Publications, 1995). ~ Roland Robertson, Globalization: Social Theory and Global Culture (London: SAGE Publications, 1992), p. 100. 1, As Roland Robertson expresses it, "there is virtually no limit to particularity, to uniqueness, to difference, to otherness." Robertson, Globalization, p. 102. ~3 See in particular Benedict Anderson, hnagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationali.~n (London: Verso, 1991). ~4 Joseph Komonchak, "Is Christ Divided? Dealing with Diversity and Disagreement," Origins 33 (9): 140-147. ~ In a number of interviews, Congar traced his lifelong devotion to the unity the Christian churches to a siugular moment of contemplation. "It was while meditating upon the seventeenth chapter of St. John's Gospel 66.1 2007 Mallon ¯ Reclaiming Hope, Recovering Dialogue that I clearly recognized my vocation to work for the unity of all who believe in Jesus Christ." Yves Congar, Dialogue between Christians: Catholic Contributions to Ecumenism, trans. Philip Loretz SJ (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1966), p. 3. ~'~ "We are too prone to be satisfied with a dogma in itself, which has not to be worked out but is all laid down in the catechism or the theologi-cal manuals. We retail it, we are purveyors of orthodox theology, and that is all. We are in the process of finding that a dogma must be someone's dogma or someone's living thought, otherwise it will not bear its fruit." Yves Congar, Priest and Layman (London: Darton, Longman, & Todd, 1967), p. 209. ~7 Yves Congar, "The Brother I Have Known," The Thomist, 49 (4): 495-503. 1~ For an excellent essay on Congar's life as a theologian, see Etienne Fouilloux, "Friar Yves, Cardinal Congar, Dominican: History of a Theologian," U.S. Catholic Historian 17 (2). ~9 Vincent Miller, "History. of Geography? Gadamer, Foucault, and Theologies of Tradition," in Theology and the New Histories, ed. Gary. Macy (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 1999), pp. 56-85. 20 Congar, however, was not in any sense na'ive with regard to abuses of power, particularly in his ongoing concern for a dialogical church. "In polemics., or in any form of controversy devoid of dialogue, I interpose my own personal power, or rather that of a social formation whose views I am defending, such as a nation, a church, a culture, a social group or class, or a nexus of collective interests. Certain questions, such as that of colonialism in its most absolute form, might be approached from this point of view." Congar, Dialogue between Christians, p. 55. :~ Yves Congar, Lay People in the Church, trans. Donald Atwater (~'Vestminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1957), p. 86. 22 Yves Congar, 1 Believe in the Holy Spirit, Vol. 2, He Is Lord and Giver of Life, trans. David Smith (New York: Seabury Press, 1983), p. 67. ~3 Yves Congar, This CT;urch That I Love, trans. Lucien Delafuente (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1969). 24 Congar, I Believe, vol. 2, p. 12. 's Congar, I Believe, vol. 2, p. 37. z6 Congar, Lay People, p. 57. 27 Komonchak, "Is Christ Divided?" p. 76. :s The "adoration of God and the doing of God's will are necessary. conditions for thinking about God." Gustavo Guti~rrez, The T~vah Shall Set You Free: Conf!'ontations, trans. MatthewJ. O'Connell (Maryknolh Orbis Books, 1990), p. 55. Review for Religious 2,; Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Emb~wce: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otberness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), p. 29. 30 Congar, Priest and Layman, p. 209. 3~ See Charles Taylor's discussion of "deep diversity" in "Shared and Divergent Values," in his Reconciling the Solitudes: Essays on Canadian Federalism and Nationalism (Montreal/Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1993), pp. 155-186. Personal Reflection/Group Discussion In today's church do I find in myself a growing inability to listen and to dialogue with others about my own beliefs and values? What can I do to develop a more tolerant attitude in myself and so help others to become more tolerant? Do I understand dialogical cornmunion? What are some of the challenges ! would face with the people with whom I live and work? 66.1 2007 ROSE HOOVER Why Do We Gather? A Journey Together community We live in an age when young adults rarely consider religious life an option for themselves. Are we dinosaurs with primordial behavior pat-terns? Do we know why we come together in religious communities in this day and age--or in any day and age? There are varieties of commu-nity, but in this article I simply want to reflect on religious community's purpose, whether we are talking about community under one roof or community in a broader sense that does not nec-essarily mean living together. Why do we gather together? For example, are we brought together as religious for the pur-pose of a particular task? Do we form commu-nity for thesake of the ministry we do? Many people get together for special endeavors and enjoyments--music groups and sports teams, for example. Some groups even live together, like Rose Hoover RC last wrote for this journal in March-April 1992. Her address is Cenacle Sisters; 505 Northeast 5th Avenue; Gainesville, Florida 32601. Review for Religious the ad hoc assemblages on some reality shows. We too have tasks we desire to accomplish, tasks not only pre-cious to us but valuable for the people of God. We know that good community life can help us in our ministries. But is ministry the reason we come together? Today other people do the same ministries we do, and do them just as well, without being members of religious communi-ties. If religious community is for the purpose of carrying out ministry, and if the ministry no longer necessitates coming together in community, then is our gathering as consecrated religious also unnecessary? What about forming relationships? There was a lot of talk a few years ago about relational communities as distinct from task-ori-ented communities. A quick Internet search shows that concept to be far from dead today. As Christians we are indeed called to be in relationship both with God and with other ~ i."~ W:~t~hou~t~:i')ood "rdationships, ,- iydividuals and communities Christians. Without good relationships, individuals and communities are bound to be lifeless. And so compan-ionship, relationships, belong in consecrated life. In fact, loving presence is necessary in consecrated life. But com-panionship, even deep companionship, can be had in other ways, some of them far easier than religious community. Neither friendship nor c6mpanionship, of course, can be the main purpose of religious community. As Antoine de Saint-Exup~ry writes in l/Vind, Sm~d, and Stars, "Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction." In Christian community, if our primary gaze is on each other rather than on Christ, we are not on the way to true communion. 66.1 2007 Hoover ¯ Why Do We Gather? Religious cOmmunity is no way to flee,the,World; the world walks right-inl Wit,h,us.o Can religious community exist for the purpose of mak-ing the practical details of life more economical or more simple? It certainly can, though it does not always do so. In our university town we see students who live together to save money and make life less burdensome, leaving more time and energy for studies. Religious communi-ties, too, can live simply and economically--and even live gospel poverty. But is this all there is to it? Communities, even small ones, can provide security. People throughout the centuries have banded together for the sake of security. Gated communities thrive today. California lays claim to at least three gated cities--in effect, walled towns: Rolling Hills, Hidden Hills, and Canyon Lake. Probably some peo-pie enter religious life to be safe from the dangers of the "world" (or other dangers they somehow perceive). We know from experi-ence that religious community is no way to flee the world, if for no other reason than that the world walks right in with us. Security, then, cannot be the purpose of coming together as religious. There has to be more to religious community than any of these reasons, more even than all of them together. Parker Palmer, a Quaker, who at the time of writing an article for Desert Call (1987) was part of an intentional community, puzzled over the historical longevity of monasticism, given the difficulties of community life. He concluded that it is because the monks "created a form of community that brings them together not for the purpose of togetherness but to support each other in the rigors of the inward journey.''~ Review for Religious To support each other on the inward journey, the spiritual journey, is indeed rigorous. It has no less a goal than transforming union with Jesus Christ. That, after all, is the Christian call. The road can be rocky, and pitfalls can lie along the path. There can be pain and discourage-ment, but also joy, peace, and love. Moments of grace can astonish, but then there may be long and numbing stretches of boredom. At times we wish to shuffle along complacently, and at other times we are strong against the enemy's wiles. We have glimmers of understanding and then clouds of miserable confusion. The journey is truly rigorous. There is no way to make it alone. Whether we thought about it this way or not, this is the reason we entered religious life. God knew the pur-pose even if we did not--the call to give ourselves wholly to God by following a path of transforming union in love. This path not only blesses us with love and forgiveness, it also demands much of us. It requires prayer. This needs to be said bluntly here because, though for some people prayer is pure joy, for others it is a demand, a rigorous one. And, as for praying together, some find it no bur-den at all, while others are being sorely tested. The need for prayer implies the need to find time for prayer, the courage to carve a quiet niche for it when society--and sometimes religious life as well--would instead reward us for constant activity. How many times have we heard someone say with a hint of pride in her voice, "I haven't had a day off in months"? Or maybe we have even made that boast ourselves. As our life goes on, we have opportunities and duties to learn compassion toward the uncompassionate and to love those who do not love us._We learn to see loveliness in those who appear unlovely, sometimes being surprised at seeing our own kind of goodness in someone we never even liked. We find ourselves acknowledging our own 66.1 2007 Hoover ¯ Why Do We Gather? sinfulness, our helplessness, our inability to understand ourselves or the God who loves us and in whose image we are made. The spiritual journey brings people to a better vision of life--but usually without visions. Along the way we more and more take on the mind of Christ, who emptied himself. We learn not to cling to anything, not to hold anything back. We take one step at a time, without know-ing where the road winds and often without being sure that the next step is the right one. The road through our interior landscape may lack clear markers; misty weather may obscure them and make us forget the presence of God. Formidable though the way may be, it is precisely here that we find our delight. The God who created the universe, who fills the cosmos, who was and is and ever shall be, this God is both our companion and our destina-tion. After beginning on this path, any other way seems dull and senseless, hardly worth the trouble of putting one foot in front of the other. To make the most of this wondrous journey and to smooth its progress, we gather together. We support one another by our words, our prayers, and our presence, and we grant one another the silence and solitude we all need. And, when we become discouraged like Elijah lying under the broom tree, we take for each other the role of the angel who said, "Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you" (1 K 19:7, NRSV). We have to admit, though, that sometimes our sisters and brothers the~nselves can be part of the "burning of the noontide heat, and the burden of the day."-' The com-munity may be the very reason we long to crawl under the broom tree and disappear in sleep. But the burdens and the blessings of the road are intermingled and often indis-tinguishable from one another. What seems like a bur-den may in reality be a blessing, and each blessing tends Review for Religious to bring with it its own weight, imperceptible at times, greatly evident at others. In community, as we accompany each other along the way, as we support each other, we bring ourselves to the mix of people, we give ourselves as gifts. As with ordinary gifts, we do not know if we have chosen the right gift for the right person. We sincerely hope we have, and that we are not bringers of burdens or disappointments. In this we all develop subtle social gifts of giving and receiving, giving benefits shyly and having doubts beneficially, all the while sharing in mystery. What, then, is the role of our ministry? Is the value of ministry lessened if the work we are called to do is not our chief reason for coming together? Not at all. Without the inward journey, our ministry lacks integrity. A reli-gious community with a task--even a noble task--as its primary purpose risks allowing both community and task to become sterile. The apostolate is inseparable from the path of transforming union. Like cotton canvas garden-ing gloves, our ministry, hand in hand with prayerfulness, brings our patient dedication to flower in ways beyond imagining--more .and more the work of Christ. We our-selves are transformed into the compassionate and merci-ful Christ for each other and for the world. Notes ~ Parker Palmer, "The Monastic V~ay to Church Renewal," Desert Call, ¼qnter 1987: 8-9. 2 Elizabeth C. Clephane, "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," 1868. 66.1 2007 ROBERT SCHIELER An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers During Holy Week 2006 three hundred De La Salle Christian Brothers gathered in retreat to discern a future together. Under the banner "An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers," we brothers from three East Coast provinces~ and Toronto, Canada, desire to imagine more of a future than merging our provinces into one. As in other congregations, the reason for con-sidering a shared future is the diminishment and aging in our provinces. In recent years the provinces have spon-sored joint formation programs, retreats, workshops, and council meetings. This gathering helped us become even more familiar with one another and our hopes and dreams. From the beginning we wanted to explore creative approaches to consolidation. We saw the merging of provinces as perhaps an administrative necessity but no guarantee for future viability and vitality. Our goal was to Robert Schieler FSC writes from Christian Brothers Provincialate; P.O. Box 29; Adamstown, Maryland 21710. Review for Religious make our network of ministries more effective. These ways were to include a renewed passion for our life together as brothers in community and for our consecrated life in the following of Jesus. The aim of the communal retreat was to facilitate achieving these goals. In the preceding eighteen months, a planning com-mittee guided local community conversations around the Triduum. Four prayer services with reflection questions were prepared for Trinity Sunday, when communities nor-mally .plan for the year, the first Sunday in Advent, and the first Sunday in Lent. Reflection questions sought to mirror sessions that would take place during the retreat: remembering our icons and dangerous memories; discern-ing who we are today and our potential for tomorrow; and deciding on a direction for a shared future. Being pragmatic people, a good many brothers had reservations about this process and the value of the retreat itself. The retreat began on Wednesday evening with over three hundred brothers processing into our prayer space for an opening prayer service and a motivational presen-tation celebrating five brothers identified as icons from our five provinces. During our days of retreat, we would recall icons from Scripture, our Lasallian heritage, and our brothers. Icons, as windows to the interior, help us get in touch with the deeper forces operative in our lives. An icon can help us transcend the immediacy of our pres-ent life situation. By touching the core of our being, icons stir up an interior movement that allows us to go beyond our immediate landscapes. At the opening prayer service we heard read: We gather tonight to remember, to celebrate, to grieve, and to dream. This is our Lasallian heritage. It is rich, indeed! It is composed of individuals, communities, and ministries that at one time listened to the whispers of a radical spirit, a spirit that opened to us new venues and invited us to launch our boats in uncharted waters so 66.1 2007. Scbieler ¯ An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers as to serve better the children of the poor and working class. We celebrate tonight our Lasallian icons. They are stories, people, events of the original foundational journey of our community as De La Salle Brothers that become like windows breaking open the deepest mean-ing, revealing a prophetic insight, full of memory and hope, about the present. They help us to get in touch with our dangerous memories., our wildest dreams. They connect us to our institute, to our church, and to the mystery of God's kingdom here on earth. Brothers, they do not exist to reassure us. Sometimes these icons will destabilize us and challenge our current views and understandings. If we let them, they may stir up in us the deepest movements and yearnings of the Spirit! Seeing men we have lived with or heard about and recalling how they lived as brothers and what they accom-plished stirred us, prompted reflections, and encouraged conversations about our fraternal life together and the mission for which we consecrated our lives. As the open-ing evening came to a close, brothers retired to their rooms in a "wait and see" frame of mind. Dangerous Memories Under the day's theme of "Remembering where we were and refounding our hope. for the future," we met on Holy Thursday morning as provinces to recall our respec-tive dangerous memories. The theologian Johannes B. Metz saw dangerous memories as: memories in which earlier experiences break through to the center point of our lives and reveal new and dangerous insights for the present. They illuminate for a few moments and with a harsh and steady light the questionable nature of things we have apparently come to terms with, and show up the banality of our supposed "realism." They break through the canon of the prevailing structures of plausibility and have certain subversive features. Such memories are like dangerous Review for Religious and incalculable visitations from the past. They are memories that we have to take into account, memories, as it were, with a future content.: One province, in the activities leading up to the retreat, highlighted as one of its most dangerous memories a 1920s decision that resulted in a quick move from primary to secondary education. In 1926 and 1927 the province withdrew from thirteen elementary schools to staff two new diocesan high schools. While reluctant at the time to leave elementary education, the province would realize from these two schools several hundred vocations during the next four decades. This decision is part of the prov-ince lore and often recalled at fraternal gatherings. On this Holy Thursday morning, however, it was about another dangerous memory that several brothers spoke with pas-sion. This dangerous memory was still very much in the present. It was from the late 1960s and early 1970s. Like many congregations and the church in general, the province was caught up in the euphoria of the Second Vatican Council, but was also beginning to witness the fallout: departures, the drop in vocations, and polariza-tion. Between the start of summer 1969 and the end of summer 1970, the province would lose nearly a hundred brothers, including the provincial and much of the prov-ince's leadership. In the coming decade nearly thirty men would leave to enter the priesthood. The novitiate that had served the province since 1880 closed in summer of 1969. At the same time the renewal and updating of our religious life, the principle of subsidiarity, and personal responsibility versus directives from the top were going forward. So was empowerment of young over those with seniority status. While this province would struggle with fundamental issues of religious life through much of the 1970s, by the end of the decade a new formation program was bringing 66.1 2007 Schieler ¯ An Experience of yesus and His Brothers from our pas that we wanted tocar or ard fewer but excellent candidates. Commitment to its tradi-tional educational ministries remained strong while being open to new and sometimes individual ministries. The mental health of the brothers would be honestly faced and addressed. After considerable neglect, personal and communal prayer returned. The morning session was both invigorating and inspir-ing. Table conversation at lunch was animated as other brothers were proposed as icons and further dangerous memories shared. Following lunch and prompted by a presentation on passing with Jesus from death to life and by a video on our roots, we reflected on the values from our past that we wanted to cel-ebrate and carry forward into the future. These included accomplishing our educational mission as a community that can adapt and innovate, the diversity of our educational delivery sys-tems, our formation as educators with a Christocentric spirituality, and our recent establishment of national for-mation programs to share our charism with our lay col-leagues. As Thursday afternoon gave way to evening and din-ner, the brothers seemed to accept that we were on a retreat, not at an assembly. Conversations were more hope-filled, and the feeling now being expressed was "Yes, it is good to be together." This was evidenced by the number of brothers coming.before the Blessed Sacrament in prayer and silence throughout the evening. Finding a seat in chapel for adoration on Holy Thursday had not been difficult for a long time! Review for Religious Three Hundred HistoriesmOne Voice, One Spirit While on Wednesday evening and Holy Thursday we celebrated and remembered those brothers who shaped us and our provinces, on Good Friday we would behold the men we are today. How are we different from those we had honored and recognized? What had we lost? What do we take to the cross? Whom do we take down from the cross? What do we bury? To stimulate our reflection we viewed the film Romero, suffering servant in our time, and listened to a presentation on the crucifixion of Jesus, the Suffering Servant for all time. These enriched our table conversations later, but something else in that afternoon proved transformative. The image of three hundred brothers one by one ven-erating the crucified Christ on Good Friday afternoon was a powerful one. We witnessed three hundred histories that have faithfully lived their initial "yes" given to God. There was much gray, but the talent and energy in that long gray line was palpable. One brother reflecting on the experience wrote: "I found that long line of brothers inspiring. Each of us brought our stories to that moment, and I knew many of the men and their talents, the ~ailures they and I faced, the challenges they and I met, the stu-dents they and I inspired, the communities we had lifted up, and our struggles with various demons. Some were my teachers; others were my mentors in community. There were international, national, and district leaders. Other brothers were and are colleagues and confreres. Yet all our various paths pointed us in the same right direction that afternoon. All of us bowed before the same cross, individually and collectively, confessing our belief in Jesus our Savior. What richer image could we have of our vow formula than that we brothers accomplish our educational mission not as individuals but 'together and by associa-tion' with one another?''3 66.1 2007 Scbieler ¯ An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers This kind of change stimulates resistance because it challenges peopl e's habits. Holy Saturday Holy Saturday morning began with a presentation that many brothers found realistic while others found challenging and some even disturbing or out of sync with the spirit of the retreat. That presentation revealed the harsh demographic realities that nearly sixty percent of the membership is over sixty-five years of age with only twelve of the 420 brothers in the three provinces and del-egation under the age of forty. It spoke of the hope lost after the heady days of the council. It spoke of halfhearted efforts at amalgamation in the 1990s and the first cou-ple of years in this new ~ century. It spoke of the ~' difficulties and chal- !enges of what Heifetz . and Linsky call "adap-tive change" versus "technical change"; change at the core of persons or organizations as opposed to the simple rear-ranging of things.4 This kind of change stimulates resis-tance because it challenges people's habits, beliefs, and cultures. The presentation offered elements of hope and a plan for the future, but for some it stood in contrast to the good feelings generated from the storytelling and shar-ing of experiences from our various provinces. Perhaps we were experiencing the stone being placed at the entrance to the tomb. There was a period of questioning, self-doubt, and waiting. What direction would the retreat now take? We had reached a critical moment, and it took all the facilitators' skills to maintain a retreat atmosphere and not slip into a workshop or assembly one. We pre-pared the brothers to opt for the direction they preferred. Review for Religious The answer would come in the afternoon, after the "three hundred stories" had processed in once more. Five possible directions for a shared future were iden-tified, including remaining as separate provinces or unit-ing in a totally new structure. The five possibilities were posted at the front of the hall, and each brother was given a colored dot to place next to his choice. Again three hun-dred men walked up quietly and indicated their choice. At the end, it was overwhelmingly agreed: to create one province with new structures for the vitality of commu-nities and ministries of the three present provinces and delegation. The key phrase was "new structures." In a letter he sent to the brothers at the retreat, our superior general wrote: Our times demand not only that we change current structures, as if by doing only this we could revitalize ourselves. It is not about simply creating larger prov-inces that are the same as those of the past. We have to reinvent what it is we understand by the term "prov-ince," and create new structures that will allow us to be rnore visible and more effective in the way we manage and accompany Lasallian association throughout the world,s The stone in front of the tomb was being removed along with self-doubt and waiting. We embraced the possible. It is always Holy Saturday whenever people push back the creeping boundaries of the world's fear, making room for irrepressible hope; where people live the long darkness of original sin while believing in the possibil-ity of the deeper light; where people discover the touch of an invincible spring on the bare branches of their winter lives.6 Easter Vigil The Easter Vigil was a most joyous occasion. All three hundred brothers had donned their new sport shirts with one of our familiar congregation logos. In his sermon the 66.1 2007 Scbieler ¯ An Experience of Jesus and His Brothers 72 celebrant for the vigil beautifully summarized the previous several days by recounting a conversation he had earlier in the day with a young man staying at the same resort. I walked by. "Hi," I said. "'Sup. You one of Jesus' brothers?" I knew what he meant because I live in the 'hood. "Sorry?" "You one of Jesus' brothers? I saw the sign: 'Jesus and His Brothers.'" "Yeah, yeah, you are too!" Never miss a catechetical moment. "So you pastors or something?" "No, mostly teachers-Christian Brothers." "That's nice," he said. "I've been watching

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

Issue 50.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1991. ; Volume 50 Number 6 November/December 1991 Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister Song of the Groom The Erosion of Faith The Prayer of Stupidity R~vtEw FOR Rt~l.~C~OUs (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindcll Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO and additional offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW ~'Oa RELIGIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs; two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS o 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ".ST.LOUIS, MO 63108 1.91 PRISMS . For those who take their Christian calendar for granted, the celebration of Christmas day seems more an ordinary part of the secular year than the extraordinary event it is. in the case of the business retailer the days leading up to Christmas become the watershed for a profitable sales year. For those in school the Christmas season marks ihe end of a semester, perhaps a gradu-ation, or at least a holiday time. There are large parts of Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, and Hindu worlds where Christmas remains a Western cultural "playtime" invention. And what is Christmas really for us? Christmas celebrates an almost unbelievable reality: God being born as a human being, as a rather ordinary helpless baby. As usual with the arrival of a baby, Christmas represents jby, and with the magical ingredients of angels singing, shepherds watching, and Magi adoring we seem to hold Life with a gentle and light touch. Yet we cannot ignore the dark side of Christmas and the various struggles present within its story, such as the massacre of the innocent babies and the refugee reality of this young family in Egypt. One continuing struggle we all enter into as Christians is in believing that God loves this tangled human world so much. Another cont(mpo~:ary area of con-flict for us lies in the chosen limitations which God takes on in being human, for example, in being male, not female, in being Jewish, not Irish, Polish, or Japanese, in being an uneducated, itinerant preacher, not a priest, a lawyer, or a successful financier. Certain things will be remembered about Jesus-- this God-man--ways of speaking, the kinds of stories he told, his program for what it means to be blessed. All of this sets up the potential for more conflict and misunderstanding from this Middle Eastern way of approaching life so different from our own. Perhaps in our time we need to enter into Christmas more from God's point of view of our human world rather than fixating on our own conflictual struggles. Today it seems that causes and movements, allegiances and preju-dices, tend to make us small, mean, and even vindictive. Christmas take on new importance for Us Christians when the reality we celebrate allows us to identify with God in smallness and in the mean things of this world. We enter a little more lightly and gently into the conflict of limitations which God so eagerly took on in Jesus--the one we call our Vindicator. God desires to minister to a world out of love even though some forms and 801 [109 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 expressions of love always seem to be the source of so much misunderstand-ing and conflict. As a tribute to John of the Cross as we close the four hun-dredth anniversary celebration, Kevin Culligan focuses upon John's : m~mstry--like God's-~coming from an ardent lover. Always the energy of love which seeks union and draws forth imitation enhances at the same time the differentiation of the ones in love. Teilhard de Chardin's evolution axiom, "union differentiates," restates more secularly the Pauline concept of the glory of differences in hands and feet and eye within the Body of Christ--all united in the love of Christ in God. Our contemporary struggle with our own human sexuality in relating to our Christian God needs to find softer focus within the light of Christmas. Maybe there is a kind of divine humor in speaking and relating to God in masculine and feminine imagery. After all, if sexuality makes no sense in referring to our trinitarian God's life, at least the origins of our own human sexuality--limiting as it is in its male and female forms--stem from our cre-ator God of love. And so in accentuating our masculine and feminine reali-ties we reflect back some kind of reality within God's life. Jesus only makes concrete in his very person the struggle of our human love of God--both towards himself and to the God he calls abba, Father. The paradoxes involved in language about God and in responding to a God so intimately involved with us human beings--"male and female God created them"-~are touched upon by two authors in this issue, Robert Annechino and Nancy Cross, as they consider the experience of our loving God and God's loving us. Hennessy's expansion of the Marian mysteries in the public ministry of Jesus adds balance and fullness to our entering into salvation events. Limits in our loving in the form of narcissism is touched upon by Markham and Sofield. O'Hea looks to its roots in the erosion of faith. Darkness even in our loving response in prayer is considered by Dent and Ostini. Ottensmeyer, with a certain lightness of touch, has us take hold of what we might call our perversity principles. The poem, "Monastic Ruminations," by Auer and the article "Messiaenic Epiphany: '. amidst animals, Love is born'" by Schloesser are intended as two special, and different, love-gifts to our readers. May the God enfleshed for us, celebrated anew this Christmas season, help us touch issues and challenges of our times lightly, gently, and with grace. David L. Fleming, S.J. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister: John of the Cross's Lived Example Kevin Culligan, O.C.D. This article is an edited version of a talk Father Kevin gave in December 1990 at the beginning of the fourth-centenary commemoration of St. John of the Cross's death in 1591. Father Kevin was his province's provincial and is now its director of continu-ing education and ongoing formation. His address is Discalced Carmelites; P.O. Box 429; Hinton, West Virginia 25951-0429. A number of years ago, at a seminar on St. John of the Cross and Spiritual Direction for directors of formation in religious communities, one of the par-ticipants told the group that he had come to our seminar in secret: "If my community knew I was participating in a seminar on St. John of the Cross, they would think I had gone off the deep end and would probably remove me from office to protect our novices." For me that remark sadly illustrates the poor image St. John of the Cross has for many clergy, religious, and laity in the United States. In 1926 Pius XI proclaimed him a doctor of the Church precisely because his writings were judged, after three and half centuries of thorough examination, to have universal value for the spiritual formation of Christians. Yet, for most American Catholics today, John is little known and his writings are a closed book. Many think of him primarily a's a mystic and poet, and so have difficulty identifying with him or believing that his teachings have much value for ordinary practical Christian living. Others, like the great American psycholo-gist and philosopher William James, have read his writings but consider him a negative ascetic, admirable in his personal austerities, perhaps, but whose teaching--"to come to possess all, desire the possession of nothing" (Ascent 1.13.11)--is psychologically dangerous. Even the images of John in reli-gious art, where he is usually portrayed embracing a cross, scare people. In Carmel we think of St. John of the Cross differently. He is our spiritu- 803 ~104 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 al father. We have experienced that his teaching, while challenging, is filled with practical wisdom. We regret that he is so little known and so negatively perceived in the United States because we believe he offers adult Christians a "spirituality with substance," as John Welch, O.Carm., states in his recent book, When Gods Die: An Introduction to John of the Cross. Thus, during the celebration of the fourth centenary of his holy death on December 14, 1591, we challenge ourselves to make his life and writings more accessible to our brothers and sisters in the United States. We hope many will discover him and find in this sixteenth-century Spanish friar a sure guide for our com-mon journey toward union with God. This article, then, considers John less as poet and mystic than as pastoral minister. As an ordained priest he made ministry to others the primary activi-ty and absorbing concern of his adult life. Even as a youngster he cared for others. Years later, his greatest writings on the spiritual life emerged from his ministry of spiritual direction. He wrote his famous diptych, The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Night, for other Carmelites, both friars and nuns, "since they were the ones who asked me to write this work" (Ascent, prologue, 9). His other two masterpieces in spirituality, The Spiritual Canticle and The Living Flame of Love, were written for two women he served as spiritual director, one a Carmelite nun, the other a widow. By looking at John as priest, as pastoral minister, we may get insights that further the most exciting development in the post-Vatican II Church, the opening of pastoral ministry to all. People have been newly reminded that pastoral ministry is not solely an obligation assumed at ordination or religious profession, but a responsibility that flows from our baptism and confirmation. Specifically, John contributes a fresh way of conceiving a pastoral min-ister, not only a "wounded healer" as Henri Nouwen has suggested,I or a "skilled helper" in the phrase of Gerard Egan,2 but also as an "ardent lover," a phrase which I believe aptly captures John's practice of pastoral ministry. John's Preparation for Ministry In 1567 Juan de Yepes--known then in the Carmelite order as Juan de Santo Matfa or John of St. Matthias--was ordained to the priesthood in the university city of Salamanca. Shortly after, in his home town of Medina del Campo, he met for the first time Teresa of Avila, who persuaded him to forgo his plans to join the stricter Carthusian order in order to assist her in reforming their own Carmelites. John had already been involved in ministry before 1567. From 1556 to 1562, as an adolescent between the ages of fourteen and twenty, he lived in a hospital, where he served the sick as an orderly and begged alms for them in Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister / 805 the streets. He would continue to serve the sick faithfully throughout his life. But the two major events of 1567--his priestly ordination and his first meet-ing with Teresa~determined the character of his pastoral ministry until his death twenty-four years later, in 1591 at the age of forty-nine. Everything that took place in his life before 1567 was but a preparation for the variety of pastoral services he would perform as a priest and a close associate of Teresa of Jesus. John's remote preparation for ministry began early. He was raised in a single-parent home. His father, Gonzalo de Yepes, died from the effects of poverty and famine shortly after John's birth in 1542 in the small Castilian farming village of Fontiveros, twenty-five miles northwest of Avila. John's father had belonged to a noble Toledo family with a prosperous silk business. He left a promising career in the family business to marry John's mother, Catalina Alvarez, a "poor but beautiful" weaving girl originally from Toledo whom Gonzalo had met on one of his business trips. Because his family dis-owned him for marrying beneath his position in life, Gonzalo joined his wife as a weaver in order to make a living. Into these poor circumstances he and Catalina brought three sons in twelve years, John being the youngest. Undoubtedly, in the years following the death of her husband and also her second son, Luis, who died of malnutrition not long after his father, Catalina repeated again and again the lesson and example of her husband's life to her two surviving sons: "Love," she probably said to them, "demands giving everything, just as your father gave up everything for me." Because of their poverty, Catalina turned to the Church for help in rais-ing her youngest son. She placed John in a residential school for orphans and children of the poor.in Medina del Campo, where she moved her little family in 1551. There John would be fed, clothed, and taught the fundamentals of his religion, and would learn a trade. At fourteen he was placed in a hospital, where he came under the formative influence of its chaplain and administra-tor, Don Alonso Alvarez de Toledo. Don Alonso carefully guided the young John and made it possible for him to study the humanities in the Jesuit col-lege in Medina, where he graduated at the age of twenty-one. Shortly afterwards John entered the Carmelites in Medina. Although formed by the role modeling of a diocesan priest and formally educated by the Jesuits, John apparently chose to enter the Carmelites, a Marian and con-templative order, because of his devotion to the Virgin and to prayer. The University of Salamanca After his year's novitiate, the Carmelites sent him to the University of Salamanca for a four-year course in the arts and theology. In the mid-six- 1~06 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 teenth century, Salamanca was a leading center of ecclesiastical learning and at the height of a neo-Scholastic revival. Its faculty included great scholars such as Fray Luis de Le6n, the Augustinian poet and translator of Sacred Scripture, and learned Dominican commentators on the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas. There John became proficient in Sacred Scripture, theolo-gy, and Thomistic psychology, three fields of study that would be essential for the years of ministry ahead of him. These three disciplines, together with his own personal experience, pro-vided the solid bases for the treatises on mystical theology he would later write. Almost every page of these writings contains quotations from the Bible. "Taking Scripture as our guide," he writes in the opening of The Ascent of Mount Carmel, "we do not err, since the Holy Spirit speaks to us through it" (Ascent, prologue, 2). His theology training reveals itself in his continual reminders that God is both transcendent and immanent, demanding that our relationship with God be based on faith and unceasing prayer. And in Thomistic psychology he found a conceptual tool to explain God's work in the human soul. For example, he used the Thomistic concept of active and passive intel-lect to explain this mysterious paradox: although we are limited in our intel-lectual ability to actively form adequate ideas of God, we are virtually unlimited in our capacity to passively receive God's own loving knowledge. Therefore, John taught that one of the major challenges of the spiritual jour-ney to union with God is to not allow our finite understanding of God to become an obstacle to receiving God's own infinite loving knowledge which he communicates to us in contemplation. John considered the knowledge of psychology to be of crucial impor-tance for the ministry of spiritual direction. Writing some twenty years later in his Living Flame of Love, he severely criticizes incompetent spiritual directors, not because their knowledge of theology and Scripture is inade-quate, but for their deficient knowledge of the human person. Because they fail to understand the full depths of the human "spirit" and its laws of opera-tion, incompetent spiritual directors hold persons in the stage of beginners in the spiritual life and never permit them to pass into the interior depths of the soul where God is leading them so that he may communicate with them and unite them totally with himself (Flame, 3.30ff, esp. 44 and 54). Preaching Following John's ordination to the priesthood and his commitment, approved by his religious superiors, to assist Teresa in her reform of Carmel, he was assigned by his provincial to the first reformed community of friars. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister it was located at Duruelo, a small crossroads in the Castilian plains west of Avila. There the friars lived an austere community life, joined with the min-istries of hearing confessions, preaching, and celebrating liturgies in neigh-boring villages. John was not kriown as a great preacher, although we may assume he preached regularly throughout his years of priestly ministry. None of his ser-mons has come down to us, but he does share his theological reflection on this ministry in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, written some fifteen years later. He says: The preacher., should., keep in mind that preaching is more a spiri-tual practice than a vocal one. For although it is practiced through exteri-or words, it has no force or efficacy save from the interior spirit. No matter how lofty the doctrine preached, or polished the rhetoric, or sub-lime the style in which the preaching is clothed, the profit does not ordi-narily increase because of these means in themselves; it comes from the spirit of the preacher. The profit is usually commensurate with the [preacher's] interior preparedness. It is commonly said that as the master, so usually is the disciple . We frequently see, insofar as it is possible to judge here below, that the better the life of the preacher the more abundant the fruit, no matter how lowly his style, poor his rhetoric, and plain the doctrine. For the living spirit enkindles fire. But when this spirit is wanting, the gain is small, however sublime the style and doctrine. Although it is true that good style, gestures, sublime doctrine, and well-chosen words are more moving and productive of effect when accompanied by this good spirit, yet, with-out it, even though delightful and pleasing to the senses and the intellect, the sermon imparts little or no devotion to the will (Ascent 3.45.1-4). Confessor and Spiritual Guide At Duruelo he also began what was eventually to become his primary ministry, forming souls as their confessor and spiritual guide, a ministry he carried on almost uninterruptedly for the next twenty-four years. He was appointed master of novices for the men who joined the reform. In the years that followed, he was successively master of Carmelite students at Alcal~i de Henares, spiritual director of St.Teresa for five years, regular weekly con-fessor to her 130 nuns in the monastery of the Incarnation in Avila, master of students at the Carmelite college in Baeza in Andalusia, and regular confes-sor to the Carmelite nuns in the convents at Beas, Granada, and Segovia. In addition to these assigned positions within the Carmelite order, he carried on an extensive ministry of spiritual direction with persons outside it. He served large numbers of men and women from every phase of the Christian life, from its earliest stage of conversion to the heights of mysti-cism. These persons included: young people seeking guidance and support in I~0~1 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 determining their vocation in life; men and women troubled by scrupulosity, excessive guilt, psychosomatic anxiety; profoundly disturbed hysterical and paranoid personalities manifesting bizarre forms of religious behavior; and those with the normal problems in the spiritual life such as temptations against God,s law, difficulties in prayer, and feelings of dryness, desolation, and emptiness. The biographical data indicate that John rendered his spiritual service "without distinction of persons." He welcomed all who came to him for help; both inside and outside the confessional--religious, clergy, laity, young and old, rich and poor. His ministry extended to the entire Christian commu-nity, not simply to an elite few who held positions of privilege in society or who enjoyed a reputation for exalted spirituality. From these historical records, I estimate that during one eighteen-month period in 1587-1588 in Andalusia his ministry as spiritual guide and confessor included nearly a thousand .persons in and outside the Carmelite order. With all he fostered the same goals: union with God; imitation of Jesus Christ; deeper faith, hope, and love; continu~il prayer and mortification 6f every desire not ordered to the love and service of God; transformation of the personality through contemplation. Administration As Teresa's reform progressed, her friars eventually became, in 1580, a separate province within the friars of the Ancient Observance a, nd, in 1588, a separate congregation with their own vicar-general. As these developments occurred, John's fellow friars called upon him to fulfill various administra-tive offices within the reform. In 1578 he was appointed local superior of the community at El Calvario in the Sierra de Cazorla mountains in Andalusia. The following year he o~ened the Carmelite seminary in the Andalusian city of Baeza and served as rector there until i582. In 1582 he began six years as prior of the friars' community in Granada, the last two years of which he also served as vicar-provincial for Andalusia. In 1588 he was appointed to a threeryear term on the order's general council, during which time he was also local superior of the friars' community in Segovia. For fourteen straight years he was deeply involved in the administration of a new and growing order, establishing new communities, building new monasteries, providing for the formation and education of new members, and making canonical visitations of communities of both friars and nuns. His most intense period of administrative activity was the two years from 1585 to 1587, when he was prior of the monastery in Granada and Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister vicar-provincial of Andalusia. He was thus responsible, not only for his own local community in Granada, but also for seven other monasteries of friars and five convents of nuns scattered over thirty thousand Andalusian square miles, from Caravaca in the east to Seville in the west, and from C6rdoba in the north to M~ilaga in the south. To visit each community at least once a year as his office required meant almost continual travel, by foot or by donkey, frequently under a blazing sun, over dusty, rugged, winding, and at times mountainous roads, spending nights sleeping in open fields or in boisterous roadside inns. Five years later, in June 1591, at the friars' general chapter in Madrid, the burdens of office--both of formation and administration--were lifted from John's shoulders for the first time in thirteen years. He was to prepare for the Mexican missions, a directive that was later rescinded. In September 1591, his leg became seriously infected, leading to the illness which brought his death on December 14, 1591. During the last five months of his life, he had the physica! solitude he craved since his ordination to the priesthood twenty-four years earlier. These few months were the first time since he was ordained, save for nearly a year when he was imprisoned in Toledo on a charge of disobedience to his Carmelite superiors, that~he was without active pastoral care of souls. He wrote to Sister Anne of Jesus Jimena in July 1591: "Being freed and relieved from the care of souls, I can, if I want, and with God's help, enjoy peace, solitude, and the delightful fruit of forgetfulness of self and of all things. It is also good for others that ! be separated from them, for thus they will be freed of the faults they would have committed on account of my misery." Writing John was now no longer in direct service to others, but indirectly he con-tinued his ministry through writing. Living in a small hermitage in the Sierra Morena mountains in Andalusia, he continued to provide spiritual direction through personal letters and worked on revisions of his two spiritual master-pieces, The Spiritual Canticle and The Living Flame of Love. Both of these treatises were written for his directees, the former for the Carmelite nun Anne of Jesus Lobera and the latter for the lay woman Dofia Ana Pefialosa. Writing became for John, not a hobby, but an essential part of his pas-toral ministry. When a Carmelite nun once asked him if his poetic inspira-tions were from God, he replied, "Sometimes they came to me from God and at other times I sought them." John undoubtedly wrote during his early years in college and as a Carmelite. However, the writings we have today begin with his period of 810 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 imprisonment in Toledo and continue through the last thirteen years of his life, when he was between the ages of thirty-six and forty-nine. The nine-month imprisonment was the tragic result of conflicting jur!sdictions direct-ing the early days of Teresa's reform. This placed John in the. awkward position where fidelity to Teresa's reform, supported by the Holy See through the king of Spain, Philip II, appeared as di'sobedience to his Carmelite superiors, punishable by confinement in the monastery prison. In his prison cell in the Carmelite monastery at Toledo, John began his poem The Spiritual Canticle. Its opening lines sugges.t that poetry provided him a way of coping with the feelings of abandonment by God and spiritual desolation brought on by his imprisonment. He writes: Where have you hidden, Beloved, and left me moaning? You fled like the stag After wounding me; I went out calling You, and You were gone. However, in the years following his dramatic escape from Toledo, John continued to write poetry to express the deepest longings of his heart for God and to capture as best he could in human language his ineffable experi-ences of divine union. More than merely self-expression, John's poetry became pan of his ministry. His pedagogy involved sharing his poems with his Carmelite brothers and sisters and his directees to teach them about the human person's union with God. They, in turn, requested a fuller explanation of these teachings in prose. He responded with three major treatises in spiri-tuality- the prose commentaries on his poems The Dark Night, The Spiritual Canticle, and The Living Flame of Love. Had John not been involved in the ministry of spiritual direction, it is likely that we would still have his poetry, but not the prose commentaries which today, four centuries later, continue to provide reliable spiritual guidance to millions of readers of all faiths for the journey to union with God. A Man on the Move This overview of John of the Cross's ministry hardly leaves us with the image most have of him--a mystic on the mountaintop, with abundant soli-tude to explore his relationship with God and the leisure to write lyric poet-ry. Rather, we see a man on the move--preaching, hearing, confessions, providing spiritual guidance, studying the architectural plans and financial figures of new monasteries, at his desk writing for others; in short, a man deeply committed to pastoral ministry. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister / I~'1"1 True, by nature he was deeply introverted. His heart's desire was for solitude. He longed to be a solitary Carthusian before he met Teresa of Jesus, and when finally, after twenty-four years of pastoral ministry, he was free to be in a mountain hermitage, he wrote to Dofia Ana Pefialosa: "I am indeed very happy in this holy solitude." Nonetheless, his first commitment was to God, who called him out of himself to share his many gifts with others in pastoral ministry; in responding to this call, he discovered for himself the power and beauty of his own gifts. And these same gifts continue to be an enrichment for us all today. Jesus Christ, the Motive for John's Ministry John's ministry was not an outlet for an active temperament or a restless personality. It was, rather, his loving response to Jesus Christ, who was his Everything--"a brother, companion, master, ransom, and reward" (Ascent 2.22.5). John's ministry was his response to Jesus' love for him. In ministry he attempted to awaken others to Jesus' love for them. "Now we are telling you," John writes in his commentary on The Spiritual Canticle, "that you yourself are His dwelling and His secret chamber and hiding place . Since you know now that your desired Beloved lives hidden within your heart, strive to be really hidden with Him, and you will embrace Him within you and experience Him with loving affection" (Canticle 1.7 and 10). Jesus, too, was John's exemplar for ministry, especially in his kenosis, his self-emptying on the cross. From this John concluded that effective min-istry arises, not from a multiplicity of activity, but from union with Jesus' life-giving death. When he joined Teresa's reform, this insight prompted him to change his name from John of St. Matthias to John of the Cross. Later it led him to remind "true spiritual persons". "that their union with God and the greatness of the work they accomplish will be measured by their annihi-lation for God in the sensory and spiritual parts of their soul. [For] the jour-ney [to union with God] does not consist in recreations, experiences, and spiritual feelings, but in the living, sensory and spiritual, exterior and interi-or, death of the cross (Ascent 2.7.11). Mary, Model of Transformation John's experience of God's love in Jesus also determined his goal in ministry: to help persons let go of their inordinate attachments to creatures so that they might be free to receive the Creator's love into their lives, the divine love which both heals the effects of original sin and transforms human life into God's life. In this transformation, persons are united with the ~112 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 mind and heart of God. They respond to events in their lives with the mind and heart of Jesus. They are moved in everything by the Holy Spirit. In John's mind, the person who best embodies this transformation is the Blessed Virgin Mary. She is the "true daughter of God" in the passage quot-ed above. Furthermore, in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, describing the trans-formed Christian, John writes: "Such was the prayer and work of our Lady, the most glorious Virgin. Raised from the very beginning to this high state [of divine union and transformation in God], she never had the form of any creature impressed in her soul, nor was she moved by any, for she was always moved by the Holy Spirit" (Ascent 3.2.10). John's image of transformation was Mary, the Mother of Jesus. In his pastoral ministry he invited persons to imitate her simple faith in God so that they too might be transformed by the Holy Spirit. With this in mind he com-posed the following lyric that summarizes his entire spiritual doctrine: Del Verbo divino The Virgin, pregnant La Virgen prefiada With the Word of God, Viene de camino: Comes down the road: Si le dais posada. If only you'll shelter her. When we, like Mary, let go of everything that prevents us from being totally open to God's word, the Holy Spirit transforms us into her Son, the Word, Jesus. Two Difficulties Modem readers often have difficulty with John of the Cross's emphasis on purification through suffering. "Too negative," they say when they read a passage like this one from his Sayings of Light and Love: "God values in you an inclination to aridity and suffering for love of Him more than all possible consolations, spiritual visions, and meditations" (SLL 14). Yet anyone who has experienced the healing that comes from intense psychotherapy will, I think, appreciate the wisdom of this recommendation. For John, contempla-tion is, literally, psychotherapy--healing the soul. He is not teaching us how to arrive at ecstatic altered states of consciousness; rather, he is telling us how to heal the effects of original sin in our life. Effective psychotherapy demands a willingness to endure the pain that comes from an expanding awareness of our own ego-defense mechanisms and the consequent change of behavior necessary to break the compulsive repetition of self-defeating behavior. Similarly, John of the Cross explains that contemplation requires a readiness to accept the interior pain that accompanies a clearer insight into the disorder of our soul and our natural distance from the incomprehensible goodness of God. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister The healing of our souls begins when we open our lives to receive God's loving knowledge. We experience loving knowledge as a light, at times painful, which allows us to observe clearly the disorder that continues to operate in our daily lives. At the same time, this light lets us see as never before God's inexhaustible love for us. In this light we quite naturally let go of disordered attachments to our own self-interest (a letting go that brings the temporary pain of 1 oss and sadness) and become more attached to God's will, which ultimately brings peace to our inner lives, even as we deal with each day's problems. But even granting John's hypothesis that purification is a prerequisite for healing and transformation, many today still believe that his spiritual doctrine is too individualistic and exclusive, meant only for the few who choose an avowedly contemplative way of life. They see little relationship between his spirituality and the pressing social issues of our day, such as those addressed by the American bishops in their recent pastoral letters on peace and economic justice. Obviously, the issues John addressed four hundred years ago are not the same issues we face today, although sixteenth-century Spain was not without its wars and economic injustice. Nonetheless, Richard Hardy, one of John's modem biographers, has suggested new ways of interpreting his counsels on personal mortification that bring out their social significance. Addressing the Institute of Carmelite Studies in Boston a few years ago, Hardy pointed out this country's inordinate appetite for national security and an improved stan-dard of living, even while millions of our people live in poverty. In the face of this poverty, he suggested that John's counsels on the mortification of the emotions in order to dispose one's sensory life for union with God are also a prophetic social challenge to the American Church. Thus, St. John writes in The Ascent of Mount Carmel: Endeavor to be inclined always: not to the easiest, but to the most difficult; not to the most delightful, but to the harshest; not to the most gratifying, but to the less pleasant; not to what means rest for you, but to hard work;' not to the consoling, but to the unconsoling; not to the most, but to the least; not to the highest and most precious, but to the lowest and most despised; not to wanting something, but to wanting nothing; do not go about looking for the best of temporal things, but for the worst, and desire to enter into complete nudity, emptiness, and poverty in everything in the world (Ascent 1.13.6). 1~14 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 These shocking words, directed to Carmelite religious in the sixteenth century committed by public vows to live in poverty, admittedly demand interpretation for Christians in twentieth-century America. Nevertheless, they challenge us, an affluent Christian community in a world where mil-lions are dying of starvation, to seek, not always the best and the most, but only the necessary, so that others in our world may also participate in their just share of the earth's goods, which God intends for all his children. Moreover, John teaches that when persons are deeply touched by God's love, their entire outlook on life is radically changed. Seeing now with God's eyes and feeling with Jesus' heart, they can no longer maintain racial preju-dices, exaggerated nationalism, or hearts closed to the world's suffering. The fruits of contemplation which John describes in his writings are precisely those which our bishops identify in their peace pastoral when they write: "The practice of contemplative prayer is especially valuable for advancing harmony and peace in the world. For this prayer rises, by divine grace, where there is total disarmament of the heart and unfolds in an experience of love which is the moving force of peace. Contemplation fosters a vision of the human family as united and interdependent in the mystery of God's love for all people" (The Challenge of Peace, no. 294). Conclusions What conclusions might we draw for pastoral ministry today from this review of John of the Cross's life and work? I suggest the following: 1. Preparation for ministry begins early in life, hopefully with baptism. Ministers for the Church will come forward from Christian families, parish-es, and schools where there is deep love, where serving others is a communi-cated value, and where role models and positive mentoring for ministry are present. 2. More immediate preparation for specialized ministries in the Church requires a solid grounding not only in Sacred Scripture and theology but especially in Christian anthropology, that is, a constant study, aided by human sciences, of the mystery of the human person in contemporary soci-ety. 3. Effective pastoral ministry, lay and ordained, depends first upon acquiring the skills necessary for a particular ministry and, second but more important, living daily Jesus' Paschal Mystery, the main source of effective ministry. 4. Christian ministers need clear images of Christian transformation to guide their activity, such as Mary, Mother of God and of the Church, Spouse of the Holy Spirit, Faithful Disciple of Jesus, and Queen of Apostles. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister 5. The spirituality that empowers Christian ministry realistically appre-ciates both the effects of original sin in our lives and the presence of God's never failing love to heal us. This spirituality seeks to overcome artificial dichotomies that undermine ministry, such as opposing social action and contemplative prayer, pastoral activity and artistic creativity. It encourages persons to bring forward under the guidance of the Holy Spirit their unique gifts for the building of Christ's Body, confident that such sharing of gifts leads to the discovery and realization of one's total person. Pastoral Minister as Ardent Lover Earlier I suggested that John inspires an image of the pastoral minister as an ardent lover. The Holy Spirit set him on fire with love for God, other persons, and all creation. Fire was John's most comprehensive symbol, as Professor Keith Egan demonstrated in his address to Carmel 200, the sym-posium in Baltimore in August 1990 honoring two hundred years of Carmelites in the United States.3 As a metaphor, fire suggests the purifica-tion of soul symbolized by "the dark night"; it also captures the mutual pas-sionate love of God and the human person conveyed through the erotic images of spiritual betrothal and marriage in the Spiritual Canticle. As a consuming fire slowly transforms a log into itself, so the Holy Spirit, the Living Flame of Love (Flame 1.3), transforms us into God, leaving us on fire with divine love for his people. The Church always needs pastoral ministers on fire with the love of the Holy Spirit, but never more than today in the United States. Archbishop Rembert Weakland of Milwaukee recently underscored the enervating polar-ization in the American Catholic community which hardens us into opposing ecclesiologies, unwilling to dialogue with one another, unable to tolerate dif-ferences, afraid to compromise in order to find a common way together.4 Pastoral ministry obviously must try to resolve our present polarities, not reinforce them. We are not likely to do this without the fire of God's love burning in our hearts, a love that results from a contemplative openness to God. In the Carmel 200 celebration mentioned above, Father Joseph Chinnici, O.EM., historian of American spirituality and currently provincial of the California Franciscans, offered the opinion that the failure since 1700 to cul-tivate the contemplative dimension of Christian life accounts in large mea-sure, not only for "our contemporary groping for a stable spiritual center," but also "for the stridency in today's Catholic community.''5 For years Thomas Merton alerted us to the dangers of this neglect, but only now are we seeing clearly our spiritual impoverishment as a Church and our need I~16 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 each day for God's wisdom and love, which, as St. John of the Cross teach-es, is contemplation's gift. In 1591, following the general chapter of the Teresian friars at Madrid, a Carmelite nunin Segovia, Maria of the Incarnation, wrote to John deploring the shabby treatment he received from his brothers in the reform who deprived him of all offic~ and planned to mission him to Mexico in return for his outspoken opposition to the policies of Father Nicholas Doria, the vicar-general, regarding Jerome Graci~in and the government of the Carmelite nuns. John wrote back on July 6, 1591: ". do not let what is happening to me, daughter, cause you any g.rief, for it does not cause me any. ¯. Men do not do these things, but God, who knows what is suitable for us and arranges things for our good. Think nothing else but that God ordains all, and where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love . " Considering the circumstances in which they were written, these words bespeak the effects of contemplation in John of the Cross--a transformed consciousness and a nonviolent heart. They, perhaps more than anything else he wrote, cha.llenge the Catholic Church in the United States today. NOTES I Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society (Garden City, N.Y.: Imag~ Books, 1979). 2 Gerard Egan, The Skilled Helper: Models, Skills, and Methods for Effective Helping, 2nd edition (Monterey, Calif.: Brooks/Cole Publishing Co., 1982). 3 Keith Egan, "The Fire of Love: John of the Cross' Central Symbol of Contemplative Identity." Lecture given at Carmel 200: Contemp.lation and the Rediscovery of the American Soul, sponsored by the Carmelite nuns of Baltimore, held at Loyola College, Baltimore, August 12-18, 1990. 4 Rembert G. Weakland, O.S.B., "From Dream to Reality to Vision." Address given to the Future of the American Church conference, sponsored by Time Consultants, Washington D.C., Sept. 28, 1990. Printed in Origins 20, no. 18 (October 11, 1990): 289-293 5 Joseph P. Chinnici, O.EM., "The Politics of Mysticism: Church, State, and the Carmelite Tradition." Lecture at Carmel 200, Baltimore, August 12-18, 1990~ Messiaenic Epiphany: . amidst animals, Love is born Stephen Schloesser, S.J. Mr. Schloesser is a transitional deacon studying theology at Weston Co!lege. He resides at 15 Avon Street; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. The nineteenth and twentieth centuries, in their most profound manifestations, are centuries which have tried to live without tran-scendence. How to live without grace--that is the question that dominates the nineteenth century. The question of the twentieth cen-tury., has gradually been specified: how to live without grace and without justice? --Albert Camus, The Rebel (1951) I would like to stress the need for the Church today to be aware of its duty to bring to the world a sense of the sacred and the transcendent., i. In this way we can show to the world that we are a sign of something which is more meaning,ful and more complete than just the daily tragedies that all of us must face. --Rembert Weakland, "25 Years after the Council" (1990) A friend stopped me after class the other day and said, "You like twentieth-century organ music, don't you?" Grateful at last that life had sent a soul partner to accompany me on my solitary journey, I eagerly replied, "Yes! Do you? . No," she answered, "but a friend gave me a CD of Christmas music for the organ. I can't stand it. If you want it you can l~ave it." I took the disc gratefully and set out again on my journey, solitary still, but with a mission-ary's fervor. Twentieth-century music in general tends to distend: for lush romantic strings it seemingly substitutes barbed wire; for pastoral horns the intermit-tent siren. It attempts to speak in language too deep for words those feelings we prefer left unsaid: confusion in the face of chaos; despair over life's daily 817 I~1t~ / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 deaths; horror in the face of human atrocity. Twentieth-century music in gen-eral tends to express our culture's deepest pulses: a world seemingly devoid of grace and justice. And what about twentieth-century church music? The church music composer-historian Erik Routley once wrote that all authentically twentieth-century church music contains within its score a certain measure of "skepti-cism." I think he is right here, but in this Christmastide I suggest a more seasonal term: a certain measure of "scandal"; the "stumbling block" of the manger. For what faced the European church musicians after the Great War was nothing less than the scandal of Christianity: incarnation, cross, grace-- the works. How do church musicians remain faithful both to their experience of violence--this race, this culture, this epoch--and, at the same time, to their vision of confidence in Love's promise to triumph? Many--perhaps most--solve this dilemma (as so many of us do) by simply choosing one or the other, confidence or despair. We--players and listeners alike--are numbed by the banality or bludgeoned by the bombast. Yet, as Archbishop Rembert Weakland said once in an Advent homily, Christian liturgy (and the vision it ritualizes) insists that we always keep in mind both terms of the dialectic. At Christmas, we remember the price in Gethsemane of becoming human; on Good Friday, we remember the promise proclaimed at Easter. When our liturgy expresses joy unbridled by the mem-ory of death-~or grief unbalanced by the hope of resurrection--we have for-gotten the paradox: ¯. amidst animals, Love is born. Whereas the French composer Claude Debussy had painted impression-istic passage.s, conveying the evanescence of time lost with large lush ensembles, the young Parisian Olivier Messiaen turned his attention to the other pole: he attempted time out of time. Messiaen discovered the genius unique to the organ: it can convey the illusion of eternity. The bang of a drum punctuates; the vibration of a piano wire inevitably dies; the singer must come up for air. But the organ, as Igor Stravinsky complained, is "the monster that does not breathe." In the organ, Messiaen and many after him found a new way of inviting the listener to experience the transcendent. On the other hand, these musicians were twentieth-century citizens, very much situated in history. The organ lost a genius when the young Jehan Alain was killed in the defense of France. The German Paul Hindemith fled to the United States under Nazi persecution while choral composer Hugo Distler took his own life under the same. Olivier Messiaen wrote and pre-miered his "Quartet for the End of Time"--beginning with "the harmonious silence of heaven"---while imprisoned in a German POW camp. They knew Messiaenic Epiphany / 8~9 firsthand the human potential for savagery, a fragile culture's collapse, the seeming triumph of death. Thus, they also employed the musical language of our time: barbed wire, screaming sirens, carefully constructed cacophony. Writing church music, they attempted to convey in their medium the experience of Christmas: that, in the midst of life's bleak midwinter, there lives "the dearest freshness deep down things." Their fusion of the languages of transcendence and of skepticism resulted in a radically new musical lan-guage, a nearly hypostatic union. In the midst of scandal (which their music never sidesteps), they stood apart from the aleatoric vogue, firm in hopeful trust, rooted in their vision of the immanent transcendent: ¯. amidst animals, Love is born. I am glad for the gift of the CD, and I plan on listening to it this season. Not, of course, over Christmas dinner or while opening gifts under the tree or while rocking my niece to sleep in front of the crackling fire. For that I will listen to "The Messiah" or to the kids from King's College, or my moth-er will put on Nat King Cole or my father Johnny Cash . And not, of course, when the snow silently piles outside my Cambridge window, weigh-ing down the boughs as books weigh down me, streetlights highlighting Victorian crannies on neighboring homes. For that kind of delicious melan-choly only George Winston's "December" will do. I mean rather when I turn off the lights and light a candle, wrap a blan-ket round and stare into nothing: that is when I will play my new CD. Time and timelessness, scandal and hopeful trust, death and Love. I will think about them--Nazis and world war and concentration camps; and I will think about us---death squads and desert storms and Mount Pinatubo; and I will think about home--grandfather's Alzheimer's and grandmother's grief, a cousin's suicide, a friend's AIDS: "the daily tragedies that all of us must face." And then, I hope, as for magi on a journey to a manger, scanning the midwinter sky, it will light up the night, the sudden onslaught of insight-- the Epiphany--those artists attempted to convey: ¯. amidst animals, Love is born. 820 Monastic Ruminations I. Spring." The Russian Olive Tree in Meditation Park "The affection of love is a delicate plant. " --Gilbert of Hoyland Silver smells whiff past me, into me, Byzantine incense, perfume from a bazaar, a solitary pearled tree in the park odors the mind with deja vued dusty dreams shelved from disuse. Sable Lent fades into resurrected dappled blooms, the Russian Olive shimmers in newborn light, morning dew kisses its hoary-haired branches, while it speaks in hushed tones of hidden presence. II. Summer: Locust Trees along the Academy Entrance "Unity consists in singleness of love." --Bernard of Clairvaux Standing at attention, locust trees reach skyward, stretching limbs into lowlying clouds, each arm delicate, broken by storms, battered by winter's ice, survivors sentineled. Breezes sway the foliage to an unheard melody, rhythmically touching the tips of treed tendons, digits gnarled by seasonal change, each tree soloed, a monk reaching for God, separate, yet partnered, facing each day together yet aloned. 821 IlI. Autumn: The Monastic Cemetery "The treasure of our love is hidden in the field of our heart and lies buried in its very depth." --John of Ford The colors are deep across the valley-- red, burnt orange, yellow. Each vibrant tree grasping my throat and choking my breath away, death is viewed, keeping itself daily before our eyes. Fallen leafs encircle my feet, drawing my eyes to the stones neatly rowed, each with a face, a person I knew, a laugh recalling the past, now silent, earthbound, yet rejoicing beyond the eye. IV. Winter: Leafs Trapped in Collins Court "Love is solid. It may be fretted by annoyance, but it simply cannot be worn away." --John of Ford Leafs trapped within the courtyard beat bird-like against the mirrored windows, trying to escape the battering wind, fluttering desperately, vortexing, rising and falling, yet free. Columns rise, Stonehenge revisited, standing guard over the spectacle, silent seers, mutely observing the abused leafs, hostaged too, but immobile, the stationary monoliths envy the leafs bound nowhere yet unfettered. Benedict Auer, O.S.B. Saint Martin's College Lacey, Washington 98503 Song of the Groom: Spiritual Marriage and Masculinity Robert Annechino Robert Annechino has completed the graduate program in spiritual direction at the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, Washington, D.C. This article is taken from a paper written for the program. He is married and the father of three children, and is writing a book on masculine romantic spirituality. Correspondence would be wel-come at P.O. Box 14039; Rochester, New York 14614. All Christians have heard God addressed as "Father." Today we sometimes also hear God called upon as "Mother." In our mystical literature there is a long tradition that speaks of God or Christ as the "Bridegroom" of the soul. This article considers something we have heard next to nothing about: a Christian mystical experience that celebrates God as "Bride." Admittedly, such an idea seems peculiar at first, but perhaps its very anomaly is even more peculiar. Why has not Christianity admitted such a tradition when, as we shall see, many world religions have? How might an appreciation of the Divine Bride expand our understanding of God, of religious experience, and of ourselves as spiritual, social, and sexual beings, male and female? The awareness of God as Mother has been a gift and challenge of femi-nist spirituality. This alternate feminine image of God as the Divine Bride derives from the quest for an authentic contemporary masculine spirituality. Reflection by men on our experience as men will free us from the myopic assumption that male experience is normative of all human experience, and will bring the unique features of masculinity into sharp focus. To understand and revitalize the spiritual life of contemporary men, it is important to con-sider how we customarily recognize both maleness and holiness and how these conceptions connect and conflict. Richard Rohr, James Nelson, and John Carmody are some of the teachers who have explored male experiences of Christian faith and values. 822 Song of the Groom / 823 As evident in the work of Robert Bly and Robert Moore, an essential element of the men's movement is the recovery of the archetypes or models of male experience, which typify distinctive themes of male identity. Through the exploration of such heroic figures as the Wild Man, the King, the Warrior, the Trickster, the Lover, the Grief Man, and the Quester (which Robert Bly has aptly called the "Great Joys of Men"), contemporary men are gaining new understanding of their maleness and of the social expectations and personal conflicts which shape them. In Toward a Male Spirituality, John Carmody encourages men to come to God in and through the kinds of relationships that reflect the best of male experience, finding God as buddy, father, brother. He also seeks to open men to the possib!lity of finding God the Holy Spirit as the divine lover, in a spirituality of romancing,l But here, in the attempt to engage male romantic love as a spiritual symbol, we run into a barrier that challenges traditional Christian notions. This barrier has also been noted by Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette in their book on the four major male archetypes, King, Warrior, Magician, Lover. Of these, they feel that the Lover has been the most repressed within Western religion. They describe the giftedness of the Lover so: For the man accessing the Lover, all things are bound to each other in mysterious ways. He sees, as we say, "the world in a grain of sand." This is the consciousness that knew long before the invention of holography that we live, in fact, in a "holographic" universe---one in which every pa~t, reflects every other in immediate and sympathetic union. It isn't just that the Lover energy sees the world in a grain of sand. He feels that this is so.2 The mature energy of the Lover is not exclusively nor even primarily expressed through sexual activity, but as a royal dignity which suffuses the entire person with gladness of heart and warm richness of being. While the Lover has never been articulated well for Christian women or men, I believe that histor!cally there has been a particular reluctanc~ to incorporate male erotic energy into religious expression, and this history needs to be under-stood and redressed. In a recent book on the feminist rhetoric of St. Teresa of Avila, Alison Weber maintains that medieval spirituality systematized two major images of the mystical journey.3 The first was .the sponsa Christi, the bride of Chris.t, an image drawn from the conventional feminine experience of romantic love and marriage. The second image was the miles Christi, the soldier of Christ, derived from the conventional male experience of war. In the sponsa Christi or bridal mysticism, we find that from the time of Origen the Song of Songs was lavishly allegorized as the mystical union of the soul, personified by the 1~24 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 Shulammite damsel, with the Lord as the shepherd/king. This imagery evolved into the classical descriptions of spiritual betrothals and spiritual marriage. It is certainly true that throughout the history of Christian spiritu-ality such imagery has been evoked by men as well as by women. In fact, most of its known expositors were male (since literature was a male domain). Yet today, when feminist theologians have tightly insisted that we consider the limitations levied by exclusive masculine language in relation to God, we might also ponder what diminishment lurks in the imagery of bridal mysticism. Why have men relied upon the erotic imagery of women to describe their love for God? Why is there no "bridegroom mysticism" call-ing up.on the natural erotic imagery of men? What would it take, and what would it mean, for Christian men to become free to pursue God as their Divine Bride? Bridegroom Mysticism: The Male Mysteries of God and Men At this point it is important to ask: Does it really matter whether we con-ceive of God as Father, Mother, Bridegroom, Bride, or in any of the person-al, transpersonal, or nonpersonal figures that have dawned in human consciousness as we encounter the great Mystery? If we give too much attention to the name, will God cease to be Mystery? I believe that the name only enhances the Mystery. If God is God, then the God of the naming is not different from the God of experiencing. Feminist theologians have wisely recognized that naming God is an act of self-revelation as well as God's rev-elation to us. With this in mind, let us consider what it means for men to name God as Father, Mother, and Bridegroom and then consider the alterna-tives of knowing God as the Divine Bride. Mary and Leon J. Podles, in an interesting article denouncing the "emas-culation of God," protest that the male image of God cannot be dispensed with arbitrarily. God the Father, they say, is a God of transcendence, stand-ing distinct from his creation, having created it in a male act of separation from himself: Why is God the Father a Father and not a mother? Maleness is a symbol of transcendence because the fundamental male experience, thal~ of fatherhood, of reproduction through ejaculation, is one of separation, while the fundamental female experience is one of prolonged and inti-mate union with the offspring through the long months of gestation and nursing. The male experience of the world is one of "either/or," "this, and not that," one of separation.4 The male image of God engages essential aspects of the male identity, which cannot be denied without denying the life quest of men. As many Song of the Groom / 895 writers have pointed out, male identity is usually first discovered in an act of distinction and separation.5 The little girl experiences continuity with her mother, their femininity uniting them (with both positive and toxic bonds). But the little boy becomes aware of his masculinity as being a difference between him and the close nurturing mother, and thus begins the male quest of distinction and separation. With this comes the need for the boy to affirm his maleness by connecting with his father. From here ensues the whole dynamic of dependence, independence, and eventual interdependence that are typical of healthy male development experiences that perhaps figure in the religious motifs of exile and redemption. And yet, while the maleness of God does engage these crucial aspects of men's experience, there is a subtle but clear possibility that it can also limit a man's sense of masculinity before God. The Podles' article, for example, refers to the Father God as "the Creator, before whom all else is female.''6 The inevitable presumption is that, if God is considered male, then all cre-ation, including humanity, is essentially feminine. Ironically, this might leave men castrated before God, their maleness exiling them from the "femi-nine" creation. As James Nelson has said: When God became male, males were divinized, and patriarchy had cos-mic blessing. At the same time we have resisted that one-sided masculin-ized deity, for a male God suggests to men their feminization. Language referring to the Church has long been feminized: "She is his new creation by water and the word." All of us, men as well as women, are "she's" when it comes to being the Church. That feels uncomfortable. Furthermore, a male God penetrates us. But to be penetrated by anyone or anything, even God, amounts to being womanized. It seems tanta-mount to a man's degradation, literally a loss of grade or status.7 Notions of "female submission" toward God have pervaded all of Christian spirituality, from pious popular devotions to the most rarefied con-templation. Even if he has not been exposed to the literature of bridal mysti-cism, consider what it has meant for ~i man; standing amid generations of male Christian mystics, to sense himself in a feminine role in relation to God. What does this imply about his maleness? The lavish descriptions of bridal mysticism, in which the feminine soul is wooed by the celestial Bridegroom, violate his natural desire as a man. Jungians may discern here the emergence of the inner anima, the feminine side of the male. But even if this were the case, what other problems are invoked in such an approach? Arthur Green has asked some important questions along this line: Is it really only women alone who are in need of feminine imagery? Do images of the divine feminine belong only to women? Might they not 826 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 belong to, and respond to the needs of, men as well as women? Or, as a friend posed the question a long time ago, with reference to Catholic spiritual literature, does Teresa of Avila need to be the bride of God more than John of the Cross? Does John need God the Father more than God the Mother? Indeed, is it Mother whom the passionat~ Teresa seeks so boldly? Might one not argue that men need the feminine, as women need the masculine, if religious life involves something like what the depth psychologists call a search for.polarities? In the course of our intense longing for the divine Other, a longing long depicted as having a strong erotic component, might it not be opposite rather than like that needs first to be sought out?8 And, while feminist theologians have contributed an important under-standing of the Divine Mother, the uncritical acceptance of God as Mother still may not fully open the feminiriity Of God to adult men. Robert Bly affirms that a man's encounter with the holy feminine, the "meeting with the gbd-woman in the garden," is a step beyond the parental drama: W~ can't stop the story here, because the feminine has not yet appeared. His mother, as the maternal form of the feminine, he has of course expe-rienced, but that is all. And now he is about to meet the feminine in a nonmatemal form~ in its powerful, blossoming, savvy, wild, instigating, erotic, playful form.9 In God the Bride, we find a fully femii~ine expression of divinity, one who preserves for men the essential Otherness that is so integral to their psy-che. As Bride, God is even more "Other" than Father, yet it is an otherness which is fantastically attractive, and invites the man to participation and union. The Divine Bride welcomes a mal6 spiritual identity that is fully adult and ~ully masculine. Bridegroom Spirituality and the "Way of the Warrior" Now let us turn briefly to Alison Weber's second image of classical Christian mysticism, the image of the miles Christi, the soldii~r of Christ, a mas~tiline image that has found wide expression historically, from the ladder mysticism of John Climacus, through the service mysticism of Ignatius LoyolL Today one might well ask if this militant motif, in an age of nuclear and chemical weapons, terrorism, and environmental desecration, is at all appropriate. But here the expositors of what has been called "the way of the warrior" must challenge, nuance, and explain such imagery. The passionate denial of ~he flesh in an intent focus upon. a goal is a real and necessary aspect of human life, and it is fitting that it find expression in the mystical "way of the warrior." Many men and women relate vitally to God on this path, at least for a good part of their lives. The "call of the King" in Ignatius Song of the Groom / 827 Loyola's Spiritual Exercises presents a spirituality that springs from this rich sense of participation and mission. Some expositors of male spirituality seem to equate it exclusively with the way of the warrior, but the male "way of the lover" (bridegroom mysti-cism) is both a complement and an alternative to the way of the warrior. While it may be important to question the limitations of the miles Christi, it is emphatically not the role of bridegroom mysticism to neutralize or domes-ticate the way of the warrior, but to enhance, inflame, and fulfill it. The way of the warrior celebrates a clearly focused intent to uphold righteousness regardless of personal cost. This fervent passion unites the way of the war-rior with the way of love. But the miles Christi can become morbid if it arbi-trarily divorces itself from love, in any of its forms, including the erotic. Such denial inflicts a cramped, neurotic quest for control, a pseudospirituali-ty that is myopically fixated and incapable of the panoramic awareness exer-cised by the true warrior. Sadly, such diminishment has all too often been the conventional model of holiness, reflected in a celibacy that is sterile rather than full, in the collapsed mentality described by Alan Watts: The opposition of spirit to both nature and sexuality is the opposition of the conscious will, of the ego, to that which it cannot control. If sexual abstinence is, as in so many spiritual traditions, the condition of enhanced consciousness, it is because consciousness as we know it is an act of restraint . This is clearly the reaction of one for whom the soul, the will, the spiritual part of man, identified with that form of conscious-ness which we have seen to be a partial and exclusive mode of attention. It is the mode of attention which grasps and orders the world by seeing it as one-at-a-time things, excluding and ignoring the rest . Obviously, '~he sexual function is one of the most powerfu| biological manifes'ta'tions of biological spontaneity, and thus more especially difficult for the will to control . But this mode of control is a peculiar example of the proverb that nothing fails like success. For the more consciousness is individualized by the success of the will, the more everything outside the individual seems to be a threat--including not only the external world but also the "external" and uncontrolled spontaneity of one's own body. ¯. Hence there arises the desire to protect the ego from an alien spontane-ity by withdrawal from the natural world into a realm of pure conscious-ness or spirit.~° The Divine Bride brings men the gift of seeing the totality within the par-ticular, and the particular within the totality. She wards off all brittle reduc-tionism. Nor does She allow the will to sink into a quietist slumber. Rather She preserves full intentionality of the will, but in a mode that Gerald May aptly describes as open "willingness" rather than compulsive "willfulness.''11 While the impulse to relate to God as Bride has not been entirely absent t~91~ Review for Religious, November-December 1991 in Christian mysticism, it is certainly not in the mainstream of our tradition. For historical models we must turn to its expressions in other religious tradi-tions, and explore some out-of-the-way territories in our own history. But the love-quest for God the Bride is worthy of our attention. The Divine Bride in Non-Christian Traditions In the Jewish writings we meet the evocative figure of Wisdom, as expressed in the book of Proverbs and throughout the Scriptures. Wisdom emerges not as an abstract attribute of God, but as a mysterious and primor-dial Woman. In Proverbs, she boasts her own preeminence in her dalliance with Yahweh: "When He laid down the foundations of the earth, I was by His side, a master craftsman, delighting Him day after day, ever at play in His presence, at play everywhere in His world, delighting to be with the sons of men" (Pr 8:29-31). In the Wisdom literature we read how those who love the Lord also take Wisdom as their own: "She [Wisdom] it was I loved and searched for from my youth; I resolved to have her as my bride, I fell in love with her beauty" (Ws 8:2). In Western Christian exegesis, Wisdom was identified with the Logos, or as a personification of an attribute of God. But within the Jewish tradition the figure of Wisdom evolved into Shekhinah, the Presence or Dwelling of divinity. Among the Kabbalistic Jews in the thirteenth century, She was esteemed as no less than a divine hypostasis, the feminine consort of the . Lord. The eminent Kabbalistic scholar Gershom Scholem regards this as one of the most powerful and far-reaching insights of Jewish mysticism.12 The recognition of Shekhinah was not only an intellectual triumph, but also ennobled human sexual love as an emanation of and participation in the divine love between the Lord and His consort Shekhinah. The Christian father Clement would idealize the forty days of Moses on Sinai as time of continent chastity and use this example to justify detailed restrictions on sex-ual expression within marriage.13 But, in the Kabbalistic literature, Moses was said to have joined with Shekhinah, the very consort of God, on Sinai. According to Kabbalistic teaching, in the course of creation the Lord became mysteriously and redemptively alienated from Shekhinah, but sexual inter-course within marriage helps to reestablish God's unity, as men and women participate in the divine harmonic interplay of male and female. The Jewish wife and husband were invited to enjoy their Sabbath lovemaking as a con-templative act, their delight ever expanding to embrace them, their progeny, and their ancestors and continuing as blessing to all the Jewish people, to all of humanity throughout creation, ultimately bringing healing into the very Song of the Groom / 829 heart of a wounded, yearning God. Speaking of the Sabbath celebration, a celebration that was climaxed by sexual intercourse between husband and wife, Scholem has said, "A strange twilight atmosphere made possible an almost complete identification of the Shekhinah, not only with the Queen of Sabbath, but also with every Jewish housewife who celebrates the Sabbath.'q4 In the spirituality of Islam, the beauty of Allah has been identified with the charm of women. The Islamic mystics, or Sufis, could be quite ascetic, and sometimes shared with other Muslims a marked suspicion towards women (although at least one contemporary scholar of Islam, Annemarie Schimmel, has stated that such notions never reached the pitch of medieval Christian misogyny~5). But this did not deter the Sufis from also recognizing femininity as a revelation of God. A notable example is the illustrious Sufi master Ibn ai-'Arabi (1165-1240), perhaps the greatest mystical expositor of Islam. As a youth he had two women saints among his teachers. On his pil-grimage to Mecca at the age of thirty-six, he became enamored of an intelli-gent and beautiful Persian maiden. Recognizing the love of God suffused within the thralls of his human passion, he composed The Interpretation of Desire (Tarjuman aI-Ashwaq), an ode addressed to Allah as his beloved Lady. A few lines of one of his love songs to God display this eloquently: O, her beauty--the tender maid! Its brilliance gives light like lamps to one traveling in the dark. She is a pearl hidden in a shell of hair as black as jet, A pearl for which Thought dives and remains unceasingly in the deeps of that ocean. He who looks upon her deems her to be a gazelle of the sand-hills, because of her shapely neck and the loveliness of her gestures.~6 In a later work, The Bezels of Wisdom, Ibn al'Arabi taught that a man sees the divine most perfectly by contemplating the feminine. The man who enters sexual embrace in this knowledge finds much more than the satisfac-tion of a fleeting lust, but enters the play of divine pleasure. "If he knew the truth," Ibn al-'Arabi wrote, "he would know Whom it is he is enjoying and Who it is Who is the enjoyer; then he would be perfected.''17 Notice that here, as in the Kabbalah, erotic experience has been evoked both as a simile of divine love and as a sacrament divinizing the love experienced between a man and a woman. The Tantric schools of Hinduism and Buddhism view the world as a liv-ing matrix of divine energy. "Tantra" literally means continuity or inter-weaving, and the Tantric teachings skillfully reveal the existential and mystical consistencies that pervade the seamless but diverse fabric of life. 8~0 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 Even our neurotic bewilderments and obsessions contain seeds of transform-ing energy.18 Tantric contemplation enrolls all facets of human experience as skillful means to spiritual freedom, and the sexual faculty is not excluded. In the higher Tantras the Buddhas are imaged in intimate sexual embrace with their Prajna or Wisdom consorts, the female Buddha embodying authentic multidimensional vision and the male Buddha incarnating compassionate action. For those with the right preparation, initiation, and guidance of a qualified guru, the energy of sexual union is evoked in an explosive revela-tion of divine creative potential. 19 Those who enter this path encounter the divine feminine principle as the Dakini (Sanskrit--or, in Tibetan, khandro--literally "sky-dancer"). The Dakini is lovely, enticing, and challenging and sometimes comes in a horrif-ic guise, exercising a startling energy that cuts through behavioral obses-sions. The Dakini, who may become manifest as an archetypal figure or an actual woman of wisdom, avails Her fully realized femininity to move the contemplative beyond his exclusionary mode of consciousness toward one that is panoramic and involved in the full potentiality of life. To disengage him from habitual values, She may sabotage the yogi's self-righteousness. In several tales, an abstemious, scholarly monk enters the higher Tantric path when the Dakini approached with wine, meat, or the offer of sexual rela-tions, all of which are of course forbidden in the lesser path of renuncia-tion-- a fascinating rendition of the "female temptress" motif in that the male is tempted toward fuller life. To obtain the blessing of the Dakini, the con-templative needs to revere, court, and withstand Her, in short, to fully romance Her. As a contemporary Tibetan teacher said: The playful maiden is all-present. She loves you. She hates you. Without her your life would be continual boredom. But she continually plays tricks on you. When you want to get rid of her she clings. To get rid of her is to get rid of your own body--she is that close. In Tantric literature she is referred to as the dakini principle. The dakini is playful. She gam-bles with your life.2° In Taoism, also, the universe is seen to function according to the inter-play of male and female energies, the yang and the yin. A loving relationship between a man and woman serves to integrate the body-mind continuum of each with the universal dynamic of life. The Taoist texts give men explicit and detailed instruction on the encounter with the feminine, and a yogic approach to sexual experience that engages these profound energies. Christian Expressions of Bridegroom Spirituality In the gospels Jesus is proclaimed as Bridegroom, and one would hope Song of the Groom / 831 that the apostolic Church would have cultivated a view of marriage as a way of the Spirit, with an appropriate bridegroom spirituality. But a search here is somewhat disappointing. In The Body and Society, Peter Brown surveys the place accorded to marriage in early Christian thought, in context with the developing ideal of virginity.21 Rejecting the Jewish and Roman ideals of marriage, some of the more far-flung Christian bodies in apostolic times expected that all sexual activity, even within marriage, would cease upon baptism. Even the authentic Pauline writings, particularly 1 Corinthians, favor the ideal of celibacy, allowing marriage as a concession to the weak. Perhaps in reaction to the havoc created within families by the more ascetic model, the later Pauline corpus, particularly the pastoral letters, domesticat-ed this view, giving a conventional nod to the probity of marriage. Surpassing all of these is the notable passage in Ephesians 5:25-33, which is remarkable for its strong affirmation of male marital love: in the love of his wife, a man conforms himself to Christ as the Bridegroom of the Church. The marital eml~race is depicted as not only pure but purifying, a self-giving that ennobles both partners. Here was a wonderful foundation for the growth of a future bridegroom mysticism. However, the patristic era did not see the unfolding of marriage as a way of the spirit, but preferred celibacy as the ideal for a perfected life. By the close of the patristic period, the celibate ideal was firmly settled, and an allegorical bridal mysticism began to bloom. Doubtlessly, the sterling figure of Mary often came to stand in for the feminine aspect of the Divine. Her perpetual virginity was a rapt model of chastity, yet occasionally her devotees have found stirrings of a tender, more sensual love toward her. Bernard of Clairvaux, for example, was an eloquent and profound expositor of bridal mysticism, yet he also reported that the Virgin would come and embrace him warmly, as words of love would pour forth to her: "My Love! My Love! Let me ever love thee from the depths of my heart!''22 Later, in the time of Henry Suso (1295-1366), it was the custom of the young men in his native German town to serenade their sweethearts at the New Year. Henry reportedly followed suit by singing stirring love songs to the figure of the Madonna in the town square.23 One thinks, too, of Francis of Assisi in his romance of Lady Poverty. In fact, by adopting the mission of "troubadour of the Lord," Francis drew upon a movement that fostered bridegroom spirituality at a time when the Church would not recognize it: the emergence of courtly love and romance. In Love in the Western World, Denis de Rougemont traced the close development between the emergence of romance and the heterodox spiritual movement known as Albigen-sianism. 24 The troubadours were evangelists of the movement, and through 1~2 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 their odes of love and honor, human and divine love were integrated, so that spiritual love was given a human face and human love was elevated to a divine dimension. The Provenqal troubadours courted God as the divine fem-inine, dazzled by Her beauty and charm. The movement found expression in chivalry, literature, and the arts, making amorous love a respectable topic for prayer. One thinks, for example, of the tale of Tristan and Iseult and of the ~vorshipful manner~ 6f courtly love. It is curious that during this time, too, interest arose in spiritual friendships between men and women, such .as the chaste love of Francis and Clare or the more ~ultry and tragic affair of Abelard and Hrlolse. In his love of Beatrice, Dante fotind a revelation of divine mystery. Later the heritage would still be alive in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet: the young lovers meet at the masqu.e and express their love in an extended metaphor of worship, pilgrimage, and liturgy. It was during the medieval period, too, that the art of alchemy was intro-duced from northern Africa and taken up by Christian scholars. As Carl Jung's colleague Marie-Louise von Franz has exhaustively discussed,25 Western alchemy did not emerge as a primitive attempt at chemistry, but as a comprehensive map of inner transformation. Alchemy preserved psychologi-cal symboli.sm that was excluded from mainstream Christian mysticism, ificluding a sophisticated contrasexual integration. By the time of the Renaissance, interest in the Kabbalah was also respectable in learned Christian circles and doubtlessly coritributed its own sexual spirituality.26 For all of this, there was still no contemplative imagery in the mainstream of Christian spirituality that would represent male sexual longing as a paradigm for the love of God until the unique voice of Jacob Boehme broke the silence. Jacob Boehme (1575-1624), the German Lutheran lay mystic and teach-er, was doubtles.sly the boldest expositor of bridegroom imagery to emerge in the history of Christendom. Largely self-educated, Boehme worked as a shoemaker, and lived as a faithful husband and father of six, involved in the affairs of his guild and community. From an early age he had a remarkable series of revelations concerning the nature of God, creation, and the inter-play of good and evil. Iia his time alchemical and Kabbalistic ideas had per-colated well into learned spirituality, alongside the more official theologies of the churches. The Wisdom tradition, which had continued in Eastern Christian thought,27 had long lain dormant within Western Christian spiritu-ality, but in an intricate trinitarian theo.logy Boehme spontaneously and inde-pendently recovered it. Briefly and loosely stated, in Boehme's theogony Wisdom (or Sophia) was regarded as the consciousness of God. Wisdom was spoken of as the body of the Trinity and the bride of Christ. She infused all Song of the Groom the persoias of the Trinity in their knowledge of one another, and thus could draw human corisciousness into God. Accordingly, in the devotional works of Boehme, spiritual marriage was not between the bridal soul (the anima) and the bridegroom Christ, but between the animus and the Lady Wisdom. In The Way to Christ Boehme exhorts the reader to court the noble Virgin Sophia to become Her bridegroom just as Christ is Her bridegroom, and gives a stirring dialog between Sopfiia and the bridegroom soul.28 The Promise of Bridegroom Spirituality Let us return to the questions raised at the beginning of this article: What is th~ importance of male erotic mysticism? What does it contribute to our understanding of God? Does it open any new ways of thinking about who we are, in relation to God and in relation to one another, as men and women? The following common themes certainly are not exclusi~ie to bride-groom mysticism, but suggest themselves with enough ~orce to call for par-ticular notice: The Healing of Male Grief. Robert Bly has said that the male mode of feeling springs from a primal "grief," a grief related to the male experience of sacrifice and self-denial.29 In their conventional roles as providers and protectors, men have experienced a crushing burden of responsibility and "have-to's," wearily measuring up to others' expectations, just as they con-tinually size up other men. From the tenderest age, male ideritity is won in an act of separation and distinctioh from the mother, urilike the female identity that is secured through inclusion and similarity to her. Even the sexual act involves for the male a separation, a sundering and yielding of his very essence. Bridegi'oom mysticism exposes his deep grief to the healing work of the Woman. She, who is desirable pureiy by nature rather than by merit, brings forth what is best in a man. When a man first feels the stirrings of love toward the Divine Bride, the experienc6 is overwhelming, reminiscent of the first time he became attracted to ~ girl. Many men remember their initial sex-ual attractions as fresh and frightening and raw, but at the same time oddly pure. Later on, the sexual lives of men often become just another conquest or achievement, but the love of the Divine Bride never seems to lose its surprise and purity, giving the sacrifice of the man a worthy end and resting place. The Healing of Female Pain. Robert Bly calls the female mode of feel-ing an experience of "pain," the pain of being devalued. If nothing else, an awareness of God as Bride, at this juncture of our history, indicates mutuali-ty between men's and women's spirituality in contemporary faith, an acknowledgment by men that the divine feminine is as important to them as it is to women. One of the precepts of Tantric Buddhism states that "to dis- 834 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 parage women is a mortal offense, for woman is the source of Wisdom." Bridegroom spirituality accords the deepest respect to woman, in an act of affirmation that woman cannot give to herself, any more than man can heal his own grief without the love of the Woman. The Healing of God. In the wholeness of God as Woman, we worship Her as the matrix of mystery, comprehen.ding all within her, evil as well as good. In the year 1600 Jacob Boehme first had i.nsight into the activity of Divine Wisdom, and in this same revelation he said, "I saw, too, the essential nature of evil and good and how the pregnant Mother--the eternal gen-etrix brought them forth.''3° Bridegroom spirituality has much to offer our Understanding of what has been called the redemption of God.31 Warrior spirituality rouses to the Lord's clarion to wage battle against evil, but the human heart also seeks the why and wherefore of suffering, an intimacy in which the pain of God can be disclosed and, if possible~ healed. In Kabbalistic Judaism, humanity's separation from God also entails the sepa-ration of masculine and feminine principles within Godhead, and erotic spir-ituality participates in ttieir reunion. As Gershom Scholem writes: The reunion of God and His Shekhinah constitutes the meaning of redemption. In this staie, again seen in purely mythical terms, the mascu-line and feminine are carried back to their original unity, and in this unin-terrupted union of the two the powers of generation .will once again flow uhinterrupted through the worlds. The Kabbalists held that every reli-gioias act should be accompanied by the formula: this is done "for the sake of the reunion of God and His Shekhinah.''32 The Healing of Creation. This is the necessary and obvious corollary of the healing of God. Bridegroom spirituality implies human participation and co-responsibility for God's creative purpose. We relate to God the Father/Mother as children, but the relationship with God as Bride is an adult relationship, enrolling the man fully into God's ongoing creative actions. Wisdom. Quite consistently--in the Hebrew Scriiatures, in Buddhist Tantra, and in the teaching of Jacob Boehme--the divine feminine is named "Wisdom." Wisdom is the fulfillment of the defiriing male consciousness, not in an ever-escalating acquisition of knowledge, but in "knowingness," with its distinctly feminine quality. It is akin to the Hebrew yada, which is "to know" as well as "to make love to." Robert Bly says that ~i father must impart two gifts to his children: his temperament and his teachings. In con-temporary society, Bly says, childreh may ~till have a brief opportuhity to be exposed to their father's temperament, but they have been almost completely deprived of his teaching, of acquiring practical prowess from him. And (it seems to me) just as children need to receive the father's teaching, s6 the Song of the Groom male psyche needs to give teaching, for its own health. "Even mean men," Bly says, "are often sweet when they're teaching." The Buddhist scriptures describe the interplay of female Wisdom, or Prajna, with the male principle, which is alternately called Compassion (Karuna) or Skillful Means (Upaya), the ability to utilize any situation appropriately for the welfare of others. The implication is that the male capacity for action, know-how, and mastery must be thoroughly suffused with wisdom if it is to find fulfillment. Think of the master workman, mechanic, or cabinetmaker, who after years with his craft does not have to shout or trumpet his ability. His mastery is unarguably evi-dent in his work. He can be patient, gentle, and sure. He has seen it all before. In the same way, for the man to exercise Skillful Means, he must deeply see the potentials for good and evil in each situation. It is only Wisdom which brings this seeing. The Centrality oflntent. When the male spirit encounters God the Bride, She calls forth a unique pledge of fidelity, a resolve that endures beyond all appearances. When words fail, when understanding crumbles, when all our religious ego projects are shown for the games they are, only the kernel of bare intent remains. In such a contemplative vision, we pray not to "get somewhere," but enter prayer as itself an expression of desire or intent, in the faith that just in "being there" we give and receive everything. In the power of this intent we pray not to get close to God, but because we are close, and beloved, to Her. For the man who finds inklings of his own experience here, are they ways to enter more deeply? As masculine spirituality emerges, men will find ways to celebrate God the Bride if they are willing to do so. But here are some preliminary ideas for Christian men: ¯ Simply open the Song of Songs, and pray the words of the groom to God as your Bride. Notice what happens. ¯ Try the same thing with Jacob Boehme's dialog with Sophia, or with Ibn al-'Arabi's poem. ¯ In male gatherings of worship, sing Her praises, just as Jewish men would gather at the edge of town at sunset on Friday, to welcome their Bride as Queen of Shabbat. ¯ We learn about the divine feminine by honoring the femininity of women around us. In Tilden Edwards's book Practicing the Presence, there is a simple, prayerful exercise that a man and woman can enter together.33 The book The Shared Heart by Joyce and Barry Vissell also has some sug-gestions, for committed couples. ¯ Christian celibates who want to bring sexual energy into prayer might wish to consult The Radiant Heart by Linda Sabbath. This does not deal [136 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 specifically with male sexuality, but perhaps the exercises could be adapted toward this direction. In the Song of Songs, the awaiting bride leaps to the door at the approach of her groom, only to find that he has vanished. The bride is ready for love, but it is the groom who is timid and unsure. Is humanity only to be the hearer of the song of the groom? Might not that song also be meant to pour forth from the hearts of men? Might not the Bride be yearning to hear it? NOTES ~ John Carmody, Toward a Male Spirituality (Mystic, Conn.: Twenty-Third Publications, n.d.), pp. 31-32. 2 Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette, King, Warrior, Magician, Lover: Rediscovering the Archetypes of the Mature Masculine (HarperSanFrancisco, 1990), p. 121. 3 Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), pp. 109-122. 4 Mary and Leon J. Podl6s, "The Emasculation of God," America, 25 November 1989, p. 373. 5 See, for example, James B. Nelson, The Intimate Connection: Male Sexuality, Male Spirituality (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), p. 31. 6 Podles, p. 374. For a thorough treatment of the fatherhood of God, see also John W. Miller, Biblical Faith and Fathering: Why We Call God "Father" (New York: Paulist Press, 1989). 7 Carmody, p. 45. 8 Arthur Green, "Bride, Spouse, Daughter," in Susannah Heschel, ed., On Being a Jewish Feminist (New York: Schocken Books, 1983), pp. 248-249. 9 Robert Bly, Iron John: A Book about Men (Reading, Mass: Addison-Wesley Publishing Co., 1990), p. 123. l0 Alan W. Watts, Nature, Man and Woman (New York: Pantheon Books, 1958), pp. 143-145. ~ Gerald May, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1982), pp. 5, 6. ~2 Gershom G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Schocken Books, 1965). ~3 Referenced in Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), pp. 122-138. ~4 Gershom G. Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), pp. 140-141. ~5 Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions oflslam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1975), p. 429. Song of the Groom 16 In Reynold A. Nicholson, The Mystics oflslam (New York: Schocken Books, 1975), p. 102. 17 Ibn al-'Arabi, Bezels of Wisdom, trans. R.W.J. Austin (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), p. 276. 18 Daniel Cozort, Highest Yoga Tantra: An Introduction to the Esoteric Buddhism of Tibet (Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion Publications, 1986). 19 See the works of Herbert Guenther: Yuganaddha: The Tantric View of Life (Varanasi: Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series, second edition, 1964) and The Life and Teaching of Naropa (Boston: Shambala, 1986). 20 Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, as quoted in Tsultrim Allione's remarkable work Women of Wisdom (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984), p. 38. 21 Brown, The Body and Society. 22 B.Z. Goldberg, The Sacred Fire: The Story of Sex in Religion (New York: University Books, 1958), p. 199. 23 Ibid. 24 Denis de Rougemont, Love in the Western Worm (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1983). This revised edition has valuable appendices. 25 Marie-Louise von Franz, Alchemy: An Introduction to the Symbolism and Psychology (Toronto: Inner City Books, 1980). 26 loan P. Culianu, Eros and Magic in the Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987). Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross are also believed to have been influenced b~, the Kabbalah. See C. Swietlicki, Spanish Christian Cabala: The Works of Luis de Le6n, Santa Teresa de Jesfis, and San Juan de la Cruz (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1986). 27 See Sergius Bulgakov's interesting and controversial works, particularly The Wisdom of God: A Brief Summary of Sophiology (New York: Paisley Press, 1937), in which he presents an Eastern Orthodox sophiology quite consistent with Boehme's theogony. 28 Jacob Boehme, The Way to Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), pp. 59-62. 29 These comments from Robert Bly are from a televised interview with Bill Moyers, A Gathering of Men. A videotape and transcript are available from Mystic Fire Videos. 30 Ann Liem, Jacob Boehme: Insights into the Challenge of Evil (Wallingford, Pa.: Pendle Hill Publications, 1977), p. 8. 31 See, in particular, I. Carter Heyward, The Redemption of God: A Theology of Mutual Relation (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1982). 32 Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism, p. 108. 33 Tilden Edwards, Living in the Presence: Disciplines for the Spiritual Heart (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987), p. 74. 1~38 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 ADDITIONAL WORKS Bolen, Jean Shinoda. Gods in Everyman: A New Psychology of Men's Lives and Loves. New York: Harper & Row, 1989. Davis, Charles. Body as Spirit: The Nature of Religious Feeling. New York: Seabury, 1976. Donnelly, Dody H. Radical Love: An Approach to Sexual Spirituality. Minneapolis: Winston Press, 1984. Eliade, Mircea. "Masculine Sacrality" (vol. 8, pp. 252-258) and "Feminine Sacrality" (vol. 5, pp. 302-312). In The Encyclopedia of Religion. New York: Macmillan, 1987. Ibn al-'Arabi. Tarjuman al-Ashwaq. Translation and commentary by Reynold A. Nicholson. London, 1911. Johnson, Robert A. He: Understanding Masculine Psychology. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1977, 1986. Sabbath, Linda. The Radiant Heart. Dimension Books, 1977. Stoudt, John J. Jacob Boehme: His Life and Thought. New York: Seabury Press, 1968. Vissell, Joyce, and Vissell, Barry. The Shared Heart: Relationship, Initiations and Celebrations. Aptos, Calif.: Ramira Publishing, 1984. Incense What sense this incense, Questions common sense? This burning, this waste, Like fragrant perfume, Aromatic nard on the Lord? Like love freely given-- For sheer delight! A gift--this incense-- Sweet savor of benevolence. Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 The Bible's Use of Sexual Language Nancy M. Cross Mrs. Cross's article on Blessed Edith Stein's feminism appeared in our issue of January/February 1989. The mother of twelve and now the grandmother of twenty-five, she entered the Catholic Church twenty years ago along with her Protestant-minister husband and their entire family. A wideiy published writer, she cofitinues to have this address: Box 55; Tayiors Falls, Minnesota 55084. [~lore and more Christian publications are saying what Arthur Shaw said in the National Catholic Register: that addressing God as male or female is "not only sowing confusion, but teaching heresy.''l Inasmuch as God is pu~e spirit and has no physical body that is male br female, the statement is, of course true. Yet a reply to this assertion about gender language used for God is demanded if some critical truth is not to be totally obscured, because the assertion is simply not clear enough. Addressing God with gender language exclusively of one sex is neither confusing nor heretical, but correct and true, and is first to be found in the Bible. Genesis 1 describes God's creation of man and woman in tiis image: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness . So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them" (Gn 1:27). About tliis passage Pope John Paul II, in the encyclical Dominum et Vivificantem, asks, ."Can one hold that the plural which the Creator uses here in speaking of himself already in some way sug-gests the Trinitarian mystery, the presence of the Trinity in the work of the creation of man?''2 His logic, which in every particular fits the unfolding story of man and woman in the Bible, brings us to some clarifying insights about the meaning of sexuality. In his pastoral letter "Do This in Memory of Me," Cardinal Carter of Toronto presents the deep covenantal the61ogy based on the Trinity from which we understand relationships on all levels of being: God and 839 840 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 humankind, man and woman, priest and laity. The cardinal archbishop's teaching ranges from deductions based on the nature of the Trinity and the incarnation of Christ to anthropological considerations drawn from the nature of human sexuality. He begins with an analysis of the Trinity, a com-munity of diverse persons which implies neither lordship nor subjugation of one Person to another, yet with distinct roles, irreducibly different in what concerns their being as distinct Persons.3 Triune Relationship Within the relationship of the triune Persons stand revealed an initiator, the Father, and a dependent responder, the Son; unifying these two polar Persons (initiation and response are ob-positioned) is the Holy Spirit, who is, as St. Bernard said, "the kiss between the Father and the Son." Each has all the attributes of the one nature, but some are more to be said of one than the others-~"neither confounding the Persons, nor dividing the substance," as the Athanasian Creed puts it. From the union of Father and Son in the Spirit come creativity and ecstasy. In creating man and woman, God shares that creativity and ecstasy of his own being by enfleshing, materializing these awesome principles of personhood in a male who initiates and a female who is dependent and responds. Cardinal Carter writes: "This qualitative sexual differentiation is rooted not in physiology but in the created human imaging of the Trinity, and is indissociable from the revelation of the Trinity in Christ, as his Incarnation bears witness.''4 In the perfection of the original plan, these two (humankind) are made in this image: two polar persons sharing one nature-~one the initiator, one the responder, both united by a third, the Holy Spirit, who condescends to share himself and unify these opposites with divine love. Therefore, the sexuality that appeared in physical form expresses in a creaturely way something utterly spiritual at the very heart of things. The Trinity Imaged God is saying something about his very self in the creation of man and woman; he is sharing the dynamics of the personhood in the Trinity with the creature he makes in his image. Therefore maleness, though not found in the Trinity, of course, speaks nevertheless of what we would intrepidly say is the masculine principle among the Persons of the Trinity. How do we come to the idea of "masculine"? By observing the action of the male. But the male is picturing for us something far beyond himself. Although it may be anthro-pocentric to describe the First Person as Father, nevertheless, because the The Bible's Use of Sexual Language / 1~41 male generates (in a secondary way) new life and because God has revealed himself as generator of everything that is, it is clear that the very idea has come from God down, not from man up. God has spoken about himself in real terms by creating male and female bodies. Therefore, what has visible form as male imperfectly incarnates a masculine principle in the Trinity. We call the principle "masculine" because of our human experience with male-ness- but it precedes maleness and lies at the heart of things. What has visi-ble form as female imperfectly incarnates a feminine principle in the Trinity. We call the principle "feminine" because of our human experience with femaleness--but it precedes femaleness and lies at the heart of things. Accordingly, the second person in both the Holy Trinity and in humankind is the responder. This role for both the Son and the woman is in response to the First/first person. Do the Son and the woman have the attribute of initiation? Do the Father and the man have the attribute of response? Of course they do, because the polar persons share all attributes of each other; but certain attributes are more to be said of one than the other-- which makes the persons' positions polar and nonexchangeable. As Cardinal Carter says, "the absolute unity of God is not monadic but trinitarian. This eliminates the necessity o.f placing antagonisms between unity and multiplic-ity, because the Triune God, who is Unity itself, is also three Persons, quali-tatively differentiated and irreducible to each other, yet without antagonism." 5 Equality In perfection the Second/second person is completely equal in worth to the First/first person. It is a result of the Fall, the takeover of the scene by an enemy's values, that "response" and "dependent" have become despised concepts. In the perfect plan, re.ceiving and responding are values equal to governance and generating. The Second Person is coequal and coeternal to the First. Man and woman, created to image that relationship in human flesh, \ were created with the same polar roles inherent in their flesh and psyche, yet they stand eye to eye as total equals. As in the Trinity, initiation (or authori-ty) and response (or obedience), indicative of man and woman, are not prin-ciples unequal in their value and worth. They are the stances of wholly equal beings, who enjoy an equality like Father and Son. The very idea of the inequality of the role of response came from an alien consciousness, one who had already envied the role of authority and spread that envy to the perfect creation. When the woman accepted his defi-nition, eventually believing his lies, his value system was established, which is the Fall, a value system that still is modus operandi. It took this alien con- 1~49 / Review for ReligiouJ, November-December 1991 sciousness to cast doubt on that equality and to substitute a value system which contaminates everything since the Fall. The antiword (Pope John Paul's term) corrupts the world with the lie that to initiate and order is power and power is "where it's at." As a corollary, the same antiword insists that to heed and serve, to receive and. respond, is for lackeys and nitwits. Jesus restored the value system of perfection. In bridging this abyss he restored the values of the original plan: to be obedient is not the least important role, to be authority is not the most important role. But almost no one believes it to this day--least of all the one who most purely is created to model obedience and service, the woman. Archbishop John Roach, speaking to the National Council of Catholic W~omen, recently cast light on this as it refers to laity and clergy: The Father, the Son, and the Spirit are one, but very different. The Father does not do what the Son does, the Son does not do what the Father does and neither does what ~he Spirit does. Jesus spoke often of doing the Father's will. He was not obsequious; that was his role and he recognized the Father's role. The Father did things unique to the Father. He initiates, governs, presides, creates in a very distinctive way. The Son's role is to respond, to be the word for the Father, to reflect the Father, to be the splendor and glory of the Father. The Spirit is the bond of love animating the Father and the Son. He is the comforter and consoler and paraclete and inspiration. That may seem to be a kind of lofty ideal for us, but I think it is what we have to aim at. Our roles are different, but that ought to be a source of rejoicing, not resentment. There are things that you do as laity that I should not do. There are things that I do as bishop and priest that you should not do . There is no inferiority or super-superiority in the Trinity. There cannot be any among us. I must exercise a kind of leader-ship and a kind of authority for the good ofth~ Church which is not your responsibility. To do that, however, I must recognize not only th~ dignity of you as persons and children of God, but as people in whom the Spirit speaks . In a collegial gathering all bring gifts. The leader becomes ser-vant and the last rises to full dignity . 6 Revaluing Roles in Tr!nitarian Light In .order for this vision to catch on, it takes the woman first (beginning with the Blessed Virgin Mary, but with us women too) to revalue her role and meaning in light of the Second Person of the Trinity. This is because woman first accepted Satan's false definition and evaluation of her role, that is, as less worthy than the role of authority her husband held in their rela- .tionship by divine command. Edith Stein says, "The nature of the temptation was in itself of more significance to her."7 The woman must begin the unraveling of the knot by not choosi.ng again the values of Satan, not accept- The Bible's Use of Sexual Language ing again the lie that ordering/authority/governance has a higher prestige, is more worthy than service, and is, therefore, an object of envy. She must claim her role and love it; and if she must fight, it is to have that role of obe-dience recognized as fully equal to the opposite role of authority. She is nei-ther a lackey nor a nitwit. Authority will not talk down to her if she talks straight with it, respectfully, but eye to eye. In order for the value system of perfection to be restored, woman must accept obedience as fully worthy, fully equal to the opposite role. The Virgin Mary has done it. Women have rarely done it, and the very idea is being washed away in our day. Not only has obedience (submission) been deval-ued as the feminine role, but authority has been falsely elevated (Satan's val-ues are intact). Therefore, the man considers his role as prestigious and powerful; and this worldly, not to say carnal, evaluation is widely endorsed by women. Authority, which is another word for ultimate initiation and governance, must take its cue from the First Person of the Trinity--that is, it exists to put all at the service of those who are receivers/responders. Pope John Paul's insistence that Ephesians 5 speaks of "mutual submission" of wife to hus-band and husband to wife underlines this.8 But the submission of both, the total giving of self9 that both experience, is done differently. The woman submits to the husband's governance and ordering (the role of headship) of their life together, making one will of two; and the husband submits to the woman's need for protection and provision, and this whether he feels like it or not. In the Christian community, males have authority, and women model obedience. But both live lives of self-giving service in mutual submission. The laity (feminine though consisting of males and females) submits to the clergy's (masculine) governance, the clergy submits to the laity's need for headship, spiritual and material, whether convenient or inconvenient. Further, the Christian community forms the people of God (the bride) whose relationship to God is as feminine to masculine. The model? Again, man and woman in marriage;t just as man and woman in marriage are the image of the Holy Trinity. This imaging of the meaning of sexuality is not deviated from throughout the Bible despite the different pressures of time and culture in the two thousand years of its formation. We see the model for both roles within the Holy Trinity. There is no pres-tige in the role of authority, and no servility in the role of obedience--such is the peculiar Christian ~,ision of relationship. Says Jesus who was sent: "I do nothing but what I see the Father doing"; "I have not come of my own accord"; and so forth. Such statements are the core of the gospel of John. l0 844 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 Anthropomorphic, yet True What does this mean? That maleness and femaleness and the roles inherent in the bodily form speak of ultimate truth about relationship origi-nating in the Holy Trinity. God knows that this creature will develop a lan-guage according to information received through the senses. That language will necessarily be anthropomorphic, but because the sexual body, male and female, is created to image the truth, the words developed can be used to express that truth truly. C.S. Lewis masterfully investigates the meaning of sexuality in his space-fiction trilogy Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. In the latter he writes: "Yes," said the Director. "There is no escape. If it were a virginal rejec-tion of the male, He would allow it. Such souls can bypass the male and go on to meet something far more masculine, higher up, to which they must make a yet deeper surrender. But your trouble has been what old poets called Daungier, we call it Pride . The masculine none of us can escape. What is above and beyond all things is so masculine that we are all feminine in relation to it . ,, I I The inspired writers of Holy Scripture, where Lewis gained his insights, speak truly when they reveal God as forever masculine, and humankind in relation to God as forever feminine. Under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, they never deviate from this form of expression, not once! Examine careful-ly those Scriptures used to present God as mother and you will not find them asserting God's motherhood. The importance of God in his triune Persons always being considered masculine to us human beings is so overwhelming that in every case in Scripture the truth of this is rigorously guarded. For this reason, also, the Second Person of the Trinity came as male--all Persons of the Trinity are to us as masculine to feminine whether we are male or female humans. Isaiah and Hosea Isaiah 66:12-13 is the favorite of the misquoted Scriptures and is always used in this way: "As nurslings, you shall be carried in her arms, and fondled in her lap; as a mother comforts her son, so will I comfort you." This, how-ever, is the fuller text, more closely translated: "Behold, I will extend pros-perity to her like a fiver, and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing stream; and you shall suck, you shall be carried upon her hip, and dandled upon her knees. As one whom his mother comforts, so will I comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem?' Obviously God does not present himself as the mother in this passage. The Bible's Use of Sexual Language The distinction he places between himself and Jerusalem is very clear. The same holds true for Isaiah 49:15, another favorite to substantiate God's motherhood. "Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you." The speaker is Yahweh, the LORD, who in the entire text of Isaiah presents him-self as enduringly masculine though with a depth of compassion that sur-passes all earthly love, even the love of a mother. Mothers may forget, it is possible, but the Lord will not forget. This Lord continues, "Then all flesh shall know that I am the Lord your Savior, and your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob" (Is 49:26). Chapter fifty continues the theme, with God iden-tifying himself as husband and father. Isaiah 46:3-4 is also a standby text for the Mother-God argument, yet there is nothing necessarily maternal in the picture of God carrying the heavy burden which Israel has become. In fact it is explicitly stated in this passage that the one who carries is masculine: "Hearken to me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel, who have been borne by me from your birth, carried from the womb; even to your old age I am He, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save." Next to Isaiah, Hosea is most often called on to bolster the femininity-of- God argument. Such a twist of Hosea's intent cannot be supported by the text, in which God speaks throughout as a betrayed husband and deserted father. There is no plausibility for assuming that the speaker in Hosea 11 is maternal. The Father is expressing the warmth and concern we expect from either parent, mother or father. Nothing maternal is stated here. The actual text, with irrelevant passages deleted, reads: When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. The more I called them, the more they went from me . Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them . How can I give you up, O Ephraim!. My heart recoils within me, my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come to destroy. Can this be considered to be the Mother-God talking? The context is quite the contrary. Neither does Sirach 4:10, "[God] will love you more than your mother did," say anything tb conclude the femininity of the One who loves more than human mothers. The full wording is: "You will then be like a son of the Most High, and he will love you more than does your mother." The Holy~Trinity, of course, has within itself all the positive expressions 846 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 of relationship that there are. This means that mother-love has its origin in the Holy Trinity. What from humankind's point of view would be called fem-inine love is present within (intra) the Trinity; it has been enfleshed by the Creator in the woman--the Son is the Person imaged by the woman. Yet, despite the obvious full measure of what we humans call "femininity" inher-ent in the Trinity, God never approaches his people as mother or as feminine. To humankind (ad extra) God is consistently husband, father, lover, and not wife, mother, or beloved, because Godhead is to humankind the initiator, the author, eliciting humankind's response and obedience, and the roles cannot be reversed. Children, Church, Bride His people are polar to himself, and though they are intended to be, in a certain sense, his equals ("bride without spot or wrinkle," Ep 5:27), they can never be God despite Satan's words to the contrary. Yet they are meant to be joined in union with him; the Holy Spirit will condescend to his mysterious work, but only after Jesus has come to forgive otherwise indelible sin. His people cannot initiate anything with God; he is the initiator. They cannot work their way back to union with him; they are wholly dependent on his action. In relationship to him they can only receive and respond, as they were created to do: to think God's thoughts after him and to obey his Holy Will, or if they prefer to exercise their freedom the opposite way, they may think Satan's thoughts after him and do his will. If God can be presented as mother or as feminine, that is, as receiver and accepter in the God/humankind relationship, where does that place his polar people? They are his children, of course, but they are growing into his bride, not his groom. A feminine God would make them the masculine pole-- exactly what Satan tempted them to think in the beginning--that they should envy and seize the authority side of the equation and "be like gods." Already the value of the role of willing obedience has been totally disparaged. In its place is the Satanic concept that Godhead is merely dominating authoritari-anism lording it over lackeys and nitwits. Thus, the significance of masculine and feminine runs very deep indeed. There is no mother in heaven other than the Blessed Mother, and she is given to us as all the mother we need. There is another heavenly mother, the Church, in that mystical dimension of her that is holy. It is her overflowing breasts that feed us (Is 66) and her warm lap that holds us. The only consort of the God who presents himself as masculine to us is ourselves. Another aspect of the gender-of-God question that appears more and more frequently in periodicals is the matter of history--the assumption The Bible's Use of Sexual Language grows that the Hebrews somehow messed up things and imposed upon the world their perverse patriarchy which they expressed in their sacred writ-ings. Their patriarchal prejudices, declare this reasoning, overpowered the more gentle goddess-religions.~2 We need to look again at that claim in light of the above and also in. light of the goddesses themselves, who were not gentle and approachable at all. Tanit, Astarte, or Astaroth demanded child sacrifices; a very bloodthirsty goddess she was, depicted with a lioness's head! The others do not stand any kind of scrutiny either. They are projec-tions from the fallen psyche of humankind and cannot stand comparison with the Holy One of Israel, I AM HE. Language and Reality It is legitimate, therefore, to object to much current writing against tradi-tional God and gender language: 1. It twists Scripture, theology, and history, even when done innocently. 2. Scripture is not just a human book--it is far too profound for that, often speaking more than the human author knew or intended. Dei Verbum says, "Since, therefore, all that the inspired authors, or sacred writers, affirm should be regarded as affirmed by the Holy Sp!rit, we must acknowledge that the books of Scripture, firmly, faithfully, and without error, teach that truth which God, for the sake of our salvation, wished to see confided to the sacred Scriptures" (DV, no. 11). Often those who adhere to this definition are pejoratively called fundamentalists, a word many who are unwilling to take Scripture wholly and seriously use much too freely in order to quiet their questioners. It is necessary to heed literary forms, the times addressed, the exact meaning of words in their contexts, and ways of perception of the times. But none of this negates the truth of the quotation above (which tran-scends all of the human aspects of Scripture), namely, that God has seen to it that this book speaks what he wants us to know: "sacred Scripture must be read and interpreted with its divine authorship in mind" (DV, no. 12). 3. In the matter of sexuality in Scripture, we are not working with mere metaphor; we are working with an analogy. An analogy points up a relation-ship between two things--a real parailelism of character or attributes. Therefore, to say that man and woman and their relationship are an analogy of God's relationship to humankind is to say that there is a real parallel in the comparison that rests in verity--in this case, because God has created the one (humankind) to be a sign of the other (God). A metaphor, on the other hand, merely suggests a likeness in some particular about two very unlike things, for instance, "That dog walks like a turtle." Feminine references to Godhead in Scripture can be seen with little effort to be sheer metaphors. ~i4~1 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 When Jesus said that he was like a hen wanting to gather his chicks, he was speaking !n metaphor he did not resemble a chicken in any regard other than this one particular. But when he said he and the Father are One, he was not speaking metaphor at all--either about Father, which I have explained above, or about their oneness. In this matter of gender language for God and of the meaning of male and female, many people are being swept along by something that they do not understand, and are taking up the mistaken values of feminism about authority/submission. Thus they .are constantly tempted to envy the mascu-line side and thereby cast aside the beauty and wholeness of Jesus' way of abject obedience, saying it does not behoove women to be obedient or to have anything to do with submission. All of this is a serious concern to the Church as we enter the third millennium, for it lies at the center of what it means to be a Catholic Christian. It is sifting those who have the heart for it from those who do not, and will eventually be seen to vindicate the Church's assertion that the Holy Spirit "leads her to perfect union with her Spouse.''~3 NOTES l Arthur Shaw, "Gender Language for God," National Catholic Register, November 12, 1989, p. 4. 2 John Pau! II, Encyclical Dominum et Vivificantem (pentecost 1986), no. 12. Italics mine. 3 Cardinal Gerald Emmett (~arter, "Do This in Memory of Me," 8 December 1983. 4 .Ibid, p. 24. 5 Ibid, p. 11. 6 Archbishop John Roach, Archbishop of Minneapolis/St. Paul, Eucharistic Celebration, November 9, 1987, National Council of Catholic Women. 7 Edith Stein, The Collected Works of Edith Stein, Volume Two, Essays on Woman (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1987), p. 62. 8 John Paul II, Pastoral Letter Mulieris Dignatatem (1989), pp. 91, 92, 98. 9 Ibid, pp. 67, 78, 84. ~0 See, among many other verses, 5:19, 26, 30, 37, 43; 6:44; 8:28. ~ C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength (Macmillan, 1946), p. 315. 12 See Virginia Ann Froehle, R.S.M., "Feminine Images of God Can Enhance Your Prayer and Change Your Life," St. Anthony Messenger, May 1989. This article blatantl

Issue 51.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1992. ; fo,r relig i ous Christian Heritages and ContemP0ra~ Living SEPTEMBER-O~OBER 1992 ~ t VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 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 Sefin Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 5 contents spiritual growth 646 Spirituality, Spiritual Development, and Holiness William G. Thompson SJ explores by means of three personal examples the relationship between being holy and being devel-oped spiritually. 659 Listening as the Foundation for Spirituality Robert P. Malohey CM proposes that listening becomes a basic Christian stance for a healthy and practical spirituality. 675 Two Key Transitions in Spiritual Growth John Wickham SJ mixes traditional language and new approaches to explain the major movements from the discerning and affirmation of the self to ultimate union with the Lord. religious life 691 Seeking a Sense of Direction in a Time of Transition David F. O'Connor ST reviews the history of how traumatic changes in religious life have preceded new forms of dedication and vitality. 707 Religious Life in the Puebla Document Juan Ram6n Moreno SJ emphasizes the directions of religious life in Latin America given official support in the Puebla docu-ment. 716 721 A Collaborative Retirement Convent Kathleen Steinkamp RSM details the process by which two reli-gious communities established a residential care facility for their retired members. living spiritually Reinventing the Sabbath Dennis Hamm SJ presents a refreshing review of the meaning of 642 R~view for Religious 733 736 sabbath rest and its importance for the survival of our faith. Priesthood, Listening, and the Music Bishop Paul A. Zipfel instructs Dominican ordinands to reverence the gift of orders they will be receiving. A Diligent Compassion Theresa Mancuso relives both the pain of grief on the occasion of her mother's death and the long process of being reconciled with that loss. 743 754 praying Becoming Contemplative Here or There Marie Beha OSC traces out four strands of monastic contemplative discipline to give outsiders a close look at some fibers that go into a contemplative life. An Imaginative Look at Mary Jeffrey B. Symynkywicz focuses his imagined prayer or his prayer-ful imagination on how he sees Mary fitting into today's world. life directions 762 A Journey of Transformation Together Lorelle E. Elcock OP describes the steps of the process of trans-forming three Dominican congregations of women into a new unity. 770 Celibacy as Possibility Marie McCarthy SP explores a celibacy that is concerned about possibilities for life, for generativity, and for transformation. 644 782 789 departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Communicating an Indult of Departure Book Reviews September-October 1992 643 prisms ~hat does a laywoman in Brooklyn have in common with a professor in Central America gunned down for his beliefs, with an auxiliary bishop in St. Louis known for his pastoral-liturgical style, and with a member of a religious community facing the prospect of no new members? In addition to being people who have struggled to live authentic Christian lives, each of these men and women has articles in this issue of Review for Religious. They join their voices with a treasurer of a reli-gious community, with a cloistered contemplative sister, and with spiritual directors, theologians, and administra-tors from Canada, Rome, and the United States to exam-ine a whole spectrum of issues of interest to the contemporary church. These women and men--and, over the years, many others like them--have written about their religious expe-riences in these pages. As they share their personal insights and practical observations about living their faith, our readers around the world benefit from their reflections. Review for Religious has been a valuable resource because of the rich diversity of topics it treats and because of the wide range of perspectives it presents. Have you ever wondered how such articles come to be published? One of the best-kept secrets about this pub-lication is that the editors seldom solicit articles for a par-titular: issue. Over the years a steady flow of unsolicited manuscripts has provided a substantial backlog of articles. The editors simply select, edit, and group the articles. We are constantly amazed at what comes across our desks. Each year the editors consider 250 to 300 articles. From these we select between 90 and 100 for publication. 644 Review for Religious After the editors have chosen the articles they wish to publish, their time is consumed by the process of careful copy editing, proofreading, and preparing the articles for press. The continued vitality of this journal depends on the contri-butions from our readers. Articles that appear in Review are writ-ten, for the most part, by nonprofessional writers--people just like you. That's right. People just like the one who is reading these words at this moment. But this should not come as a surprise. Some two thousand years ago a tax collector and a tent maker did not look on themselves as writers, but today we still draw inspi-ration from the words they penned. Moses and Jeremiah found words worth recording even though one stuttered and the other felt inexperienced. Many of us feel equally inhibited. Few people consider themselves writers. None of the members of the Review staff, if truth be known, prepared themselves for careers in writing or publishing. Yet each of us discovers that, at some point in our lives, we have something to say. We may, how-ever, have difficulties convincing ourselves of that fact. But consider the words found in the Book of Deuteronomy: "The word is very near to you, it is in your mouth and in your heart." The words we discover within our hearts often merit a wider audience. Have you come to a fresh understanding of prayer during a recent retreat or as you talk with other people who pray? Review for Religious would like to invite you to share your experiences and insights. Has the community or parish you live in developed a program or a new method of interacting that others could profit from hearing about? Review could make that possible. If some-thing strikes you as original or valuable, chances are someone else will benefit from hearing that idea. May we invite you to consider becoming a writer? Should you feel that you have the materials for an article that meets the mission statement printed on the back cover of this issue, con-sider putting it on paper. Review will be delighted to send you a set of writers' guidelines. These guidelines clearly describe how to prepare and submit an article for publication in this journal. Review and its many readers want to hear your ideas. And we will be grateful to you for the courage and hard work you will invest in expressing them. Michael Harter SJ September-October 1992 645 WILLIAM G. THOMPSON spiritual growth Spirituality, Spiritual Development, and Holiness For several years I have been articulating for myself and my classes a working model of the inner world represented by the terms spirituality, spiritual development, and holi-ness. In this article I offer some insights I have had as I wondered about how these terms are related. How is spir-ituality related to the human sciences, especially devel-opmental psychology? Is spiritual development the same as what psychologists call human development? How is holiness related to psychological wholeness? I will begin with three examples, move to a more technical exploration of the terms, and return to reflect on the examples in the light of that exploration. Rachel, an adolescent with cerebral palsy, is so severely delayed in her human development that she cannot attend the regular religious-education classes or the liturgies in her parish. Every two weeks she gathers with five other similarly retarded adolescents and six adult sponsors for sessions in special religious education, symbolic catech-esis for the mentally retarded. Joan, who has been her sponsor and friend in this gathering for five years, is con-vinced that despite her developmental retardation Rachel is a very holy young woman. William G. Thompson sJ specializes in the New Testament for adult spirituality and pastoral ministry. He has a doctorate in Scripture from the Pontifical Biblical Institute and serves as asso-ciate professor in Loyola University's Institute of Pastoral Studies, Chicago. His most recent book is Matthew's Story: Good News for Uncertain Times (Paulist, 1989). His address is Ignatius House; 1331 W. Albion Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60626. 646 Review for Religious Katie Klein was born in Germany but came to the United States at the end of World War I. When I was a child, she came to our home two days a week to do laundry and clean our house, as she did for two other families. I came to know and love Katie. She lived a simple, structured, apparently rigid and unimaginative, but also very meaningful life. She went to Mass every morning before work, and she spent at least an hour after work reciting traditional prayers at home. I believe that Katie was a very holy woman even though she seemed never to outgrow the simple piety that had given meaning to her younger years. Before her death in 1950, no personal crisis or public event occurred to chal-lenge her way of living a life that appeared to be pleasing to God. During Vatican Council II, I was pursuing doctoral studies at the Biblical Institute in Rome. Day by day I interiorized the drama of the council as I received reports about its progress from a fellow Jesuit who attended the sessions. I soon sensed that the vision of the church in the modern world that was being shaped in the council's debates was tearing down the world of meaning I had put together for myself over the fifteen years of my Jesuit formation and education. I somehow knew that a long and subtle search for a new world of meaning was beginning. Had the Vatican Council not called us Roman Catholics to let our paradigms shift and leap to a different horizon of meaning, I might still be wear-ing the traditional Jesuit cassock and living the style of priest-hood for which I was so well trained. Spirituality Before Vatican II, spirituality as it refers to lived experience was an almost exclusively Roman Catholic term. But it has taken on a much broader meaning with the council's invitation to a new awareness of, dialogue with, and appreciation of other Christian denominations and of non-Christian religions. In recent years we have been speaking of spirituality as found in various Protestant traditions and in the various traditions of Judaism, as well as in Hinduism, Islam, and Buddhism. Vatican II also called us to a new dialogue with the human sciences, especially with the fields of psychology, sociology, and anthropology, in which spirituality refers to the human spirit apart from religion. Some even speak about the spirituality of antireligious movements such as secular feminism and atheistic Marxism. September-October 1992 647 Thompson ¯ Spirituality and Holiness Spirituality has become a broad, inclusive term that is no longer confined to or defined by religion. It seems now to name a human reality which is difficult to define but whose patterns can be verified in quite different religions and movements. It is no longer limited to the so-called "interior life" of those (mostly priests and religious) who "strive for perfection" through a life of prayer and virtue beyond that of the "ordinary" believer. Spirituality now focuses on the human spirit of believers and non-believers, on their lives as a whole, that is, on the physical and emotional, the intellectual and social, the political and cultural, the secular and religious dimensions of their lives.1 In recent years academic courses and publications in spiritu-ality have multiplied in response to the broad and deep interest among professionals in ministry and among academics in semi-naries and universities. How then are we to define spirituality? Sandra Schneiders provides the best definition that I have found: "Spirituality is the experience of consciously striving to integrate one's life in terms not of isolation and self-absorption but of self-transcendence toward the ultimate value one perceives.''2 According to this definition, (1) spirituality names our progressive, consciously pursued movement toward personal integration; (2) such integration happens when we transcend ourselves rather than center on ourselves and our own self-actualization; and (3) such self-transcendence takes place within the horizon of how we imag-ine, think, and feel about what is ultimate in human life and moves us toward it. For Christians our ultimate concern is God revealed in Jesus Christ and experienced through the gift of the Holy Spirit and within the life of the church. But a spirituality may or may not include God or Jesus Christ, may or may not be explicitly reli-gious. Clear boundaries between the secular and the sacred, between believers and nonbelievers, are notoriously difficult to determine. But twelve-step spirituality has taught us that for reli-gious persons reliance on their "Higher Power" may mean reliance on God, while for nonreligious persons it may mean reliance on their support groups. However, our definition of spirituality does not extend to those persons who organize, orient, and orches-trate their lives in dysfunctional or narcissistic ways according to addictive patterns such as alcoholism or self-centered eroticism. Self-transcendence moves us out of compulsive, addictive, obses-sive patterns of behavior toward more healthy relationships with 648 Review for Religious other persons, with ourselves, and with a transcendent Other, however we imagine and name that Other. At the heart of spirituality, then, lies self-transcendence? The philosophical meaning of spirituality is that capacity for self-tran-scendence through knowledge and love which characterizes humans as persons. We human beings actual-ize this philosophical spirituality within the net-works and patterns of our relationships with others. We seek meaning and are found by meaning as we interact with each other indi-vidually and in communities; and we seek truth and are found by truth in these interactions. A religious spirituality affirms that the proper and highest realization of our human capacity for self-transcendence is to be found in our personal relationship with God. Spirituality in this religious sense has as its ultimate concern our individual and communal believing in, hoping for, and loving God. Religious traditions that imagine and understand God as a person who relates reciprocally with individuals and communi-ties on earth have a religious spirituality. The religions of Islam and Hinduism, of Judaism and Christianity, all see our human spirit as responding to, dependent upon, related to, and account-able to a transcendent Other named God. These religions include images, symbols, metaphors, stories, laws, and rituals through which people encounter God and are encountered by God. In Christian spirituality God's Spirit within but other than our human spirit, within but other than the community of believ-ers, actualizes our capacity for self-transcendence by relating us in and through Jesus Christ to others, to our world, and to God. Our spirituality is at work when we implicitly or explicitly imag-ine- think and feel about, make choices and decisions about-- our everyday lives within the ultimate horizon of our relationship to a personal God in and through Jesus Christ and as empow-ered by God's Spirit. We Christians seek to interpret our indi-vidual and collective human experience as centered in Jesus Christ, guided by the Holy Spirit, and oriented to God. Our spirituality is incarnational and trinitarian. God initiates the personal relationship in and through Christ by the power of the Spirit; our spirituality, individual and collec-tive, reflects how we respond to God's initiative as we face the At the heart of spirituality lies self-transcendence. Septentber- October 1992 649 T~_~pson . Spirituality and Holiness, challenges of everyday life within our specific historical and cul-rural environment. Our spirituality is the sum of our responses to what we perceive as the inner call of God. It has to do with our vocation, that is, with the activities by which we find God and are found by God, by which we find a purpose for life that is part of the purposes that God has for our lives in the world. It has to do with the activities by which we are being created by God and create with God, by which we are governed by God and govern our world with God, by which we are being redeemed by God and participate in God's work of redemption in our concrete his-torical situation. At its core, Christian spirituality concerns how we live in part-nership with the action of God in our lives, whatever its pattern. It focuses on how God actively guides our evolving universe, including God's personal interactions with individuals and com-munities. It acknowledges that our human lives are created by God and destined to return to God. It is concerned with how we are aware of and respond to God and how we transcend ourselves to relate more deeply with others and with our world. As we shall see, this call to self-transcendence may also, but need not, include development, that is, movement in the direction of more devel-oped patterns for finding truth and meaning in our lives.4 Returning to our examples: Rachel, although developmentally retarded, transcends herself by responding to Joan's invitation to friendship, the human experience that most closely resembles faith. She is instinctively present to the other adolescents in the praying group, and she senses that the adult sponsors truly want to be totally present to her. Responding more often with smiles and gestures than with words, Rachel lives close to her feelings and does not hide them from others. She has no problem loving the others and wanting to be loved, even though her movement toward personal integration is slow and retarded. Katie Klein transcended herself by serving our family and other families as laundress and cleaning lady and by being devoted to God at daily Eucharist and in her nightly prayers at home. Her faithful devotion to God and her dedicated service of others dis-closed her ultimate concern; she lived cheerfully and peacefully within the horizon of that concern. Her movement toward per-son] l integration seemed not to include changing how she found meaning in her life. I was called to transcend myself by engaging the events of 650 Review for Religious Vatican II, letting them interact with and begin to tear down the world of meaning constructed over the long years of my Jesuit formation and education. From 1963 to 1968, I was invited to let all that the council meant slowly change how I understood myself as a Jesuit priest, as well as let its vision shape in me images of what my life and work would be as a biblical scholar in the post- Vatican II Roman Catholic Church. I experienced this process as an invitation not simply to move but to leap to a new and broader world of meaning and as a challenge to come to a different under-standing of myself in that world. Spiritual Development Human development is the lifelong process of growing, of changing in many different ways. We humans sometimes change to survive or at least to find meaning in our lives. Sometimes we choose new ways to realize our dreams and attain our goals. At other times we learn better skills and gain more expertise while remaining in the same relationships to others and to our work that give meaning to our lives. We are invited to grow and develop, however, when events so shatter the ways in which we have found meaning and been found by meaning that we inust move toward shaping new patterns that will be more adequate to our changed inner and outer environment. Our journey through life may sometimes take us to new vis-tas of knowing, to deeper realms of trusting, to ever widen.ing circles of belonging, to more creative and effective acting. As we develop, we are enabled to embrace a wider world, to acknowledge a more adequate truth, to live in a more inclusive community, and to enter more deeply into the mystery of human existence. A relatively young discipline, the psychology of human devel-opment was born in response to our modern culture, in which, expecting to live longer lives, we become fascinated by what the extended journey entails. We also sense that, as we near the end of the twentieth century, the global village we call our world is dramatically changing. We need and want to know how we indi-viduals and our families and communities are to navigate such hazardous times. Erik Erikson and Jean Piaget are considered the fathers of developmental psychology. For Erikson, the father of psychoso-cial theories, development is h series of tasks based both on bio- Septe,nber- October 1992 651 Thompson ¯ Spirituality and Holiness logical development and on how we interact consciously and unconsciously with other persons, with secular and religious insti-tutions, and with all that makes up our culture. Erikson names a sequence of eight tasks: trust vs. mistrust, autonomy vs. shame and doubt, initiative vs. guilt, industry vs. inferiority, identity vs. role confusion, intimacy vs. isolation, generativity vs. stagnation, integrity vs. despair. We never complete any of these lifelong tasks, but, as we move through our lives, one task more than the others may call for special energy and attention. For example, the elderly continue to work at the tasks of trust vs. mistrust and generativity vs. stagnation even as they are called to the final task, integrity vs. despair,s Jean Piaget, the father of structural-developmental theories, focused on the structures of human thought and reasoning. He recognized that infants, children, and adolescents come to know reality differently. He developed an understanding, of cognitive development in which a stage is an integrated pattern of opera-tional structures that at a given time constitute the person's thought processes. Piaget called his stages preoperational, concretely oper-ational, early formal operational, and formal operational. Development from one stage to another involves the transforma-tion of these cognitive structures in the direction of greater inter-nal differentiation, complexity, flexibility, and stability.6 Erikson's tasks, with their focus on what meaning we find in our lives, are related to the seasons of our lives, to our youth and adolescence and to our early, middle, and late adulthood. Piaget's structural stages, with their concern for bow we find and are found by meaning, are not so related to chronological age or social envi-ronment. As children we may have begun to develop formal oper-ational structures in which our experience of others is concrete, literal, and immediate. We may have created strong stereotypes of others, shown little empathy for those with whom we are not familiar, and developed a strong but simple sense of right and wrong based on regulations, law and order, and reward and pun-ishment. Since this structure is not age related, we may live all the seasons of our lives and address all the psychosocial tasks without moving toward the next structural stage of human development. We may continue to use existing structures as long as they work, that is, until our inner and outer worlds become so much more complex that we can no longer find and be found by meaning within those structures and patterns. 652 Review for Religious When we experience life as more complex than we have known it, we may be invited to move toward the next stage of human development, toward the next task (Erikson) or toward the next structure for finding meaning (Piaget). Crises, marker events, unfulfilled hopes, changes in significant relationships can create an inner climate of confusion, doubt, and conflict that invites us into transition. Rome during Vatican II was such an inner and outer environment. If we choose to respond to the invi-tation, we begin to separate from the images that have given mean-ing to our lives and then to float in between the old and the new so that we may gradually reintegrate our lives around more ade-quate images of how we are to know, feel, value, love, and act. As we change, we may feel weak, vulnerable, and out of control because we have begun to experience our lives as more chaotic than orderly. Nevertheless, we are drawn to risk moving or being moved toward more developed patterns so that we may live and act more effectively in our increasingly complex world. Transitions in human development are those more or less extended periods in which we gradually develop more internal complexity, more sub-tle differentiation, greater flexibility, and stronger inner stability. This is the place to ask how human development with its stages and transitions relates to spiritual development. We have seen that spirituality has as its concern how over time we integrate our lives in the direction not of isolation and self-absorption but of greater self-transcendence toward the ultimate value as we per-ceive it. According to Daniel Helminiak, spiritual development is the same as human development but with four characteristics that make it spiritual: (1) an intrinsic principle of authentic self-transcendence, (2) the openness of the person to such self-tran-scendence, (3) the integrity or wholeness of the person in question, and (4) an adult capacity for self-criticism and responsibility for oneself.7 Spiritual development, like spirituality, is a general human phenomenon that may or may not be religious. It is more prop-erly studied in the human sciences than in theology, particularly in developmental psychologies with a philosophical perspective. Spiritual development can be called religious when in our search for meaning we acknowledge a personal God to whom we are related and with whom we can realize our deepest capacity for self-transcendence. Christian spiritual development understands that relationship as the gift of God's Spirit actualizing our capac- Septentber-October 1992 653 Thompson ¯ Spirituality and Holiness ity for self-transcendence and relating us to God in Jesus Christ within the Christian community of believers. We Christians believe that God is present and active in the events that change our inner climate, that Jesus Christ invites us into transition and enables us to respond to the invitation, and that God's Spirit com-panions us as we separate from outworn images and learn to float in between, waiting patiently for new, more life-giving images to emerge. Spiritual development can also be described as our moving into deeper and more comprehensive love. Love is Jesus' only command and the standard of perfection in the Christian tradi-tion. 8 Developmental psychology considers this same movement from self-centeredness to self-transcendence its criterion for human development. Although Christians understand spiritual growth as involving more than psychological development, both the Christian tradition and developmental psychology have the same vision of human maturity, that is, movement toward greater autonomy for the sake of more authentically mutual and intimate relationships. Insights from developmental psychology can enrich our understanding of and help us grow into more mature rela-tionships with others, with ourselves, with the cosmos, and with God. Holiness With this understanding of spirituality and spiritual devel-opment, we now ask what it means to be holy and whether holi-ness is the same as wholeness. I agree with Daniel Helminiak that holiness has to do with the quality of one's relationship to God, while spiritual development has to do with the pattern of that relationship? A person can be holy at any stage of spiritual devel-opment; a neurotic person can be holy; a developmentally dis-abled or retarded person can be holy. Holiness has nothing to do with psychological wholeness, but everything to do with the qual-ity of our relationships to God and others, to ourselves and our world, whatever the pattern of those relationships. Holiness has to do with generosity, surrender, intensity, openness, and depth according to our capacity to possess and exercise these qualities. Holiness concerns our authenticity before God, others, ourselves, and our world, how we walk in these relationships, how we do God's will, how we remain close to God and others, how we live 654 Review for Religious in harmony with God, others, and ourselves, how we cooperate with the call and grace of God in our lives. Holiness concerns how well we respond to God's call to self-transcendence and enter into meaningful relationships with oth-ers and with all that makes up our environment. God's call may or may not include an invitation to move toward the next stage of human development, that is, toward more complex patterns for finding and being found by meaning. What counts is how open we are to God, how well we listen for God, and how well we respond to God in and through the relationships that make up our everyday lives. God calls us to holiness within our concrete histori-cal and cultural situation, whether we are developmentally retarded, as is Rachel; or we live with simple patterns for finding meaning, as did Katie; or we are invited to " move to the next stage of spiritual devel-opment, as I was invited. Our vocation--that is, the activities by which we find God and are found by God, by which we find a purpose for our life that is part of the purposes that God has for our life in the world--may include an invitation to develop new, more complex patterns for making meaning, but it may not. Holiness cannot be identified with psychological wholeness or correlated with spiritual development. A less developed person may be holy, while a more developed person may not. As we pass through the stages of spiritual development, we may become more psychologically mature, but whether or not we also grow in holi-ness depends on the quality of our response to the call of God in our lives. Holiness has to do with the quality of one's relationship to God, while spiritual development has to do with the pattern of that relationship. Conclusion Now we return to our cases. Rachel cannot manage in the usual parish groups of adolescents because she moves at a much slower pace than normal in her spiritual development. She has moved through the stages of grasping reality by exploring every-thing in sight (sensory-motor thinking), of imagining the outside Septentber-October 1992 655 Thompson ¯ Spirituali~ and Holiness " world to fit her inside world (symbolic thinking), and of identi-fying with what she learns (intuitive thinking). But her retardation makes her as yet incapable of thinking beyond what actually is to what is possible (formal operational thinking). Her adult friend Joan and the other adult sponsors are convinced that Rachel is holy and growing in holiness even though developmentally retarded. Rachel receives her vocation from God through Joan and the other adolescents and adults at their biweekly sessions in symbolic catechesis. She responds to those around her and to God with the capacity she has to symbolize and imagine, to know and be known, to love and be loved. Joan senses that almost imperceptibly Rachel is growing more open, more generous, and more authentic in responding to this call of God. Her holiness depends on the quality of her response to others and to God, not on the stage of her spiritual development,l° Katie Klein lived a regular, structured, apparently unimagi-native, but meaningful life. Her experience of others and of God was concrete, literal, and immediate. And she had a 'strong but simple sense of right and wrong. She moved through the tasks of adult life (Erikson) with early formal operational structures of thought (Piaget). Although capable of further development, Katie found those patterns adequate for finding and being found by meaning in her inner and outer world. Generously serving others and being faithful to daily Mass and devotional prayers, Katie became a very holy woman even though her life situation, God in her life, never invited her to move beyond an uncomplicated pat-tern of spiritual development. Within that pattern Katie responded more and more generously to God and walked more and more faithfully with God to become as holy a person as anyone I have known. In how well she loved and served our family, in how deeply she trusted God as she approached death, we knew that Katie's was a rich, solid, strong partnership with God. During my doctoral studies, the events of Vatican II invited me to develop spiritually by letting conventional patterns for find-ing meaning in my Jesuit life be shattered so that more adequate, more individuated, more autonomous structures might be shaped. As I interacted with the environment of the council, God called me to an experience of brokenness so that I might become more whole psychologically, more mature spiritually. Reality became chaotic compared with what I had known in my years of Jesuit formation. Challenged to change, feeling vulnerable, I risked 656 Review for Religious moving toward more complex patterns for making meaning in my life. God called me into this transition so that I might more effectively live and work in the world envisioned by the council. As I struggled through this developmental transition, whether or not I was also becoming holy depended not on the transition but on how well I was listening to and how generously I was responding to the call of God in that experience. Rachel was developmentally retarded, but l~oly; Katie was never called into transition, and she was holy. God invited me to move from the conventional world of meaning I had constructed in my Jesuit formation toward a more individual stage of spiritual develop-ment. Does that mean I was also becoming more holy? Not nec-essarily! We cannot measure holiness, neither our own nor other people's; only God knows the quality of that response to God. We can remember, however, and we must, that holiness concerns how well we live in partnership with God, not how far we have advanced through the stages of spiritual development. Notes ~ Sandra M. Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 681-683; Joann Wolski Conn, Spirituality and Personal Maturity (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1989), pp. 13-29. 2 Schneiders, "Spirituality," p. 684. 3 Sandra M. Schneiders, "Theology and Spirituality: Strangers, Rivals, or Partners," Horizons 13 (1986): 266; Wolski Conn, Spirituality, pp. 29- 30. 4 For further discussion see Katherine Marie Dyckman and L. Patrick Carroll, Inviting the Mystic, Supporting the Prophet (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1981), p. 79; Benedict J. Groeschel, Spiritual Passages (New York: Crossroad, 1988), p. 4; James W. Fowler, Becoming Adult, Becoming Christian (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984), pp. 71-76; James W. Fowler, Weaving the New Creation (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1991), p. 31. s For another approach to psychosocial development, see Daniel J. Levinson, The Seasons of a Man's Life (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1978); Anita Spencer, Seasons (New York: Paulist, 1982). 6 For a description of contemporary structuralists (Lawrence Kohlberg, Carol Gilligan, James Fowler, Robert Kegan), see James W. Fowler, Stages of Faith: The Psychology of Human Development and the Quest for Meaning (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1981), pp. 37-116; Fowler, Becoming Adult, pp. 37-47. 7 Daniel A. Helminiak, Spiritual Development (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1987), pp. 29-42. September-October 1992 657 8 Joann Wolski Corm and Walter E. Corm, "Christian Spiritual Growth and Developmental Psychology," The Way Supplement 69 (1990): 3-13. 9 Helminiak, Spiritual Development, pp. 143-158. ~0 For an excellent treatment of the mentally retarded, see Mary Therese Harrington, A Place for All: Mental Retardation, Catechesis, and Liturgy (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992). The Chess Game It seems you never give up needling away at my defenses. You come to me ready to play a game of chess where you are the seasoned player, and L the fumbling novice. Sometimes you move all at once your strategically placed artillery, leaving me helpless soon after the confrontation has begun. On other occasions you will move, with well-&ought-out expertise, your black knight too near the weakest part of my citadel. You know from past maneuvers I tend to abandon the safety of my ramparts in my hasty efforts to capture him. In the process I give you the liberty to rush into my undefended heart, capturing, as a victory prize, any false god who resides there. When you play, you are never content with a pawn or queen of mine. You want them all! Richard Heatley FSC 658 Review for Religious ROBERT E MALONEY Listening as the Foundation for Spirituality Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord Yahweh has opened my ear. Isaiah YO:4-Y manuals on the spiritual life, and even in the classics? One searches in vain for a chapter on listening in the writings of St. Benedict or St. Ignatius or even in the writings of very practical, concretely oriented saints like Francis de Sales and Vincent de Paul. One comes up empty too in Luis de Granada and Rodriguez and in later widely used treatises on spirituality like Tanquerey. Listening, of course, enters these writings implicitly under many headings. But if one considers listening the foundation for spirituality, one might have expected it to stand out in greater relief. This article proposes some reflections on listening as the foundation of spirituality. It will examine, in a preliminary way: (1) listening in the New Testament; (2) listening as the foundation for all spirituality; (3) some echoes of the theme in the history of spirituality; (4) the contrast between an implicit and an explicit theme; (5) some ramifications today. Christian listening begins, of course, with the Old Testament, R6bert P. Maloney CM writes from Rome, where he serves as a mem-ber of the general administration of the Vincentian Fathers and Brothers. His address is Congregazione della Missione; Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma, Italy. September-October 1992 659 Maloney ¯ Listening where listening plays a vital role, especially in the Deuteronomic and prophetic traditions. Yahweh often complains that, when he speaks, his people "do not listen." Conversely, the prophets are preeminent listeners; they hear what Yahweh has to say and then speak in his name. "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening," says the boy Samuel as he begins his prophetic career. Listening recurs again and again in the New Testament, where a study of Johannine literature, for instance, would reveal listening as the key to eter-nal life. "Whoever is of God listens to every word God speaks. The reason you do not hear is that you are not of God . If someone is true to my word he shall never see death" On 8:47, 51). Listening in Luke's Gospel In Luke's Gospel the listening theme is quite explicit. For Luke, as for the entire New Testament, God takes the initiative through his word, which breaks into the world as good news call-ing for human attention and response. Mary the model listener. As with almost all the important themes in Lukan theology, the listening theme is introduced in the infancy narratives. These narratives provide a summary of the theology that Luke will weave through his Gospel. The listening theme is among the most prominent Lukan motifs (parenthetically, one might add that in Luke's Gospel another theme is at work in many of the listening stories; contrary to the expected cultural patterns of the writer's time, a woman is the model listener presented to the reader). Mary is evangelized in Luke's first two chapters. She is the first to hear the good news. She is the ideal disciple, the model for all believers. Mary listens reflectively to Gabriel, who announces the good news of God's presence and tells her of the extraordinary child whom she is to bear; to Elizabeth, who proclaims her blessed among women because she has believed that the word of the Lord would be fulfilled in he~; to shepherds, who tell her and others the message which has been revealed to them about the child, the good news that a Savior is born; to Simeon, who proclaims a song of praise for the salvation that has come to all nations and a prophecy that ominously forebodes the cross; to Anna, who praises God in Mary's presence and keeps speaking to all who are ready to hear; to Jesus himself, who tells her about his relationship with his heavenly Father, which must take precedence over everything. 660 Review for Religious Luke pictures Mary as listening to the Angel Gabriel with wonderment, questioning what it might mean, deciding to act on it, and afterwards meditating on the mystery of God's ways, reflecting on them in her heart. The theme of listening later in Luke's Gospel. Luke uses three brief stories to illustrate this theme of listening discipleship, namely, that those who listen to the word of God and act on it are the true followers of Jesus. (1) His mother and brothers came to be with him, but they could not reach him because of the crowd. He was told, "Your mother and your brothers are standing outside and they wish to see you." He told them in reply, "My mother and my brothers are those who listen to the word of God and act upon it" (8:19-21). In this story Luke changes the Markan emphasis (cf. Mk 3:31- 35) radically. While Mark depreciates the role of Jesus' mother and relatives, Luke extols it, echoing his first two chapters and show-ing that Mary is the ideal disciple, who listens to God's word and acts on it. (2) On their journey Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him to her home. She had a sis-ter named Mary, who seated herself atthe Lord's feet and listened to his words. Martha, who was busy with all the details of hospitality, came to him and said, "Lord are you not concerned that my sister has left me to do the household tasks all alone? Tell her to help me." The Lord in reply said to her: "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and upset about many things; one thing only is required. Mary has chosen the better portion and she shall not be deprived of it" (10:38-42). Even though Jesus' statement about the one thing necessary has been subject to innumerable interpretations, there is little doubt about the point of this story in the context of Luke's Gospel. Mary has chosen the better part because she is sitting at Jesus's feet and listening to his words, just as any true disciple does. While there are many other themes in the story (such as the role of women and the role of the home-church in early Christianity, which is reinforced here through a Lukan addition), Luke empha-sizes the basis of discipleship: listening to the word of God. That is the better part (see Lk 8:4-21). (3) While he was saying this a woman from the crowd called out "Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that September- October 1992 661 Maloney ¯ Listening nursed you! . Rather," he replied, "blest are they who lis-ten to the word of God and keep it." This passage interrupts, rather puzzlingly, a series of contro-versies that Jesus is involved in during the journey to Jerusalem. But Luke inserts it to clarify the meaning of discipleship once more: real happiness does not lie in physical closeness to Jesus, nor in blood relationship with him, but in listening to the word of God and acting on it. Listening as the Basis for Spirituality All spirituality revolves around self-transcendence. As a work-ing definition for spirituality, we might use one proposed by Sandra Schneiders: "The experience of consciously striving to integrate one's life in terms not of isolation and self-absorption but of self-transcendence toward the ultimate value one per-ceives." l For Christians spirituality involves "putting on the Lord Jesus Christ" (Rm 13:14), "giving away one's life rather than saving it up" (Mk 8:35, Mt 16:25, Lk 9:24, Jn 12:25), and other phrases that imply self-transcendence. The self is not obliterated through self-transcendence; rather, it becomes fully actualized.2 That is the Christian paradox: in giving oneself, one finds one's true self. In that sense authentic love of God, of the neighbor, and of self come together. Authors put this in different ways. For Bernard Lonergan self-transcendence occurs in the radical drive of the human spirit, which yearns for meaning, truth, value, and love. Authenticity, then, "results from long-sustained exercise of attentiveness, intel-ligence, reasonableness, responsibility.''3 For Karl Rahner the human person is the event of the absolute self-communication of God. In his foundational works Rahner describes the human per-son as essentially a listener, one who is always awaiting a possible word of revelation. Only in Jesus, the self-communication of God, is the human person ultimately fulfilled. At the core of the his-torical human person is a gnawing hunger for the other, for abso-lute Value. A particular spirituality is a way in which this longing for the absolute is expressed.4 But this inner yearning for truth and love, this "reaching out," as Henri Nouwen expresses it, can only be satisfied by a word from without--spoken or enfleshed--that reveals what true 662 Review for Religious humanity really is. In the human person the fundamental dispo-sition for receiving that word or Word is listening. It is worth notirig here that Genesis, the wisdom books, and the Johannine tradition all seize on the concept of the Word as the way in which God initiates and breaks into human history. The creating word bears within it its own immediate response: "Let there be light, and there was light." But the word spoken to the human person, who in God's image and likeness rules with free-dom over all creation, must be listened to and responded to freely. Of course, listening here is used in the broadest sense. It includes seeing, hearing, sensing, feeling, perceiving. "Attentiveness" might serve as the term for the various ways in which the human person is ready to grasp what comes from with-out. Listening in this sense is the indispensable precondition for self-transcendence. Without it the word that comes from without goes unheard, the truth that draws the human mind to a vision beyond itself goes unperceived, the love that seeks to capture the heart goes unrequited. Is this why the saints have so stressed the importance of lis-tening in prayer? ls this why obedience has played such an influ-ential role in the tradition of religious communities? Is this why the seeking of counsel has always been regarded as one of the signs of true wisdom? Is this why the Word made flesh and the word of God in the Scriptures are at the center of all Christian spiritual-ity? Is this why the reading of the Scriptures in the liturgy and communion with the Word himself in his self-giving, sacrificial love are "the source and summit" of genuine Christian living? Listening in Vincent de Paul One can find echoes of the listening theme in many tradi-tions. Ignatian discernment, which has exerted such a forceful influence on the countless people who have made the Spiritual Exercises since the sixteenth century, is a means of listening atten-tively to what God is saying and allowing God's word to work conversion within us. Francis de Sales, whose Introduction to the Devout Life has been read by millions since its first publication in 1609, spoke of the need to "be devoted to the word of God whether you hear it in familiar conversation with spiritual friends or in sermons." He urged his readers, "Always listen to it with attention."5 September-October 1992 663 Maloney ¯ Listening Here, however, I will focus briefly on another seventeenth-century figure, Vincent de Paul, whose writings are less well known, but whose charism has influenced enormous numbers of men and women, not only in the two communities he founded (the Vincentians and the Daughters of Charity), but in other com-munities that have sprung up under his inspiration, and also in the hundreds of thousands of Ladies of Charity and St. Vincent de Paul Society members throughout the world. The central place of listening in spirituality is not explicit in the conferences and writings of St. Vincent. But the spirituality he proposes includes several key themes in which the importance of listening is evident. Humility the Foundation of Evangelical Perfection Vincent calls humility "the foundation of all evangelical per-fection and the core of the spiritual life.''6 For him truly humble people see everything as gift. The humble recognize that God is seeking to enter their lives again and again so that he may speak to them. They are alert, they listen for God's word, they are eager to receive God's saving love. The humble know that the truth which sets them free comes from without: through God's word, through the cries of the poor, through the church, through the community in which they live. There is probably no theme that St. Vincent emphasized more. He described humility as the origin of all the good that we do.7 He told the Daughters of Charity: "If you establish your-selves in it, what will happen? You will make this company a par-adise, and people will rightly say that it is a group of the happiest people on earth . ,,8 Humility and listening are closely allied in that listening is the basic attitude of those who know that fullness of life, salvation, wisdom, truth, and love come from without. Brother Robineau, Vincent's secretary, whose reflections about the saint have just been published, notes that this attitude was especially evident in Vincent's conversations with the poor, with whom he would sit and converse with great friendliness and humility.9 St. Vincent loved to call the poor the real "lords and mas-ters" ,0 in the church. It is they especially who must be listened to and obeyed. In the reign of God, the world of faith, they are the kings and queens; we are the servants. Recognizing the special 664 Review for Religious place of the poor in the new order established by Jesus, Vincent was eager not only that his followers would serve and evangelize the poor, but also that they would hear God speaking in those they served or, as we would put it today, that they would allow themselves to be evangelized.1~ Reading Sacred Scripture St. Vincent was convinced that the word of God never fails. It is like "a house built upon rock.''~2 He therefore begins each chapter of his rule and many individual paragraphs with a citation from Scripture. He asks the members of the Congregation of the Mission to read a chapter of the New Testament every day. He wants them to listen to the word of God and to make it the foun-dation of all they do: "Let each of us accept the truth of the fol-lowing statement and try to make it our most fundamental principle: Christ's teaching will never let us down, while worldly wisdom always will." ~3 Abelly, Vincent's first biographer, notes, in a colorful passage, how devoted the saint was to listening to the word of God: "He seemed to suck meaning from passages of the Scriptures as a baby sucks milk from its mother, and he extracted the core and sub-stance from the Scriptures so as to be strengthened and have his soul nourished by them--and he did this in such a way that in all his words and actions he appeared to be filled with Jesus Christ.''~4 "Obeying" Everyone The word "obedience" (ob + audire = to listen thoroughly) is related etymologically to the word "listen" (audire). For St. Vincent the role of obedience in community was clearly very important. But he also extended obedience beyond its usual mean-ing, that all are to obey the legitimate commands of superiors. Using a broadened notion of obedience, he encouraged his fol-lowers to listen to and obey everyone, so that they might hear more fully what God is saying and act on it: Our obedience ought not limit itself only to those who have the right to command us, but ought to strive to move beyond that . Let us therefore consider everyone as our superior and so place ourselves beneath them and, even more, beneath the least of them, outdoing them in defer-ence, agreeableness, and service.Is September-October 1992 665 Maloney ¯ Listening~ Obedience moreover, is not the duty of subjects alone, but of superiors too. In fact, superiors should be the first to obey, by listening to the members well and by seeking counsel: "There would be nothing more beautiful in the world, my daughter, than the Company of the Daughters of Charity if. obedience flour-ished everywhere, with the sister servant the first to obey, to seek counsel, and to submit herself." 16 An Implicit Theme vs. an Explicit One It is clear that listening plays a significant, even if unaccented, role in each of the themes described above. The importance of lis-tening is not, therefore, a "forgotten truth" (to use Karl Rahner's phrase) in the writings of Ignatius Loyola, or Francis de Sales, or Vincent de Paul, or in the overall spiritual tradition; neither, however, is it a central one. Therein lie two dangers. First, truths that remain secondary or merely implicit run the risk of being underemphasized or distorted. For example, reading a chapter of the word of God daily can degenerate into fulfilling an obligation or studying a text unless listening attentively retains its preeminent place. Likewise, the practice of humility, when distorted, can result in subservience to the voices without and deafness to the voices within, where God also speaks. In such a cir-cumstance, "humility" might mask lack of courage in speaking up, deficient self-confidence, or a negative self-image. A distorted emphasis on obedience can cause subjects to listen exclusively to superiors, no matter what other voices might say, even voices that conscience demands that we listen to. Conversely, it could cause a superior to insist loudly that he only has to "listen" to the advice of others, .not follow it (whereas in such instances he may usu-ally listen to almost no one but himself). But when listening retains a place at the center, the danger of distortion is lessened. Reading the word of God, practicing humility, and obeying are seen as means for hearing what God is saying. The accent remains on attentiveness. Second, when the importance of listening is underempha-sized, there is a subtle tendency to focus on particular practices to the detriment of others or to be attentive to certain voices while disregarding others. For instance, a member of a community might pray mightily, seeking to discern what God is saying, but pay little attention to what a superior or spiritual director who 666 Review for Religious knows the person well is trying to say. He or she may listen "tran-scendentally" or "vertically," so to speak, but show little concern for listening "horizontally." Along similar lines, a superior might be very confident that, because of the grace of his office, God lets him know what his will is, while other persons, by the grace of their office, are desperately trying to signify to the same supe-rior that God is saying something quite different. The simple truth is that we must listen to many voices since God speaks to us in many ways. Some of these ways are obviously privileged, but none has an exclusive hold on the truth. Some Ramifications In his wonderful book on community, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote: The first service that one owes to others in the community consists in listening to them. Just as love of God begins by listening to his Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is because of God's love for us that he not only gives us his Word but also lends us his ear. So it is his work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him. Christians, especially ministers, so often think they must always contribute something when they are in the company of others, that this is the one ser-vice they have to render. They forget that listening can be a greater service than speaking. Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians, because these Christians are talking where they should be listening. But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either, he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God too. This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life. 17 If listening is so crucial to healthy spirituality, then how might members of communities grow in it, both as individuals and in common? Listening as Individuals From reflection on the church's long spiritual tradition, one might glean a number of qualities that characterize good listen-ers. Here I will touch briefly on four, which seem to me crucial for better listening. The first indispensable quality for good listening is humiliW. September- October 1992 667 It is "the foundation of all evangelical perfection, the core of the spiritual life," as Vincent de Paul put it.is Humble people sense their incompleteness, their need for God and other human per-sons. So they listen. Humility acknowledges that everything is gift; it sees clearly that all good things come from God. St. Vincent writes to a priest of the Mission: "Because we recognize that this abundant grace comes from God, a.grace which he keeps on giving only to the humble who realize that all the good done through them comes from God, I beg him with all my heart to give you more and more the spirit of humility." t9 But consciousness of one's incompleteness has a further dimension. It is not only "vertical," so to speak, but "horizontal"; we depend not only on God direcdy, but on God's creation around us. Truth, then, comes from listening not only to God himself, but to other human persons, through whom God's presence and words are mediated to us. The hunger for truth and love that lie at the heart of the mystery of the human person is satisfied only from without. We are inherently social, living within a complex network of relationships with individuals and with society. It is only when what is heard is pondered that its full mean-ing is revealed. The second quality necessary for better listening, then, is prayerful reflectiveness. While at times one can hear God speak even in a noisy crowd, it is often only in silence that one hears the deepest voices, that one plumbs the depth of meaning. The Psalmist urges us: "Be still and know that I am God" (Ps 46:10). The Gospels, particularly Luke's, attest that Jesus turns to his Father again and again in prayer to listen to him and to seek his will. Prayer is then surely one of the privileged ways of lis-tening. But it must always be validated by life. One who listens to "what God is telling me" in prayer, but who pays little heed to what others are saying in daily life, is surely suspect. Prayer must be in continual contact with people and events, since God speaks not only in the silence of our hearts, but also (and often first of all) in the people around us. Because prayer is a meeting with God himself, what we say in prayer is much less important than what God says to us. When there is too much emphasis on what we say or do during prayer, it can easily become a "good work," an "achievement," a "speech," rather than a "grace," a "gift," a "gratuitous word" from God. 668 Review for Religious Naturally, prayer, like all human activities, involves structures, personal discipline, persevering effort. But the emphasis must always be on the presence of the personal God, to whose word we must listen attentively as he speaks to us the good news of his love for us and for others. In an era when there is much noise, where the media, if we so choose, speak to us all day long, one must surely ask: Are we able to distinguish the voice of God among the many voices that are speaking? Is God's word able to say "new things" to us? Are we still capable of wonder? As may be evident to the reader, the word wonder has an etymological kinship, through German, with wound. Is the word of God able to wound us, to pen-etrate the membrane that seals us off, that encloses us within ourselves? Can it break into our consciousness and change us? The third necessary quality is respect for the words of human persons. It is here perhaps that the tradition was weakest. It did emphasize humility. It Prayer must be in continual contact with people and events, since God speaks not only in the silence of our hearts, but also in the people around us. did accent the need to hear what God is saying and to discern his will. But it rarely focused explicitly, in the context of spirituality, on the central place of listening to other people. Many contemporary documents put great emphasis on the dignity of human persons and on the importance of hearing the cries that come from their hearts. Vatican II's Gaudium et Spes and the encyclical Redemptor Hominis see the human person as the center of creation,z° Centesimus Annus puts it strikingly: "Today the church's social doctrine focuses especially on man . ,,2~ Respect for human persons acknowledges that God lives in them and that he reveals himself in and through them. It acknowl-edges that words of life come from the lowly as well as the pow-erful. In fact, St. Vincent became gradually convinced that "the poor have the true religion" and that we must be evangelized by them.22 Many of the recently published texts of Brother Louis Robineau, which relate his pe,rsonal experience of Vincent de Paul, attest to the saint's deep, respect for persons of all types. September-October 1992 669 Maloney ¯ Listening Attentiveness is an indispensable means for creating authentic communities. Robineau notes how well Vincent listened to them: poor and rich, lay and clerical, peasant and royal.23 In this context, the process of questioning persons that is involved in the quest for truth takes on a new light. When there is deep respect for all human persons, questioning involves a genuine search for enlightenment, rather than being, in some hidden way, refutation or accusation. Questioning is a tool for delving deeper, for unpeeling layers of meaning, for knowing the other person bet-ter, for digging toward the core of the truth. As we attempt to develop increasing respect for human persons, surely we must ask some challenging questions. Are we really able to hear the cries of the poor, of the most oppressed: the women and chil-dren, who are often the poorest members of society; those discriminated against because of race, color, nationality, religion; the AIDS victims, who are often shunned by their families and by the physically healthy; those on the "edges of life," the helpless infants and the helpless aged, who are unable to speak for themselves? Are we able to hear the counsel given to us by others: by spiritual directors, by members of our own com-munities, by the documents of the church and our own religious congregations? Are we sensitive to the contributions that come from other sources of human wisdom (like economics, sociology, the audiovisual media, the massive data now available in com-puterized form) that often speak concretely about the needs of the poor, that can help us find and combat the causes of poverty or that can assist us in the new evangelization called for by the church? Are we alert, "listening," to the "signs of the times": the increasing gap between the rich and the poor and the repeated call for justice made by the church; the movement toward unity within global society, which is now accompanied by an opposite movement toward separatism and nationalism; the growth of the church in the southern hemisphere, which contrasts with its diminishment in many places in the northern hemisphere. The fourth quality needed is attentiveness, one of the most important signs of respect for the human person. It is the first step in all evangelization, the prerequisite for serving Christ in the poor. It is only when the servant is attentive to the needs of the master (in this case, the poor person) that he really knows what to 670 Review for Religious bring him. It is only when the evangelizer is alert to the needs of the listener that she is able to communicate genuinely good news. Attentiveness is an indispensable means for creating authen-tic communities. If community members do not pay close atten-tion to the opinions and needs of those they live with, each person becomes isolated even if still physically present to others. Those living in community must therefore continually seek renewed ways of listening to each other and of sharing their prayer, their apostolic experience, their struggles in community, their successes and failures, their joys and sorrows. Attentiveness is also of the greatest importance as one seeks counsel. Robineau relates how often St. Vincent asked others their' opinion about matters at hand, "even the least in the house." He often heard him say that "four eyes are better than two, and six better than four.''24 Robineau relates an interesting incident in this regard: One day he did me the honor of telling me that it was nec-essary to make it our practice, when consulting someone about some matter, always to recount everything that would be to the advantage of the opposing party without omitting anything, just as if it were the opposing party itself that was there to give its reasons and defend itself, and that it was thus that consultations should be carried out.zs Listening in Community Meetings, along with consultations and questionnaires of var-ious sorts, are among the primary means of listening in commu-nity. Like most realities, meetings are "for better or for worse." Almost all of us have experienced some that we find very fruitful and others that we would be happy to forget about. To put it in another way, meetings can be a time of grace or a time when sin threatens grace. Communities, like individuals, can become caught up in them-selves. A healthy self-concern can gradually slip into an unhealthy self-preoccupation. Outgoing zeal can be replaced by self-cen-tered security seeking. Communities can be rescued from this state, in a way analogous to that of individuals, only through cor-porate humility,26 a communal effort to listen to God and com-munal attentiveness to the words of others. September-October 1992 671 Maloney ¯ Listening Meetings can be a time when sin threatens grace. When there is no listening, they create strife and division. They disrupt rather than unify. They deepen the darkness rather than focus the light. Among the signs that sin is at work in meetings is fighting. When participants do not listen, there is inevitable strife, bad feelings, disillusionment, bitterness. Such meetings result in fleeing. The group backs away from major decisions, especially those that demand some conversion; it refuses to listen to the prophets; it seeks refuge in the status quo. A further consequence is fractur-ing. When participants do not listen, badly divided splinter groups form; the "important" conversations take place in the corridors rather than in the meeting hall; politics, in the worst sense, takes the place of discernment. Meetings can be an opportunity for grace. They provide us with a wonderful opportunity for listening and discernment. They enable communities to work toward decisions together, as a com-munity. In order for this to happen, those who meet must be com-mitted to sharing their common heritage, creating a climate of freedom for discussion, and planning courageously for the future. In meetings where God is at work, we recall our heritage in order to renew it. We listen to and retell "our story." We recount and rehear the deeds of the Lord in our history. We celebrate our gratitude in the Eucharist and let thanksgiving fill our hearts, for we have heard the wonderful works of the Lord. We share com-munal prayer and reflection because the faith of others strength-ens us. The atmosphere will be grace-filled if all are eager to listen to each other. If all arrive without hardened positions and preju-dices, convinced that the group must seek the truth together, then the groundwork for the emergence of truth has already been laid. The content, no matter how concrete or seemingly pedes-trian, will be grace-filled if all hear the word of God together, listen to each other's reflections on that word, and make deci-sions on that basis. The decisions of a listening community will flow from its heritage while developing the heritage in the light of contemporary circumstances.27 Meetings play an important role within God's providence. God provides for the growth of communities through wise deci-sions that govern their future, especially the training of the young, the ongoing formation of all members, and care for the aging. But such decisions can be made only if the members of the com- 672 Review for Religious munity are willing to listen to the data that describes its present situation and projects its future needs. Communal decision mak-ing, based on realistic projections, is one of the ways in which providence operates in community life. Failure to listen to the data--difficult though it may sometimes be to "hear" it honestly-- results in calamitous "blindness" and "deafness." The listening individual and the listening community will surely grow, for listening is the foundation of all spirituality. To the listener come truth, wisdom, the assurance of being loved. To those who fail to listen comes increasing isolation. Jesus, like the prophets, knew that listening made demands and consequently was often lacking. He lamented its absence: "Sluggish indeed is this people's heart. They have scarcely heard with their ears, they have firmly closed their eyes; otherwise they might see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and under-stand with their hearts, and turn back to me, and I should heal them" (Mt 13:15). He also rejoiced in its presence: "But . . . blessed are your ears because they hear" (Mt 13:16). In recent years many congregations have attempted to assist individuals, local communities, and assemblies to listen better, In workshops much effort has been put into fostering practical lis-tening skills. But are there ways in which communities, particu-larly during initial formation, can better communicate the importance of listening as foundational for growth? If listening is the foundation of all spirituality, as this article has tried to show, then it is crucial for personal growth and for the vitality of all communities. Notes ~ Sandra Schneiders, "Spirituality in the Academy," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 684. 2 See Ga 2:19-21: "I have been crucified with Christ, and the life I live now is not my own: Christ is living in me. Of course, I still live my human life, but it is a life of faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." The Greek text identifies Jesus as the self-giving one. It also makes it clear that self-transcendence does not wipe out true human-ity, but fulfills it. 3 Bernard Lonergan, A Third Collection, ed. Frederick Crowe (New York: Paulist, 1985), p. 9. 4 See K. Rahner, Grundkurs des Glaubens (Freiburg: Herder, 1984), pp. 35f, 42f. Septewtber-October 1992 673 Maloney ¯ Listening s Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans. John K. Ryan (New York: Doubleday, 1972), pp. 107 and 108. 6 Common Rules H, 7. 7 SV IX, 674; see Common Rules H, 7. 8 SV X, 439. 9 Andrd Dodin, ed., Monsieur Vincent racontdpar son secrdtaire (Paris: O.E.I.L., 1991), §46 and §54. 10 See SVIX, 119; X, 332. 1~ See Evangelii Nuntiandi, §15. 12 Common Rules H, 1. ,3 Ibid. 14 Abelly, Book III, 72-73. ~s SV XI, 69. ~6SV IX, 526. ~7 D. Bonhoeffer, Life Together (London: SCM Press, 1954), p. 75. ~Common Rules H, 7. 19 SV I, 182. 20 Gaudium et Spes, §§9, 12, and 22; Redemptor Hominis, passim. 21 Centesimus Annus, ~54. 22 SV XII, 171. 23 Andrd Dodin, ed., Monsieur Vincent racont? par son secrdtaire (Paris: O.E.LL., 1991), especially §§71-83. 24 Ibid, §52. 25 Ibid, §118. 26 Vincent de Paul repeatedly emphasized the need for corporate humility if the congregations he founded were to grow. See SV II, 233: "I think the spirit of the Mission must be to seek its greatness in lowli-ness and its reputation in the love of its abjection." 27 In his essays on spirituality, Karl Rahner distinguishes between "material" and "formal" imitation of Christ. In material imitation, one seeks to do the concrete things that Jesus did, ignoring the extent to which everything he did was influenced by his social context. In formal imitation, one seeks to find the core meaning of what Jesus said or did and apply it within the changed social context. 674 Review for Religious JOHN WICKHAM Two Key Transitions in Spiritual Growth Both in coming to understand our own spiritual develop-ment and (should we be engaged in spiritual direction) in reflecting on where a directee of ours may presently be moving, a sense of the various kinds of transition that often occur can be a great help. I assume here that spiritual growth (changes, new data) are to be expected, are even to be sought. Quite a number of transitions are possible. One can move, for example, from a life of mortal sin to a life of sanctifying grace, from a rather legalistic reliance on external rules to a life of per-sonal choices; or, at the other end of the spectrum, one can move from a devout life to a life of advanced mystical prayer. But two other transitions deserve, I think, special attention today. The two developments I have in mind are often at issue in the Spiritual Exercises ofSt. Ignatiushone of them in the First and Second Weeks taken as a whole, and the other in the unit formed by the Third and Fourth Weeks. In his active spirituality St. Ignatius may be said to have reshaped the "Three Ways" (purgative, illuminative, unitive) into two spiritual transitions, each of which reveals both a negative and a positive side. This essay will attempt to describe and study these two major movements that occur in many dedicated lives. After each of them has been clarified, their relationship and especially their differ-ences will require comment. John Wickham sJ is director of the Ignatian Centre of Spirituality, which prepares and accredits directors. His address is 4567 West Broadway; Montreal, Quebec H4B 2A7; Canada. Septentber-October 1992 675 The First Transition Assuming, as St. Ignatius does at the start of his First Week Rules for Discernment, that we are in touch with persons living a good Christian life, striving to get free of sinful ways and to grow into closer union with God, then this first important tran-sition may be seen to move from relying mainly on getting emo-tional satisfaction to discerning spiritual consolations received from the Lord and felt in the heart. This formulation makes a contrast between emotions and feelings (or felt knowing). Emotions in this usage refer to per-sonal responses to objects in the external world around us (through our five senses) and to interpersonal events in our social setting. There is nothing wrong, of course, with emotional expe-riences. Emotions are often the main stuff of human life. In their endless varieties they fill most of our daily hours. We wake up in one mood and at night perhaps we drift off to sleep in the grip of another. Between times we may be surprised by shifts and changes of emotion or brood over a lingering mystery of emotional confusion. Persons without emotional reactions are hard to bear. We might wonder if they suffer from some disorder. But perhaps their emotions are not warm and pleasant but of the cold, off-putting kind. Whatever their nature, we can be sure that our emotional responses provide the real texture of human life. In themselves they are part and parcel of God's creation. And like other creatures they may be put to good use or they may get us into trouble. Returning to the formula given above, what needs emphasis at this point is the habit of relying too much on emotional satisfac-tions. When we habitually demand to be satisfied emotionally, we become blocked against further spiritual growth. We can become stuck right there. Without realizing the fact, we may be expect-ing God to deliver emotional satisfaction to us and we get angry when God fails to do so. We pray, in effect, a self-centered prayer, "my will be done on earth--not Thine!" While nothing is wrong with emotions in themselves, we can put too much stock in them. Let us be honest, many of us do so a good part of the time. We come to rely almost entirely on our own emotional states. If they are satisfying, "God is good!" If not, "God has rejected me!"--or we imagine things are going wrong. 676 Revie'w for Religious One of the major troubles of social life is to have others inflict their moods on us--because they tend to interpret the nature of reality in terms of current emotions. "The emotion that grips me now tells me who I am and what the world is doing to me." Even if we can avoid inflicting our emo-tional state on others, we still often experience the world in accord with our emotional state at the moment. As the poet Pope tells us, "All looks yellow to the jaundiced eye"--and the world looks rosy through rose-colored glasses. Our emotions easily become a lens that colors our world--for the time they last. This is often how we are as we begin our spiritual journey. There is nothing very surprising about it. And so a well-known stage of purification consists in getting free of emotional demands. First comes the step of noticing our emotional reactions, of naming them as they occur, and of refusing to identify our being with their con-tinuance. In order to become liberated from their insistent claim upon us, we learn to do small penances. In the past there has often been a danger of coming to despise our own emotions--an undesirable side-effect when struggling to gain freedom by willpower alone from these emotional claims. ~Without further treatment of that point, I merely note here the need to avoid puritanical efforts in this transition. We are dealing with spiritual growth, which is always initiated and brought about by divine grace. We do, of course, need to cooperate with such graces, and small penitential acts are forms of cooperation. But our highly emotive personal responses are right and true in themselves. Even if emotional self-denial is necessary for a cer-tain time, we will need to return to our emotions just as soon as we can get free of their tyranny. Then they may become, not only right and true, but beautiful and even holy. Emotional self-denial is only a temporary ploy within a larger movement of growth, not the main aim of the spiritual life. An egotistical tendency (if it is present) to invest our sense of self mainly in our emotional satisfactions needs to be purified during the First Week exercises. That is, of course, a rather sub-jective way of approaching the areas of sinfulness that call for purification, but it seems appropriate here because I am focus- When we habitually demand to be satisfied emotionally, we become blocked against further spiritual growth. September-October 1992 677 ,Wick~ ham ¯ Key Transitions,, ing on interior transitions. The Rules for Discernment them-selves lay heavy stress on the desolations to be expected in a per-son striving to move forward, and on the need to persevere in that intention despite the losses of emotional satisfaction that may be experienced. Spiritual Feeling In the more positive phases of the continuing transition, spir-itual consolations arising from moments of union with Jesus the Lord may make their presence felt as one enters the Second Week of the Exercises. It is assumed at this point that exercitants have already heard the call of Christ to follow him and have responded (with varying degrees of enthusiasm) to that summons. And dur-ing the contemplations of the public life that follow, each one must learn how to discern true from false consolations. An elementary principle to be noted here is that consolations of the Lord are not to be identified as "feeling good" and deso-lations as "feeling bad." Many today use the term "feeling" in a general sense that includes (or mainly denotes) what I have described above as emotions. That is a defensible usage, but in this essay I wish to separate the term "feelings" from the term "emo-tions" as already defined. I want to cast light on the rather dif-ferent movements we may experience at a deeper, more interior level of our being. In other words, I wish to define feeling (an enduring state) and feelings (momentary events or "touches") as personal responses that occur at our spiritual center in the core of our being, and not primarily in our social world. Humans may be said to enjoy a double-leveled awareness, one with outer and inner dimensions. In this discussion I am using emotions to refer to responses at the outer level, and feeling to refer to responses at the inner level. Quite correctly, it should be insisted that outer and inner lev-els are continually interacting together. Whena sudden event moves us wholly, it is often true that emotions and feelings are impossible to distinguish. Tears start from our eyes, our heart is fully engaged, we cry out with joy or sorrow, we even experience sensations in our body (waves of heat or cold, tingling of the spine, pressures in hands or feet, a burning forehead, and so on). Similar points may be made about calmer experiences as well. 678 Review for Religious In fact, it is normal for human beings to "sense" a two-way intercourse between outer and inner events, between what occurs in the social world and simultaneously in the interior feeling. Our reflective capacity, which is not merely mental but also passion-ate, is precisely what makes our awareness human. Our con-sciousness is multidimensional. While we know and feel, we also know we are knowing and feeling. And when we respond emo-tionally, we are aware at the same time of various intuitions under-lying our most emphatic emotions. Even when we "forget our self" in some activity or other, that welcome effect is considered unusual--an exception to the rule, and never total. Besides, an egotistical self-awareness is not the only kind of selfhood we may experience. We may be full of self-doubt, for example, or eagerness, or mistrust, or calm happiness, and so on. The Inner Self All the same, what is transpiring in this first transition is pre-cisely a development of interior selfhood. As certain modes of dominance by the outer self are overcome, we receive a new growth of inner self---a very important transition in anyone's life. Today we may take it for granted that the "self" we are talk-ing about, no matter how much trouble it may get us into, is a positive value in its own right, not to be identified with mere self-ishness or false egotism. Only fairly recently did this new assump-tion gain acceptance. For example, in The Imitation of Christ the term "self" was rarely used except in a pejorative sense, and it followed that one's main goal was to get free of it as much as possible. That view continued to be the dominant one until only a few decades ago. The shift that has taken place so recently has brought with it a new sense of the human subject, of selfhood as a valuable reality-- however much it may need to be discovered, owned, purified, and developed. A much stronger awareness of the "inner-self"--at least as a potential reality--has arisen among many members of our secu-lar culture today. Often we know it first for negative reasons: we are hurt, we feel misunderstood, we are unable to communicate our special desires or intentions, we are judged wrongly or become unsure of what we really meant. It causes a great deal of confusion, September-October 1992 679 anger, resentment, and so on. But at some point or other it may dawn on us that, despite the urgent need we may be feeling for much more growth and clarity, our inner self is a reality, valu-able in and for its own simple being. We may begin to experi-ence our own goodness as a fact. It need not, and cannot, be earned or proven. It is just "given." Through faith I may know that my personal existence is received from God who does not choose to make me without lov-ing me. My selfhood is real and my unique being is loved--even holy. That realization is such a remarkable event in anyone's life that it calls for prolonged attention and care during the earlier stages of spiritual growth. Since I assume that the above reality is widely recognized and appreciated today, I wish to focus now upon the kind of transition involved in its realization. An individual coming through that key transition begins to experience things in a personal way that may be called heartfelt. They are spiritual feelings and illuminations in the inner self. These consolations (or desolations) differ noticeably in qual-ity from emotions experienced in the outer, social world. And the transition from relying mainly on emotions to rel~ing mainly upon spiritual consolations (feeling) is a very significant "moment" in one's development. Not a False but a True Self This transition has been the main aim of novitiate programs ii~ recent centuries, although in most cases the novitiate was directed toward the positive adoption of each congregation's way of life. In other words, a single spiritual "style" or mode of oper-ation was proposed for every novice to imitate and put into prac-tice, and what needed to be sacrificed in order to obtain this goal was the ordinary tendency to demand emotional satisfactions for oneself. The self in question was taken to be wholly "selfish" and needed to be "offered up." Today a single spiritual lifestyle imposed on everyone alike has been replaced by "the charism of the founder/foundress" in a way that leaves room for the unique selfhood of each member to receive recognition and approval. As a result, the sense of self in question had to be clarified. The false self, which needs to be purified, is one that demands 680 Revievo for Religious emotional satisfactions and is upset when these are not forth-coming. But the true self, to be realized through penance and pa.tient striving against desolations, is received as a gift from God and recognized in consolations consisting of spiritual feeling and preconceptual knowing (experiences of sentir). A special way of following Christ, modeled in each congre-gation by the founder/foundress, will enable new members to undergo a radical purification of their conscious (or outer) self in the process of identifying their center of being in their heart's core. Members of vowed congregations who were trained in the older system have likely gone through an adjustment of this sort during recent decades. Each one will need to say how he or she has made the required adaptation, if indeed it has taken place, and what precisely was involved. But in general it may be said with some confidence that this first transition, which is of primary importance in spiritual growth, has been clarified as the emergence of an inner self united with the Lord in discipleship. What prevents its growth is usually the habit of expecting or relying upon emotional satisfactions, a habit which must be changed if the desired transition is to take place. Once it has been changed, and soon after the new inner self has grown accustomed to spiritual consolations, a reintegration of the'whole person with her or his emotional responses should then commence. This process will involve the formation of new social habits on the basis of the inner self so recently received from the Lord as a true actuation of one's potential being. The Second Transition An expectation of further growth should not disappear from our purview for too long after the first transition has been com-pleted. True enough, a directee who begins to enjoy true spiritual consolations does require considerable time (perhaps several years) to integrate them and create a new way of life on the basis of the inner self they bring alive. But the moment will inevitably come when remembering past graces will no longer suffice. As soon as signs of this new need begin to appear, the director (if not the directee) ought to recognize them. Such signs may point to the onset of a second, rather different transition. What might signs of this new sort be like? In general, con-solations of "the Second Week type" curiously do not seem to Septentber-October 1992 681 Wickbam ¯ Key Transitions operate "as well as" ones of an earlier stage. In different contexts, we should notice, St. Ignatius employs the same word, "consola-tion," in somewhat different senses. In the First Week, for exam-ple, which deals with persons who seek to be more and more purified from their sins, the ferm simply means experiences lead-ing to closer union with God. But in the Second Week it means experiences of persons bound in close discipleship to the Lord; because these apparent consolations may come from God or from the enemy, they need to be examined much more carefully. It is my contention here that the term is further varied in the Third and Fourth Weeks: if it gains in nuance by moving from the purgative to the illuminative way, we should not be surprised that it varies again in moving to the unitive way. It is usually rather puzzling to find that "what used to make me happy no longer does so." Naturally enough, we normally expect things to continue as they were. But the fact of the matter is that we may change so significantly (because of Our authentic spiritual growth) that what used to console us does not console us any more. Former ways, including ways of praying, that we had first discovered with some difficulty and later came to enjoy with a sense of real progress now seem to leave us cold. They no longer satisfy our hearts, but instead cause a certain malaise or uneasiness. It can be quite disconcerting. What can have gone wrong? At first we may fasten on various explanations: we are not trying hard enough; we have grown com-placent and lack humility; we should return to our former graces with renewed enthusiasm, and so on. But try as we will, the loss of taste, the lack of any real sense of meaning and .value in our usual way of life, continues to bother us. Of course, many different factors may be relevant in the case of each person. But I want to introduce the possibility of a new kind of transition as an important consideration in many cases. If indeed the divine Spirit is moving us to a new stage of growth, then we are obliged to give it some attention. Unitive Experiences Since what I will be describing his to do with the unitive way, let me begin by insisting that this traditional stage of spiritual development is not exceptional, not meant for only a very few persons, and not regularly accompanied by unusual mystical phe- 682 Review for Religious nomena. Unitive graces are an ordinary occurrence in most devout lives, just as are those of the illuminative and purgative ways. (Besides, concretely speaking, even after one has discerned unitive experiences, he or she is not usually separated for very long from renewed moments of purification and illumination. Perhaps one should stress the fact that occasional unitive graces do not mean one is "firmly established" in the unitive way--what-ever that may mean.) It is my conviction that the Third and Fourth Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises cannot be reduced to a "confirmation of Second Week graces." That may be legitimate in many cases, but the limitation ought to be spelled out rather than turned into a general rule. Let me be explicit: a limitation of Third and Fourth Week graces occurs quite legitimately when the individual person has for the first time received graces belonging to the first transition or when a notable deepening of that transition has been granted. In other words, the person's "inner self" has been realized or deep-ened in graces of union with Christ--and this is quite new for this individual. In that case (and it is a very important develop-ment) the Third and Fourth Weeks are likely to consist mainly of graces that confirm the key event that has so recently transformed the person involved. The Passion of Jesus may be shared in many different ways-- even by the same people at different times. I may cling to the cross in a sort of desperation if I am in serious danger of falling into mortal sin. Or during a crisis of decision making or of self-doubt I may dwell in the Garden of Gethsemane. Alternatively, I might find my personal illness or injuries transformed by a new way of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. Or I could accept obsta-cles thrown across my path, get free of resentments that have long bothered me, or deal more creatively with insults and humil-iations that come my way by prayerfully participating in what the Lord endured in his Passion out of love for me. This list could be much extended, but I simply wish to illus-trate here the wide variety of possible experiences we may find. At least a mention may be made of special graces of union with the Passion, such as we may read about in St. Juliana or other spiri-tual writers. Some of these may be clarified in what follows, but my main concern is to speak about Third Week (and Fourth Week) graces in a way that might enable ordinary Christians seek- September-October 1992 683 ~ickham ¯ Key Transitions ing a closer union with the Lord to recognize the possible mean-ing of unitive experiences that may also have been given to them. When the Passion of Christ "confirms" the first transition in the experience of a given directee, then that person's union with the Lord (so recently received or deepened) may be clarified and strengthened through worldly rejections and insults, even when these are taken in prayer to the limit situations of betrayal, impris-onment, violence, condemnation, and death. In other words, one's interior meaning and value as a person created and saved by the Lord and called to his service will become much more surely "known" in consolations received when contemplating the Passion. The Resurrection contemplations, in similar fashion, may confirm the previous grace more positively through experiences of a new way of life operating out of spiritual feelings received in the depths of the inner self. Those "Second Week" consolations may become clarified and strengthened through experiences of union with the risen Lord. Such graces received during the Fourth Week are to be discerned, unless I am mistaken, as confirming the Second Week graces already obtained by the directee. Limiting the Last Two Weeks In short, in these cases (only), confirmation of the Election in the Passion and Resurrection contemplations may be taken as appropriate during the Third and Fourth Weeks. This means that the central grace of the Spiritual Exercises is seen to be one of inti-mate personal union with Jesus (most fully revealed in the Election). What I have called the "first transition" may be rec-ognized as the main event for the individual person one is direct-ing-- even during the last two Weeks. So frequently is this the case today that many directors tend to consider it the only true goal of the Third and Fourth Weeks. But if that is so, then their notion of the unitive way has become dangerously foreshortened. For all practical purposes, it has been subordinated to the purgative and illuminative ways. But if the unitive way is truly a normal dimension in the growth of every devout Christian (as I believe it to be), then its omission from the Spiritual Exercises would be a limitation that raises serious questions. And to restrict unitive graces to a few exceptional persons would, in my opinion, be equally damaging. There is secular evidence to give us pause today. When 684 Review fbr Religious Maslow began to publish his findings on "peak experiences," he was under the impression that only a small number of persons had undergone this type of interior opening. But further research by himself and others produced widespread testimonies to simi-lar events. Eventually he reached the conviction that peak expe-riences of one kind or another are universal, although ignored or repressed by a hardy few. While his concept of "peak experiences" is ambiguous and may refer to quite a wide range of phenomena, his evidence cannot be restricted to what I have named the first transition. What I would like to call the second transition, then, would always assume the previous acquisition of first-transition graces. For example, if we suppose that a directee before making the Spiritual Exercises has already received profound graces of the Second Week type, what would likely occur during the first two Weeks? Usually one would expect the directee to receive confir-matory graces during those meditations and contemplations. But I would add that such prayer experiences might also be prepara-tory to more advanced graces possibly to be offered during Weeks Three and Four. If a director is not open to this possibility, then the fore-shortening of the Exercises, already mentioned, becomes all too likely. And if the more advanced graces of the second transition are actually given, such a director would not know what to make of them. The directee's experiences might easily be misunder-stood and the director could fall into false discernments. I believe that this has in fact occurred far too often. Challenges to a Good Way of Life The reality of spiritual growth reveals how frequendy believ-ers find that God disallows their apparently excellent form of commitment to the divine service. "The rug is pulled out from under their feet," we could say. Let us assume, for the sake of argument here, that the way of life of a given directee is truly unselfish and generous. It has been discerned carefully under direction, and has in fact become fruitful in its apostolic outreach. Is it possible that God might call the individual to surrender, or move away from, this entirely good way of life? Not only is it possible, it ftequendy takes place. A car accident, a heart attack, a financial loss, or social changes intervene to make September-October 1992 685 IVickbam ¯ Key Transitions our chosen course no longer viable. From many (limited) points of view, this makes no sense at all. But the point of view that mat-ters is the divine one--where we are called to believe and trust without knowing why, without making our own merely "common sense views" the final criterion in our discernment. This is what must have challenged Mary, the Mother of Jesus, on that first Holy Saturday. To her way of thinking, what could have been better than the life and teaching of Jesus? And yet its rejection in Israel was permitted by the divine mystery. Mary had to accept that baffling course of events, painful as it was in the extreme, without any "human" understanding of its value. We might say that God asked her to endure a spiritual death in her own heart corresponding exactly with the actual death of her Son. If this line of thought is pushed a little further, of course, we may perceive that the Passion and Death of Jesus was itself most acutely a spiritual death for our Lord himself. Had he not set his heart upon the conversion of Israel whom he desired to gather under his wings as a hen gathers her chicks? But they would not have it so. Instead, he was compelled to accept the rejection of his teachings, and of himself with them, at the hands of those in Israel who were in positions of wealth, prestige, and power. Only a few remained his followers. Jesus embraced this destiny out of love for all his people (including the very ones who were bent on his destruction). Not only did he accept the loss of what he had hoped to gain, but he did so with generosity of spirit. And so the Father raised him to a new role in the course of our history, a role that brought him into direct relation with every nation on earth. That spiritual death, which he so fully accepted, led to a new form of spiritual life for every people--even for ourselves. This, of course, is the pattern set for all of us by our Lord in his paschal mystery. But it should be obvious that we do not reach the fuller modes of participation all at once. Only gradually over many years do the devout followers of Jesus find the path to a more complete union with the Lord in the mystery of divine pur-pose. This does not mean that what we presently do will certainly be taken away during our course of active life (that remains a mystery of the future). It means only that, if we do move forward in union with the Lord, our basic attitude toward what we do and who we are will likely be tested in a more radical way. Even so, 686 Re~ie~ for Religious those who know us externally may not even notice the changes occurring deep within us. But somehow, through threats of illness, accidents, or altered situations that touch each one of us deeply, experiences like those that came upon our Lady and the other disciples of our Lord-- experiences, that is, of a spiritual death corresponding to the actual death embraced by Jesus out of love--will need to be encountered. And if we are graced by the divine love, we may pass through that "radicalization of the paschal mystery" so as to enter into a new kind of life in God--or at least into momentary tastes of it. This is what I mean by unitive graces. The Root of the Matter The term "radicalization" refers to the removal of more deeply rooted barriers to union with the Lord. Negative events similar to the ones mentioned above may occur in our lives, of course, without becoming the occasion of unitive graces. What is assumed here is that advanced graces of purification from sin have already been received, and that graces of intimate discipleship have also been conferred which have enabled well-discerned com-mitments to service of the Lord's kingdom in this world. It is only some years after a first transition has been made that certain neg-ative events may trigger an experience of lost selfhood or lost capacity for going on--even though outwardly one still goes throughthe motions that resemble a normal life. But why is it necessary to "die" to our good interior self in order to "live" in the heights of the spirit? Whatever answers we attempt will necessarily dwell within the mystery of divine union. Does our chosen way of life in its underpinnings somehow tend to place a barrier between ourselves and God? If so, why should that be? Does our most intimate sense of true selfhood always to some degree (because it remains unfinished) hinder us in our encoun-ters with God? Does our entry into utter transcendence always call for a further surrender--and yet never actually deny the validity of our individual and communal being? (These are far from being new questions--they belong to a well-worn tradition.) Sometimes our experiences of union seem to emphasize a oneness that obliterates awareness of distinct selfhood or to bring about a newness of love-identity in the Other that makes us eas- September-October 1992 687 ily forget our usual human longing for recognition as individuals. True. But these passing tastes and their remembered glories refer to unitive graces which at first can stun us with their breakthrough "difference." By this I mean that the experiential qualities tend to capture too much attention at first--they are new to us, very fulfilling, and so ~ometimes a bit extravagant. Nonetheless, the substantial reality of a grace, once given, is never taken away by the Lord even though the experiential aspects are temporary. We remember the experiences, but we are still inwardly changed and even "put together" differently by the substantial character of those gifts. The Way of the Cross In the specific case of unitive graces, however, a prior expe-rience of spiritual death points to another factor. There is no way to Easter, as we know, that does not pass through Calvary. In the terms already used above, this means that radical experiences of union with the risen Lord in the "heights of the spirit" are not possible for us until we have undergone a spiritual death "in the depths of the soul." P~erhaps this factor can be clarified by saying that we are not ready for unitive graces (of the Fourth Week type of consolation) until we have experienced the loss of interior consolations previ-ously given us (Second Week spiritual feelings and illuminations). In terms of selfhood, we might say that we must die (not to any false self, but) to the good "inner self" given to us in the first transition. Only the loss of that very g~od gift can prepare us to receive a "higher self," spiritually communicated to us by the risen Christ in this second transition. In consequence, the two transitions I have been describing are related in the Spiritual Exercises--and beyond them. The "spiritual death" that essentially prepares for the second transition is the experiential loss precisely of the grace already received in the first transition. There can be no second transition, then, if the first has not previously occurred. We should note that the "second kind of humility" is cer-tainly meant for use in the Election. The "third kind of humility," on the other hand, is intended to enable directees--should they actually receive that grace--to move forward into the second tran-sition after their full acceptance of the first. 688 Review for Religious Concretely, of course, this conceptual clarity is muddied by many variations in practice: both transitions may be combined or crossmated, along with backward and forward movements, fre-quent delays and regressions, sudden spurts and more sudden withdrawals--endless "visions and revisions," as Eliot puts it. The actual circumstances do not often present ready-made examples for our mental laboratory. MI the same, our awareness of the "crucial" contrast between the second transition and the first may prove helpful. If the approach taken here is even approximately correct, then we may be assisted in discerning the special qualities of second-transition experiences, especially in their earlier phases (of the Third Week sort). And this may enable us to avoid false strictures on our own or others' responses to these movements of grace. Qualities of the New Life The first transition, then, moves an individual from relying mainly on emotional satisfactions to receiving spiritual consola-tions in the inner self. The sedond transition may be said to move one from a well-accepted habit of interior union with the Lord and a way of life based upon it to a new life received directly from the risen Christ and enabling experiences of a higher self. It remains to suggest various qualities of the higher life that is enabled by unitive graces. First of all, although one's ordinary life, of course, continues, along with it (and not only behind it but also "in among" it) there is known to be a divine presence-- ever so delicate and respectful of one's freedom. That factor may grow more powerful at certain times, but often it remains gentle, although unmistakable. Another feature is a "higher" movement of the Spirit--rather unlike the heartwarming and compelling graces of the first tran-sition (which are usually "deep" and "interior" in quality). It is the awareness of divine mystery operating everywhere, bringing about God's will despite all evidence to the contrary; it is a dis-position to wait for God to reveal the divine will, to expect this and not to be surprised when it comes. It means not to speak until words are given, not to act until one "knows" how the Lord desires to act in the community. These few features may be taken as examples of the higher life (often seen in the lives of the saints). In general, that nothing Septentber-October 1992 689 should prevent God from loving others through my life becomes the central desire of my existence, the main reason for continu-ing to live. It need not, on the other hand, mean that the interior expe-riences of the inner self do not return and are not customary in one who has received unitive graces. It is just that one can no longer identify oneself with them. They are available at times and should be exercised. But they may also be taken away, and one is ready now to let them go. All this is possible because the risen Lord has made his divine presence felt by uplifting one to the level of his own activities in the church, in each person, and in every part of the world. Burning Bush Afire burns outside my bedroom window, October-red euonymus its name. As I look down The blood-red leaves leap up Vivid as living rivulets of flame. Transfixed, ! stand, New-wakened in the early autumn dawn. Then, barefoot, kneel, Obedient, Although no voice is heard. What angel calls me - silent? "Here I am!" I almost cry, Drawn by this shock of unconsuming fire To listen, stricken as Moses, For some name, some quickening word. Therese Lynch csJ 690 Revie'w fbr Religious DAVID E O'CONNOR Seeking a Sense of Direction in a Time of Transition As we try to read the "signs of the times" and prepare for an unknown future, we should not forget the lessons of the past. We should take note of the cultural, theologi-cal, ecclesial, ideological, and generational influences that have moved our personal and collective lives as religious in certain directions. And we should be alert to the factual changes, adjustments, adaptations, and developments which seem to indicate some of the shapes and forms that religious life may be taking as we approach the third mil-lennium. religious life Recalling the Lessons of History Recent historical scholarship has opened our eyes to the uneven history of religious life--a history filled with crises and chaos, with high points and low? Interestingly, there have been relatively short periods of time when the church and religious life appeared to enjoy some institu-tional tranquillity and stability. More than once the whole concept of religious life seemed doomed to extinction by events out of control. Religious in North America, especially during the first part of the twentieth century preceding the Second Vatican David O'Connor ST teaches at the Washington Theological Union. He is the author of Witness and Service: Questions about Religious Life Today (Paulist Press, 1990). His address is 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Septetttber-October 1992 691 O'Connor ¯ Seeking a Sense of Direction Council, found themselves in one of those rare stable periods in the church. It was a time when the highest leadership in the Roman Catholic Church, beginning in the late nineteenth century and ending only in the middle of the twentieth, had chosen a defensive and protective position, effectively withdrawing from a changing and modern world which, in fact, was often hostile to it. The Catholic Church centralized itself at the Vatican to a degree unknown until then. Within this same period of time, the Catholic Church in the United States developed and flourished.2 American Catholics were, for the most part, an immigrant population that experi-enced the hostility of the WASP (white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant) culture. While retaining a fierce loyalty to Rome, they tried to prove they were loyal Americans as well. For them the Roman Catholic Church appeared to be the model of stability and the rock of certitude. Although the worldwide Catholic Church of this period seemed intransigent, it was, in fact, still recovering from the buf-feting of social and historical changes that had rocked it at the end of the eighteenth century and into the nineteenth. Following the French Revolution, religious life and many other institutions of the church seemed to be in their death throes. Yet, by the beginning of the twentieth century, it was clear that the church and religious life had recovered their vitality and were experi-encing unprecedented growth. In the 150 years preceding Vatican II, religious life had more than recovered from previous losses. Statistically, its number of members peaked in 1965.3 The post-Vatican II period, through which we are presently living, has been one of immense social and cultural changes. The council fathers thrust the church into the modern world, and fall-out from this movement of the Spirit in the church has occa-sioned a difficult time of transition for all, especially religious in the Western world. The rnove from a church-imposed inflexibil-ity and rigidity of the pre-Vatican II period to a church-initiated reform of religious life in the post-Vatican II period brought about an upheaval that was radical and spectacular in its magni-tude and complexity.4 No one could have imagined the depth and breadth of these changes. Indeed, we are still too close to events to make a true assessment. We will have to leave that to a future generation. Presently, it is still difficult to read the signs of the times because they are so ambiguous. Yet one of the clear lessons 692 Review for Religious of history is that drastic changes in religious life in the past did precede new forms of dedication and new vitality which were appropriate for the new needs of the church in a new time and in new situations. God does speak to us through history. One of the more important lessons of history is that, while religious life appears to be perennial, individual religious insti-tutes are not. Dedication, consecra-tion, and commitment to Jesus and his people are evident in the lives of groups and individuals throughout the history of the church, but the forms these have taken and their specific expression in individual groups, communities, monasteries, and institutes does change. Institutes are like people--they are born, they grow, they live their lives, and even-tually they die.s V~hile monastic groups can sur-vive with a minimum of members, and even decrease to a handful of people in one or two monasteries, apostolic institutes cannot. Apostolic groups frequently respond to spe-cific needs at certain times and in particular places in the life of the church. Once they have achieved their purposes, they tend to fade away or find new life through adaptation and change. In any case, an apostolic group requires many members to fulfill its corpo-rate role and purpose. The institutional life of these religious, all things considered, is much shorter and more tenuous than that of monastic groups. However, some forms of religious life have had the ability to be revitalized over and over again through reform, adaptation, and new expressions. One need only consider the Rule of St. Benedict, which has been adjusted to multiple forms of monastic and quasimonastic life. While individual monasteries or groups of them fade away, new ones are established in other places and times. Each institute has its own life to live. Not a few have seemed to be dying out or even were suppressed, as was the Drastic changes in religious life in the past did precede new forms of dedication and new vitality which were appropriate for the new needs of the church in a new time and in new situations. September-October 1992 693 O'Connor ¯ Seeking a Sense of Direction Society of Jesus in 1773, only to be given new life and experi-ence spectacular growth. Nevertheless, breakdown and death are probably inevitable for every religious institute. Some may have a very short life and others may live for an unusually long time, just as individual per-sons do. Calamities and misfortunes overtake certain groups. It might be combinations of political and economic or social and religious events which occasion their breakdown and demise. Often these events have nothing to do with the interior vitality of the group. For example, .when pestilence decimated the Western world in the fourteenth century, the mendicant orders were espe-cially ravaged when many members generously ministered to the sick and dying; some orders lost half their membership.6 Time also takes its toll. The life and death of individual com-munities frequently have nothing to do with the spiritual vitality of the members. Often, in fact,'it appears that in periods of decline the membership display many virtues and signs of dedication. Their corporate life has simply come to an end. As death crowns their collective life, other dedicated people often rise up to meet the new challenges confronting the church. Contemporary Influences on Western Religious Life Cultural Factors. The church does not exist in a cultural vacuum, but in the world as it is. We are, at present, living through a period of exceptionally rapid and revolutionary cultural change in an increasingly technological society. Our Western culture has had an immense influence on the attitudes of our people toward freedom, authority, obedience, sexuality, intimacy, and affectiv-ity. Periods of rapid social change promote personal and institu-tional instability and make it extremely difficult for people, especially the young and inexperienced, to make any permanent and unconditional commitment as expected in marriage, the priesthood, or religious life. The high incidence of divorce and remarriage and the many departures from the clergy and reli-gious life coupled with a corresponding drop in vocations dur-ing the last two and a half decades manifest this unfortunate social fact. The postconciliar years also chanced to coincide with "a kind of cultural revolution which led to a break with tradition, a crisis of authority, and indifference toward questions of faith, great 69¢ Review for Religious uncertainty about moral values, and a crisis in the realm of ethics.''7 The whole world seemed caught up in a series of extraor-dinary social and cultural changes. These enormous cultural shifts and their concomitant crisis of meaning forced even the religious who did not leave their communities during these years to change their lives in such a radical way that their communities are now different from the ones they originally entered decades ago.8 The American cultural values of personalism and personal fulfillment, freedom and self-determination, pluralism, democratic self-crit-icism, and egalitarianism and an emphasis on productivity and success have frequently clashed with an older and more rigid reli-gious life.9 In the period before Vatican II, religious life became part of the Catholic ethos and was carried along by its own cogency. It was largely insulated from the broader currents of American cul-ture. This situation, however, could not continue--certainly not for many members who left it after the reforms called for by the council began to take effect,j° Moreover, Catholics are no longer social outsiders in the U.S. culture; they have joined the nation's insiders.II Because of its outsider mentality, the Catholic Church had built its own vast school system, its own hospitals, newspapers, and fraternal and professional societies parallel with everything that was found among the WASP insiders. Large numbers of Catholic men and women joined religious life. It was a natural way for many to obtain an education and take their place in the Catholic society of that time. Now that Catholics are social insid-ers, they are no longer attracted to serve only in church institu-tions, for many options are available to them in the larger society and in the church.12 Also, the present-day phenomenon of the prolongation of adolescence into the early twenties and the consequent delayed adulthood of many young people in our culture is a sociological fact.13 Large numbers of young adults remain dependent upon others and do not assume full responsibility for themselves until, perhaps, they are forced by circumstances to do so later in life. This has had a direct effect upon the vocational and formational problems facing religious communities. The perceptions of young people concerning religious life today are quite different from those of their elders.14 The younger the person, the less he or she perceives religious life as dynamic and effective, and the less attractive it is to him or her. Moreover, Septentber-October 1992 695 O'Connor ¯ Seeking a Sense of Direction because the positive perception women religious have of them-selves is not shared in the same degree by those outside religious life, it does not bode well for the replacement of present mem-bership. 15 Most significantly, because of the changed perceptions regarding the value of a celibate lifestyle on the part of so many people in our culture, the continuance of a celibate religious life, as we know it, is highly problematic with regard to the availabil-ity of potential candidates. There are very few people open to considering such a lifestyle, in the opinion of professional observers.16 Therefore, to state that religious life is countercultural in our present society is to assert an all-too-obvious fact. Theological and Ecclesial Factors. Pope John Paul II expressed his own grave concern about the drop in religious vocations when he sent a letter to the bishops of the United States on 3 April 1983. A pontifical commission was established to investigate the matter--dubbed the Quinn Commission because Archbishop John R. Quinn, of San Francisco, was appointed the pontifical dele-gate. 17 This commission made its lengthy report to the pontiff in October 1986 and a shorter one to the U.S. bishops in November 1986.18 The report did affirm many positive developments sucla as the rediscovery of the charisms of many institutes, the deepening of authentic spirituality, a new appreciation of apostolic religious life, a new awareness of the uniqueness of each individual reli-gious, the promotion of a greater participation in the decision-making processes of the institute, a new appreciation of the universality of the church's mission, a growing awareness of the feminine, the development of new constitutions, and new signs of hope through older and more mature vocations.19 It did note, however, that the universal call to holiness of all members of the church made at Vatican II in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (§§ 39-42) affected religious and those who were contemplating entering religious life. This affir-mation of a common vocation to live a full Christian life was inserted in the conciliar document before its treatment of reli-gious life. It effectively undercut the popular misconception that the call to holiness lay primarily in religious life and in the priest-hood, or that one needed to enter them to pursue holiness seri-ously. A clear call to holiness was being made to (and heard by) 696 Review for Religious those in the married and the single life and not just to those liv-ing the celibacy of the religious life and the priesthood. Second, religious women and men took to their hearts the council documents' emphasis on social justice, which expanded upon the social teachings of the Gospel and the popes. This emphasis was reinforced by the personal experience of religious when they encountered social evil and injustice in their efforts to live and preach the Gospel. This experience, however, seemed to some to place apostolic religious in a theological bind between two apparently contrary church expectations: that they live "apart from the world" while they live and minister with an "option for the poor" in a modern world filled with social injustice. Third, the council'g reaffirmation of the need for the lay peo-ple to serve and to minister--to evangelize--in response to their baptismal call had an effect on religious. They became aware of the apostolic call made to all the faithful. The identity of religious can become clouded in periods of theological and ecclesial change. Their sense of direction and their morale are affected. Some religious now see themselves more as lay people. They react negatively to any restriction they per-ceive

Issue 36.4 of the Review for Religious, 1977. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edited by faculty members of St Lou~s Umverslty, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Btnldmg, 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. Louisa 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 July 1977 Volume 36 Number 4 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to R~:v~w yon RELiGiOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to R~vmw roe RELIGIOUS; 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. In Process: John the Baptist Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J, Sister Mary Catherine, whose last article appeared in the March, 1977 issue, resides at 91 Overlook Ave.; Latham, NY 12110. ¯ Are you the one who is to come, or have we.to wait for someone else? (L.k 7,: 19). It seems that John the Baptist spent his-wtiole life.waiting. As such, he was an extremely patient man. Somehow, through the centuries, ~ though, we came to have his story wr6ng, and tend to name him solely as messenger and prophet. In doing so, we miss the mighty impact of his questions and the overwhelming witness value of the answers he accepted. He must have learned something vital---early on--in the, womb, as he expectantly waited for the moment of his birth. Again, we tend to ascribe that birth to a certain day and hour.when,."the time of fulfillment came for Elizabeth to have her child." Actually, it happened earlier, some three months past, when John first met Jesus and greeted him with joy: The symbolism of that encounter must have haunted the heart of John even as its vestiges traced a pattern through the years. In the darkness of confinement John felt divine intrusion and in a mystical leap of faith, he assented to vocation. And then divinity withdrew and John, was left to wait. Had he known that waiting period was to be not months, but years, he may not have had the courage. Had he known it would end in another dark confinement and another mystical leap to another divine intrusion, he may not have had the strength. But Yahweh was merciful and John was content to grow. And he did so slowly through the years, in ~the shadow of the question: "What will this child turn out to be?" Neighbors asked it first, but its overwhelming import must have~g,radually fashioned the contours of his life, drawing him like a lodestone into the current of salvific process. Surely, in. the desert, it must have echoed, in the wind and the force of 497 4911 / Review [or Religious, Volume 3~6, 1977/4 its persistence must have, at times, lured John to fear. "Suppose it is all myth? Suppose I am only a deranged desert'man, wa~iting for a prophecy never to .be sent, waiting for a mission never to be given? Suppo'se I am to be like the shifting desert sand--blown back and forth relentlessly by an overwhelming passion? Suppose I am deluded and my life is just a waste?" What impels a man to wait in the face of such a doubt? What causes him to stand expectant and receptive? What constitutes the tenacious re-silience of his heart? Perhaps it was only the glimmer of remembrance, the flash of light and grace that had exploded in his soul the day his cousin first had come. Who knoffs the value we posit in the memories of love? Or the power they have to summon us? So John was summoned, probably in much the same elusive fashion that he had been beckoned all along: a change of mood, a passing desert flower, the way a bird called, the different shape, of sky--and suddenly he knew the~time had come~ and he was ready. "And so it was that John the Baptist appeareOd., proclaiming a baptism ' of repentance" ~Mk 1:4). This is where we get things all confused. This is where we miss the prophetic message. We are so used to reading all'that John announced that~we never get to,discerning.all that John was asking. You~see, he lived in mtich the same condition .that we do'--waiting for 'a Someone whia is,to come. And he did not know any more than we, when that Someone would emerge nor how he could be known~ And so, the discipline of his river days was as intense and all embracing as the discipline of his wilderness. Nothing much had changed except that life was less his own. What had shifted was responsibility. Now he was em-powered to,convert and to baptize and this authority made him responsible for the followers he engendered. So that is why we find him sometimes a bit harsh--loud and somewhat strident, demanding and even fearsome. He was impelled to trumpeting because he was so needy. And the quality of his message derived from solitary waiting. ~ The gospel.tells us that "a feeling of expectancy had grown among the people" (Lk 3:15). How much more so had it grown within the heart of John? ~ ~ ~ The anguish of that wait must have been unbearable. "Is this the day? Is that the Man? Am I where I should be? What if 'he never comes? And 'why do all these people think 1 may be he? Am I?" ' We ~will never know the . terrible questions John kept buried in his heart but ~his flailing words indicate their power and their~ pain . : "Brood of vipers, who warned you to fly from the retribution that is coming? Even now the ax is~laid to the roots of the trees. Any tree which fails td'.'produce good fruit.owill be cut down and thrown into the fire'~ (Lk .3:7-9). In Process." John the Baptist /_499 And the flame of his own vigilant spirit burned without being con-sumed. Then, one day, He came. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he strode across ~the hills and asked for baptism. The relief which floods John is almost pathetic in expression. The force of vindication overwhelms him and in torrential words he iterates: This is the one I spoke of when I said: A man~is coming after me who ranks be'fore me because he existed before me. I did not know him myself, and yet it was to reveal him to .Israel that I came baptizing with water . I saw the Spirit coming down on him from heaven like a dove and resting On him. I did not know him myself~ but he who sent me to baptize with water had said to me: 'The man on whom you See the Spirit come down and rest is the one who is going to baptize with the Holy Spirit.' Yes, I have seen and I am the witness that he is the Chosen One of' God. (Jn 1:30-34). The ph'rases are haunting: "I did not know him myself, and. yet it was to reveal him to Israel that I came baptizing with water . I did not .know him myself., and yet I am the witness that he is the Chosen One of God.~ . John does~not verbalize the implied question but it resides: "Why did I not know him? Shouldn't I have known him? How could I be.asked 'to ~witness within such total darkness?" His only uttered protest, however, is humble simplicity::~ "It is I who need-baptism from you and yet you come to me" (Mr3: 14). His only answer received is to "Leave it like this for the time being; 'it is fitting that we should, in this way, .do.all' that righteousness demands." It is another womb experience: in darkness John feels the divine intrusion and in a mystical leap of faith, he assents to his vocation. And then divinity withdraws and John is left- to wait--"for all that.righteousness demands." . Certainly, if John had little foreknowledge,.of preceding~ even'tS, he has even les~ .cohcerning those to come. His mission apparently is fulfilled; his prophecy is verified; his baptism is authenticated. What more is there to do? For what does he still wait? What yet will "righteousness demand"? And then in mounting disbelief, John begins to see, the route---the :winding way. he must tread after straightening other ~roads; the~rough trail he must walk after smoothing other .paths. He never asks the question "What will become of me?" He merely waits,for it to be fulfilled. The womb, the wilderness and the rivet will meet,,within the prison. Sensing, this, John begins divesting. , What a lonely figure he becomes etched against the hills hand out-stretched, finger pointing towards-that elusive Someone;~''Look, there°is the Lamb of God" he,urges his disciples--and watches.as they walk away to follow a greater prophet. Even.when some faithful friends balk,, at such diminishment, John refuses consolation~and speaks of growing smaller. It is his life played backwards to confinement. It is the full cycle of seed 500 / Review ]or Religious, "l/olume 36, 1977/4 and flower and. seed. Cynics choose to call it the terminus of life. Some others, more graced, name it a beginning. All that John perceive~ is that, again, he lies in readiness, awaiting a delivery. Deep within the bowels of earth, he languishes in prison, formulating the tormented question that rings acrbss the ages: "Are you~the one who is to come or have we to wait for someone else?" It is a valid death cry. A man should know, shouldn't he, the reason for which he dies? If angering kings on moral issues involves the risk of life, shouldn't One" be assuaged in kho~ving the risk to be well taken? rAndso John awaits an answer from his removed, and distant Cousin-- some sort of vindication for the truth that he has uttered. It is a lonely wait made lonelier by the answer: "Go back and ~tell John what you have seen and heard: The blind see again, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear; the dead are raised to life, the Good News is proclaimed to the poor--~nd happy is the man who does'not lose faith in me (Lk 7:22-23). Jesus tells John nothing more than that he is to wait--to wait and see the signs fulfilled--signs which John foretold. He sends this message know-ing well that John will never behold any of that for which he preached and forowhich he will give his life. And with an utter emptiness, John accepts the answer, urged to a fidelity of heart ratified in faith. The rest is just the spectacle--bringing all things to fulfillment--"all that-righteousness demands." Thus, in one sense, John's life ends whim-sically, of no account or importance weighed against a girlish dance. And yet, in another ~ense, it ends with abrupt savagery, brutal and unpredictable asia woman's.rage. In the darkness of confinement John feels divine intrusion and in a .mystical leap of faith he assents to his vocation, And 'then divinity with-draws, and John is left to wait--to wait for his disciples to place him in the earth. And so, he does not hear, of course, the tribute he is paid: "I tell you, of all the children born of women, there is none greater than John" (Lk 7:28,). For he is still awaiting the ultimate birth, when Jesus the Messiah will deliver him from death. His. life is prophetic, not because of what he said, but because of how he .lived. The irony is that he did not know this. He was a man in process, with a heart full of questions, with a tongue full of words, with a head full of visions. He could never quite integrate the visions and the questions and the words because he lived in mystery. All he could do was wait~-- wait in silence and °darkness and faith--for the words to be uttered, for .the questions to be answered, for the vision to be fulfilled. And in this hi~ is our brother--and very near to us. Towards a Sacramental and Social Vision of Religious Life Philip J. Rosato, S.J. Father Rosato teaches theology at St. Joseph's College and also to the novices of his province (Maryland). He resides at St. Alphonsus House; 5800 Overbrook Ave.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Today there are signs that the crisis which has marked religious life since Vatican II is waning. Religious watched the pendulum swing from an overly institutional conception of vowed life during the pre-conciliar period, to an overly individual condeption of the vows during the period directly after the Council. If the one conception was so communal that the individual religious suffocated due to a lack of personal freedom and self-worth, the other was so intensely individualistic that the religious froze due to isolation and loneliness as each one sought separately to gain freedom and identity. The one extreme was God-centered almost .to the detriment of the human; the other was man-centered almost to the point of excluding the divine. Now a new synthesis of these opposing conceptions is emerging. There is a felt need to correlate the spiritual and the human, the ecclesial and the personal, the eschatologic'al and the psychological? Thus a more sacra-mental understanding of religious life is in the air. Today's religious 'are struggling to keep God-centeredness and man-centeredness together in fruitful tension, just as the two foci of an ellipse, though distinct, form one ovular figure. This paper will aim at developing some of the dimensions of this new turn in the theology of the religious life. 1This search after a synthesis is evident in the Documents o] the XXXil General Congregation o[ the Society o[ Jesus (Washington: The Jesuit Conference, 1975L the central theme of which is stated as "Our Mission Today: The Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice," pp. 17-43. 501 502 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 Religious Life and Contemporary Theology: Living the Third Section of the Creed One way of schematizing the different theologies behind each of the ex-tremes noted above would be to look to the Apostles' Creed, a key statement of Christian belief and a touchstone of all theology. Previously religious life was too Father-centered, too centered on the first section of the creed. The vows took on such an ethereal and transcendent dimension that many religious stifled their humanity in order to live out their promise to the Father. The other extreme, centered solely on the second (Son) section of the creed, resulted in an incarnational or Christ-centered theology of religious life. In this model the humanity of the individual religious could find breathing room again; Jesus of Nazareth was seen as a paradigm of human freedom and self-possession. This Son-centered spirituality, though a corrective to the first model, proved in the end to lead many religious to such an affirmation of the human person that the need to lose one's self and to qualify self-centeredness through radical openness to the divine dimension was overlooked. Many religious ceased to pray, viewed com-munity life as a denial of their freedom and the institution of the Church and of their own congregation itself as a hindrance.to social relev~ance and engagement as well as to self-fulfillment. As religious search for a new balance today, it might be possible that a theology of the Spirit, that is, of the third section of the creed, could offer them a new model by which to combine Father, centeredness and Son-centeredness.'-' If the Spirit is the bond of love between the Father and the Son, it may be that Spirit-theology could lead to a synthetic theology of religious life which, grounded in love for God and man, avoids stressing either God's transcendence over his immanence, or Godls immanence over his transcendence. A Spirit-centered theology of the religious life could well bring religious back to the kind of balance which is currently being sought in the mainstream of theological speculatiofl today.:' " Why is this so? The third section of the creed links the Spirit with the pneumatic life of the community, with sacrament, service and mission. "I believe in the Holy Spirit, in the one, holy catholic and apostolic Church. I believe in the communion of saints." According to the Spirit-model~ religious life would be viewed as a specific way of living within the com-munion of the saints.The third section also affirms the reality of forgive-ness and of grace: "I believe in one baptism for the forgiveness of sins." If this were underlined, religious life could be seen as 9 special way of living out the Christian life of forgiveness and of being totally dependent on ~Karl Barth and Hans Urs von Balthasar, Einheit und Erneuerung der Kirche (Frei-burg: Paulusverlag, 1968), p. 12. aAvery Dulles, Models o[ the Church (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1974). pp. 58-70, where Dulles discusses the Church as a sacrament, a model which balances visible and invisible aspects of the Church most directly. Towards a Vision of Religious Life / 503 baptismal grace? Finally, the third section stresses the eschatological hope .of all Christians for themselves and for the whole cosmos: "I believe in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting." According to this phrase, religious must be marked as men and women of daring, of vision, of hope. In short, a~ theology of religious life based on the third'section 0f the creed ,would be pneumatic, ecclesial, apostolic, dependent on grace and eschat-ological. Inca word, it would be sacramental; it would take both the divine and the human most seriously and keep them in continual tension. But sacramental means more than bringing the divine and the human 'into a synthetic vision. Sacrament in this context also has to do 'with the sign-function which makes religious life distinctive. Religious live from grace more~ visibly and more unmistakably, that is, more sacramentally, than other Christians. Their life is not better than that of the baptized layman or laywoman, but it is less ambiguouS a sign, a pointer, a witness to the 'reality of grace? Religious live at the center of the Church and yet point to its eschatological edge. They live in the world as much as lay people do, but they are fascinated by the frontier, by the "not yet" of the promised kingdom of God. Religious life thus has a prophetic and end-time char-acter. This particular form of ecclesial life gives unmistakable and visible expression to the pneumatic, enthusiastic and eschatological elements of faith which are essential to the whole Church. Religious manifest God's victorious grace in the world by pointing beyond the world: The com-munity of religious humbly gives witness to the reality of paschal grace for 'all~ men and women by living~totally from forgiveness and from hope. Sacramental thus means that religious unmistakably witness to the divine and to the human in Christ and in his Church, and that Christ!s restless dynamism and his restful faithfulness to. God a~d man are most clearly symbolized in the ~world through the lives of religious in the Church,'~ The religious as such are at rest and yet restless, very human and very close to God as Christ was. This is the sacramental, Spirit-cgntered quality of re-ligious life. , It would be wrong, therefore, to separate the sacramental character of religious life from its 'social character. For the social and the sacramental go hand in hand. The vows ar~ ~not private promises; they are public signs in the midst of the world which offer prgmise to all men and women of the ultimate alleviation of want and pain at the eschatological fulfillment of the human and of the natural world. Too often in th+ past the theology of the vows had tgo little to do with the poverty of the world, with its loneliness 4Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, trans, by J. R. Foster (New York: The Seabury Press, 1969), pp. 257-259. :'Karl Rahner, "The Life of the Counsels," .Theology Digest XIV (1966) 224-227. "Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Otttline, trans, by G. T. Thomson (New ~York: Harper & Row, 1959), p. 148. 504 / Review [or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 and search for love and intimacy, with its desire for independence and free-dom. Poverty, chastity and obedience were, as it were, divorced from the real needs of others. Today :it is important to view the vows in light of the social and human problems of the whole community of men and women,r Only in this light will religious life maintain its true sign-function. In the midst of human poverty, voluntary poverty says no to man's injustice and lack of concern for the brokenhearted and the hungry. In the face of the sexual loneliness and frustration of contemporary society voluntary chastity says no to man's search for warmth merely through uncommitted pleasure. In the midst of a world crying out for freedom, voluntary obedience says no to man's use of brute power and violence to bring about a more inde-pendent future. Today the sign-function of religious life, its sacramental witness to the power of the Spirit of God, must be seen as most .relevant to the social problems of the day. The more identical religious are to their vows; the more relevant they will be to society in its deepest yearning for liberation,s The future of religious life, therefore, must be more sacramental and more social. The rest of this p.aper will try to spell out these two themes by.examining each of the three vows. One preliminary question, however, still remains. Which of. the vows, by its very nature, is most clearly pri-mary, in that it best ,demonstrates the sacramental and social dependence of religious on grace? It would seem that obedience is primary, since, though many Christians may live a poor and a chaste life, only religious live out poverty and chastity in the context of obedience to other members of the communion of saints in their particular religious institute? Religious find God's will for them by discerning the needs of the world with the help of the religious superiors in the community. Furthermore, obedience is the hallmark of Christ's own relationship to the Father; he humbled himself to the conditions of his human existence and became obedient unto death. In what follows, therefore, the main stress will be put on obedience as the distinctively evangelical way of living in the communion of saints. Then poverty and chastity will be seen in light of obedience, Finally community life itself will be viewed as resulting from the three .vows" and as essential to the prophetic and critical apostolate of the religious, in the world. In this-way it is hoped that a view of the religious life of the future will be rDocuments o] the XXXII General Congregation o] the Society o] Jesus, p. 13. sJiirgen Moltmann, The Crucified God: The Cross o] Christ as the Foundation and Criticism o] Christian Theology, trans, by R. A. Wilson and J. Bowden (New York: Harper & Row, 1974), pp. 7-18. 'aKarl Rahner, ',A Basic lgnatian Concept: Some Reflections on Obedience," trans, by Joseph P. Vetz Woodstock Letters 86 (1957), pp. 302-305. As opposed to others, such as Ladislas Orsy whose work is cited below, Rahner chooses obedience and not chastity as the central vow, and sees poverty and chastity as two ways of living out the total commitment to grace which obedience signifies. Towards a Vision of Religious Life / 505 presented which is both more balanced and more relevant, more sacra-mental and more social. Obedience and the Human Cry for Freedom: Becoming Independently Loyal Religious When the early Christian communities came together, they were known for their desire to discover God's will for them through corporate discern-ment which had as its aim a concerted effort to preach the gospel and min-ister to the needy. Each member of the community was aware of his or her own gifts and was allowed to exercise them in the common task of wit-nessing to the grace of Christ in the world. Yet each individual was also loyal to the whole community. This type of fruitful balance between indi-viduals and the institution led the early Christians to see the relevance of their life-style for those outside the community who were searching for freedom as well as for unity."' For too long religious superiors in the Church did not allow individual religious to be independent, to exercise per-sonal responsibility or to find ways of making religious life relevant to the hunger for freedom in the world which marks the history.of modern man. As religious look into the future, it seems that obedience is a possible waY of expressing both the sacramental and the social dimension of being a Christian. Obedience is not the loss or relinquishment of personal freedom, but the means by which religious are more open to grace and more sensi-tive to the cry for liberation which is being heard throughout the globe.11 Through obedience religious give witness both to. the interrelation of the divine and the human in the world, and to the freedom of the gospel which has profound significance for the liberation which is so desired by all today. The religious obedience of tomorrow must therefore become more sacramental, that is, more unmistakably a sign of the divine and the human dimensions of freedom. The religious must become an independently loyal 'person. This means that more personal freedom on the part of the indi-vidual should lead to greater corporate fidelity and commitment rather than to less. If before, obedience either constricted religious or left them so free that they were not working together in a concerted way, obedience in the future must combine a healthy sense of individual inde.pendence with a pronounced sense of corporate responsibility for the preaching of the gospel and for the service of the whole human community. The more self-deter-mined and independent a religious is, the more ready he or she should be to accept the discernment of the community as it decides how the aposto-late can be carried out effectively. Thus obedience in the future should not 1°See-Martin Hengel, Poverty and Riches in the Early Church (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974). 11Karl Rahner, "A Basic Ignatian Concept: Some Reflections on Obedience," pp. 299 and 308. 506 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 be understood as submission to traffic laws which govern the well-being of the community, but as a quality of ecclesial existence which is not an end in itself but which exists for the concerted apostolate of witness and ser-vice. 1'-' The individual charisms of religious should be fostered so that the ecclesial service of the whole congregation is intensified. In tfiis way obedience will have a pneumatic and eschatological character and be an unmistakable sign that the Church depends totally on grace by discover-ing God's will through a genuine listening to the fellowship of the saints. Once religious obedience regains its original sign-value by producing men and women for the Church who are independently loyal, this vow will no longer be seen as simply a private matter between the individual religious and God through his or her superiors. Obedience will be a sign to the whole society in which the religious lives and works. It will broadcast the fact that a life of faith has tremendous ,import for the liberation movement.13 What all men and 'women seek is a way of being free individually and cor-porately; in their scepticism over whether such a realization of corporate freedom is possible, they turn away from Christian revelation ~and ground their freedom on some other basis. Religious who can' live in obedience and who are still free to contribute their talents and energies to the human task of building' up the world in expectation of the coming kingdom of God offer the broader society around them a paradigm of human freedom in brotherhood. This societal dimension of religious obedience is not as emphasized as it should be. Religious tend to view themselves in abstrac-tion from the world which is searching for a genuine form of freedom. The eschatological sign-function of obedience, however, is that it speaks not only to. 'those in the Church and in the congregation, but also to those out-side it who yearn for liberation. In the future religious obedience must be so conceived .and so lived that it becomes a beacon of hope for those who hunger for independence in the context of interdependence.14 In this way religious obedience is itself an invitation to faith in Jesus Christ and to hope in him and his Spirit as the guarantors of man's search for liberation within a community. Poverty and the Human Cry |or Justice: Becoming Self-possessed, Sharing Religious , ~ ~ As was the case with obedience, religious poverty was often presented as an ascetical norm by which an individual religious could attain detachment from the world and lean towards God alone. This concept of poverty, how- 12Ladislas M. Orsy, Open to the Spirit: Religious Li]e alter Vatican 11 (Washington: Corpus Books, 1968), pp. 159-160. 13Gustavo Gutierrez, A Theology o] Liberation: History, Politics and Salvation, trans. by Sr. Caridad Inda and John Eagleson (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1973), pp. 104-105. 14Avery Dulles, The Survival'o] Dogma: Faith, Authority and Dogma it~ a Changh~g World (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1971), pp. 52-57. Towards a Vision o[ Religious Li[e / 507 ever, had two debilitating effects: it made religious doubt their own self-worth by~ creating in them guilt feelings concerning their use of material things, and it isolated religious poverty from real poverty and thus deprived the former of its relevance for the latter. Many religious lost all sense of their own personal dignity by never becoming responsible in their use of possessions. Often they were not taught how to 'treasure and protect the goods at their disposal. Poverty was more a matter of not using something than it was of sharing goods with the needy and the hungry. As religious look to the future, it seems that religious poverty will be a way of becoming self-possessed and yet sharing persons.1:' This vow should not make religious childishly dependent on superiors, but responsible Christians who share all they have and are with others. Religious poverty should open the hearts of religious to the cry of the poo.r for bread, for protection and for justice. The vow of poverty can only do this if it becomes more sacramental and more social. The religious poverty of tomorrow must take on its original sign-func-tion. It must be an eschatolog!cal sign of hope in the midst of human want. It can only do so if religious freely choose to identify with the poor in order to bring them to faith in Christ's promise to be with them in their hunger and' to alleviate their misery. Religious are not destitute, but they freely elect to be like the very poor, so as to share whatever excess goods they have with their brothers and sisters in poverty."~ In effect religious pattern forth a model, of a sharing. Christian community to the whole Chuich. In this way religious poverty regains its prophetic and end-time character. It urges the whole Church tO be equally concerned with the hungry and encourages those who live 'in unjust' circumstances to hope. in the Christ who became poor,for their sake and who is preSent to them through the love of religious. The poverty of religious is 'therefore not an end in itself, but a form of ecclesial life for the destitute, so that they can hear .the gospel and taste its power. Religious who are self-possessed, sharing people give witness to their dependence on grace in the use and possession of material goods. They are an unmistakable sign to the world that the Christian community does not exist for itself and is. not insensitive to human misery,lr Religious poverty is a catalyst which makes the whole Church bring the grace of Christ into the homes and the hearts of the poor. Religious poverty, as a.sacramental sign,,mustrediscover its sociological roots as well as its theological significance. Just as the Eucharist is a meal l~Horacio de.la Costa, "A .More Authentic iPoverty," Studies in the Spirituality o[ Jesuits Vlli (1976), pp. 56-57. 16David B. Knight, "St. Ignatius' Ideal of Poverty," Studies it, the Spirituality o[ Jesuits IV (1972), pp. 25-30. lrPhilip Land, "Justice, Development, Liberation and the Exercises," Studies itl the International Apostolate o] Jesuits V (1976), pp. 19-21. 508 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 which has social as well as re!igious dimensions, since Christ cannot be recognized in the eucharistic bread if he is not first recognized in the poor and the hungry, so religious poverty presupposes that the religious choose poverty because they recognize Christ's presence among those who are in ghettoes, in prisons, ;in nursing homes and in soup kitchens,is Byobeing poor, religious,,also identify with Christ in the helpless, the confused, the power-less, the uneducated and the injured even in the midst of affluence. This identification is not, as the Marxists claim, the way in which Christians sanction injustice. Rather. the religious chooses to be identified with the poor so that Christ's promise of ultimate liberation from want becomes a present reality for the destitute. The charity which being voluntarily poor makes possible is nothing else than the religious' desire to feed the poor in the name of Christ and thus to bring them more than bread, shelter, technical assistance and organizational techniques. The religious witnesses to God's grace in the face of the evil that does more than deprive the poor of food and power, but also deprives them of dreams and hope?"' Chastity and' t.he Human Cry for Warmth and Fidelity: Becoming Sexual and Celibate Religious At a time when the sexual revolution is sending shock waves through the institution of marriage, religious celibacy certainly ~akes on a different character than it did only a decade ago. In the past most people viewed the religious as asexual people who lacked human affection and warmth. This critique was partially justified. Many religious were taught to suppress their sexual feelings and even more their sexual identity, The beauty of human sexuality was often underplayed in formation, and religious were encouraged to live as though they did not have bodies, feelings, sexual roles or psychological needs for intimacy and friendship. Recently religious have rediscovered how to be at peace with the fact that they are sexual beings, and are now learning tO live with their sexuality by making it a vital source of energy and enthusiasm in their apostolates,'-"' Yet there is a deeper mean-ing to religious chastity which is opening up to religious in the face of modern man's frustration and loneliness in an age of sexual liberty. Many people feel isolated even in the most intimate of relationships and are exaspe{ated when the experience of marital love disintegrates into infidelity, separation or divorce. As religious become more aware of the need for bal-ance in their daily lives as celibates, they must also become more aware of the social significance of their total dependence on grace in the matter lsPhilip J. Rosato, "World Hunger and Eucharistic TheologY,," America 135 (1976), pp. 47-49. ~"JiJrgen Moltmann, Man: Christian Anthropology in the Conflicts o[ the Present, trans, by John Sturdy (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974), pp. 116-117. ZODonald ,Goergen, The Sexual Celibate (New York: Seabury Press, 1974), pp. 115- 116. Towards a Vision o[ Religious Li]e / 509 of sexuality as this speaks to those who .are unable to make any kind.of lasting commitment."' There is no doubt that the religious chastity of tomorrow must be more sacramental than it ever was before. Religious must' be human and warm as well as genitally pure. The more their bodies and hearts belong to Godi the more they must be at the service of the love and the friendship of Christ. Celibacy .can no longer be an escape from affectionate relationships which can lead others to faith.'-'-~ A sacramental conception of chastity means that religious must be more free to give witness to the depth of divine love by practicing human love faithfully, Religious can only do this not by sup-pressing, but by channeling their sexual feelings and needs. Religious celibacy must not be seen as a relinquishment of sexual identity, but as a free renunciation of valid, though ambiguous, human intimacy and ex-clusiveness. Human sexuality is therefore an important force in the Church since it gives men and women the power to introduce others into the loving relationship with God which is the end of all love.'-':' A sacramental religious chastity would.~aim to combine a true .love ot~ God with a true 10ve of' other men and women. Often the sign-function of religious chastity is lost wlaen religious fail to love deeply on a human level precisely because they do not love deeply on the supernatural level. A proper balance of both affectionate love for God and affectionate love~for others is the challenge of being both sexual and celibate. Only if the religious loves genuinely, does he or she witness to the eschatological goal of all hum~in love when Christ will return in glory to lead to completion the men and women of all ages who have ¯ sought to reach out to others and commit themselves to him through them. The sacramental, then, cannot be seen in isolation from the social. If religious free themselves from exaggerated 6goism in the form. of self-serv-ing gratification which results in insensitivity to the needs of others, it is only for the sake of the kingdom of Christ and for the sake of others who are lonely, frustrated, unfree sexually or subjected to sexual abuse and lack of fidelity.:4 There is thus a very legitimate social aspect to religious chas-tity. This vow is not simply a matter,of private devotion; it has by its very nature a sociological function. This function is not simply critical in that' it protests against the excesses which result from sexual force. The sociological -°x John C. Haughey, Should Anyone Say Forever?: On Making, Keeping and Breaking Commitments (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1975), pp. 101-105. -°-~Ladislas M. Orsy, op. cit., pp. 94-97, where Orsy develops his thesis that virginity is the source of all other aspects of religious consecration. See also: Vincent O'Flaherty, "Some Reflections on Jesuit Commitment," Studies in the Spirituality o[ Jesuits 11I (1971), pp. 42-46. '-':~Donald Goergen; op. cit., pp. 220-223. See also: Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, The Divine Milieu (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), pp. 81-86. '-'~John 0. Meany, "The Psychology of Celibacy: An In-depth View," Catholic Mind LXIX (1971), pp. 18-20. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 function of religious chastity is also positive. The religious models forth a pattern of human love which is not merely a blind effort to distract,man from death through embracing sexual pleasure. Christian love, as the religious :livesoit, symbolizes God's unswerving love for all and thus lends to, human love the character of a relationship with the source of all affection and warmth--God!s own trinitarian community of love. Just as obedience offers the human .search for independence an ultimate vindication, and just as religious poverty offers human want ultimate hope, so religious chastity has a social significance. It Offers the lonely and the frustrated, ~.who see human love as the only escape from absurdity, a vision of love which ultimately vindicates their own disillusionment over ,human. infidelity and hard-hearted: ness.~'~ In the person of the religious a type of faithful human love is ex-perienced which points to divine love and which thus attests that there is ~a deep, meaning to human tears and-hurt. In this sense religious chastity is sacramental as well as social. ,Religious Community and Christian Mission: the Locus of Healing Criticism o The basic thesis of this paper is that, just as religious faith in geheral has a sociological dimension in that it is concerned with justice, so also does religious life. The more identical religious are with their own tradition, the more able they are to criticize the society around them when it fails to live up to its responsibility to heal broken men and women.'-'~' Just as the whole Church serves faith by promoting justice, so the religious community lives out its prophetic and end:time sign-function by bringing the healing presence of Christ to the unfree, the poor and the lonely. The other theme, which has been woven into the first, is that religious can only be signs'of a critical and healing love if they themselves are balanced, Only if religious channel human talent and divine grace into an on-going sacramental.synthesis, can the~, carry out their call to be Christ's healing presence where men and women .harm each other by not living according to human,, and religious values.° The quest for personal identity which many religious are going through today is not irrelevant to the quest for the social relevance of the whole Church which is more pressing.:~ This paper would qike to assert that a more sacramental type of religious life would lead to a more socially relevant, precisely because socially critical, understanding of vowed life. -~Peter L. Berger, A Rumor o] Angels: Modern Society attd the RedisCovery o] the Supernatural (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1969), pp. 53~75. "~Pedro Arrupe, "The Hunger for Bread and Evangelization: Focus on the 'Body of Christ, the Church' in the Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice," Interna-tional Symposium on Hunger: The 41st International Eacharistic Congress (Phila-delphia: St. Joseph's College Press, 1976), pp. 21-24.o -°:John Courtney Murray, The Problem o] God Yesterday and Today (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), pp. 119-121. Towards a Vision o[ Religious "Li]e / .511 -, In effect~ this paper is advocating that a Spirit-centered Christology~be the mrdel for an understanding of the sacramental, that is, the spiritual and the social, significance of religious life today. For. the Spirit-filled Jesus did not allow himself to be categorized or to be understood solely in terms of any of the typical expectations which were prevalent' in his time. Instead he insisted on his identity as the one who proclaimed that the kingdom of God is near. The close identification between Spirit-theology and eschatology in the Scriptures leads us to see that Jesus' eschatological message was the fruit of his Spirit-filled being.~ In him God's future broke into the world time. God's kingdom dawned upon man and offered the whole cosmos the ability to head towards a new future that was guaranteed to it by the fully Spirit-filled and glorified Jesus. A Spirit-filled person and a Spirit-filled community, therefore, is esgentially a critical one; it is restless until the c~osmos is complete, until the kingdom'of God breaks definitely int6 its rriidst. Yet it,is also at rest because that kingdom is already a present phenomenon through the Spirit's activity in the ecclesial°community spe-cifically and in the whole cosmos as well.~' Religious who live together at the heart of the .Church are particularly the locus where the Spirit's activity everywhere is made most visible and most inc~indescent. A religious com-munity is a critical'community because it is not totally at peace until the kingdom is manifestly present. This critical function of religious communities in the Church adds a special~character to all of the vows, to their life-together and to their apostolate. As indicated in this paper, all of the vows are eschatological, and therefore critical, by nature. Th(y do not criticize society for the sake of criticism, but in order to awaken all men and women tb the'presence of God's kingdom which is already hiddi~n among them. Religious are also 'critical of each other since they are corhpelled to urge their brothers and sisters to live in the presence of the coming God and to view all things, and especially the community itself, as elements ~of an as yet incomplete cosmos which needs the healing and purifying presence of the Spirit.:"' If religious are critical of many aspects of 'their community 'life, it is not because~ they are discontent by nature, but because they long for the ever-fuller manifestation of the kingdom in their community, and thUg call their ¯ fellow religious to be what they are meant to be: a sign of the eschatological promise of God in the every-day life of the world. Re, ligious witness to God's coming in the midst of~ man's coming and going. The same is true of the zsC. K. Barrett, The Holy Spirit in the Gospel Tradition. 5th ed. (London: SPCK Press, 1970), pp. 153-156. :gWolfhart Pannenberg, The Apostles' Creed in the Light o] Today's Questions, trans. by Margaret Kohl (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1972), pp. 139-143. aopierre Teilhard de,Chardin, The Divine Milieu, p. 112. See also: Avery Dulles, "The Church, the Churches and the Catholic Church," Theological Studies XXXIII (1972), pp. 222-224. 512 / Review ]or .Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 apostolate. Religious seek to make their work a sign, of the eschatological promise of God. If any work loses this end-time character and does not sign forth to others a longing for God's ultimate fulfillment of all creatures, it,has. Ios!~ its salt. Religious community, therefo.re, is not a haven of peace, but a place where members of the communion of saints strive to be ever more Church, ever more a community of pilgrims who await the coming of the Lord and work to prepare his way.:"- In the end religious communities, like the Lord whom they follow, canno~t, be categorized since they have a unique mission. That' mission is service.of men and women in the world with the specific intention of open-ing them to the Spirit who, is the bringer of the kingdom. Religious are not private individuals with an interior depth and an exterior way of life which facilitates and disciplines their co-existence for its own sake. Religious are social beings whose religious commitment is a public sign of God's promise. Their life is sacramental because it is a confluence of the material and the spiritual, the social and the religious, ~just as the being of Jesus was and remains sacramental.:~ Life in the third section of the creed is essentially sacramental life. A visible community of men and women exist in unity, in holiness, in universal openness and in apostolic service. They proclaim for-giveness and look to hope; they allow the Holy Spirit~to work among men, so that he can create a human body of men and women who are joined in word and sacrament to Jesus Christ. They are living signs in each genera-tion of the Church that the Spirit-filled Jesus will return and that he is in-deed already among men and women who wait in hope for him. The special form of life in the communion of saints and of life in the context of the third section of the creed make religious a healing and yet critical presence in society. As independently loyal, as self-possessed and sharing, as sexual and celibate persons who live in commun.ity and witness to the social dimension of the gospel, religious are a model Church in minia-ture, a local congregation of believers who have a sacramental as well as a social function.:':~ Their very existence is a visible sign that Spirit-filled indi-viduals in community can heal the brokenhearted and at the same time criticize the social institutions which are indifferent to the unfree, the poor and the lonely. In light of the thesis which forms the underpinnings of this paper, namely that religious life is both sacramental and social, it can be sa~!d that to deny either element would be to .lessen both the identity of religious life and its sociological relevance. The vows of religious make them into a community which can heal as well as criticize. Religious stand up in the cen.ter of the Churqh and, like Jesus at Nazareth's synagogue, .~lAvery Dulles, Models o] the Church, pp. 149-150. a~Edward Schillebeeckx, Christ, the Sacrament o1 the Encounter with God (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), pp. 13-20. 3aKarl Rahn~r. "The Life of the Counsels." Theology Digest X1V (1966), pp. 226-227. Towards a Vision of Religious Life / 513 identify themselves with the words from Isaiah which he chose to define his own mission: 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 recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord (Lk 4:18-19). This is the sacramental and social function of religious life. The vows speak to the world in a way which reminds all men and women of the healing work of Jesus of Nazareth and which causes them to gaze into the future and to be critical of the present, since they wait for the promise that "the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ" (Rv 11:15). Deep within "becoming seed," sheltered in soil of fertile earth, life stirred-- and broke the barrior of crusted shell. Rooting down and pushing up, till tender shoot, warmed.by sun and washed in r~in, ., ~ budded :i prelude of l~idden beauty among foliage of natured kin: ,Serenely being, silently becoming, patiently maturing-- flowered sleep---still heavy and cloistered. Gentle wind touches, but bends not the bough: Storm pellets thee earth, but yields vanquished to supple strength of maturing bloom. Nature's war ended, beauty emerges, uniqu~e witness of silent fidelity-- of woven strands of love, a flower unlike it~ kih-- beyond and beside all others. Humble~herald of "terrestial otherness," prophetic vision of "Celestial bliss." Sister Mary Nanette 'Herman', S.N.D. 1600 Carlin Lane McLean, VA 22101 The Kingdom of God --Our Home Donald McQuade, M.M. Father McQuade is stationed at the residence of the Maryknoll Fathers; Box 143; Davao City, Philippines 9501." Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala. Seeing his mother and the-disciple he loved standing near her, Jesus said to his mother, 'Woman, this is your son.' Then to the disciple he said, 'This is your mother.' And from that moment the disciple made a place for her in his home (Jn 19:25-27). The Catholic Church has traditionally seen in this passage of John's gospel the role of Mary as the spiritual mother not only of the Church, but of each individual Christian--each of us who share by the mystery of grace in the very life of Jesus himself, Mary's son. In going beyond this basic insight, the pas'sage also reveals the incredible depths of the love of Jesus for all of his brothers and sisters, ~and perhaps in a particular way fbr those who, like "the disciple he loved," have responded to his invitation to leave all things and follow him completely,, and who continue today to stand with him by the cross. JesuS' words--and the graceful gift they contain-- spoken to John on Calvary, l~ave been repeated to all of his disciples and friends down through the. ages. They too, like John, are to "make a place for Mary in their home." But just where is the home of a disciple in which Mary is to live? It is obviously more than any physical reality. Even a "~,arm ~ind healthy milieu of loving human relationships, though necessary and contributory, still do not completely encompass the reality of a disciple',s home. For the home of a disciple must ultimately be conCerned with the depths of his faith, his hope and hi~s lov.e. It is there at the very roots of his being, where he comes in touch with God :an~l where the Spirit moves and breathes the life and the Word within him, that a disciple is truly "at home." 514 The Kingdom o[ God." Our Home / 515 Quite,simply, the home of a disciple is the kingdom of God. And the kingdom is ,within us (.Lk 17:21). A disciple makes .himself at home to the. extent that ~he: shares in the kingdom, to the degree ~that.the Lord lives within: him. And so, a chosen friend of our Lord is really meant to. be at home.:anywhere in the world. ~ On the night, before he died, Jesus promised his friends his parting gift of,~peace and joy in the Spirit (Jn 14:27)~ To be at peace and full of a deep and abiding joy; to be so free in today's regimented world that a ~disciple can be completely and fully himself---to others, to God, and to him-selfLto trust in the .Lord's care totally; to have a joyous and real hope .in life; to see the miracles of creation-and, of .God's loving providence con-tinually unfolding in the world about him despite the evil, the suffering, the sin.; to love deeply; and in turn to know and feel oneself incredibly loved .--this is a disciple's home; this is the kingdom of God on earth. However, the gift of a home in our Father's house which was prepared for~and given to us by Jesus (Jn 14:2) is, like,all his gifts, not an exclusive or selfish right for the disciple alone: It is given to be shared. It grows more loving and more profound to the extent that others are invited to enter into itnf0r we are compelled by Jesus,.himself to.invite our brothers and sisters into our home, into the kingdom. This is an invitation desperately"neede~d in~the.world today--the witness of men and ~women whose lives' reflect the peace and love of Christ and become an,, unspoken invitation t6 "come and see" the Source of such joy. So much has been written in recent years (and which can be readily seen and experienced all around us) of the alienation and loneliness of the men and women of our times. Threatened, on edge, never truly relaxed, so often without faith or a deeply meaningful .reason for life, many people today live, in Thoreau's phrase, "lives of quiet desperation." Increasingly, relief is sought in an excessive dependence on alcohol, in drugs, perhapg in hedonism or some other temporary escape. But the haunting and ultimately deadly loneliness, isolation and meaning-lessness of much of modern life always returns. This experience, so common today, of loneliness and despair, of never really feeling at home in the world is captured perfectly in Jesus" parable of the prodigal son. After the son has squandered everything he had in-herited on a life of debauchery, he is left totally alone, abandoned by his friends, reduced to a job of feeding swine while he himself is starving. In despe.ration he decides to return to his father, now emptied of all his former pride and arrogance, tremendously ashamed and feeling absolutely worth-less, a broken man, but a man who admits to being what he is--a sinner. He now seeks only enough to keep alive; and so he turns, to go home. In his state and in anticipation of meeting his father, he comes up with a prac-ticed, rather stilted request: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be your son; treat me as one of your paid servants." So he left the place and went back to his father. While he 516 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 was still a long way off,~ his father saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy clasped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly (Lk 15: 18-21). The.son hesitantly ~begins to recite his rehearsed line, "I no longer deserve to be your son . ".but the father doesn't even hear him in his overwhelming love and desire to give back to his son all that he has. "My son was dead and has come back to life; he was lost and is found." "My son, after so long a time in lonely and desperate searching, in suffering and being shattered by despair. -. my son who was lost has.come home." Thankfulness, joy, peace--there is really no word to describe the feel-ing of a man or woman who has deeply experienced the infinite and tender love of God our Father personally. Nor can any words ever adequately con-vey the fullness of the kingdom of God--the loving home into which the Spirit leads us even now. The whole life of Jesus has been an incredible gilt to us. At the very end of it, on the cross, he gave us the gift he held most dear in this world --Mary his beloved mother, to be our mother. We are "to make a place for her in our 'home." For she truly belongs in o,ur home, in the kingdom of God within us. This home needs a mother; the kingdom is incomplete without her. For our home, the kingdom, is in the final analysis the life of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God, within us, and concerning the mystery of his life, upon which all creation hinges, Mary his mother most definitely has a very special place. Mary: Type and Model of the Church Barbara Albrecht Translated by St. Lucia Weidenhaven, O.D.(7. Doctor Barbara Albrecht has studied Catholic and Protestant theology, philosophy and Christian social studies at Marburg, Ttibingen, Freiburg and Miinster, receiving her doctorate in Catholic theology. She is head of the Training Center for Parish helpers ¯ in both Bottrop and Miinster. This article originally appeared in Christliche Inner-lichkeit II, I. Sister Lucia is a member of the Carmelite Convent; N. unnery Lane; Darlington; Co. Durham, England D13 9PN. It is not particularly fashionable to speak about Mary. But for the sake of the Church, which we are ourselves, it is necessary--one could even say urgently necessary--to swim against the stream. What is our situation? Hans Urs von Balthasar hits the nail on the head when he says: "The post-conciliar Church has largely lost her mystic features. She has become a church of permanent dialogues, organizations, commissions, congresses, synods, councils, academies, parties, pressure-groups, functions, structures and changes of structures, sociological experi-ments, statistics: more than ever before a ma!.e church." Without Mary the Church becomes "functional, soul-less, a hectic brganization without resting-point, alienated . . . and because in this male world one new ideology replaces the other, the atmosphere becoines polemical, c~itichl, humorless, and finally dull, and people leave his Church in masses.''1 There are many reasons for ~this state of things. Let us disentangle a single thread and think for a while about it. Let us ask ourselves whether, perhaps, a sometimes excessively isolated Marian piety, no longer rooted in the theology of Christ and of the Church, has not contributed to this IK/arstellungen (Freiburg, 1971). 517 5111 / Review for Religious, Volume 36;~ 1977/4 situation¯ Not without reason does the glorious final chapter of the Dog-matic Constitution on the Church of VatiEan II point out that true devo-tion to Mary must grow from true doctrine. But this question we only wish to ask in passing. Our aim is to speak of Mary herself: to contemplate not so much what she is, but how she is what she is: anima ecclesiastica--the clear, transparent type and model of the Church. Mary as type of the Church: thus she was seen and loved esp~ecially by the Christians and theologians of the first centuries who pondered on the tremendous challenge this implies. If we moderns wish to know what it means to be the Church, we, too, have to think about her .again, because in Mary the Church's attitude is exemplified in crystal purity. We can here only sketch a few outlines of this Marian-ecclesial attitude. Mary--Type of the Obedient Church Let us recall the beginnings of our whole Christian and ecclesial existence: Nazareth; a young woman, Mary, taken into service by God as receptacle for his eternal Word the mighty, infinite Word; Mary, wholly listening, all openness, space for the Holy Spirit, type of a Church not regarding herself, not centered around herself, but always orientated towards God: at his disposal in unconditional obedience, lovingly bpen to his Word, and putting no limit~ in his way. l~either man,'nor the Church, but only God has all the right. Mary is surrendered to him "in strength and in weak-ness: in the strength of one who is ready for anything God or~dains, and in the weakness of one who has already been taken possession of completely, weak eno~ugh to recognize the power of God.''~ "My grace is sufficient for thee, for power~is made perfect in infirmity" (2 Co 12, 9). This directive is not only given to Paul, it is given to Mary, to the Church, to every single one of us. And whfit is the word which God addresses t6 Mary? The word of the good news of the coming of God, of the I~irth of the Lord among men, an-nouncement of the joy that shall be for all the people. The~Angel says t0 her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the Most,.High~ will overshadow you. You shall conceive and bear a son." He does not ask cautiously, "Would you be ready to receive the word of G0dT' No detailed explanations are given, but it is stated very definitely: so it shall be! This is an absolute divine command. Th9 weight of the grace that God should allow a human being to cooperate in the salvation of the world falls on Mary. Not her action, but the action of God "not her~'rea~li-ness, but that of God, is the first thing for man. The initiative rests with God, not with man. Mary's action, the cooperation of the Church, is accomplished in receiving, in the acceptance of the saving-act of God.oTh6 s~mple wholehearted Yes of obedient love is the answer. "I am the hand- 2Adrienne von Speyr. Mary: Type and Model o[ the Church / 519 maid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to your word." Uncondi-tional readiness for God's demand, obedience that cuts into the flesh; a response that is a plunge into an abyss, because it is God alone who gives fullness and content to this response, and to any genuine response in the Church. There is no margin left for any possible and justifiable ifs and buts. "You shall . " And on Mary's part there is no demand for ano.explana-tion, h new exegesis, as it were, for God could'not possibly have meant what' he said!--There is only Yes or No, surrender or refusal. The word is clear as crystal, and, so is the answer of obedience. We are at the origin not of a "stretched" or "colored" obedience, but at the origin of the "uncolored obediences" to use an image,of Adrienne von Speyr. "In self-evidence, be-yond all,discussion, all rationalization.":' Here lies the source given and received as grace--of the possibility to dare to say Yes to the complete discipleship, as Church and member of the Church. Here, in the obedience of Mary the Church begins to be the handmaid of the Lord--confronted with the total demands of the cidl of God. Here is the source, the spring of the clear sound of the Fiat rnihi which in numberless variations has been repeated and maintained in the. Church of God throughout the ages, and must be continued throughout time to come: an echo resounding eternally. The .prayer of St. Ignatius, for example, ig. one such variation, which has influenced the history of the Church: Sume et accipe . Take, Lord, all my,,freedom.' . One could~equally mention the life and prayer of a Charlesde Foucauld, an Adrienne von Speyr, an .Edith Stein, a Mother Teresa, or other ardent members of the Church in our day, They all live in the Church in the sign of Mary, obedient to the Father's will and open to the Holy Spirit. " Nazareth-remains all through Church history as the focal-point where freedom and obedience meet; where the spotlight is thrown on the invisible grace which makes it possible to say: "All freedom unfolds from surrender and the renunciation of unrestraint. A~i:I from this t~reedom in subjection," from the obedience of those totally committed to the Lord, "proceeds every kind of fruitfulness and holiness in the Churt:h."' It is for us .to ask ourselves whethe~r we have not forgotten these fundh-mentals. MarybType of the Church Fiile~d with the Holy Spirit The attitude of listening obedience toward God the Father, the attitude of openness and receptivity to the Word which is the Son, is at once also absolute openness to the Holy Spirit. Mary allows herself to be filled, be-albid. 41bid. 520 / Review for Religious, Volume 36; 1977/4 come a dwelling-place for the Spirit, gives him room within herself. Be-cause it can be.said of her par excellence: '~I live, now not I, Christ lives in me," it can equally be said of her--and it should to some degree be said of us, the Church--"But. not I, the Spirit lives in me." One conditions the other. Both demand of Mary to be a human being totally given over to God: her whole heart, her whole soul, and all her strength. It is a matter of total identification with the Fiat once pronounced. Partial identification is in-sufficient. The source of Mary's mission is that her being is filled with the Holy Spirit by the Son. This is reflected in the story of her visit to Elizabeth. The Spirit within her makes her rise. He is the finger of God that leads her and she allows herself to be led. He is the impulse and moving-power of Maryqthe Church---on her way to bring the Son as the One who is to come, to men. The Spirit, one with the Son, communicates himself like a spark to Elizabeth, moves the child ~ within her and allows Elizabeth to recognize: the Lord in Mary. The encounter between the young and the old woman takes place in the Holy Spirit--through the Son. and on behalf of the Son. And the Spirit urges both to joyful praise of God. "There are few other examples which make it so abundantly clear how grace always over-flows and ne~ver remains alone. It goes from Jesus--in the Spirt--to Mary, from Mary to Elizabeth, from Elizabeth to John, in order to be poured out here more fully, and return to its divine origin, thus increased?''~ It becomes clear that the Church can only be fruitful and enkindle the joy of the gospel in others, her apostolate being only then efficacious when it springs from the total identification with the initial Fiat mihi and all it implies. "One whole person is more efficacious in the Church than 'twenty half-hearted ones," is a saying of Adrienne von Speyr. And further: ecclesial apostolate is only fruitful when it is service to which the Spirit sends. Should our energies be exhausted in multil~lying schemes and activities, without the Holy Spirit everything we do is empty and shallow. ' Mary--Type of the Praying Church What is it that enables Mary to walk in the obedience of faith, without understanding what is happening to her? It is prayer. "Be it done unto me according to your word," is her prayerful answer to the Word of God. It is not day-dreaming. It is rather her extremely wakeful "amen" to God's speaking. Prayer does not begin with man, but with God. But we cannot hear God if we begin at once .to speak ourselves. It needs silence. Only in silence can Mary, can the Church, and can we perceive what God is saying to us, and then try to conform to it completely. Mary's prayer is objective, simple, childlike submission, not a prayer of many words and considera-tions: hers is the direct answer that God expects. And the uniting factor in ~lbid. Mary." Type and Model oJ the Church / 521 this exchange is again the Holy Spirit. Through him, God's Word comes to life and grows to maturity in her, Thi,s again is only possible because Mary continues to cooperate prayerfully. Her entire activity is envelrped in contemplation. "Mary treasured 'this word' in her heart" (Lk 2, 19 and 51 ). She ponders and savors it. This contemplative pondering over the Word in the heart of Mary does not only begin with the word addressed to her by the shepherds. It begins with the conception of the Word in her womb. It even precedes it. And this "treasuring" includes everything not yet under-stood, everything beyon.d her comprehension and possibilities. This treasuring and pondering of the Word of God is something like the Church~s womb. of. contemplation, without which there can. be neither spiritual vocations, nor spiritual life, nor theological perception. Adrienne von Speyr once called prayer "the key to theology that always fits.'~' We are inclined to forget this today. And that is why the Church, losing sight of Mary, often becomes, as Hans Urs von Balthasar sketches her: a church of activism, of many and shallow words, a church without silence, where theological knowledge can-no longer mature in patience, a church without lasting fruit. The Spirit overshadowing Mary is the Spirit of obedience and at the same time the Spirit of prayer; silence, and therefore of wisdom and knowl-edge, the Spirit of counsel and of all the other gifts necessary for the service of missionary witness and ecclesial theology. No one can grasp the Marian° ecclesial mystery or any other mystery of faith with his own unaided intel-lect. They remain veiled. But they can be encompassed "by the Spirit of faith, by that intuition of love, that sense for the mystery''~' that is given to the soul in prayer. This Marian attitude is necessary for the theologian of today more than ever before: the renouncement of possession, the renounce-~ ment of a neatly fitting truth, which he has grasped.What he needs most is not intellectual theorizing but "a committed surrender in faith and docility." Humility and recognition of one's poverty: this is theology as service in love, not proving what it believes, :but witnessing tO it in the strength of the in-sight into the mysteries of God which prayer alone can give. MarymType of the Believing and Hoping Church Mary is not onlythe type of the unconditionally obedient Church, bringing forth fruit for the glory of God. Nazareth is also the beginning of a way through the darkness over which one has no control, a way in Advent-faith, a concrete unfolding of Mary's fiat in time, and a preparation for the way of the Son. She allows things to take their course. She goes the way of being tested in everyday life--without angel, without light. "Mary did not say 'yes' once, in a great moment; she has carried this 'yes' through patiently, in silence Glbid. 522 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 and constancy.''r Mary has to live 'in concrete terms what it means to be-lieve, not only until the birth of' her Son, but at Cana and in the strange rebuffs of her Son and at the ~foot of the cross; to cling to that God whose thoughts are not our thoughts, and whose plans are mysteries; to be content that God is always greater, that. he is and thinks and acts as the quite other than .ourselves, To live faith as conformity, not arguing With God, but al-ways keeping step with him--always and everywhere, not for a time, but for-ever. o - Mary's Advent-r~ad of faith is one of hope, that does not rely on any strength of. her 6wn but on God's grace; a hope not without the wavering that is ours when we become aware of the ever greater God and his demands. For our effort is not made null but is fully necessary; hope that knows the fearfulness of wondering, whether: one will come up to the expectation; never; however, leading to discouragement but always aware that power is made perfect in infirmity. Mary--the Church--can never see herself other-wise than as the lowly handmaid of the Lord; a Church not powerful, but powerless, a Church .that disappears behind her. service, that is not self-regarding. And Mary is the absolutely positive model of this ChOrch. Here is also the place where we point to the silent and suffering Church and her fruitfulness in endurance. The silent Church has the deepest share in the Advent mystery of hope on this pilgrimage through time. Because she perseveres in patience, she bears much fruit. She brings forth her chil-dren after the model of the woman of the twelfth chapter of Apocalypse, in whom the ChurCh has always seen Mary: Mary not~ only as Mother of the incarnate Son of God but as "mother" in the universal sense: mother of many children whom she brings forth in pain. Mother and children are exposed to the Adversary, ~the' Evil One. Because he cannot touch the Son, and because he cannot destroy Mary and the .Church with his hatred; he 1falls upon the individual Christians--the "other childi'en" whom the "woman" brings forth. He makes war against them~ This war against the confessors and saints who "ke~p God's commandments and hold on to the testimony of Jesus Christ" (Rv 12, 17), has many faces: sub-human ones, inhuman ones, those Of the serpent, those of the dragon. The Adversary, the dragon, has been 'vanquished by Christ forever. That is why his last despairing efforts are still so powerful that "his tail wipes off one-third of the stars:from the sky" (Rv 12, 4). The power of evil does:not only reach the earth, it is capable of darken-ing the sky, since one-third of .the stars are swept away. It can extinguish hope, devour faith, and obscure love. This is a terrible possibility, and into this situation Mary--the Church--has been placed, into these eschatological sufferings for the world, a blind world without hope: Is this not th~ time for rKarl Rahner. Mary: Type "and Model of the Church ~/ 523 us .who are children of this Mother ;to support, today, in this hour the ".woman" giving birth, Mary--the Church--by trying "to. ,fulfill :the com-mandments of God and hold on to the testimony .of Jesus. Christ"? God's help does not exclude but includes the help of her children! .~This~help of God which ~sustains us is. also spoken of in the twelfth chapter of the Apocalypse. °God is near to the ,"woman," ,to Mary and the Church. He comes--he, is with her, protecting her in the midst of the battle. He,carries her on, the strong wings of his love. He prepares a place for her. Fiat mihi. This place is not one chosen by herself, in palaces and safe castles, but in the desert, in poverty~ in silence. There God is present. There he feeds her "for a time and two times and half a time." God feeds his Church. in every new today, so that she can continue to walk in .the strength of this food: on.the road that is her destiny. ~ All this:~ the battle, the endurance:of tribulation, the bringing forth of fruit in patience and suffering, the testimony held on to, the desert, biat also the 19ying protection of God who is our hope--all this is also demanded ot~ us and promised to us, who are the Church of today. . ¯ Mary and the (~hurch in Advent We have spoken of Mary as the type of the obedient, believing, hoping, Spirit-filled, praying Church. Like a luminous thread through this little meditation ran the thought: Mary on the way, on the road of hope and faith, on the move to encounter Elizabeth. Nowhere do we read that Mary's road was an easy one,. without obstacles or eclipses, without fears and hesi-tations. On this same pilgrim journey, the Church continues to travel, to meet the coming Lord, that great Advent which presupposes the first com-ing of God in the flesh, uniting the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end. He is the One who ever was and who is to come and who, hidden under the veils of his presence as he w~s hidden in Mary's womb, determines every present moment, including every moment of our own lives. He is there, Emmanuel, God with us and.for us, even though we are still on the way, in faith, as Mary was during her ~earthly pilgrimage. He is Emmanuel,' even tho~ugh'we are engaged in battle with the adversary, even should this battle 3~et grbw~fidrcer. The Loi'd walks, battles and stiflers with us, because he has made our battle~ ahd sufferirigs his own in a~ unique., way. He is~already the victor, carrying and protecting us, and he will always be with,us, On this road, the Lord takes Mary, the Church and each single one of us into his service: Our mission is to~ be witness and our witne~s is our mis-sion- no one i§ excluded. Everyone C'an and may and must.-.take ~art in the work of b~ingihg God to ~en, of making him present t9 men. The Christian has an Advent task. He is called to cooperate in kindling the hid-den longing for God which is in every man, just as it took place between Mary and "Elizabeth. Through human beings, through the Church, God wants to show his presence, and bring his joy into the darkness of our 524 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 prayer, our faith, and our hope. "God wants His own in joy.''8 And he wants his Church to proclaim the great joy, the good news, on the way. But we have to remember that joy is born from the obedience of the Fiat mihi, from a surrender that day after day commits itself anew to the unpre-dictable God, to his unfathomable and demanding will. It is a joy that does not ~o much look back at something that is complete and behind us but that looks forward and makes men raise their heads to look for the One to come. He conies in every "new today--in the midst of the desert of our times. But the Church--and that is all of us---can live this joy in obedience, in faith, in hope, in suffering and in praise only when she shakes off her for-getfulness and allows the Spirit."to remind her again of all things," in order to ponder and treasure the word of the Lord again in her heart. This alone will re-awaken in us Christians the longing for the final coming of Christ, and make us cry out again in the Spirit ahd in love: "Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!" SAdrienne von Speyr. -o It should give woman a feeling of exaltation to know that she--particularly in the " virgin-mother Mary--is the privileged place where God can and wishes to be re-ceived in the world. Between the first Incarnation of the Word of God in Mary and its ever new arrival' in the receiving Church, there exists an inner continuity. This and only this is the decisive Christian event, and insofar as n~en are in the Church, they must participate--whether they have office or not--in this comprehensive femininity of the'-Marian Church. In Mary, the Church, the perfect Church, is already a reality, long before there is an apostolic office. The latter remains secondary and instrumental in its representation and, just because of the deficiency of those who hold office (Peter!), is so made that the grace transmitted remains unharmed by this defi-ciency. He who has an office must endeavor, as far as he can, to remove this defi-ciency, but not ~by approaching Christ ~as head of the Church, but by learning t6 express and live better the fiat that Mary addressed to God one and triune. Hans Urs von Balthasar ¯ L'Osservatore Romano, Feb. 24, 1977, p. 7. Chapter: A,Community's Call to Conversion Colette Rhoney, O.S.F. Sister Colette is involved in the ministry of prayer, spiritual direction and retreat work. She resides~at 1340 E. Delavan Ave.; Buffalo, NY 14215~ While examining the technical aspects of a chapter and ways of imple-menting its decisions, it is also necessary to examine the results of a com-mun. ity's chapter as lived by the individual members of the congregation. Father Conleth Overman, C.P., recently presented a thorough development of.chapters from the "imposition chapters through the .liberation chapters into the. planning chapters."' The lived experience of this development and the future involvement of members takes place in the on-going conversion of each individual sister. In order to implement the plans, the mission and the decisions of a chap-ter by. the.members of a community, these members must recognize that a call to conversion becomes part of the spiritual dynamics of the chapter. :This call to conversion remains through the months and years ~that follow a chapter in the daily death and rising of each member of the community. It becomes an essential element in the process of community life, making each member aware of her attitudes toward the community in general and toward members in particular. The summons to continued growth leads each one to examine her response to the Spirit who bids her grow. Basically, conversion is a change of heart and attitudesmit is taking on the 'mind and heart o~ Jesus Christ. Within the religious congregation, con-version lies in our openness to experience God's calling us forth through 1Conleth Overman, C.P., "Chapter--An Opportunity," Sisters Today, June-July 1976, pp. 651-655. 525 526 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1~977/4 ~ the power ~f the Spirit, to ~examine, as our foundresseS did, the life of Jesus and to find a modern response to his salvific ministry. The successful chap-ter is not one that ends with a written document, but one that leads to con-tinuol discernment and growth in personal conversion. The elements of this conversion would seem to be those of penance, healing, reconciliation, and confirmation. Penance Penance fundamentally involves the grace of change, and so also do most new constitutions formulated by a community's chapter. Penance 'is centered in conversion, in metanoia, an admitting one's own sinfulness before God, self, and neighbor. It is a turning to God and self and neigh-bor in a serious attempt to grow in the knowledge, love and will of God. The grace of a new-found trust in God's fidelity amid our own infidelity leads us to an openness before the Spirit. This openness graces us with the desire and courage to surrender to the voice of the Spirit as expressed in the documents of the chapter. Metanoia is continual, a constant, thorough, on-going, despite the human weakness which We all carry with us. ~The belief, in hope, that God-with-us can do marvelous deeds, impo~sibie ones, moves us on even in the midst of our woundedness. Healing Those who have experienced the"healing p0~,er'that is possible anibng chapter members who have been gifted by.grace and trutti in the S~irit, the community and each other-~can bring themselveg" to believe and to work for the healing Of the whole community. The day~ ankl w(eks follow-ing a chapter are seeded with opportunities for th~ healing of memories, of personal and comhaunal hurts sustained during the long hours of debate, dialogue, and discussion. There is a time for everything; and"the period immediately after chapter seems to be an appropriate time for the healing of the mistrusts and mistakes made in the process Of chapter, i3od's saving action in our lives heals our wounds through Jesus--=and calls us forth to minister'a like healing to one another. Redonciliation Before we can know the power of recc~nciliation we must pe~:~onally experience the forgiveness of God. /~fter positioning' ourselves wiih the prodigal son or his jealous older brother, we turn back' to our loving Fatl~er who longs for our return. Our weakness and failures do not discourage him from stretching forth to eml~race us, to welcome us b~ick and to~ cele-brate the occasion with the entire household. The forgiving Francis of Assisi words it this way for his followers: There should be no friar in the whole world who has fallen into sin, nb matter how far he has fallen, who will ever fail to find your forgiveness for Chapter." ,4 Call. (o Conversion /o 527 the asking, if he will only look into your eyes. And if he does not ask forgive-hess, you should ask him if he wants it. And should he appear before you again a thousand times, you should love him more than you love me, so that you may draw him to God.z The sacrament of forgiveness, of healing, of reconciliation takes flesh as we offer ourselves to the power of God's Spirit and one another. The "grace" of our own self-righteousness must die before we can gift another with new birth in reconciliation. What succeeds from any chapter proposals for the building up of the kingdom will be rooted in the spirit of forgiveness among the members. As this forgiveness and reconciliation takes hold, the members of the community can extend this Good News to other members of the kingdom. Confirmation Perhaps the success or failure of a community chapter can be determined by the conversion of its members. The signs within the community that the ~vord and action of the "Spirited" chapter are still, alive would seem to be the lived forms of these document-words uttered in ,the lives and ministries of the members. The decrees of a chapter wi.ll not be understood completely or effected immediately. However, the on-going affirmation of its statements _i_s a sign of confirmation by the Spirit of Truth. ,The signs of the individual sister who is graced in the decisions and odocuments of her community's chapter will be an increased faith in her vocational call, the harmony pf her own being and the courage and determination to live out the written word. Conclusion As each of us enters into chapter planning,or emerges f~rom the process involved in the search for the new direction of religious life, let us be en-couraged by Jesus' words: . . . the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the F~ther will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of alibi have said to you. Peace I bequeath to you, my own, peace I give you, a peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid (Jn 14:2.6-27). -°"Letter to a Minister" in English Omnibus Edition o] the Sources (Chicago: Fran-ciscan Herald Press), p. 110. " Contemplation Vera Gallagher, R.G.S. Sister Vera's work is described in her article. She resides at Christ the King Convent; 11544 Phinney Ave., N.; Seattle, WA 98133. I was fifteen when I.decided suddenly, totally, to join a contemplative religious order, God's call 'was clear, if abrupt, and I responded~ whole-heartedly. My parents, however, were unwilling to consent to either the Carmelites or Poor Clares, my first choices. Because I was equally reluctant to wait until I was eighteen, we compromised. They agreed to the Sisters of Charity of the Refuge, then a cloistered, contemplative order devoted to serving and rehabilitating delinquent teenage girls. ,~ Always protected, I knew nothing of delinquency. But, having read widely the books in my parents' bookcases, I knew a great deal about prayer. And into that I threw myself. Between meditation, Mass, Office and reading we devoted about three and a-half hours daily to prayer. I gobbled that up. Sundays were free, so I turned to six or seven hours of prayer then. While I was a second-year novice, our isolated convent in Vancouver, B.C., joined the Good Shepherd Order--world-wide, devoted to the same work, and with the same emphasis on prayer. For six weeks I was sent to a Good Shepherd novitiate in Minnesota, and then became professed. Shortly, I found myself teaching in our special education schools (spe-cial, not because our girls were retarded but because they had missed so much school), then sent to college, then appointed principal. So I wandered, principal of our schools, from Minnesota to Washing-ton to Montana to Nebraska to Colorado; back to Montana, and Minne-sota, and Nebraska. All the time, while I willingly served wherever God 528 Contemplation / 529 called, I lived a split-level life: level 1, being principal; level~2, being a con-templative. What hours I could beg, borrow, or steal were unceasingly devoted to prayer, my primary calling and delight. Over and. over, I asked God why he so clearly summoned me to contemplation and so obviously assigned me to administration: He did not reply. ~ Finally, when state and child-care agencies' rulings came to the point that religion, of whatever denomination, could no longer be freely taught and promoted, and when my order had meantime emerged into one no longer cloistered, no longer primarily contemplative, but apostolic, I re-quested a change of work: from education into pastoral ministry. Forthwith, I was engaged by a medium-sized church in Seattle. Here for three and ~a half years I have rediscovered and---finally--integrated my vocation as contemplative and apostle. Lilurgy In the convent, we had observed the church year but, somehow, it had usually passed me by. When I joined, as staff.,person, our Liturgy Commit-tee and discovered lay people studying the gospels, creatively designing methods of changing background, music, space to emphasize each mood of the liturgy, really living, in mind and spirit, every aspect of worship to make it compellingly clear to the congregation, I burst alive to the wonder, grandeur, simplicity, lowliness of the worship of the Lord. Personal prayer had meant too much for me to have become aware of the ever-chan~ing, challenging worship of the Church. Now that same liturgy, parish-celebrated, summons me to a. communal meal of adoration, love, and thanksgiving wherein each of us enriches the other by his/her gifts of insight and prayer, and all of us complete each day of living worship more attuned to God because we know our neighbor better, while all the adjunEts to worship which we have designed emphasize, in color and shape and texture, kaleido-scopic stories of God's relationships with his people. Home Visiting Most nights I am out visiting families throughout our widely scattered parish. Generally, these visits are devoted to pastoral counseling, spiritual direction, theological up-dating, accordir~g to the various requests and desires of those whom I visit. Simply and easily, as we chat together, people often share with me their experiences of God. Coming from men and women I know, in the simplest of everyday language, those descriptions of personal encounters with God leave me so silently breathless that I feel as .though I ought to be kneeling. There is the man who drank a fifth a day, smoked heavily, lived with little regard for God's law---but whose wife prayed for him unceasingly. One day, in total self-disgust, he turned to God and his wife in heart-broken sorrow. Such an overwhelming visitation by God was granted him that he 530 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 never as much as desired alc6hol or cigarettes again. Because he was so overpowered by gr~ice, he quit work for two years to pray, ponder, meditate, absorb the wianders he had seen. When I came to his apartment, Bob's greatest, desire was for an in-depth discussion of the~ works of St: John of the Cross. He had read, comprehended and loved every word in the saint's writings. He quoted them to me easily, expounding on their beauty. And I --- I felt like a child listening to a master of the contemplative dire. .There are Richard and Nancy, a young married couple who,have taken private vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to free themselves for con-templation. Their .lives are totally regulated by their need for prayer, Each works half-time, earning only enough for a simple life,~giving away anything in excess. They rise very early in the morning for their first hour of prayer together, meditating daily for a total of three hours. Their love for Scrip-ture is so great that they have memorized whole chapters, setting them to music. Their sights are so irrevocably, irresistably fixed on God that they see nothing unusual about so living. Naturally enough, their parish commit-ment is to the St. Vincent de Paul Society. I could' write story after story, each thrilling, . about parishioners who, through the ~scintillating brilliance of everyday living in closest harmony with the Eternal, direct the onlooker, like the whirling lights of a police car, straight to God. Pastor Very few diocesan priests have ever been canonized. I used to believe this was because of a life which, de facto, militated against sanctity. I have discovered the reverse: lives so simply and poorly dedicated to Jesus that no association or congregation has been built up to study the individual, obscure life, promote tit, pay, for its publicity, push it through to canoniza-tion. In our parish we have team ministry: the staff consists of one priest, three sisters, two deacons and one deacon's wife on a volunteer basis, and one single young man. All decisions are reached by consensus. No one per-son leads, directs or governs. In this situation, the pastor could be lost. Our pastor lives his very busy, very undistinguished life according to one principle: what"would Jesus do? His consequent devotion to poverty, love, service, compassion, understanding is such that I watch him to see Jesus incarnated again. I remember my first Christmas in the parish. Father '~X" brought me to the :tree in the rectory, surrounded by gifts. "These are my Christmas presents," he said. "Take whatever you wish." Then he handed me an en-velope full of bills--half of the money given him for Christmas; the other half he gave to another sister. That was my first introduction to the stark poverty of Father "X's" life. He has no savings account. He uses his salary primarily to give it away to whichever person asks for it first. His days off and vacations are simple, ¯ Contemplation / 531 usually spent with other priests. He shares his rectory with whoever comes along: currently two priests are resident; the young youth minister and the male head of the liturgy committee live there; whatever man is unfortunate, poor, in need of an overnight accommodation gets the one room which is left. In ,that last room I have discovered a poor black family passing through town; a .veteran with amnesia waiting for an opening in vet's hospital; a disturbed man with a knife.under his pillow awaiting transportation to Cafiada; a chef wit.hout .a job, and many others. Finally, in the housekeeper's apartment in the rectory, lives a talented drummer Father "X" picked up off the streets, homeless, hooked on drugs and alcohol, hungry. Totally re-habilitated now, he does his own thing from the rectory, and will, until he feels safe enough to move out on his own. Naturally enough, the rectory has become everybody's home. Father "X" owns nothing which he does not share. The parish drops in, commit-tees meet, people come for appointments, and all of us learn that the parish is more than a church: it is a radius of sharing love--a koinonia--a dia-konia-- a drop-in center--a haven for all in need. ~ The words of~ Script:ure are inspiring. But meditating and praying over them has not ,compelled' me to follow Jesus as forcefully as has the life of a diocesan priest devoted to making .that Scripture alive--today, now. Preaching About every six weeks I preach on weekends. What I have learned thereby would fill an encyclopedia. To compress the messages of the readings of the Sunday into a ten-minute homily means that those readings must be meditated over, pon-dered, searched, re-searched until they become a light glowing in my mind. So brightly incandescent does that one word become, after the hours of contemplative prayer devoted to it, that neither writing it down nor memo-rizing it is.necessary. Also, I need stories, everyday tales, to illuminate the gospel of. yesteryear into the imper~ative of today. So I reach back through my life, or into the stories of their lives which parishioners have shared with me, or into the happenings of this particular calendar month of 1977. And in so doing, I discover how truly each occurrence of everyday an-nounces, again, the coming of God's kingdom, the incarnation of his Son. I discover, too, that in nothing have I ever been alone: those experiences I tfi~ought to have been most personal, most private, most singular become, when shared in the light of the gospel, the most universal experiences of my congregation, the ones they tell me they know and have lived. I ha.ve learned that nothing should be hidden because God is alive in all--writing straight with crooked lines--so that the whole world with its sins, its sorrows and its shortcomings--and its soarings--becomes one sung paean of praise to the Almighty. Translating that song into simplicity is the task of the preacher. ' 53:2 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 Fasting Often throughout my life I have heard God's call to fast, and almost as often shuddered and said "no," hurrying on my way. One Sunday in the parish, three different persons told me that they were leaving the Church because of their problems with the institutional Church. I was stunned. In our parish we have, I thought, everything: a priestly priest, excellent liturgies, first-rate music, good preaching, a devoted community. What else could we offer? And three parishioners were still leaving the Church! I prayed for enlightenment as to ways to help~for I knew both the men and the young woman very well. Clearly I heard the words: "This kind of devil goes not out but by prayer and fasting." Those words left me with no alternative: pray, I would; fast, I must. For four months I fasted. Meantime, one man and the young woman not only came back to the parish, but became deeply involved in parish activities--much more so than usual, The third young man had dropped out of my sight. I continued to fast and to pray, a bit hopelessly. Th6n, one night, as I stood in the convent of a distant parish, Rob walked to the door: We looked at each other, and embraced. He had come, he told me, for a meeting of youth ministry in the parish: he intended to get involved; and he said that he had joined the choir. "I searched for something better than the Church," he said, "but I couldn't find it." That convinced me of the value of fasting in the service of the Church. Now I frequently fast: a week here, a week there; now a month; then two. Fasting brings me closer to God in prayer, but without the real-life motiva-tion of the parish, I would not persevere in it. Ecumenism Eight Protestant and two Catholic churches, one of which is ours, cooperate in our neighborhood. The ministers of the churches meet twice monthly, the laity meet once a month. As soon as I was engaged for work, Father "X" involved me in CHOICE ("Churches Involved in Common Effort"). The first really important happening was our ministers' decision to keep a prayer diary, meet weekly, and share. For me, the decision was no less than terrifying; prayer had always been very personal, very private to me. However, my curiosity as to how Protestant mirdsters prayed was so great that I consented to go along. We continued for one year. I discovered many things: foremost, perhaps, my realization that not only were Protestant ministers comprehending of contemplation, they also lived rich and variegated prayer lives of their own. I discovered a pyramid of errors in my past concepts of Protestant ministers: Contemplation / 533 Celibacy is not absolutely essential to the developm'ent of a rich prayer life. ¯ The gospels apply to all persons of whatever denomination; within them, God lives for all. God reveals himself to whoever wholeheartedly searches. Protestants, by their eagerness and uprightness, can challenge Catholics. .Catholicism does not have an edge on the ecclesiastical market: I learned to share my prayer, my closeness to God, my silences in his presence, my ecstasies in the love of his sheltering arms, and to feel myself totally accepted and understood in what I would formerly have considered an.inappropriate company: a circle of Protestant ministers! That experience has been one of the most important, most radical in my life. It lifted me suddenly and freed me from the parochialism in which I had been reared. In many ways the CHOICE churches have cooperated to make God better known, more real, better served in our area and neighborhood. All of. this I have found enriching to our congregations, as well as truth-reveal-ing to me. God is found in truth, not in error. We must reach out, beyond ourselves, to discover where those unknown errors lie. Social Justice When I was less wise, I attended some social justice workshops at a large university and came back, I thought, permeated with an urgency 'for social justice in the world. I preached a couple of sermons on the subject and was disappointed to discover that my congregation was not totally with me. Figuring that I must be, in some way, stumbling about in wrong turns, I decided to let the matter drop for the time being. Then I discovered a group of parishioners who wanted to form a social justice committee, another grouWwhodesired to organize for Bread for the World, a third who wanted to create a St. Vincent de Paul Society to care for the poor, the hungry, the frightened, the homeless, especially in the area contiguous to our parish. I assisted each group in its formation, and met with them. There I discovered hard-headed; practical Christians who cared about the hungry homeless men and women next door, in preference to those a continent away to whom they were not sure they could get bed and ~board. Meantime, I discovered that our parishioners were ready to pour money into the St. Vincent de Paul Society when they knew it was immediately transferred into relief for the very poor; they were delighted to contribute food to a neighboring parish in the Central Area for its Food Bank; they were eager to organize to provide legislatively for the food needs and ap-propriate distribution centers with adequate safeguards for the hungry of the world,, They had been turned off by sermons~which revealed to them a naivete and lack of pragmatism inherited by me from Academe. "534 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 , Because money, efforts, work flowed freely to the really poor, I found myself involved with the impoverished. The ideals of social justice and the thundering of. Isaiah had sounded out like trumpet calls, but dealing with the querul.ousness, and the unrealistic, improvident needs of the poor, first-hand, became a different and much, more challenging matter--one which I would gladly., have ducked. But Jesus lives hidden in the difficulties, de-mandings, despotisms of the poor; and, with the aid of our laity who give of their time without counting, I have found him there. I must admit it: it was easier, more pleasant, more justifying to h~ave discovered God in. social justice workshops on broad grassy campuses among .nice people ~dressed in clean clothes than among the very poor, improperly dressed, poorly housed, querulous, and sometimes "ungrateful" impoverished. Contemplation Finally, this article closes where it began: with the quest for contempla-tion. Contemplation is not, as once I thought it was, a way of prayer, Contem-plation is a way of fife. Truly, in embracing .a religious life devoted to cloister and to .prayer, I chose a life-style immediately preparatory of contemplation. I had not, how-ever, counted on the life-style changing radically from one of cloister ~0 one of intense apostolic activity in interaction with the ,world. When that hap-pened, I scarcely knew which way to turn. Now, I realize, it didn't even matter, God lives, in the world. God created that world, and made of it his' own cloister. The more we know and interact with God's world, provided we. keep aware of what, in fact, we are about, the more imbued with God we be-come. On silver trumpets, my parish has called forth the name of God from every cornet wherein I have sought him and his people, and from other corners into which, unseeingly, and unknowingly, Ihave wandered. J I have found God vibrantly alive in people's homes; on the deserted city streets which I may be walking at midnight; in ch6i'ch; in poverty; in fasting as well as in restaurants; in priest and in people; in the hitchhikers I have picked up; in the cold, wet weather and the .Seattle sun; in the puddles I have plodded through and on the dry, comfortable kneelers in church; in the pants I wear,to keep warm and in the skirts I adopt to look good; in the faces of parishioners and in the stranger's' smile I meet at an intersection when-we bump into each other and apologize; in Protestant ministers and in Catholic laity. ' God encompasses me. He attends my lying down°and my getting up. His shadow cools me in the day and ~warms me at night. He guards my "waking hours and my broken dreams. He loves me alone in the midst of crowds. God is my be-all and end-all; he is my life. And that, I think, is contemplation. I have reached it, at last. Prayer and Freedom of the Spirit Maria Edwards, R.S.M. Sister Maria is Secondary Rdigious Educ'ation CoOrdinator ,for the diocese of Nash-ville. Her last article in these pages appeared in the July, 1976, issue. ,Her office is located in the Catholic Center;. 24~00 21st Ave. S.; N~shville, TN 37212. One day Jesus stood up in the synagogue and read the~following passage from Isaiah: "TheSpirit of the Lord has been given to me;°for he'~has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclai~m freedom to captives, and new sight to the blind, to set all captives free, and to proclaim the Lord's year of favor" (Lk 4:17-19). As ~eligious are we able to affirm the statement that the Spirit of the Lord has .been given to and accepted by us; are we certain that he has anointed us and called us his own? The more certain we are of his love and his presen~e~ the clearer do we hear his invitation to. proclaim .the good news, to be his special ministerg,'to be his disciples. As we allow the.Spirit room to move in our lives, we begin to feels, the urgency to help others to be more aware and more open to the working of the Spirit. within them. People are yearning to hear that this is the year of the Lord's favor for them, that now is the day of salvation. Prayer is our proclamation that Jesus is risen and is living, among us--that he not. only exists but that he is present and alive in all who believe in him. Prayer is our expression of hope in times that to many ~people seem hopeless. It is our conviction ,of faith, lived in'a world that seeks proof for everything. It is our experience of love reaching out and touching persons who are the abandoned, the forgotten;° the bitter, the disappointed, the poor, the disgruntled, the spiritually blind. Prayer is freedom! It is life lived in the fullest manner, for through, prayer we are healed and set free again and again. We are con-stantly being formed into new creations, into the very image of God, How many of us have been set free by the love of the Lord and then 535 536 / Review [or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 have allowed ourselves to be bound up again? How many of us are like Lazarus waiting for Jesus to call us forth again from the tomb of our own selfishness, our own complacence, our own indifference to a world that needs our help in order to be set free? How many of us are still bound up by our past lives, our past experiences, experiences which may have hurt us so deeply that we have vowed never to open ourselves to love again for' fear of being crushed again in the process? How many of us have wrapped our-selves up in our own burial cloths and have settled down for a long, slow, comfortable death? To live as Christians in complete freedom demands too much effort, too much dying to selfishness. "If today you hear my voice, harden not your hearts." In God's eyes it is never too late to begin again. He wants us free to love and be loved. Will we give the Spirit full reign in our hearts and lives? Are we willing to risk being a part of what we pray for: peace, love, joy, hope, freedom? Are we ready to take responsibility for our prayer, no matter what the cost? Can we honestly place our lives freely and unreservedly in God's hands? If we refuse to take the risk with Jesus, our prayer will become a selfish enslavement rather than a real liberation in the Spirit. "For freedom Christ has set us free; remain free therefore, and do not submit again to the slavery of sin . . . for you were called to freedom, brothers, but do not use your freedom to do. wrong, but use it to love and serve each other as the Holy Spirit directs . If you are living by the Spirit's power, then you will follow the Spirit's leadings in every part of your liv.es" (Ga 5: l ; 13; 25). What Is Freedom? Freedom is being open to new awarenesses of who we are, who God is, and what life is and holds. Persons who are truly free are persons who are able to live in faith. They are in touch with, and willing to share their weak-nesses as well as their strengths; they are able to grow with the pain as well as with the good times. Since they are people of faith, people who believe in the now, they are also people of hope, people who believe in the tomor-row. They admit that they do not have all the answers, that they do not possess all the truth, and this very admission sets them free to grow in the spiritual life. ,. Definitions or descriptions of freedom are as varied as the persons en-deavoring to explain them. But to Jesus "freedom" meant everything. It meant his very life. "I have come that they might have life and have it to the full" (Jn 10:10). He came to free the captives. He never forced freedom on anyone; he generously offered it to everyone. With his life, death, and resurrection he freed us all from sin and guilt, anxiety and fear. Are we daily allowing him to heal and free us in prayer--from loneliness, a sense of rejection, lack of self-respect, narrow-mindedness? How difficult it often is for us to choose life over death! "I have set before you life and death, Prayer and Freedom of the Spirit / 537 the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendents may live by loving the Lord. " (Dt 30: 19). Jesus daily reminds us that he is the way, the truth and the life as he gently calls us to follow him. God is infinitely patient as he waits for his people.to make choices. He is in-finitely patient as he waits for his chosen people to choose him. The type of freedom that the Lord offers us is so special that no indi-vidual or group can take it from us. It is essentially an inner 'attitude, a whole orientation toward life that is deeply implanted within those who believe. The well-known Austrian psychiatrist, Viktor Frahkl has written about this type of freedom from his own experience in his book Man~s Search for Mbaning.1 During the horrible years spent in a concentration camp in World War II, he often meditated on the meaning of freedom in his ~own life. Everything was taken from the prisoners---family, possessions, status, and identity itself (they were known as numbers). But after months and years in such an environment he was able to say that everything can be robbed of a man but one thing, the greatest of human freedoms: to choose one's own attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own life, one's own way. In the midst of his suffering, God and prayer became living realities to Frankl. It was the "freedom to be" that prayer gave to Frankl. He was a prisoner on the outside, but a free man on the inside. No person, no torture, no enticement could motivate him to give up his God-given freedom. Many people have the tendency to think that the two words, "motivation" and "causation," have the same meaning, but that is not true. No one can cause us .to be or do what we do not wish; people can only motivate. There are some religious who state that their bitterness or lack of interest is caused by hurts that they have received in the past. If they are bitter it is because they have chosen bitterness; they have chosen not to forgive and forget; they have chosen not to be healed and set free. This may seem a hard saying but after reading Frankl~s life it seems more evident than ever. No one is to blame for our lack of freedom but us ourselves. We can never anticipate what we might do in any given circumstance of the future, but we can make prayer such a part of our very .being that we can always be assured of being able to pray, and hopefully we will always have the courage to pray. It is this quality of courage, this growing awareness of our constant need to, pray,, that enables us to be listeners to and followers of the Spirit, to step into the uncertainty of the darkness knowing that God's presence is ever with us. The more we pray the more certain of his presence we become. Doubts will never cease to drift into our lives, but doubts give rise to the opportunities we need to choose the Lord: It might be well to remember that the Lord wants to be chosen, that he does not wish to be taken for granted in our lives. 1New York: Washington Square Press, 1959. 5311 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 Freedomand Commitment W~hen talking about freedom in a Christian ~context, by necessity the aspect of commitment must be touched upon. Some of the major crises in our .lives and in our times occur because of lack of meaning, lack of purpose, lack of hope, and especially lack of love on the part of individuals and of groups. If' we are living as committed Christian religious we should be filled with purpose, with meaning, with love. Commitment implies total giving of self on a. daily basis; it implies new discoveries of faith and love. Each of us has, forfeited certain freedoms in preference for a particular freedom-- Jesus Christ himself. We have chosen a definite life-style, we have chosen a vowed life. .In :searching the gospels there is one thing we can be certain of: Jesus wants committed followers. He never minced any words on the subject: "He who is noLwith me is against me, and he who does not ~gather with"me scatters" (Mt 12:30). Either we receive these words with joy or we live our lives as religious in misery. All the~.rationalization in the world cannot blot out the bold pass, age: "How I wish you were one or the.other--hot or cold! But because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth!" (Rev 3: 15-16). He asks us to make a choice daily, either be hot or cold~ but for God's sake make a choice. Are we setting any captives free; are we allowing others who love us to set us free; are we feeding ~any poor people; do ~we have something and Someone to give to the spiritually blind; are we signs, of faith and hope to the people.with whom we live and the people we endeavor to serve? We must not wait until, we are "perfect" before we begin to live out the gospel message. We must try to live the gospel message even in our profound weak-ness and°then we will be on the road to perfection!: How many minutes a day do we spend reading and praying over the Word of God; how ~any minutes a day do we spend living it out? .How many minutes a day do we spend growing closer to the One with whom we will live for all eternity? God needs our commitment; God so needs :our lives. The whole history., of God's chosen ones is the story of a people claim-ing to have responded fully to God's words to follow him in freedom, while in, actuality most were too bound up in their own sicknegs and powerless-ness to let the Lord, call them forth and free them. But Jesus° makes the process "too" simple: "Give up all that you have and come follow me!" What a risk that kind of freedom involves. It seems so frightening and yet all we have to do is to, let ourselves be filled .with God, to empty ourselves in prayer, so that .he can fill us with himself. Prayer can lead us to total commitment; prayer can free us sothat we can continually make total commitment~ As religious we need one another to support us in our choices, in our prayer and in our commitment. Although our lives as religious do not depend solely on whether or not those around us live in a Christian way, Pr~ayer and Freedom~o]~ the Spir!ti~ / 539:. we have to admit that living with those persons who are kind, loving, and service-oriented naturally encourages us to be and do likewise. The Lord told us to form community, to carry one another's burdens freely. We must nev.er give up trying to make Jesus the center of our community life. We may be "a voice crying in the desert" but if we cease to cry we may soon cease to care. The cry says that we need one another; the cry says that we are almost dying on the inside and we want to live again'; the cry says that we have not yet arrived. "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free" (Jn 8:31-32). To be free, then, is really to be able to follow our quest for the truth, to be able to fulfill our potential for spiritual growth. Conclusion Prayer is our witness to an unbelieving world that the Lord is present and living within us. Prayer opens us up to choose freely God and life over nothingness and death. We must .decide in what ways' we are bound, in what ways we.need to be set free. We must believe'that God loved us so much that he sent his Son to take on our flesh and our weakness in order that we might be led to freedom in the Spirit. The Lord wants his religious to be free. In his eyes each a~ad every living person is special and beloved. As religious we should know this even though others do inot .know of their specialness. In prayer each day let us hand over to the Lord all '.of our fears, our dreams, our burdens, our insecurities, our hopelessness, and even our faithlessness, If we want to be free we can The,.Lord not .only accepts us and loves us unconditionally, but he gives us the~freedom to choose to be changed. This change begins the moment we say~a total yes to.him and allow him to set us free in the Spirit. Off COmmitment to the Poor Gerald R. Grosh, S.J. Father Grosh, in addition to teaching theology at Xavier University (Cincinnati), also gives retreats and resides at the Jesuit Renewal Center; P.O. Box 289; Milford, OH 45150. We live in a divided society. We live in a society in which the clamor of the oppressed rings forth to all people to struggle, for love and justice and peace in our world. The poor, especially those in the Third World, cry out that they cannot live as human beings, that they have no sense of their own value as persons, because the structures of society keep them from feeling their own dignity. Many men do not earn enough to provide the basic necessities for wife and family. Many do not receive an honest day's pay. Often the system is such that a man cannot even get a job; or, if he does get one, it is only through political favoritism and not on his own merit as a man and a worker. Today the poor are crying out that they are op-pressed by the system--political, social, economic, and cultural--and thus are robbed of their dignity as human persons. As religious we have a choice, just as all people have a choice in the face of this reality. We can shut our ears and refuse to hear, we can close our eyes and refuse to see the misery and suffering of the poor. Or we can let this reality sink in. "The poor we have always with us"; but today men and women are shouting that this poverty is unnecessary, that it is the result of the evil and greed of men---even of so-called "committed Christians." The poor and the hungry throughout the world are calling for brother-hood, freedom, justice, love and sharing. These are the values of the kingdom which Christ preached. Meditation on the gospels reveals Jesu.s as a man of love, as a man who entered into our situati0n--the human situation, the concrete situation of the people of his time. He, too, lived in a divided society; and in this divided society he drew close to those who were weak and oppressed. He challenged those who were: the organizers 540 On Commitment to the Poor / 541 within this society; he preached the kingdom. He preached the reconcilia-tion of man; he effected justice. The values of his kingdom were brother-hood, freedom, justice, 10ve and sharing; and in order to realize these goals he found himself in conflict---especially in conflict with money, honor and power. If a religious is one who espouses the values of Christ's kingdom he must espouse brotherhood, freedom, justice, love and sharing. Like Christ, he too must draw near to the poor, the weak, the oppressed. And it is impor-tant for him to reflect on why he commits himself to the poor. There are many possible reasons: ideological, political, reasons arising from sadness because of the sufferings of the poor or from guilt because of the injustice they suffer. As religious, our primary motivation is simply Christ and the desire to announce Christ and his kingdom. We believe in the values which Christ preached. Jesus committed himself to the poor and the oppressed. The ~call to religious today, as well as to all Christians, is to follow Christ, doing in our day what he did in his, that is, doing justice and effecting reconciliation. Frankly, some of us do not want to do this because we are too attached to the comfortable life-style in which we now live. Others are afraid to abandon the security that the system provides them. For these people, a conversion is necessary--a conversion which depends on the Lord's grace. But there are also many religious who do see the need for commitment to the poor, though they are confused as to how they might respond. Many are using their talents in important work, and they are so overwhelmed and overworked that they find little time to reflect on or to act on a commitment to the poor. The question before them is how the way in which they lead their lives can reflect a genuine concern for the poor. The present article will attempt to offer these religious some concrete suggestions as to how they might commit themselves to the poor. Becoming ln]ormed ~ If we are really to help the poor, we must know their needs. We must hear the national and international cries of the poor and oppressed. We must know how the);" want to be helped, rather than how we think they want to be helped. First,hand experience, wit_h the poor will clarify our perspective a great deal. But many of ~us are very busy people and our present commitments m~y not allow much time for this. Most cannot do first-hand investigating. That means we have to choose to whom we are going to listen. As we filter the information we receive, we must always keep in mind what truly beriefits the poor, what helps them grow and respect themselves as persons. Personal Contact We are incarnate people; our physical presence has Significance. The poor suffer from a lack of dignity. They cannot choose where they live; 54~2 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/4 perhaps we can. When some of us religious choose to live in their neighbor-hood, they can gain anew respect for themselves. Yet not all can or should live among the poor. Living among the poor depends on a personal call.and on the different, psychological drives of each person. Furthermore, the ghetto life is already overcrowded; we don't need thousands of people suddenly pouring themselves into homes in the ghetto, though it is obvious that each one of us needs some material contact and sharing in the lives of the poor if we are really to enter into their world and commit ourselves to them and to their struggles. Contemplating th~ Lives o[ the Poor One's stance before the poor should be contemplative--that is, one has to listen, and to listen long. We come from our own cultural and economic backgrounds through which we have accepted many blind biases. We.have to listen long to the poor to discover their values and ways of looking at things, thus destroying our own ideological blocks and preconceived notions. As we listen, we shall discover some values that are quite attractive: simplicity, joy, hospitality, and sharing. We shall also discover their in-security. Their insecurity is not an experience that we can ever enter into fully. We cannot live their insecurity, their closed horizons, their closed present; we can never really lose our status. But we can enter into the way that they try to deal with their insecurity. We can enter into the security that they .can have in material work and in brotherhood in the Lord. We can recognize in their values the presence and action of the Lord in their lives and we can respond, to this in faith. As we contemplate their suffering and pain, we may also discover some attitudes which are very different from our own, attitudes with ~egard to sex, for instance, or violence, or deceit, or the struggle between classes. We need to listen long to understand what their attitudes are really saying. For example, a poor person may try to manipulate you or deceive you in the hope of getting some material gain or economic help. We Can judge this out of our own moral system, applying to it the valu~ that we put on honesty an'd truth, on honest communication. Such a judgment may be perfectly sound according to our own biases and cultural values. But it fails to take into account the real, lived situation in which the poor person exists, a situation that we have never really experienced. If we enter into the world of the poor man, we may discover that what~he is really saying is that h,~is situation is so bad, that the system is so destructive of who he is, that he desperately needs this economic help and will go to any length to get it. Contemplation does not mean a blind acceptance of what the poor say or what they ask for; but it does mean that we really try to listen to them, tO see where they are coming from, and to understand what their experience is. We try to judge their actions and,our response from the gospel: what.helps the poor man to be more a person? On Commitment to the Poor / 543 Questioning Our Own Lives From the Experience of the Poor It is not just simply a presence among the poor or a contemplation of their lives and their values to which we are called. We are called also to look at ourselves and the lives we lead in comparison with the lives and experi-ences of the poor. We need to enter into the suffering that they experience because of the system--the political, social and economic system of our times. Thus it is fruitful to experience the frustrations that the poor endure as a matter of course. Try to experience dealing with the power structures without, using "cc~nnections," and get the same run-around that the poor receive. Travel by bus not in order to save money, but simply because this is the experience that the poor have; Such experiences might enable a per-son to question his life more fully in the light of the experience of the poor. We must be rea

Issue 20.5 of the Review for Religious, 1961. ; HENRI HOLSTEIN, S,J. The Mystery of Religious Life Religious life1¯ interests contemporary man; this in-terest, in fact, constitutes one of the curious, paradoxes of our times. However surprising and unexpected this may seem to be, our contemporaries' interest in religious life is shown by the success of the novelized memoirs of ex-religious, especially when they are .transposed to the film. Books about religious are a financial success; this is true even in the case of expensive publications like the recent volume of Mo_nsieurs Serrou and Vals on the Poor Clares;2 this volume, illustrated by remarkable photographs that give the reader a realization of the life of the religious, is a continuation of a series on various comtemplative orders of men and women. Mademoiselle Cita-Malard, who lived with the permission of the Holy See0within the cloister of most of the important orders of women and who is able to make them known in an intelligent and respectful fashion, has published a brief, well-written volume to in-troduce French readers to "a million religious women."a And on. the stage in Paris, Monsieur Di~go Fabri presents the Jesuits4 to an audience which from all appearances:is deeply attentive and thoughtful; by means of a somewhat flamboyant plot which the playwright has imagined on the frontiers of that part of the world cut off by the iron cur-tain, the problem of the contemporary apostolate is placed'~ What is the source of this interest and curiosity which in general is sympathetic even if it is aroused by anecdotal or vestimentary details rather than by what is essential 1 This article was originally a conference given at the University of Louvain as the conclusion of a series of lectures on religious life. !t is reprinted with permission from Revue des communautds re-ligieuses, v. 33 (1961), pp. 65-~9. * Les Clarisses: les pauvres dames de sainte Glaire d'Assise. Paris: Horay, 19fi0. ~ Un million de religieuses. Paris: Fayard, 1960. ¯ A critical review of this drama was given by P. L. Barjon, S.J. in Etudes, February, 1961, pp. 251-57. ' "4. ,4. "4. Henri Holstein, s.J., teaches theology at the Institut Catholiqu, e in Paris. '~ ~' VOLUME 20, 1961 317 Henri Holstein, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 318 to religious life? I believe the reason is that religious poses a problem for modern man; in its own way religious life is a sign of contradiction which ~ angers, shocks, and at times arouses iriescapable questions. If one reflects and considers the matter, religious life by its an.d by its numbeis is a social fact to which modern man can not remaiff~ indifferent, desacralizedas he and living in a paganized atmosphere. This has been stated by Mademoiselle Cita-Malard when she writes religious women, the number of whom she estimates to a million: Is it not a paradox that out of two and half billion human beings and out of about five hundred million Catholics, million women have renounced forever--and in most cases even before personal experienc.e in the matter--the pleasures and the servitudes of the flesh and that they have stripped them-selves of everything, even their own will, either to follow publicly the strict and minute obligations which impose COmmon life on them or to free themselves for a more or !hidden apostolate in their milieu and prof~ssi0n, an apostolate which makes of their life an Oblation without reserve? What have pledged themselves to is directly opposed to the liberties claimed by Ouroindependent, self, centeoroed, sensual age? To this situation, so loudly underscored by:t_he indiscrete means of communication of our era, only we canbring answer by our life and our witness. Doubtless, this Witness will come from religious themselves, for, eveh if people do'not admit it to us, they nevertheless watch u~; si'nce dress and our way of life attract their attention; but witness will come especially from Catholics who Should able to explain to any man of good will what religious in the Catholic Church means. Accordingly; I hope present to y6u what, you already know in a kind of theo-logical synthesis and to give you in ~a simple way :the stitutive essentials of the religious life. Of the two partsof.this conference, the first will attempt [o show religious life as the fullness of baptism; the second will emphasize the .nature 6[ the witness given in and the Church by the religious who is a witness of heaven w~ll as a witness of the love of Jesus Christ for all men, brethren. Religious Life the Fullness~ of Baptism "Religious life," canon 1law tells us, "is a s~able c~o~mmunity way of ili[e in ~hich the faithful besides precepts common to all propose to observe as wello th evangelical counsels, through the vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty" (c. 487). ~ Un million de religieuses, pp. 6-7. ~ In constitutions ~nd, vow formulas the,order is usually reversed "poverty, chastity, and obedience." Was not the purpose of th legislator, however, to show here the p~eeminence of the vow o obedience as mentioned in the well-known text of John XXIII o this matter? ~ In analyzing the obligations of religious life, this legal text first mentions the precepts common'to all Christians to which, it is evident, religious are also bound. It then adds .that besides these religious take on the observance of the evangelical counsels, obligating themselves to these by the observance of the required vows lived out not in isolation but--as far as there is question of religious life in the proper sense of the term--in a stable and commun-ity life. This description might seem to say that religious life claims of those who profess it something more than the Church demands of "ordinary Christians/' This, however, would .not be completely exact. Our Lord's command to be perfect as the heavenly Father holds for al.1, and the exigencies of baptism are the same for all the faithful. But the religious, in responding to a call that comes from our Lord and is acknowledged as such by. the Church when she admits to the vows of religion, intends to live this baptismal perfection in aradical way that by a definitive and irrevocable intention suppresses, the obstacles that might hinder or retard his fervor. "Every Christian," Pius XII said, "is invited to strive with all his powers for the ideal of Christian perfection; but it is realized .in a more complete and.sure way in. the states of perfectton. In religious life there is no question of a Christian ideal 3f life other than that~imposed on every baptized person; it is rather a matter of a complete and total effort to live 3ut in an authentic way the life begun by baptism. The .ame program of perfection is proposed to all; the Gospel s directed to all Christians; religious know no other code of perfection. The originality of religious consists in the ~doption'of radical means which permit them to give full ealization to their baptism; this is done in a prescribed ¯nd organic way within an institute or religious family :pproved by theChurch. In response to a call of our Lord, ,there takes place, at he beginning and origin of religious life a consecration vhich is complete and irrevocable for the heart which hakes it even before the person's lips are authorized to ormulate it publicly before the Church. This consecra-ion, which has .all the fervor and generosity of those -spousals with our Lord of which S~t. Paul speaks, is a lear-sighted and exacting renewal of baptismal-consecra-ion. .~ The life of every Christian is a consecrated one, since n ineradicable character marks it with the baptismal par-icipation in the death and resurrection" of Christ. Every ,aptized person is conformed to Christ; that is, he is T Discourse of December 9, 1957. Acta dpostolicae Sedis, v. 50 ~958), p. 36. 4. 4. ÷ Religious 319 4. 4. 4. Henri Holstein, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 320 regenerated to His likeness, is a member of His Body, and in Him is an adopted son of the Father, Religious profession is not a second baptism: there can be no such thing, but only renewals, more or less fervent, of the baptismal promises. Religious profession--and this is its grandeur and its seriousness---is a decisive act which binds the one who makes it to the obligation of a strict living out of his baptism by forbidding to him everything which could be opposed to the life of the new man. The negative aspects of religious life--separation, re-nouncement, despoiling--which are the first things to capture the attention of the general public as well as of relatives who are present at an investiture or a profession, are nothing else than the execution of this program of radi-cal renouncement which baptism implies. "We are dead with Christ . " says St. Paul. "Regard yourselves as dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus. Let sin rule no longer in your mortal body . " (Rom 6:8-12). The demands of baptism are understood by the religious with a total fullness. If it is necessary to renounce sin, then it is necessary to separate oneself from all the occasions of sin, from everything which would be capable of attaching us to a master other than Christ, from-that world for which Christ refused to pray. To renounce sin, says St. Paul, is to refuse to submit to lust. Accordingly, the re-ligious renounces those earthly lusts which are represented by money, by the body, and by self-will; he separates him-self from these by his vows of poverty, chastity, and obedi-ence which in their very austerity represent for him a welcome liberation. In this there is no unconscious self-pity or masochism'. There is only the liberating conclusion of a logic which dares to take literally and without gloss or casuistry the abrupt words of the Gospel. Ever since an Anthony left his town and his family to bury himself in the desert when he heard read in church the gospel passage, "Go, sell what you own," and ever since a Francis of Assisi despoiled himself of all he possessed and returned it all--even :his clothing--to his father, religious life has known the joyous liberty of understanding our Lord literally and ol leaving all to follow Him. This would ,be a childishly imprudent act were it not dictated by a total confidence in the promise of our Lord "The folly of youth," say the wise, when they hear of young men and young women who joyfully put themselves withir the cloister or who bring themselves to enclose their whoh lives within the barriers of obedience and chastity, But i is.not the folly of youth; it is the folly of God who is wise than the wisdom of the prudent, For it is not s~lf-con fidence which brings a person to religious life; and if on should enter in a burst of enthusiasm, the long month of the novitiate would suffice to extinguish it. What leads one to religion is a humble confidence in our Lord who calls, a confidence that is capable of checking an under-standable apprehension and even at times a fear bordering on panic. Like St. Peter, the r~ligi6us makes up'his mind to let down the net only at the word of Jesus. And when the inevitable illusions of the first fervor have yielded place to that maturity of religious life which has been described so profoundly and accurately by Father Voillaume in his recent Lettres aux [raternitds of the Little Brothers of Jesus, then there appears in all its naked grace the power of hope to sustain the religious. More than in his early days, he realizes that what he proposes is humanly senseless; but he also realizes that the power of our Lord sustains him day after day and that it allows him to ad-vance up the steep road which he has chosen. Those who come to us, St. Ignatius of Loyola used to say to his first companions, must pray over it for a long time so that "the Spirit who urges them may also give them the grace of hoping to be able to carry the weight of their vocation with His aid.''s But religious life must not be defined by its negative characteristics, as though a religious placed his. happiness in the restrictions of strict cloister and of stifling prohibi-tions. The truth about religious life--and unfortunately this was left in the shadows in thememoirs of Sister Luke --is that it is the road on which one accompanies Christ as closely as possible; it is the means of imitating and fol-lowing Him as loyally as human weakness permits. If he avoids the sources of earthly desires, the religious knows very well that this is done only to remove the obstacles which spring up between him and Christ. "Whoever wishes to be my disciple," said Christ, "must renounce himself, take up his cross, and follow me." It is not a case of the cross for the sake of the cross nor of suffering for the sake of suffering; it is for the sake of being with Jesus. As Charles de Foucauld wrote in his notes: I can not conceive of a love for Christ] without an overwhelm-ing craving for likeness; for resemblance, and above all for a share in the pains, difficulties, and hardships of life . To be rich, comfortable, living contentedly with my possessions when You Were poor, uncomfortable, living a painful life of hard labor for me . I can not love You in such a way. The separation and the renouncements of religious life which each day accomplish in the religious the "death with Christ" of his baptism are considered by him as so many means of resurrecting with Christ. Better still, his vows appear to him as the attitudes of a person already resurrected. s In Christus, v. 7 (1960), p. 250. 4. 4- 4. Religious Li]e VOLUME 20, 1961 321 Henri Holstein, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS For religious life is not a life of dying, it is a resurrected life. The Lord who is followed is not only the poor work-man of Nazareth and the crucified one of Golgotha, He is also the Lord of glory who appeared on the radiant morn-ing of Easter. And the One to whom virgins give them-selves on the morning of their profession and whom they choose as their Spouse is not only the agonizing Christ of Gethsemane but is as well the Lamb in the paschal splen-dor of His triumph. Already they belong to the procession of virgins who follow the Lamb wherever He goes; their virginal promise is the beginning of the eternal espousals which the Lamb intends to anticipate with them here on earth. By virginity, Christ becomes the only Spouse of their heart. At first view, the vow of chastity is a refusal. Its ef-fect seems to be that of a total renouncement--renounce-ment of the senses, renouncement of affection, renounce-ment of a family. It demands that one leave his family and it forbids all hope of ever founding a family. In reality, however, the vow of chastity is an assuming of a total and exclusive belonging to our Lord. The religious who as-sumes it refuses all idea of a partial belonging; thereby he expresses his desire for that total consecration which re-ligious life realizes as the fullness of baptism. This is the behavior of the new man for whom nothing of the old man, nothing of the partial, nothing of the worldly can make sense. Furthermore, chastity gives its meaning to .the vows of poverty and obedience which in turn give to it their own dimension not of repression, but of a complete spiritual expansion in a total love. For poverty is not the sad ac-ceptance of small privations and of petty dependence; it is the gesture of confidence by one who is no longer anx-ious about those things which the heavenly Father knows we have need of: Moreover, poverty is a refusal to be weighed down by the things of earth and by the cares which afflict those who possess things, making them always fearful of losing or decreasing their precious little treas-ures. The religious knows of another treasure: the love of our Lord which leaves him no time to be occupied in the acquiring of riches, the manipulation of capital, and the preserving of property. Poverty is the testimony of the love given to the divine Spouse by one who has chosen Him in an undivided way. Not~only does the religious place his confidence in Him with regard to his temporal life, he also detaches himself from every self-anxiety and from the monopolizing desire for possessions, d6ing this in order that he might give himself wholly to the Spouse of his soul. Chastity, which is the choosing of our Lord alone,~and poverty, which refuses to allow a person to be monop- lized by any selfish interest, mutually complement each ther. And by the conjunction of these two, obedience re-eives all its meaning. Obedience can easilyJappea~, to be n infantile submission; actually in the eyes of faith it is preferring of the will of God. Defined in the negative 2rms of renouncement of .initiative and independence~ bedience is a caricature that is ridiculous and hateful. It as value only so far as it is an ardent search for the good ,leasure of the One who is loved. Christ Himself said that Iis food was to do the will of His Father. Accordingly, the eligious has only one nourishment: the will of our Lord ;hich is the will of the Father who is the only guide of the ctivity of the only begotten Son: "I always do whatever s pleasing to him." The superior, this brother or this sister who commands ,le, is important for me only because he represents Christ. The abbot," says St. Benedict, "takes the place of Christ." t is Christ whom through faith I hear and see in _my uperior. The man does not interest me, even though he ,e a saint, a genius, or a dear friend. It is Christ who is the ,bject of my obedience; it is to Him that I render my .omage in performing what is commanded me in His ,ame. There is good reason for saying that "obedience is n attitude of faith and love only if it is chaste; that is, if t is inspired.by the exclusive love o,f 9ur Lord." Otherwise t becomes degraded and turns into an interested con- 9rmism or into an Unacceptable infantilism. In religious life, all the elements are consistent with.~ach .ther; chastity, which is an espousal and a consecration ~ Christ, gives its own characteristic mark to a life that is ,oor and dependent through obedience; for these two ows, if they are to be genuine in both great and little hings, imply an exclusive choice of Christ as the only pouse of one's soul. This is why there must be a question here of ~vows, of tatutory promises which oblige one's whole life, thereby arpassing the unstable impulse of a moment of fervor. ¯ ove demands definitive commitments, it engages the ,hole life, it gives assurance for the future. All this which among men is often only an illusion 'hich the future may soon contradict unless the love is ~oted in prayer and nourished by recollection is made ossible for the re.ligious by his original and constantly 2newed confidence in the grace of Him who has called. The religious vow is the instrument of that consecra-on which realizes the baptismal consecration in all the lentitude 9f its demands. If at first view it appears as an ll-out effort to excludeand eradicate the obstacles which re opposed to the perfection of baptismal life, neverthe-ss the religious vow signifies the total consecration of ÷ + ÷ Religious Li~e VOLUME 20, 196]. Henri Holstein, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 324 one's whole life to our Lord. It is included in the initia "consecration" which Christ made when He came into world: "I have come, O Father, to do thy will1" The Ser vant has no other intention than that of accomplishing work for which He was sent into the world; for tliat reasor His sole occupation will be to do the will of the Father In line with this consecration of our Lord and in ticipation of this "intention" of the Incarnate Word, religious places himself in the hands of God. As Fathe Bergh has said: The vow is the expression of a positive consecration to divim love. God loved above everything; there in short is the mean ing of religious life . Its program should not be enunciatec precisely in the abstract terms of poverty, chastity, and obedi ence, but rather under the concrete form 0[ a loving imitatior of Christ poor, chaste, and obedient, of Christ the Servant of th~ Father and of men? Religious Life a Witness in the Church Up to this point we have looked at religious life onl, from the viewpoint of a personal relation that unites to our Lord, Now, however, it is necessary to consider in the Church. To do this, we shall consider two points First, the significance of religious life in relation Church and second, the testimony ~to the Church whirl religious life gives to the world. What then does religious life signify in relation to Church?~In other words, why does the Church, withou whose consent there could not be ~ community or an stitute professing the life of the counsels, recognize amon[ her baptized children the existence of groups which order to live out their baptismal life in a more radical oblige themselves publicly to the observance of poverty chastity, and obedience? It seems to me that by the ligious life the Church expresses her own proper mystery The purpose of religious life is to concretize and to realization to the mystery of the bride who is without In the admirable fifth chapter of the Letter to Ephesians, St. Paul presents the Church as the bride whon Christ has chosen for Himself. In order to make her hol~ and to "present to himself the Church in all her glory, having spot or wrinkle," He delivered Himself for Being submitted to Christ, the Churcti has for Him deference and respect, the discreet and fervent love whicl the Bible constantly presents as the expression of the sponse of the creature to his Creator. This is a virgina union which is consummated in those "nuptials of Lamb" to which the angel invited the seer of the Apoc~ lypse: "Come, I will show you the spouse of the Lamb., "And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming dow, ~ In Revue diocesaine de Tournai, v. 15 (1960), p. 18. tom out of heaven from God, made ready as a young bride :dorned for her husband" (Ap 21:9,2), The holy bride has lo gifts other than those .given ~her by her Spouse--the :lorious heritage which He acquired by His Blood; could he, then, have any other desire thafi to follow her Spouse :nd to accomplish His entire will: "The Church," says ¯ aint Paul, "submits to Christ" (Eph 5:24)? ~ If all Christian living manifests in its own way the nystery of the Church, is it not fitting that certain ones hould have the particular duty:of manifesting the mystery ,f the virginal bride in its complete authenticity? These :re those who among all the redeemed have the singular ,rivilege of following the .Lamb wherever He goes; for 'they are virgins." Theirs is an absolute and undivided ove which blossoms in holy poverty and lov!ng obedience; t is the mystery of the Church and her consecrated ones. Through religious life the Church manifests her own ~roper mystery to herself and to the world.-This is why eligious life is so dear to her; it is the reason why through he voices of her leaders, especially the recent Popes, she ~ever ceases to increase her efforts to maintain the cor-ectness of religious life in its striving for sanctity: Holy Mother Church has always Striven with solicitous ~are nd maternal affection for the children of her predilection who ,ave given their whole lives to Christ in order to follow Him reely on the arduous path of the counsels that she might onstantly render them worthy of their heavenly resolve and ngelic vocation?° Religious, by reason of the vocation which surpasses hem and which they know themselves unworthy of, are an ntimate witness to the Church herself; at the same time hey are a witness of the Church to all those who see them ive. Nourished in the Church and directed by her, they ,ear witness to her and show forth that the Church in its nmost reality is truly the bride whom Christ has chosen or Himself. First of all, religious give testimony to the sense of God. )ur modern world has lost this to the extent, that even qany Christians do not understand the contemplative ire; their attitude is a questioning one: "Of what use is t?" To this I would answer that to judge religious life by ts relation to human utility is to condemn oneself to fisunderstand it. I readily maintain the paradox that eligious life is not justified by its usefulness for men but ,y its value in the sight of God. In its primary meaning it ppears useless to the city of man, for the precise reason hat it exists in its entirety for God. Speaking o[ contemplation, Mademoiselle Ceta-Millard uotes the phrase of Joan of Arc, "God the first to be _'rved." I would be tempted to einphasize this even more ~°Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 39 (1947), p. 114. 4- 4- 4- Religious Lile VOLUME 20, 1961 325 Henri Holstein, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS by saying,, "God the 0nly one to be servedl" This is wh there are in the Church contemplative orders, monasterie of prayer--Carmelites, Poor Clares, Carthusians, Tral~ pists. Their proper witness is to recall to men the im portance of prayer, the urgency of penance, the necessit for adoration. But this same witness is also given by every genuin religious life. Under pain of an anemia'that would quickl become fatal, religious life must always include prayel It can exist and is able to flourish only by reason of spirit of prayer which animates every hour of the day, n matter how filled it may be with the care of the sick, th education of children, the help of the aged or the undel developed. In order to create a suitable climate, there added to prayer religious observance, the rule of silenc~ cloister. One may be tempted to smile at these or to b scandalized by them. Every tradition can manifest a tain rigidity; at times inevitable minutiae may make n ligious life a little out-of-date or unadapted to the time But these are simple human weaknesses which the Churc herself does not hesitate to remedy. To judge religiou tradition by such details is to give proof of pettiness c spirit. W.hat is at stake here and what justifies the ot servances of religious life is the need and the desire to s~ up a favorable climate for prayer. For religious life is a present heralding and'anticipatio of the eternal life to which we are destined by our ba[ tism. It shows forth that this present world is not the onl one, but that there exists a true city in comparison wit which the city of this world with its bustle and its.narro~ cares is vanity. This is the often emphasized eschatologic~ meaning of the vow of chastity: It is an anticipation of th life of heaven; on this earth where the body and sensualit count for so much, it represents "the life of the angels as lived by beings of flesh and blood. Turned toward th heavenly Jerusalem, religious already attempt to live th~ which will be their condition in heaven. "That which will all be," said St. ,~mbrose to the virgins of his tim, "you have already begun to be, Already in this world, yo possess the glory of the resurrection; you live in time, bt without the defilements of time, In persevering in chastit you are the equals of the angels of God." This eschatological witness must be extended to th entirety of religious life. As Father Giuliani writes: Being .a complete break with the world, religious life is witness gwen to the Kingdom of God. Through his life of po erty, chastity, and obedience, the religious makes apparent reality that is begun here below for all, but which will be vealed in its fullness only in the world of the resurrection. is poor in order to affirm that God constitutes the riches of elect in the city of the blessed; he is chaste in order to affirm th there will be no other nuptials other than that of God and H people; he is obedient in order to affirm that the liberty of the creature consists in submission to the full accomplishment, of the will of God. Thus it is that in the Church on earth the re-ligious is a witness to the Church of glory,a But at the same time and by a sort of paradox, religious life also manifests in the Church the charity of Christ who willed to share our condition. To present religious life only as an anticipation of heaven risks considering it as a comfortable evasion, a charge, often enough directed against it. Are religious dispensed from one of the two facets of the great commandment, the one .that commands love of neighb.or? God forbid, for. then they would no longer be Christians. Besides, one has only to recall the multiplication in the Church of charitable orders, insti-tutes, and congregations to reduce to nothing the objec-tion of laziness and flight made against religious life. Contrary to this objection, it can be shown that religious life in its essence is a life of devotion to the neighbor. Pope Pius XlI in the constitution Sponsa Christi has stated this without ambiguity: Since the perfection of Christian life consists especially in charity, and since it is really one and the same charity with which we must love God alone above all and all: men ir~ Him, Holy Mother Church demands of all nuns who canonicallyproo fess alife of'contemplation, together with aperfect love of God, also a perfect love of the neighbor; and for the sake of this charity and their state of life, religious men and women must devote themselves wholly to the needs of the Church and of all those who are in .want. If out of love for Christ a religious consecrates himself to only one thing, the following of Christ as closely as 'possible, then it becomes unthinkable that he should be disinterested in the work of redemption, the salvation of the world. The love of God, which is sovereignly jealous, is also sovereignly generous; this love desires the good, even the temporal good, of all men. The commandment of mutual love .is primary for all religious, and religious life gives testimony in the Church to the charity of God. The witness of religious, then, will be a witness of fra-ternal charity, Of a charity that is patient, inventive, char-acterized by the unfetterable impulses of missionary zeal, of pedagogical discoveries, of parental solicitude. Is there a single kind of suffering, of sickness, or of infirmity which religious life has not sought to care for in the course of history? The almost infinite variety of hospital and teach-ing congregations represent a sort of diffraction of charity towards the neighbor; it is touching to discover at the origin of a given institute the desire to take charge of a particular type of misfortune which seemed to the founder not to have received sufficient care. Although admittedly "In Etudes, June, 1957, p. 397. 4- 4- + Religious Liye VOLUME 20, 1961 327 Henri Holstein, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 328 it is often overly dispersed, such an attitude is a magnifi-cent and multiform witness given by religious life of a tireless and tirelessly inventive charity, renewed each day by prayer and union with Christ. This last characteristic must be emphasized. The apos-tolate and the devotion of religious draw their strength and their constancy from the consecration of their life to the Lord. It is ~his consecration that enables religious to be kind and sympathetic to the unfortunate and the afflicted. Likewise it is this consecration that makes it possible for a religious to interest himself in everything that is human, in science, in literature, in the arts. Did not our Lord who took on Himself every infirmity, also assume by His in-carnation every authentic human value? Conclusion This is the witness to the Church which is constantly given in silence and modesty by religious life. It does give witness for itself, but for the Church which has it, accepted it, encouraged it, and which does not cease to be interested in it. Moreover the religious does not give testimony for his own limited congregation, but the entire Church of Christ. Religious life manifests the magnificent fecundity of Church of which the Vatican Council speaks, in the fra-ternal diversity of vocations and spiritualities, religious life is a permanent sign of both the catholicity and unity of the Church. For on the magnificent path which our Lord calls all of them to follow, there is the same love of Christ, the same faithful adherence to the Gospel as the unique rule of their attitudes, the same charity welcoming every appeal of suffering, of education, of the apostolate. And all this takes place in the calm and serene joy those who, having given Up all for our Lord, know that even here below they have 'received the hundredfold. Who are better witnesses than religious of the joy the children of God and of the children of the Church? True, they do not have a monopoly of this, for they lay claim to nothing, not even the peace which radiates from. their faces. But the joy of their Lord which they always bear about with them--they know well that no one can take it from them. The joy of religious life is perhaps the most constant and the most efficacious trait of its witness. This is so pre-cisely because it manifests itself spontaneous~ly without being conscious of itself and without imposing itself upon those it meets. Julien Green relates that on a walk in the United States during the .war he visited a scholasticate of religious order. To the young man who was showing him through the large establishment, he would have liked ask a single question, a question more important to him han all the details of architecture and of theological programs that the young man was giving him. The .fiues-tion he wished to ask was one addressed to the young man personally, since he was a person.about whom some might think that his ardent youth had been enclosed within the ~ad walls of a seminary and the complicated prescriptions of a rule. The question was this: "Young man, are you happy here?" But, continues the diary of the novelist, I :lid not have the courage to ask the question. "For my guide had about him the radiant air of those who feel themselves loved by heaven.''12 ~ Julien Green, Journal, v. 4, p. 106. ÷ Religious Lile VOLUME 20, 1961 329 I~'; 'LEGRAND The Prophetical Meanin of Celibaq ÷ L. Legrand is on the faculty of St. Peter's Seminary, Bangalore, India. REVIEW FOR ~RELIGIOU~S 330 When Jephte's daughter realized that she had to in fulfilment of her father's vow, she withdrew mountains "to bewail her virginity" (Jg 11:37-40).significant that what she laments over is her virginity For hers.elf, her father, her companions, and those wh~ recorded that tradition, what made her fate so pitifu was not the fact that she had to leave the world in bloom of her youth: this is a romantic view which not belong to the stern biblical times. For the Israelite the pathos of her story lies in the fact that she will experience the joys of matrimony and motherhood. will die a virgin, and it is a curse, a disgrace similar the shame attached to sterility (see Lk 1:25). The prophet have a similar thought in mind when, in their lamenta tions, they give the chosen people the title of "Virgin Israel": "Listen to my lamentation, house of Israel!. has fallen, she shall not rise again, the Virgin of Israel." this text Amos (5:2; see J1 1:8; Lam 1 : 15; 2:13), by callin~ Israel a Virgin, wants to emphasize her misery: she will like a virgin, without leaving any descendants. It is like echo, at the collective level, of the laments of Jephte' daughter. These examples show clearly that according to the Semitic mentality, virginity is far from being an It is a fecund matrimony which is honorable and a of God's blessings (Ps 126). The same applies to men L. K6hler remarks that the Old Testament has no wore for bachelor, so unusual is the idea.~ Christ will change that attitude towards celibacy 19:12). But can we not find already in the Old Testamen a preparation and an anticipation of His teaching? Towards the end of the Old Testament period at leas some groups among the Essenes observed celibacy. This article is reprinted with permission from Scripture, Octobe 1960. pp. 97-105, and January, 1961, pp. 12-20. =Hebrew Man (Loudon: S.C.M., 1956), p. 89. fortunately the authors who mention it are very vague on the motives of that observance. Josephus (The Jewish ,,War, II, 8; 2) and Philo (quoted by Eusebius in Prepara-tion for the Gospel, VIII, 2; Patrologia Graeca, 21, 644 AB), putting themselves at the level of their pagan readers, reduce the celibacy of the Essenes to a misogyny entirely void of any religious value: "They beware of the impu-dence of women and are convinced that none of them can keep her faith to a single man," says Josephus. Pliny (Natural History, V, 17) describes the Essenes as philoso-phers, "tired of life" (vita fessos), who give up. the pleasures of love: Essenian celibacy would be of a Stoician type, but evidently Pliny's competency can be doubted when it comes to interpreting the motives of a Hebrew sect. The Qumran texts might have given us an explanation, but so far on this. question they have not been Very helpful. Though they know of a temporary continence on the occasion of the eschatological war,3 they do not impose .celibacy on the members of the community. On the con-trary, the prologue of the m~inual for the future congre-gation speaks explicitly of women and children,4 and the discovery of female skeletons in the cemetery of the com-munity5 makes it cl~ar that at Qumran as in the sect of DamascusS---if the two sects were distinct--matrimony was at least allowed. In short, a few groups among the Essenes present an interesting case of pre-Christian celi-bacy; the study of thai case might throw some light on the New Testament ideal of virginity, but such a study is impaired by the lack of reliable explanation of their mo-tives. And when we come across first,hand contemporary documentation, it happens that it concerns a sect which ~id not observe celibacy as a rule. ~qremiah, the First Celibate Fortunately the Old Testament presents a much more ancient and clearer case of celibacy: the case of Jeremiah, "a virgin prophet and a figure of the Great Phophet who too was a Virgin and the son of a Virgin.''7 Jeremiah was apparently the first biblical character to embrace celibacy as a state of life. At least he is the first one to whom Scripture attributes celibacy explicitly. Others before him may have abstained from marriage. Ancient Christian writers often suppose that Elijah did so3 and make of him s The War o[ the Children o! Light, VII, 3, 4. iSee Theodore Gaster, The Dead Sea Scriptures (Garden City: Doubleday, 1957), p. 307. 5 See Revue biblique, 63 (1956), pp. 569-72; 6 Document o[ Damascu.~', IV, 20-V, 6; VII, 6-8. 7 Bossuet, Mdditations sur l'dvangile, 109th day. SSee the texts in Elie le prophOte (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1956), V, 1, pp. 165 and'189. But St. Augustine was not convinced of the celibacy of Elias: De Genesi ad litteram, IX, 6. 4, The Meaning Celibacy VOLUME 20, 1961 ,+ L. Legrand REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the father of monastic life. But the testimony of Scripture concerning Elijah is purely negative: no wife is mentioned, but the Bible does not speak of his celibacy either. Even if he remained a celibate, we have no indication as to the reasons that prompted him. Jeremiah, on the contrary, in his confessions speaks of his celibacy and explaim it. We may owe this insight on his private life to his intro-spective mood, another quality that was rare in ancient Israel. Anyway he provides us with the most ancient re-flection on celibacy. In it we can trace to its beginnings the biblical doctrine of virginity: The word of the Lord came to me saying: Do not take a wife; have no sons and no daughters in this place. For thus says the Lord concerning the sons and daughters that are born here and concerning the mothers that bore them and concerning their fathers who begot them in this land: They shall die miserably, without being lamented, without being buried. . They shall be as dung upon the face of the earth. They shall perish by the sword and by famine. Their carcasses shall be a prey for the birds of the air and the wild animals (Jer 16:1-4). Those are the terms by which Jeremiah explains his .celibacy. Are those verses to be understood as a positive order of God, given to the prophet when he came of age and enjoining him to abstain from matrimony? It might be said that celibacy was progressively imposed upon the prophet by the circumstances, his isolation, and the per-secutions that made him an outcast. Eventually he would have understood that beneath those circumstances there was a divine ordinance and, with typical Hebrew disre-gard for secondary causes, he would have expressed it in the literary form of an order. In any case, it is clear that Jeremiah gives his celibacy a symbolical value. The loneliness of his unmarried life forebodes the desolation of Israel. Death is about to sweep over the country, Jere-miah's forlorn celibacy is nothing but an enacted proph-ecy of the imminent doom. Calamity will be such as to make meaningless matrimony and procreation. Jeremiah's celibacy is to be understood as a prophecy in action. Symbolical actions were frequent among the prophets. Thus to announce the imminent captivity of the Egyptians, Isaiah walks naked in the streets of Jeru-salem (Is 20:1-6). Jeremiah breaks a pot to symbolize the destruction of the capital (Jer 19:1-11). Ezekiel makes a plan of the siege to come, cooks impure food as the famished inhabitants of the besieged city will have to do, cuts his beard and scatters it to the four winds as the population of Judah will be scattered (Ez 4:1-5:4). In some cases it was the whole life of a prophet which was given by God a symbolical significance: for instance, Hosea's matrimonial misfortunes symbolized the unhapPy~ relations between Yahweh and His unfaithful spouse Israel (Hos 1:3). Jeremiah's life too was symbolical. He lived in times of distress. He was to be a witness of the destruction of Sion. It was his sad duty to announce~the imminent deso-lation: "Every time I have to utter the word, I must shout and proclaim: Violence and ruinsl" (Jet 20:8). Still more: it was his tragic destiny to anticipate in his existence and signify in his own life the terrible fate of. the "Virgin of Israel." "The Virgin of Israel" was soon to undergo the fate of Jephte's daughter, to die childless, to disappear with-out hope. With his prophetical insight, Jeremiah could see already the shadow of death spreading over the coun-try. He could hear already the moaning of th~ land: "Teach your daughter this lamentation: Death has climbed in at our windows; she has entered our palaces, destroyed the children in the street, the young men in the square. Corpses lie like dung all over the country" (Jet 9:20-21). This was 'no mere Oriental exaggeration. What Israel was about to witness and Jeremiah had to announce was really the death of Israel. Israel .,had been living by the covenant and now, by the sin of the people, the cove-nant had been broken. The two institutions in which the covenant was embodied and through which God's graces came down upon the people, the two great signs of God's indwelling in the land. of His choice, the temple and the kingship, would soon disappear. Only a few years more and Nabuchodonosor would invade Judah, burn the sanctuary, enslave the king and kill his children. For the Israelites this would be the end 6f the world, the day of the Lord, day of doom and darkness, day of i~eturn to the original chaos (Jer 4:23-31; 15:2-4). Ezekiel will explain in a dramatic way the meaning of the fall of Jerusalem: the Glory of God will leave His defiled abode and abandon the land (Ez 8:1-11:25). Israel will die and nothing short of a resurrection will bring her back to life (Ez 37:1-14). When the exiles leave Palestine, Rachel'can sing her dirge at Rama (Jer 31:15): her children are no more. Israel as a people has disappeared. God's people has been dispersed. There are no more heirs of the promises and ~children of the covenant unless God repeats the Exodus and creates a new people. A testament is over. God's plan has apparently failed. Death reigns. Prophetically Jeremiah sees all that beforehand. He experiences it proleptically in his flesh. Excluded from the Temple (Jer 36:5), excommunicated so to say from his village (Jer 11:8; 12:6; 11:19-23) and from the community (Jer 20:2; 36:25), he will experience before the exile what it means to live estranged from one's country, away 4. + The Meaning Celibacy VOLUME 20, 1961 L. Legran~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from the Temple of the Lord. Before the Israelites he knows the bitter taste of a life which has no hope left on earth. "Never could I sit joyful in the company of those who were happy; forlorn I was under the power of thy hand for thou hadst filled me with wrath'~ (Jer 15:17). Thus was Jeremiah's life an anticipation of the im-minent doom. His celibacy too. When death :already casts her shadow over the land, is it a time to marry? "For thus says Yahweh Sabaoth, the God of Israel: Behold I will put an end, in this place, under your very eyes and in your very days, to the shouts of.gladness and of mirth, to the songs of the bride and of the bridegroom" (Jer ~16:9). An end of joy, life, marriage: the country turns into a sheol: there is no marriage and no begetting in the sheol. The command of the Lord to "increase and multiply" (Gen 1:28) assumed that the world was good (Gen 1:4, 10). But now 'that man's sin has aroused death, the Lord re-verses His command: "Do not take a wife; have no sons and no daughters in this place." Jeremiah's life of solitude announces the reign of death and anticipates the end of the world he lived in. His celibacy is in line with his message of doom. It is part of those trials by which "the most~suffering of the prophets," as St, Isidorus of Pelusia puts it;9 anticipates God's judgment. It is ~part of the sufferings which point to the cross, the final expression of God!s judgment. The solitude of the lonely prophet of Anatoth announces the dereliction-of the crucified vic-tim of Calvary. It has the same significance: it signifies the end of an economy in which God's promises and graces were entrusted to Israel according to the flesh and communicated by way of generation. This order dis-appears. When God will raise a new Israel, it will be an Israel according to the spirit .in which one will have access not by right of birth but by direct reception of the Spirit'(Jer 31:31-35). In such a people the fecundity of the flesh will have lost its value. The Negative Aspect of CelibacyI" "'On Account ol the Present Necessity" Replying to a question of the Corinthians concerning virgins, St. Paul's advice is to leave them" in that state: But,the explanation,he gives is not very clear; "I consider that it is better to be so on, account of the present neces-sity" (1 Cor 7:26). What is that "present necessity" that justifies celibacy? Catholic commentators (Cornely, Lemonnier, Allo, Cal-lan, W. Rees, Osty, and others) see in that "necessity;" as Osty puts it, "the thousand worries of married life,"x0 o In Patrologia graeca, 78, 356. ~ Epttres aux Corinthiens ~Bible de ]~rusalem) (Paris: Cerf, 1949), p. 40. or else the imminent persecutions "which'an unmarried person is better able to bear.''11 The standpoint of the Apostle would be purely individual, psychological or as-cetical. On him who is married the burden of the world is more heavy. The celibate, on the contrary, can devote himself fully to the service of God. ,~ Such a thought is certainly not foreign to St. Paul's mind: he expresses it in verses 39 to 35 of, the same chap-ter. Yet this does not seem to be for him a primary consider-ation. The immediate explanation he gives of his pref-erence for celibacy follows another line: "The time is short . The world in its present form is passing away" (vv 99- 31). This shows that his outlook is mainly collective and eschatological: the end of the world is~'drawing near: let us adapt our attitude to these new circumstances; it istime to detach ourselves from a ~d0omed world. "Even those who have a wife, let themlive as if they had none., and those who have to deal with the world as if they had not." Individual considerations are only an application,,of this iiew on the divine economy. It is because the'times we re' living in are the times of the end that it is better not to be burdened with matrimonial obligations, so as to be able to give one's undivided attention to God. The vocabulary used by St. Paul in this section confirms this ~schatological interpretation of his views on cdibacy. The words he uses clearly belong to the vocabulary of apocalyptic literature. The "necess.ity" (andgk~) .whs the technical term used to describe the crisis of the last times (Lk 21:23; 1 The~ 3:7; Ps.Sal,,5:8; Test jos,,2~.4.);.,in th~t sense it is akin to "tribulation (thlipsis) used l~e.re also to describe the present condition (v 98) a.nd which has also an apocalyptic value (Mt 25: 9-28; Ap 1.: 9~; 7:14; 2 Thes ! : 6), Similarly the term used for "time" in verse 29 (ttairos) 'is about a technical term for the period before the Ad-- vent''12 (see Rom 13:11; Heb 9:9; 1 Pet 1:5, 11). It is true that these terms are not always taken in their technical eschatological sense. But their convergence and the con-text make it clear that St. Paul sets virginity against an eschatological background. With Jeremiah he considers celibacy as a testimony that the last times have come, an attitude that presages the end. The difficulty of this interpretation--an.d what makes Catholic commentators to shrink from it--is that it seems to suppose in St. Paul the erroneous belief that the end bf the world was imminent. Can we 'accept such an ex-n W. Rees in Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture (Edin-burgh: Nelson, 1953), p. 1090. ~ A. Robertson andA. Plummer, First Epistle o[ St. Paul. (Edin-burgh: T. and T. Clark, 1911), p. 152 . ÷ ÷ ÷ The Mean~ing Celibacy VOLUME 20, 1961 L. Le~and REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 planation of celibacy without rallying to the consequent eschatology of A. Schweitzer?xa Prat, followed by Huby and Spicq, does not think the objection decisive. He accepts as possible the eschatologi-cal explanation of virginity. Quoting I Corinthians 7:26- 31, he explains: "Is it possible that Paul was haunted by the near prospect of the Parousia? We must not deny this a priori . Lacking certain knowledge, he might have formed an opinion based upon probabilities and con-jectures . It is at least possible that he guided his con-duct and his counsels by such probabilities.TM This inter-pretation can be defended, provided we attribute to Paul not a positive teaching concerning the imminence of an event, the day and hour of which none can know, but an opinion, a desire, a hope without certitude,x~ This is surely sufficient to safeguard biblical inerrancy and remain within the limits fixed by the Biblical Commission, Yet this exegesis is not fully satisfactory, for it leaves the im-pression that the eschatologic~il explanation~of celibacy should not be taken too seriously. It would be one of those views that reflect more the prejudices of the time than the Apostle's personal thought, like the arguments bY which Paul tries to justify the imposition of the veil-on women in the assembly (1 Cot 11:2-16) or the midrashic allusion to the rock following the Jews in the deser~t (1 Cor 10:4) Thus St. Paul would have used the naive expectation of an imminent Parousia to insist on virginity, but that would be a mer_e argumentum ad hominem that should not be pressed too "much. The real and solid ground fo~ celibacy would remain the personal and ascetical con-siderations sketched in verses 32 to 34. Accepting Prat's eschatological interpretation of Paul's arguments for virginity, it may be possible to go deeper b) comparing the thought of the Apostle with that of Jere-miah. Is not the "present necessity" of 1 Corinthians 7:26 parallel with the explanation Jeremiah .gave of his celi-bacy? If so, can we not find in Paul~s eschatological justifi. cation of virginity a lasting value, something much deeper than a pious illusion? It all amounts to a proper evaluation of his eschatolog~- cal hope. Was it a delusion which he had, but which he avoided expressing firmly? Or was it on the contrary a 18 See the decree of the Biblical Commission of June 18, 1915 in Enchiridion Biblicum, 2nd ed. (Naples: D'Auria, 1954),'nn. 419--21. a, The Theology o[ St. Paul (London: Burns, Oates, and Wash bourne, 1926), V. 1, p. 112. Prat explained his mind still more clear!} in a few pages of his final chapter on "The Last Things" which h~ suppressed to satisfy an over-zealous censor. These pages have been published in Prat's biography I~y J. Cal~s, p. 99. a~j. Huby, Ep~tres aux Corinthiens (Paris: Beauchesne, 19.46); W Rees also (op. cir.) accepts an eschatological influence on St. Paul't thought on virginity. central element of his faith and of his spiritual outlook? O. Cullmann, for the early Church in general, and L. Cerfaux, for St. Paul in particular, have shown that is the second view which is true. There is much ~ore than a question of knowing whethei~ Paul or the early Church ex-pected or not an imminent Parousia. For them and for us, the heart of the matter is not the date of the Par0usia but its significance. In Cullmann's terms, what is the connec-tion of the present period of history (the times of the Church) with the past (death and resurrection of Christ) and the future (final resurrection)~1~ The problem is not chronological but theological. St. Paul may or may not have been under the impression that Christ was to return soon. This is rather °immaterial and irrelevant. What matters is that, for him, and for the early Christians, ours are the last days (Acts 2:16 if). The last hour has begun with the death of the Lord (1 Jn 2:18), How long will it be? Nobody knows, but it is clear that now, in Christ, history has reached its end and what we wimess now in the world is the consummation of the end: "The world goes disappearing" (1 Jn 2:i7). The Apocalyp~ses of St. John and of the synoptic Gospels show in a veiled language that the trials the Church has to undergo are the fore-running signs of the consummation, and St. Paul explains that the individual tribulations of the Christians are their share of the Messianic woes (Cor 1:24).xr The present period may be short or long: after all, "with the Lord, one day ,is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day" (2 Pet 3:8). In any case, Chris-tian life is thoroughly eschatological in character. What-ever may be the actual date of the Parousia, we live after the end of history has been reached. We are just waiting for the consummation of the end, we turn towards it and we prepare it. Parous.ia hangs so to say over our life: even if chronologically it may be still distant, it is theologically imminent: it is the only development of the history of salvation that we can expect, and it gives its color to our outlook on things. Seen in the light of faith, the history we live in and our personal fate appear as signs of the end. Celibacy is one of those signs: it shows that the last times have come. It proclaims that the world is disap-pearing. The end has come. Man's primary duty is no more to continue the human species. It is on the contrary to free himself from a fleeting world which has already 10 O. Cullmann, Christ and Time (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1950), 17 In Col 1:24 "tribulationes Christi" should be translated "the messianic woes" and not "the sufferings ot Christ" (it is thlipsis and not path~ma). The phrase does not refer to the sufferings of our Lord but, according to a terminology common in Judaism, to the trials God's people had to undergo to reach the messianic times, the birth pangs of the new world. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Meaning Celiba~'~ VOLUME 20, 1961 REVIEW FOR REI.IG]OUS lost its substance. This is not an attitude of panic before a threa, tening disaster. It is rather an act of faith in the significance of the Lord's death, beginning of the end. Thus Paul understood virginity exactly as Jeremiah. Jeremiah did not know the date of the destruction of Jerusalem: it is not the role nor the charisma of the prophets to give a chronology of the future. But'one thing he knew for certain: on account of the infidelity of the people, the former covenant had become void. Conse-quently the old institutions like the Temple and the kingship would break like empty shells and Israe!, aban-doned by God, would collapse. H~ knew that his was a time of death. The nuptial songs 'would be replaced by lamentations. Marriage and procreation had lost their meaning. The prophet showed it by his own life: his celibacy was an enacted lamentation. Similarly, St. Paul did not know the date of the end. But he knew for certain that the world had condemned it-self by condemning Christ and that the worldly powers had been nailed down on the cross. It was God's plan to leave some interval before the actual end of all, time to: allow the mystery of iniquity to reach its climax and the Church to spread all over the w~rld. During that time life was to continue and marriage was still legitimate. Yet even married people had to understand that they were no longer of the world they were in. Still using the world, they had to be detached from it. Even in marriage they had to bring an attitude of freedom, a tension towards a higher form of love, the love of Christ 'towards His bride the Church (see Eph 5:25-33). And itis quite fitting that to remind men of the freedom they should keep towards a fleeting world there should be, in the Church, a special charisma (1 Cor 7".'7) of virginity, akin to the charisma of prophecy. The celibate's life is an enacted prophecy. His whole life shouts to the world that it is passing away. As Jeremiah announced to the Chosen People the end of the old covenant, the celibate, new Jeremiah, announces the end of the old world. He embodies the teachings of th~ Apocalypses. He stands as a witness of the day bf the Lord, the day of wrath and of death which began qn that Friday of Nisan when the'Lamb was slaughtered Mount Calvary. + The Positive Aspect ot Celibacy: "'On Account ot the + Kingdom of Heaven'" + What has been said so far has shown that, according to the Bible, and according to Jeremiah and St. Paul es-pecially, celibate life is a prophecy in action, a forebodiiag of the end, a public proclamatioh of the fleeting character of this world. It goes without saying that this is only one aspect of the mystery. There is another one. The last days are not only days of doom: they are also days of resurrection. Jeremiah was not only the prophet of the fall of Jerusalem: he was also the prophet of the .new covenant (Jet 31:31= 35). Similarly for St. Paul the last days are only~secondarily days of woe: primarily, they are the days of the Par0usia~ when Christ will come and hand over to °the Father the world revivified by the Spirit (1 Cor 15). The Apocalypse~ ends its enumeration of th~ eschatological calamities~by the resplendent description~of the~heavenly ~Jerusalem° where everything is niade new (Ap 21). Christ's death:on Calvary was only the beginning of his exaltation 1~-15; 12:32-33). The full, prophetical meaning of virgin-ity is to be understood ifi reference td the whole mystery of death and life contained in Christ. Celibacy is 'not only an enacted prophecy of~th~ imminent doom: it announces also and anticipates the life to come, "the life of the new world in the Spirit. ~ ~ Jeremiah, who.had announced the new covenant, might' have understood that virginity would be the typical state~ in that new life which was.nol6nger to be granted bythe power of the flesh but by the Spirit. But in fact he does not seem to have realized these implications of~his prophetical' teaching. Or if he did, he had no occasion to express it. We have to come to the Gospels to find' this doctrine ex-pounded. ~ ¯ Jesus lived a celibate life. We~can not say that hlscase was unique. By the beginnings of the Christian era, the~ ideal of virginity seems to have been cultivated at least in some restricted circles of Judaism. We.have seen the rather~ mysterious case of the. Essenes. John~the Baptist also must tiave observed celibacy. This movement might explain the pu~rpose of virginity expressed by Mary in Luke 1:34. Jesus assumed that ideal and. by His very life fulfilled the la'tent aspirations it contained. Yet there is very little in the Gospels about virginity. This is not surprising. The Gospels are only factual: sum-maries. There is little in themfor introspection and self-~ analysis. They have,little to say. about Jesus' personal life. They do not tell us how he felt when praying;when work-ing miracles, when undergoing-the trials o~ His 'Passion. It is no wonder,., therefore, ~that they would be ~almost completely silent concerning Jesus' celibacy. This silence gives more value to the one statement of the Gospels in which Christ explained howh'e understood His virginity. It was on an occasion in which he had emphasized once more the law of~ indissolubility o[ matrimony. The dis-as See R. Laurentin, Structure et thdologie de Luc I-H iPa.ris: Gabalda, 1957). The Meaning Celibacy VOLUMEo20~. 1961 ,~ , 339 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ciples could hardly understand the intransigence of the Master. As usual, Jesus tried to bring light to the discus-sion by taking it to a.higher level. The heart of the matter is not the convenience of men but the requirements of the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God does make exact-ing demands upon its members. See the case of those to whom it has been given to realize fully the implications of the coming of the Kingdom: they can be compared to eunuchsl "There are eunuchs who were born so from their mother's womb; and ttiere are eunuchs who were made so by men; and there are eunuchs who have made themselves so in view of the Kingdom of Heaven" (Mt 19:12). Though this pericope appears in Matthew 0niT, there is no reason to deny its authenticity, In his book on the synoptic Gospels, L. Vaganay insists several times that Matthew 19:10-12, along,, with several other passages, though appearing in one Gospel only, belongs to the oldest layer of the Gospel formation,~ .and to the most ancient tradition common to the three Synoptic Gospels.19 If the text figures in Matthew only, it is not because it was added afterwards to the~ final edition of Matthew: it is not a case of addition by Matthew but of omission by Marie and Luke. The pericope on the eunuchs has an archaic ring that would, have been shocking to Gentile ears. It is the kind of coarse Semitic paradox, frequent in the Bible, quite appealing to the rough peasants of Pal-estine accustomed to the loud and often brutal eloquence. 6f the prophets. It could hardly be exported to Greece or. even to Asia Minor, Syria., or Egypt. It is not surprising that Mark and Luke preferred to drop it. Yet "its very paradoxical aspect guarantees its authenticity.''20 More-over, the parallel text of Mark seems to leave traces of the amputation. In Mark 10:10, after the discussion with the Pharisees on matrimony, Jesus returns home together' with His disciples. There is a change of place and of audi-ence: Jesus is now in the intimate circle of His disciples. Usually when He retires together with them, it is to teach a deeper doctrine (Mk 4:10, 34; 7:17; 9:30; 10:32). One would expect here, "at home," further explanations on the views He has just exposed. Yet, according to Mark 10:10-12, Jesus merely repeats the elementary explana-tions ivhich, according to Matthew 19:9; 5:32 and Luke 16:18, He would as well give to the crowds. Does not this mean that in the source Mark used, there was "at home" some other deeper teaching imparted to the disciples? But l what other teaching was there except~the logion on the, 1~ L. Vaganay, Le probl~me synoptique ('rournai: Descl~e, 1954), pp.~167, 211, 216, and elsewhere. ~Ibid.,p. 167. iI eunuchs recorded by Matthew? Mark removed this saying, but the operation has left a scar in the text. If the pericope does belong to.th.e origins of the Gospel composition, there is no rea.soia to doubt that it was really an utterance of Jesus and this decides the question of its exact bearing. In the concrete context of jesus'ocelibate life, it is easy to find out to whom the third category of eunuchs refers. When the disciples heard that saying, they could~but think of Jesus Himself and possibly also of John the Baptist.!t is clear that Jesus here speaks of His own case and explains it. He does not advocate self-mutilation; He sets up His own example. He observed virginity and He did it con-sciously "in. view of God's Kingdom." John the Baptist had done it before Him; others would follow. Thus Jesus presents Himself as the leader~ in a line of men who; think-ing of God's Kingdom, will live like ~unuchs, giving-up the use of their sexual powers. But what is exactly the relation between virginity;and God's Kingdom? Why should one remain a celibate prop-ter regnum caelorura (in view of the Kingdom of God)? What is the precise value of that propter (dia ifi Greek)? In biblical Greek, dia with the accusative denotes causality or finality (out of, for the sake of, in view of). It is obvious that, in this'context, the meaning must be of finality. But this is still very vague, too vague to base on it an explana-tion of virginity. We can not build a theology on the strength of a preposition. If the preposition is vague, the phrase "Kingdom of Heaven," on the contrary, is clear enough. The 'Kingdom of.Heaven--or the Kingdom of God, since both phrases = This evidently settles the problem, discussed from the time of Origen onwards, of whether the saying should be understood in a realistic or in a symbolic sense. In Kittel's Theologisches Wb'rterbuch -urn Neuen Testament (TWNT), V. I, p. 590, Schmidt favors the ,ealistic interpretation: the saying would allude to people who ac-ually castrated themselves; it would invite the disciples not to imi-ate them but, at least, to reflect on their earnestness. Origen himself s a proof that there were such'cases in the early Church. But was it o during Jesus' own life time? It is rather doubtful and still more loubtful that Jesus would have set as an example this hypothetical berrant behavior. In the same TWNT of Kittel (2, p. 765), J. chneider maintains the traditional interpretation. The problem could be viewed also from the angle of Form Cdti- ,sin. What are the concrete circumstances in the life of the' ehrly ¯ hutch which led to a reminiscence of these words of-the" Master? 'Chat is the concrete problem to which they were given as an answer. t was most evidently the problem of the virgins, an acute problem as "e know from 1 Corinthians 7, and possibly also, together with it, he problem of the widows "who are truly widows" (1 Tim' 5:3; sde Cor 7: 8). According to J. Dupont, Mariag~ et divorce darts l'evangile ~ruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1959), the saying would refer to the case of husbands separated from their wives. This is a rather far- [etched $itz im Leben; moreover it overlooks completely the refer-ence to Jesus' own example. The Meaning Celibacy VOLUME 20, 196~. 341 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS haye the same significancem--appears as a key concept.of the ~synoptic Gospels. It.stands at the center of. Jesus' preaqhing. If not exactly in Judaism, at least in Jesus' mouth, it is ',a comprehensive term for the blessings of .salvation,''23 having practically .the same meaning as "the age to come" or "the life of the age to come2'~24 It is es-sentially an eschatglogical entity,. ,What the Jews had ~ !onged for,-the prophets had promised, and the apoca-lyptic writers had described, the new life coming from above, the new world, ~he new cov.enant imparted by God, t.h.e ~new Israel, the gift of ~he Sp'irit, Resurrection ,and Re,creation: it is all that.which is contained in God's Kingdom. ,Butmand th.i_s is the novelty of Jesus' teaching--with His coming, the eschatological world, the world to come has become present, though it remains unfulfilled. With the coming of Jesus the Kingdom of God offers the para-doxical character of being at the same time future and pre~ent. Jesus assures us that it is already present among us (Mr 12.:28; see Lk !2;21),but He also invites us to pray fpr~it.s coming (Mr 6:10). Exegetes have tried to rationalize ¯ this mystery by reduting Jesus' preaching to one or the other-aspect. The "co.nsequent eschatology" of A. Schweit-zer retaiged only the future aspect: the life-of Jesus was mere expectation of an imminent advent of the Kingdom,': expectation which was deceived by the event. On the con, ffary, the "realized eschatoIogy" of C. H. Dodd retains only the present element: with Jesus, the. Kingdom is .:presen~t and there is nothing ~to expect from the future; escha, to.logical elements should be dismissed as mere apoc- ~alyptical phraseology. Both views are only partial. Kiim-mel2~ and Cullmann,2n among others, have shown-that ihe integral' teaching of Christ combines both aspects. In Jesus the powers of the coming aeon are already active and the future Kingdom of God is already at work in the pres~' ent. The Spirit is given~ Yet He works only like a seed: present" in Jesus and in those who will follow Him, He has still to extend His influence to the whole world tillf His life-giving activity covers and trans,!orms the whole/ crea.t, ion. Such'is the meaning of,the parables ., of , the ¯ ~ "The Heaven" is a term used by the Jews as a' s u b s t i t uGtoed for to" a.yo.id, prgfiouncing the divine name. .m G. Dalman, The Words~o] Jesus (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1902), p.A35. Dalman shows thaLJesus somewhat altered the mean-ing of the phrase by giving .it a specifically eschatological value in connection with Daniel 7 : 27. So, though in Judaism the phrase should be translated "the kinship of God," it becomes, in Jesus' teachings, ~ynonymous with eschatological salvation. ~ Hence the equivalence with the Johannine theme of "eternal~ ~ ~ Pror~ise and Fulfilment (Naperville: Allenson, 1957). ~ Christ and Time (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1950). Kingdom" (Mk 4 and parallels). We are still waiting for the end: the period we live in is at the same time "promise and fulfilment." This appears especially in the "signs" of the Kingdom. Accgrding to the biblical conception, a "sign" is not a pure symbol, faint image of a distant reality. It is the reality itself in its initial manifestation. In the biblical sign the coming reality is already contained, yet still hidden.27 Kiimmel has shown how in that sense J.esus' .victory over the devils and his miracles are signs of that kind.2s They show already "the coming, consummation of salvation breaking in on the present.''2s Cullmann has added to those signs the main ecclesiastical functions: the missionary preaching of the Gospel,s0 the cult and the sacraments for, in them also, in the Spirit, and "through the merits of Christ, everything is fulfilled which was ac-complished in the past history of salvation and which will be achieved in the future.''~1 In the light of Matthew 19:12 we can add virginity to those signs. Like the miracles and the sacraments virginity is a "sign. of the Kingdom," an anticipated realization of the final transformation, the glory of the world to come breaking in on the present condition. Such is the meaning of propter regnum caelorum. Jesus and many of those who follow Him refrain from sexu~al activity "in view of the Kingdom," that i~, to live already now the life of the world to come. Eschatological life has begun to stir in them and that life will be, and can already be now, a: life which has gone beyond the necessity and the urge of pro-creation. As with their preaching and miracles, Jesus and His "disciples by their celibacy proclaim the advent of the Kingdom, They exemplify already i.n_this world the fu-ture condition of men in the next aeon. As Jesus explained to the Sadducees (Mt 22:30 and parallels), in the world of Resurrection, "one shall neither marry nor be married, one will be like the angels in heaven." This does not mean that man in the Kingdom of God will be asexual, losing his human nature to become a pure spirit in the philosophical sense of the term. Such a philosophical consideration would be quite alien to the biblical mentality. Man was not made as a pure spirit neither in this world nor in the other, and consequently celibacy can not consist in trying to ape the angels. St. Luke explains the exact meaning of this analogy between the risen man and the angels in his rendering of the ~See J. Pedersen, Israel its Li[e and Culture (London: Oxford University Press, 1926), V. 1, pp. 168 ft. ~ Op. cit. (note 25), pp. 105-91. ~ Ibid., p. 121. ® O. Cullmann, Christ and Time. ~ O. Cullmann, Early Christian Worship (Chicago: Regnery, 1955i, p. $5. ÷ The Meaning ~elib~y VOLUME 20, 1961 343 4. L. Legrand REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 344 logion: "They shall neither marrynor be married for they are no more liable to die: for they are equal to the angels and they are sons of God, being sons of Resu~rrection'' (Lk 20: 35-36). The point of resemblance with the angels is not their spiritual nature but their immortality. It is account of his immortality that the risen man need no longer procreate. Life of Resurrection is no more a life "in the flesh," in a body doomed to death. It is a life God, a life of a son of God, life "in the Spirit," in a body transformed by the divine Glory. Hence the functions' the flesh become useless: procreation loses its meaning which was to make up for the ravages of death. The celibate shows by his cofidition that such life has already started. His celibacy testifies to what O. Cullmann has called "the prol~ptic deliverance of the body.''~2 proclaims that, in'Christ, despite the appearances, man escapes the clutches of death and lives in the Spirit. A passage of the Apocalypse echoes that teaching. Apoc-alypse 14:1-5 describes the glory of the Lamb in the heavenly Sion. There His throne is surrounded'by a hun-dred and forty-four thougand men, 'all those who "were redeemed from the earth." They represent the perfect number of all those who, saved by the Lamb, will con-stitute His retinue in the world to come; namely, all the elect. Their main characteristic consists in that "they are virgins" (v '~). Virginity must be understood metaphoric-ally: it means primarily fidelity to God by opposition idolatry, often described in Scripture as a "prostitution." Yet considering the realistic value of Hebrew symbolism, the concrete sense of virginity should not be altogether dismissed: "They have not defiled themselves with women" (v 4).~3 This does not mean that the author would make of virginity a necessary condition for entering the Kingdom. This passage must be understood in parallel-ism with Chapter 7, which also describes a hundred and forty-four thousand men leading an innumerable multi-tude which surrounds the throne of the Lamb. While Chapter 14 they are all virgins, in Chapter 7 they are all martyrs. This should not be understood as meaning only martyrdom can lead to salvation. But it does mean that one has no access to the Kingdom unless "he washes his =O. Cullmann, The Early Church (London: S.C.M., 1956), pp. 165-76. In his article CuIlmann does not extend his conclusions to the question 0f celibacy. He shows only that marriage has a special theological value since it "corresponds to the relation between Christ and His Church" (p. 173; see Eph 5:29). This view is quite true but should be completed by an awareness that the love between Christ and the Church is of an eschatological--hence virginal--type, The Spouse is a Virgin (see 2 Cot 11:2). Similarly, even conjugal love will have eventually to turn into the-eschatological virginal agape o! which celibacy is a prophetical type. = See L. Cerfaux and J~ Cambier, L',~pocalypse de saint Jean lue aux Chr~tiens (Paris: Cerf, 1955), pp. 124 ft. robe and makes himself white in the blood of the Lamb" (Ap 7:14). The martyr is the typical Christian for he shares the most closely in the cross of his Master. One cim not be a Christian unless he shares in.some way in the fate of the martyrs, in the cross of Christ: The same interpretatiori can be extended to the fourteenth chapter. "As martyrdom, virginity is eminently representative of Christian life. Even as' one can not be saved~without participating in the dignity of martyrdom, one can not be saved without participating in the dignity of .virginity. Virginit~y is a heavenly perfection, an anticipation, for those who are called to it, of what will be the final destiny of all in the Kingdom of Heaven.TM In the world to come all are virgins~ Even those who are married must keep their eyes on that ideal and know that their love has to turn into virginal charity. Those who remain celibate "in view of the Kingdom of Heaven" be!ong to the virginal retinue of their heavenly King the Lamb. As St. Gregory of Nyssa says: Virginal life is an image of the happi~aess that will obtain in the world to come; for it contains in itself many signs of the good things which in hope are laid before us . For when one brings in himself the life according to the flesh to an end, as far as it depends on him, he can expect "the blessed hope and the comin.g 9f the great God,;' curtailing the interval of the in-tervenlng generations between himself and God s advent. Then he can enjoy in the present life the choicest of the good things afforded by the Resurrection.= Thus the mystery of virginity, as any mystery of Chris-tian life, has a double aspect. It has a negative aspect: it represents the death of Christ and, through it, looks towards the complement of that death, the end of a!l, the apocalyptic consummation. It has also a positive aspect: it shows forth the new life in the Spirit, initiated by the Resurrection ofChrist, to be fulfilled at the Parousia. This doctrine is best embodied in the Lukan account of the virgin birth of Christ. Mary is a virgin (Lk 1:34) and, in her virginity, through the operation of the Spirit, she gave birth to Christ, the "first born" of the new world. Thus, in her virginal fecundity, she anticipated and even originated the re-creation of the world through the Spirit. In that account it must be first noticed that Luke-- and Mary--following the Hebrew mentality, do not extol virginity for its own sake. In the Magnificat Mary describes her condition of virgin as a condition of humilitas; that is, a low condition (Lk 1:48). This was exactly the term used by Anna in 1 Samuel 1 : 11 to qualify her disgrace of having ~' Ibid., p. 125. ~ De virginitate (Patrologia graeca, 46, col. 381 ft.). The theme of celibacy as heavenly life or angelic life is frequent in patristic litera-ture. See L. Bouyer, The Meaning o] Monastic LiIe (New York: Kenedy, 1955), pp. 23-40. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Meaning Celibacy voLUME 20, 1961 4- 4- 4- no child. In fact the whole narrative of the virgin birth of Christ in Luke is built in parallelism with the narratives of the Old Testament d.escribing how sterile women were made miraculously fecund by God.36 To some extent.Luke puts Mary's virginity on a par with the sterility of those women. By remaininga virgin, Mary shares in the wretch-edness of Jephte's daughter, in the abjection of the poor women who had no child (Gen 16:4; 1 Sam 1:1~16; Lk 1:25). She accepted willingly the utter poverty and the op-probrium of those who had no hope of reaching, in motherhood, their human plenitude and who conse, quently were rejected by the world as useless. But in the new Kingdom by God's transforming power, there is a reversal of the human values, The lowly are ex-alted (Lk 1:52), the poor possess the earth (Lk 6:20), those who weep laugh (Lk 6:21), the sterile and the virgins are visited by the power of the Spirit and become receptacles of the divine life. These are simply various aspects of the revolution of the cross turning infamy into glory, death into life. The glorious fecundity of Mary's humble vir-ginity contains already the mystery of the gross. Thelhope, lessness of her virginity points to the hopelessness of the cross: it proclaims, that the world is doomed and that no salvation is to be expected from the flesh. But the fecundity of that virginity presages the triumph of the cross: by the power of the Holy Ghost life will spring from death as it had sprung from the closed womb of a virgin. Thus Mary's virginity announces the disappearance of the world of flesh and the rise of a new world of the Spirit. Jeremiah's celi-bacy had prophesied the first part of the mystery. To Mary it~was given to see the fulfillment and to prophesy, in her life, both aspects of the imminent consummation. Mary's Virginity was prophetical: it turned towards the cross and anticipated the end; it ina~ugurated the~new worldwhere the flesh has no power, for that world knows no other fecundity than the fecundity of the Spirit. The charism oPvirgiriity in the Church continues and com-pletes that prophetical fUnction. Like Mary and Jesus, the Christian celibate renounces any worldly hope," for he knows th~it the world has no hope to propose. But, in his loneliness, he announces and through faith already en-joys the esc, fiato~logical visitation of the Spirit. ' u See S. Lyonhet, "Le r~cit de l'Annonciation," in L'ami du Clergd, 66 (1956), pp; 37-8, and J. P. Audet, "L'annonce h Marie," in Revue biblique 63 (1956), pp. 346-74. REVIEW FOR .RELIGIOUS BARRY MCLAUGHLIN, ~s.J. The Identity Crisis and , Religious Life We often hear it said that the child stabilizes the family. After the first four or five years of marriage the love of the honeymoon is usually exhausted: A new love unfolds. Ideally, it is the affection both parents share for the child that forms the basis for this newmand more maturebond of conjugal love. Perhaps a similar phenomenonJ occurs in religious life. After the first four or five years (or even much later sin~e circumstances and persons differ) a process of reintegra-tion takes place. The religious must re-examine and re-interpret his initial motives and goals. CA newer,° fresher love must supplant the older, faded love. And because ~he natural aids which married life affords are lacking', this transformation to a higher and more perfect love requires supernatural grace and natural maturity. There is no dichotomy here; rather, there is an inter-action. Since God has Himself implanted laws in nature, it is logical to suppose that He will follow the natural patterns operative in the human personality when He works through grace. And grace is, of course, necessary for any form of spiritual development. Yet it is imperative to emphhsize the Scholagtie'axiom that grace builds upon nature. Maturity, on the natural plane, is a prime requisite for supernatural progress and for this transformation of love. To hone Occam's raz6r to a new edge: miracles are not to be multiplied withofit necessity. Like sanctity, maturity develops slowly. For a mah is not born a saint. He is born to be a saint. The distinction is significant: men are not saints all at once; with God's grace men become saints. But-men first'become mature. Maturity, as the natural correlate and predisposition for sanctity, takes time. Psychologists point to a series of crises preliminary to its attainment. " We are especially interested in the "crisis of idehtity" ÷ ÷ ÷ Barry $. McLaughlin, S.J., 3700 W. Pine Bou-levard, St, Louis 8, Mis-souri, is doing graduate studies in psychology at St, ~'~Uis ~Jniversity. VOLUME 20~ 1961 347 the crisis contemporary With the process of re-integration and re-evaluation which occurs once the novelty and freshness of the early years of religious life have disap-peared. Resolution of the identity crisis allows a more mature and transformed love to unfold. But several more basic crises must b~ resolved first. ÷ ÷ ÷ Barry M cLaughlin, S.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 348 Development Toward Maturity One of the most widely used theoretical conceptions of psychological development.is the neo-Freudian synthesis proposed by Erik H. Erikson. At a given age, because of physical, intellectual, and emotional maturation, a human being willingly and necessarily faces a new life task. A Set of choices and tests are prescribed for him by his ciety's structure. This new life task presents a crisis. The outcome of this crisis can be successful graduation or im-pairment of the life cycle (which will aggravate future crises). Each crisis prepares for the next--each is a step taken in the direction of the ne~t, until the adult identity is attained. The first crisis is the one of early infancy. What is at stake here, the psychologist feels, is the question of whether a man's inner mood will be determined more by basic trust or basic mistrust. The outcome of this crisis is de-pendent largely upon the quality of maternal care. The mother's affection and her gratification of the child's needs lend a certain pr~edictability and hopefulness in spite of the urgency and bewildering nature of the baby's bodily feelings. This first crisis corresponds roughly to what Freud has described as orality; the second to anality. An awareness of these correspondences is essential for a true understand- ]ng-of the dynamics involved. The second crisis, resolved usually by the fourth year, develops the infantile sources of the sense of autonomy. In this period the child learns to ,~iew himself as an indi-vidual in his own right, apart from his parents although dependent upon them. If there are conditions which in-terfere with the child's achievement of a feeling of ade-quacyv- if he fails, for example, to learn to walk during this ~period--then the alternative is a sense of shame or doubt pervading later adult consciousness (or uncon-sciousness). The third crisis is a part of what Freud described as the central complex of the family; namely, the Oedipus com-plex. According to the opinion of many psychoanalysts, this crisis involves the lasting unconscious association of sensual freedom with the body of the mother; a lasting association of cruel prohibition with the interference of the father; and the consequent love and hate in reality and in phantasy. This is the stage of.initiative; correspond- ing to Freud's phallic stage of psychosexuality. It is the period of vigorous reality testing, imagination, and imi-tation of adult behavior. The major hazard to the solution of this crisis is an overly strict discipline which produces a threatening conscience and flae internalization of rigid and exaggerated (non-rational) ethical attitudes. In the fourth stage the child, now between six and eleven years old, becomes capable of learning intellectually and collaborating with others. The resolution of this stage decides much of the ratio~between, a. sense of in-dustry and a sense of tool-inferiority. A man learns simple techniques which will prepare him for the tasks of his culture. A. rational sense of duty and obligation is also involved here, and the laying aside of fantasy and play for the undertaking of real tasks and the development academic and social competefice. This stage corresponds to the.Freudian latency period. The Identity Crisi~ We are chiefly concerned inthis ~rticle with the identity crisis, first of~all in its broader, cultural dimensions, and then within the specific framework of the religious life. The young~adolescent in our culture must~clarify his understanding of who he is and what his role is to be. He must forge for himself some central perspective and direc-tion, some effective integration, ou_t :of the remnants of his childhood and the hopes of his anticipated adulthood. Failure to resolve this crisis can result in neurosi~s,-psy-chosis, or delinquent behavior. More frequently,, however, there is a generalized sense of role diffusion. The possession of a role within the culture and,of standards of cultural living constitutes the social side of identity. In addition, there is an optimum ego synthesis to which the. individual himself aspires. The Judeo-Chris-dan tradition and the ideals of the American heritage stress the immeasurable worth of _the individual person. The dignity of the individual, respect for the individual, self-det~rmination these are phrases which attest to our consciousness of the value of personal identity. Each per-son is certain of what is in fact true: that he stands at the center of a unique network of relationships, experiences, influences. He is different and he knows it. Consciousness of the value.of personal identity and a strong sense of personal uniqueness do not,. ho.wever, neces-sarily imply a resolution of the crisis of identity. In some young people, in some classes, at certain periods of history, the identity crisis will be minimal; in other people, classes, and periods this crisis will be clearly marked off as a criti-cal period. There is considerable evidence that in our cul-ture today the identity crisis is of maximal importance, that most individuals undergo a prolonged identity crisis. ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 20, 1961 349 ÷ 4. 4. Barry McLaughlin, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 350 During this crisis there is a desperate urgency, often con-cealed under the camouflage of social conventions, to resolve the problem of what one should' believe0in and who one should be or become. Three crises follow the crisis of identity; they concern problems of intimacy, generativity, and integrity. What role diffusion is~to identity, its alternative and danger, isolation is to intimacy, egocentric nonproductivity is to generativity, and the lack of consistent values is to integ-rity. When~ the identity crisis is prolonged, these three crises are interwoven with it. The resolution of the identity crisis brings concomitantly the resolution of intimacy, gen-erativity, and integrity crises: A lasting sense of ego identity is the characteristic of the mature adult. The Identity Crisis in the American Culture Victor Frankl, one of the leading .proponents of Ex-istential psychology, has pointed out that Freudian psy-choanalysis has introduced into psych.ological research what it calls the pleasure principle or the will-to-pleasure. Adler has' made psychologists conversant with the role of the will-to-power as a main factor in the formation of neurosis. But Frankl maintains that man is neither dominated by the will-to-pleasure nor by the will-to-power, but by What he'would call man's will-to-meaning; that is, man's deep-seated striving for a higher and~ultimate mean-ing to his existence. Frankl .has perhaps overstated his case; it is more likely a question of emphasis. But the will-to-meaning does re-flect the modern concern with personal identity and, in this sense, is probably as strategic in our time as the study of sexuality was in Freud's time or the study of the drive" for power in Adler~s time. , It is signific~int,-too, that concern with matters of identity is greatest in this country. Psychologists and psychoanalysts recognize th~at in America especially adult patients hope to find in the psychoanalytic system a refuge from the discontinuities 6f existence and a re-gression to a more patriarchal one-to-one system. America has been a melting-pot, a country which attempts to make a super-identity otit of the' identities imported by its constituent immigrants. Previous agrarian and patri-cian identities have been" submerged in the wake of the rapidly increasing ,mdchanization of industrial technology. Frequently the American man has been unable to formu-late his new identity. Depreciation-of.the American way of life is, of course, the favorite indoor sport of cultural critics. The per-tinence of their remarks is not always apparent,.yet in the present context several criticisms'are relevanf. They point out some Of the reasons for the identity crises of con- temporary Americans. From these criticisms we can gain some understanding of the identity crisis of the American man and ultimately of the identity crisis of the (American) religious man. In Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, Biff'exempli-ties an American "type." Society 'has failed to provide him with a clearly defined role: "I just can't take hold, Mom, I just can't take hold of some kind of life.''1 He-lives in constant frustration, unaware of who he.is or what he is to be. And many psychoanalysts feel thatBiff's number is legion. That Biff should address his problems to Morn is sig-nificant, During World War II the expression "Momism' came :into existence :as a means of denoting a type of per- _~onality commonly :encountered in ybung men. There is ¯ n excessive dependence upon and 'attachment' to, the ,nother, with but feeble' attachment to:the father and no =lear image gained through him of man's role. Psychol-ogists have commented upon the probable roots of this phenomenon: the absence, both physically and psycho: logically, of the father from many American urban, and .uburban homes. Because of the conditions of .ecdnomic ~nd social life, many fathers have neither the opportunity qor the inclination to "take on" their sons in the way that a, as common, for example, in the days of the older patri-archal society. This is the first cause we wish to mention "or the prolongation of the crisis of identity: . the failhre ~,f the father in our culture to give to the son a clear image ,f the masculine personality and the role of man. ~ :~ 'Critics have also noted the American fear of loneliness. Individual identity is sacrificed in an effort to stay. close o the herd, to be no ~different from others in" thought, eeling, or action. To stand aside, to be alone, is t6 assert ¯ personal identity which refuses to be submerged. So-iety will not tolerate this; innumerable social features are lesigned to prevent it: stadiums to accommodate~thou-ands at sport events, open doors of private rooms and of- ¯ ces, club cars on trains, shared bedrooms ih colleges and ,oarding houses, countless clubs, organizations; associa-ions, societies, canned music (for gilence~is unbearable) ,iped~into hotel rooms, railway cars, and supermarkets. Yet one of the surest signs of the resolutio~ of' the iden-ity crisis is an increased capacity for .being alqne, for ~eing responsible for oneself.~The gradual process that ¯ ill end in perfect identity involves 'an awareness of he'fact that there are decisions in life and aspects of life's truggle tha~t a l~erson mu~t fa~e alone. ~o Fgr~. a~ young person becomes dearer in his own mind ,f his role in society and of his personal identity he is a In J6hn Gassner (ed.), Best American Plays: Third Series, 1945- 951 (New York: Crown, 1952), p. 19. Identity, ~risis~ VOLUME 20~ 196~. 4. 4., 4. Barr~ MeLaughlin, $.L REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 352 likely also to become more aware of how he differs from others. Gradually he becomes conscious of his isolation from others, not because others are pulling away but be-cause the fullness of personal identity cannot be achieved without.some degree of aloneness. Here we have a para-dox: the more richly a person lives, the more lonely, in a sense, he becomes. And as a person, in his isolation, .be-comes more able to appreciate the moods and feelings of others, he also becomes more able to have meaningful relationships with them. But the unwritten code of our national culture pro-hibits aloneness, and this is the second causative factor for a prolonged identity crisis: the obstacles our society im-poses to the cultivation'of a sense of personal identity. Finally, we see what the critics refer to as the "deper-sonalization" of man by the mass media. "Man is losing himself," Emmanuel Mounier wrote, "in his handiwork instead ~of losing himself in his consciousness; he has not been liberated.''2 There is much that could be said about these factors and their deleterious effects upon a sense of individual identity; but much has already been said by the critics, What is of primary interest here is that mass media standardize thought by supplying the spectator ~ith a ready-made visual image before he has time to construct a rational interpretation of his own. Man has come to'ac-cept ideas and attitudes without having submitted these to himself for intellectual decision. Man is so much a part of the verbal noise going on around him that he does~not notice what the noise is conveying to him. There are, of course, many other causative factors contributing to our national and individual identity crises Millions of young people face these and other psychologi-cal and social obstacles to identity and transcend them in one way or another. If not, they live, as Captain Ahab says, with half their heart and with only oneof their lungs, and the world is the worse for it, The Identity Crisis in the Religious Life The religious man--and by this is meant the man pos~ sessing a fundamentally God-oriented personalitydis of course, immune from cultural influences. Yet as Erikso observes in his book on Luther,., He is always older, or in early years suddenly becomes older than his pla.ymates or even his parents and teachers, and focuses in a precocious way on what it takes others a lifetime to gain a mere inkling of: the question of how to escape corruption i living and how in death to give meaning to life. Because he e periences a breakthrough to the last problems so early in hit life maybe such a man had better become a martyr and seal his message with an early death; or else become a hermit in a soil ="A Dialogue with Communism," Cross Currents, v. $ (195~ p. 127. i! tude which anticipates the Beyond. We know little of Jesus of Nazareth as a young man, but we certainly cannot even begin to imagine him as middle-aged? This short cut between the youthful crisis of identity and the mature one of integrity makes the religious man's problem acutely intense. In addition, the method of "indoctrination" to which he subjects himself aims at sys-tematically descending to the .frontiers where all ego dan-gers must be faced in the raw, where personal guilt is un-covered, drives tamed by prayer and asceticism, and where, ultimately, self must abandon and transform its own identity. In a sense, only "religious geniuses''4 are cgpable of such an enterprise. Yet the man or woman who enters religious life specifically chooses to face this challenge. Per-haps the most important ramification of the life of the vows is the consequent necessity of mature personal iden-tity. There are those, however, who consider it dangerous, unreasonable, and even in a sense against nature, to com-mit a young person in perpetuity to the religious life. Martin Luther became convinced that religious commit-ment was impossible to a man under thirty years of age. A young man of twenty does not know what th~ future may have in store, what sacrifices he may have to accept. He has only a very general view of what religious life will be and his final renunciation can only be made when he knows in detail and as a whole what such a life entails. Yet St. Thomas held that a person could decide upon a religious vocation years be~fore puberty. This poses a problem which involves more than a ques-tion of the religious vocation. It is concerned 'with one of the fundamental aspects of the problem of life. The ma-ture man is future-oriented; for him life is a continuous whole. In his youth he finds that he must commit him-self to an identity, to a course to which he will remain bound in the future. His acts are weighted with the future. If a man refuses to commit himself, identity becomes im-possible. Marriage and the religious vocation are the two funda-mental forms of commitment. When a man marries he is unaware of the trials and responsibilities'of marriage; he does not know what it is to have a dependent wife and children. But the will to do that which is irrevocable de-pends on the strength of a person's love. A love which is genuine takes possession of the whole of the personality. Then it desires to be irrevocable. This notion of commitment is most perfectly delineated in the thought of Gabriel Marcel: I see it like this. In the end there must be an absolute com- " The Young Man Luther (New York: Norton, 1958), p. 261. 'Jean Dani~lou, s.J., God and the Ways o] Knowing (New York: Meridian Books, 1957), p. 10. ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 20, 1961 ÷ ÷ ÷ Barry MeLaugh!in, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 354 mitment, entered upon by the whole of myself, or at least by something real in myself which could not be repudiated with-out repudiation of the whole--and which would be addressed to the whole of Being and would be made in the presence of that whole. This is faith. ObViously, repudiation is still a possibility .here, but ,cannot be justified by a change in the subject or object; ~t can only be explained by a fall? This notion, of personal commitment leaves little room for the so-called "temporary vocation" (which is actually a contradiction in terms), even when this is understood as an actor the permissive will of God which allows a person, for his sanctification, to live for some time as a religious and with religious vows. Although a person does grow and develop as he lives out his commitment, although his in-itial love deepens into a more perfect and more mature love, there can be no possibility of a repudiation. This would be a denim of identity and is only explained by a "fall." These are strong words, and are not, of course, meant to be dogmatic. The nature and binding force of a religious commitment such as life with vows requires much more adequate theological analysis. Yet the problem remains. The religious man must be mature before, his time. Ultimately it is a question of the initial acquisition of what Lindworsky calls the "'voca-tional ideal": Before every man there stands~ a picture of that which he should become; and never will he be fully at peace, undl the ideal shown in that picture has been brought to perfect rgaliza-tion. G This provides a focal' point for personal identity within the religious vocation. Perfect identity is not something acquired in its fullness all at once. It comes at the termina-tion of a long and gradual process of growth. Each step along the way presents new difficulties and necessitates closer scrutiny and deeper meditation upon the nature of the identity chosen. There must be a gradual transforma-tion and identification with Christ. ¯The vocational ideal guides the individual to this new identity within the confines of a life of the vows. Gradu-ally the significance of each vow becombs apparent. Each involves a secondary crisis of its own, a danger to personal identity. Once each of these crises are faced and resglved perfect identity is realized. By his vow of poverty the religious man is thrust once more--thi~ time on a much more conscious and more spiritual level--into the primary crisis of trust. In a real (though qualified) sense, religious experience, as Erikson points out, retraces our earliest inner experiences, giving ~ Being and Having (Glasgow: University Press, 1949), pp. 45-46. o Johannes Lindworsky, S.J., The Psychology o! Asceticism (West-minster: Newman, 1950), p. 15. angible form to vague evils and reaching back to the .~arliest moments of childhood. The child must learn to rust his mother; the religious man ~must learn 'to rust God. Only then can he venture out into the.apparent cold which lack of possessiong m~ans to his natural un- ]erstanding and to his provident instincts. Otherwise he "alls into a new and much worse predicament. When a nan has adopted poverty, he will take daily action to keep dive his trust in God; and from the constantly reiterated :onfirmation ~of this t~'ust, he will draw nourishment "or ~his love of God. Voluntary poverty is an attempt to live so strongly upon he inner surge of love for Christ that external supports :an be reduced to a minimum. It is an attempt to be as ~nuch as possible. It is an incentive for a man to restore ~rder of the right kind to his own life and in his relations o God and his fellows. To he more a man and more truly ~ man, as completely and perfectly a man as~possible~: hat is the purpose of the yow of poverty. Failure to achieve uch an identity is its danger. .Chastity also entails a crisis. Th~ religious community "isks becoming an assembly of old bachelors or old maids, whose egoism is concealed beneath a facade of renunci-ation. The mainstay of the family is conjugal love and the ove between the parents and their children. In tl~e re-igious life it is God alone who is the bond, and the corn-non life cannot be sanctified except insofar as the person, ~y loving God, passes beyond its natural aspects.-The ring of mortification is always there because the affections :stablished between members of a community do not form hat personal link which is characteristic of the family. The religious man finds affection, but this is on a piritual plane, leaving certain sides ofthe human per-onality unsatisfied. Men do not go to religious life to ind what they normally find in the family. There is friend-hip, but basically a religious man's life is in God, and n,God one is alone. Fundamental solitude: God is the ~ortion of his inheritance. Psychologically, this involves a sublimation of the nost radical type, yet Freud himself admitted its possi-bility and its actual fulfillment in St. Francis of Assisi nd others. A new and different identity must be forged. In order to arrive at being everything, desire to be noth-ng," wrote St. John of the CrossF This crisis involves, ~asically, final surrender of self-identity and union and bs0rption into the identity of Christ. The vow of ob'edience entails an equally radical crisis. Fhe religious man's identity threatens to be submerged. The Ascent of Mount Carmel, 1, 13, I1 in E. A. Peers (ed. and rans.), The Complete Work o] St. John o] the Cross (Westminster: ~ewman, 1953), v. 1, p. 62. Identity Crisis VOLUME 20,~ 1961 355 4. 4. Barry McLaughlin, $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 356 Existentialist literature especially makes this point: "W~ want freedom for freedom's sake and in every particula circumstance," writes Sartre. "Those who hide their com plete freedom from themselves out of a spirit of serious ness, I shall call cowards.''s Self-identity seems impossibh without the freedom to choose, to determine one's owt conduct and profit or suffer by the consequences. This i a notion rooted in contemporary American Protestan ideals. So much so ttiat William James admitted: It is difficult even imaginatively to comprehend how men po~, sessed of an inner life of their own could ever have come t think the subjection of its will to that of other finite creature recommendable. I confess that to myself it seems something o a mystery? There is a paradox here. When'the religious ma empties himself of his own will (not to other finite crea tures, of course, but to God), at that moment the whol world enters in to fill the vacant space. The saint has n~ particular desires. He seeks only to be allowed to disap pear. He reveals the world to mankind as God has willet it. Yet more than any other man, the saint is responsible He is aware of his obligation to choose for himself. Th terrible duty of the saint is the duty to choose consistentl the "chOice of God. There is one other aspect to the identity crisis in re ligious life, the professional aspect. There are two side to the identity crisis: achievement of personal identity an~ of social identity. We have discussed in some detail th religious man's growth in personal identity. There is als the social role of religious men and women in Americ today, the role of teacher and scholar. Much has been wrftten and much said about the pligh of the American Catholic educational endeavor. We ar concerned here with but one facet of these discussions the undeniable need of Catholic educators to dedicat themselves completely to the subjects they teach. Thi dedication must mean a commitment of the sort which in volves the individual completely in the field he is intel ested in, so much so that he is eager and enthusiastic to se and to contribute to its progress. And since there is fi way to dedicate oneself to learning from the outside, th individual must devote himself totally to his field. A b] stander is too uncommitted. As Father Ong has observed If there is anything that our American Catholic education suffel from, it is the fact that too many of us are not committed enoug to the subjects we profess, not dedicated to them with that tot~ ~Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism (New York: Philosophical brary, 1947), pp. 54--55. ~ The Varieties o! Religious Experience (New York: Longma Green, 1909), p. 311. :~ edicati~n which, for us, should be part of our religious dedica- ~on of God Himself, who makes human knowledge to advance.10 It would seem that many religious men and women, who ,ave to a great extent resolved aflm~i~rably the problems of ,ersonal vocational identity, have not resolved the prob-ems of social identity, have not seen clearly their own role s teachers and scholars. Perhaps the opposite is 6ften true, ,ut in either case it is apparent that there is need "for a uccessful resolution of the identity crisis on both levels nd for an integration at an even higher level. ",6nclusion The gyeatness of man consists in his origin, his nobility s a creature, as a child of God. But more than this: there s also his vocation; man is called upon to co-operate with he divine liberty in the creation of his own identity. This nvolves a process of what Dietrich Von Hildebrand calls 'confronting all things with Christ.''n The saint alone ,as solved the identi.ty crisis perfectly. He has transformed fis self-identity into the identity of Christ. Each saint s a pane of glass of a different color through which Christ's adiance shines. But we all are called to be saints. And if maturity is a ,rerequisite to sanctity, the resolution, with grace, of cer-ain psychological crises is necessary. Above all the reso-ution of the identity crisis, usually concomitant with the ,rocess of re-examination and re-evaluation which occurs ,nce the novelty of the early years of religious life has ,assed, prepares the way to sanctity. Each religious, like he saint, must deepen and transform his love. There is a continuity in life which the saint makes nanifest. The child persists in the man; the mature adult ,as grown out of" childhood without losing childhood's ,est traits. He retains the basic emotional strengths and he stubborn autonomy of the infant, the capacity for onder and pleasure and playfulness of the preschool ears, the capacity for affiliation and the intellectual curi- ,sity of the school years, and the idealism and passion of dolescence. He has incorporated these into a new pattern ;ominated by adult stability, wisdom, knowledge, re-ponsibility, strength, and prudence. The saint is not a man apart from, and outside of, the ;retchedness of everyday life. He is not a man in corn- ,union with God and out of communion with other men. ~ecause he lives in close contact with God, because he has onformed his mind to the mind of Christ, the saint is the ~Walter Ong, S.J., American Catholic Crossroads (New York: ¯ *acmillan, 1959), pp. 104-05. n Translormation in Christ (New York: Longmans, Green, 1948), ¯ 74. VOLUME 20, 1961 357 one man who is in communion with us, while all other live apart. This is why the saint is the per[ectly mature individual at once the most sensitive and the most spiritual o[ men The most sensitive because nothing and no one in world finds him unresponsive, since he is always in mediate and loving contact with persons and things. He the most spiritual o[ men, ~or every movement o[ his sonality has its origin in the realization that Christ measure o[ all things, the source o[ his own identity. embodies per[ectly the words of St. Paul: "So we shal reach per[ect manhood, that maturity which is propor ¯ tioned to the complete growth of Christ" (Eph 4:13). Barr~ McLaughlin, $.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 358 ROBERT F. WEISS, S.J. The Christ of the Apocalypse Toward the end of his long life in the closing years of the first century, our Lord's beloved disciple, the apostle St. John, penned from his place of exile on the island of Patmos a beautiful message of hope and encouragement for the Christian churches. The style: 0f this letter, the last book of the Bible, is apocalyptic; that is, it deals with the revelation made to John of things present and pastas well as future. Its theme 'is the ,triumph of Christ. In images of surpassing beauty, St. John describes for all ages the glorious King of kings. Although it is the same Christ of the Gospels whom we meet here, a great change has come over Him. He is still "like unto a son of man," but He no longer has the weaknesses and limitationS of His humanity. We will see Him in settings of majesty, power, and triumph--all of which are meant to stir up hope, love, and courage for the struggle ahead, for the difficulties and persecutions the Church must always suffer. He has already conquered. This is Christ as He is now, and yet His victory is being constantly repeated. The message is, therefore, one of personal concern for all Christians of every .age. "Blessed be the man who reads this prophecy," says John, "and those who hear it read and heed what is written in it, for the time is near." For each one of us the battle is now raging, and the end of our own struggle is approaching. Christ conquered sin and death long ago; but as long as this world lasts, the conflict goes on. Not until the last day will Ghrist:s triumph be final and complete. But for us, each individual, the time is near and Christ is coming soon. John begins his epistle in a Trinitarian setting, using a salutation much like Paul's as he wishes peace and blessing to the seven churches in Asia from "Him who is and was and is coming"--the Father--"and from the seven spirits befOre His throne"--the Holy Spirit represented by His Robert F. Weiss, S.J., is a faculty member of St. Louis University, 221 North Grand Boule-vard, St. Louis 3, Mis-souri. VOLUME 20, 1961 359 + 4. 4. Rober~ F. Wei~s~ SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 360 sevenfold gifts--and "from Jesus Christ." The full title, Jesus Christ, used here in connection with the other per-sons of the Blessed Trinity, is not used again until the very last verse in the letter. John seems to prefer Jesus alone, in this way emphasizing the humanity of the glorious Christ and His identity with the historical person who lived and suffered. Christ alone as a title occurs only four times. All of these are in the last half of the book in settings of solemnity and majesty and in close association with name of God. John's favorite title for Christ is, as will later, the Lamb, although he also .uses Son of God and Son of Man. The apostle's cast of mind is revealed by the prayer Of praise he offers to Christ at the outset--"to Him who loves us and has released us from our sins." This Christ "has made us a kingdom of priests for His God and Father." Just as Israel when set free from Egypt acquired a national life under its divinely appointed king, so Church, redeemed by the Blood of Christ, makes up a holy nation. As kings, the faithful of Christ will reign all the peoples; as priests, united to Christ the Priest, they will offer to God the Whole universe in a sacrifice of praise. In his magnificent opening vision, John sees the glorified and idealized human form of Christ: a being like a man, wearing a long robe, with a gold belt around his breast. His head and hair were as white as white wool, as white as snow; his eyes blazed like fire; his feet were like bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the noise of mighty waters. In his right hand he held seven stars; from his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword, and his face shone like the sun at noonday. The garments are the first object to catch John's attention. The figure wears a long robe of the priesthood and girded with the belt of royalty. His snow white hair His eternity, and His eyes blazing like fire repre-sent His divine knowledge. Feet glowing like bronze furnace symbolize His power and utter stability. His voice, which is compared to the thundering rush of a waterfall, and His face, shining like the noonday sun, which recalls the glorious transfiguration on Mount Tabor, give Him a majesty that is terrifying. In His right hand are seven stars representing the seven churches over which He has power and care. It was among seven lampstands that this figure had appeared; they are likewise churches and signify His omnipresence. From His mouth comes the sharp two-edged sword of the word of God which has power to condemn or reward. This is He who is "coming on the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even the men who pierced Him." John is so overawed by the sight that he falls at the feet of Christ like a dead man. But our Lord lays His hand him and tells him not to be afraid. For He is the first and tlie last, that is, the Creator and the last end of all things. He is the Living One, an idea prominent in the tliinking of the Hebrews. Theirs is a living God, not the dead idols of their pagan neighbors. Chi'ist ~a~ defid, crudi~ed; yet here He is alive forever and ever. He has risen from the dead never to die again. More than that, He holds the keys of death and the underworld, over which as God He alone has power. He carries the key of David and thus has ab-solute authority to admit or exclude anyone'from the city of David, the new Jerusalem. He "operis and no one shall shut, and'shuts and no one shall open." This is the Christ of the Apocalypse, infinitely majestic and august. He wiil come in the end seated on a cloud, and with a single swing of His sickle the' harvest of the earth will be reaped. His prhdominant characteristic is unbounded power. Only once or twice, it is said, does the tenderness of Christ's compassion or the intimacy of His fe!lowship with men make itself felt in this book. Yet when it does, it is unexpected and most poignant. Afier rebuking and praising, encouraging the faithful and castigating the tepid, Christ concludes: I reprove and discipline all whom I love. So be earnest and re: pent. Here I stand knocking at the door. If anyone listens to my voice ~and opens the door, I will be his guest and dine With him, and he with me. I will permit him who is victorious to take his seat.beside my father on his throne. In apocalyptic literatur~e Christ is frequently pictured as a judge at the door. Hire the beloved disciple sees Christ not as a judge but as a friend inviting us to :the closest kind 6f intimate companionship. For the Orientals the Lidea of perfect friendship is represented by the notion of taking a meal together. Since it is not uncommon for John to use words with additional connotations, even with a triple meaning, he may well be alluding here also to the Holy Eucharist, in which Christ Himself becomes our food, as ~vell as to the banquet prepared for the faithful in heaven. Even in this setting of gentle and tender intimacy, the glory awaiting the loyal friends of Christ is not forgotten. The place asked by their mother for the sons of Zebedee is to be had by all those who are faithful unto the end. The risen and ascended Christ is all in all to the members of His Church. He loves them; He redeemed them; and He has made them what they are, a new Israel, a kingdom of priests. In the succeeding visions, John prefers to speak of Christ as the Lamb. This is not to be looked on as a photograph or a picture or even as an imaginative'representation. Like the other images used, it is a symbol, a thought-representa~ tion to be taken according to its intellectual content. ~Th~ images are not essential and sho~uld not be retained. The ÷ The Christ o] the Apocalypse VOLU~E 20, 1961 361 + + ÷ Robert F. Weiss, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 362 author wishes to convey an idea, and that is all the image should be used for. He gives us a succession of these sym-b~ Is~rom ~hich he wishes us.to take an idea and then move on to the next. This is especially true of the various qualities ascribed to Christ whom he will repeatbdly iefer to as simply the Lamb. This is not the sacrificial Lamb of Isaiah about whom John is speaking; rather it is the Lamb as a leader. He the strong one, the sheperd 0f the faithful who will guide them.to the springs of living water, the fountain of which is God Himself. It is this Lamb alone who can break the seals and open the book upon which are written the secrets of history-~the story of the great sufferings to endured, the conflict that will rage, and Christ's ultimate and magnificent victory. The Lamb, has seven horns signify His unlimi~ted power and seven eyes as symbols His vast knowledge. As so frequently in the peculiar apoc-alyptic style of this letter, the number seven is used to completeness and plenitude. The Lamb as John sees Him appears as if slaughtered, and yet He lives. He has conquered sin and death. He was slain as a victim, but only the splendid results of sacrifice remain. To Him indeed belong the ~rerogatives of God. He is spoken of more and more, as John's account proceeds, in the same breath with God the Father. He has a share in the works of God. "Our deliverance is the work of our God who is seated on the throne and of the Lamb." In the glorious day of the heavenly Jerusalem, Christ Lamb will reign with His Father. John saw this Jerusalem: the holy city, coming down out of heaven from God, in all the glory of God. It shone with a radiance like that of some very precious stone, like jasper, clear as crystal . I saw no temple in it, for the Lord God, the'Almighty, and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun nor the moon to shine in it, for the glor~ of God lighted it, and the Lamb is its lamp. The heathen will walk by its. light. The kings of the earth will bring their splendor to ,t. Its gates will never be shut by day--for there will be no night there and they will bring the splendor and the wealth of the heathen into it. Noth!ng unclean will ever enter it. In this day God will make "all things new." The apostle is trying to describe heaven in .this passage using the language of the Old Testament with which his readers were familiar. The essential jo~ of this state of glory is that God will be with those who have remained faithful and they will be with Him. Everything good will also be in heaven, but the presence of God will be everything. God and His Christ are its sanctuary; God's glory will light it; the Lamb will be its lamp. There will be no need for a temple other than God or for the intermediary of religion, for God Himself will be possessed. The Lamb in the day of judgment can be terrible in His anger, and as a shepherd He rules with a rod of iron. But there is an arresting touch of tenderness in the glimpse we are given of the glorious victory to which .He will lead His followers: They are the people who come through the great pe~secuti0n, who haveowashed their robes white in the blood of the Lamb. That is why they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his :temple, and he who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will never be hungry or thirsty again, and never again will the sun or any burning heat distress them, for the Lamb who is in the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes., Seel God's dwelling is with men, and he will live with them. They will be .his people and God himself will be with them. Those who come through the time of tribulation are those who have washed their :robes in the blood of the Lamb. This symbolic expression includes both the idea of salva-tion through the death, of Christ and theoactivity of-the faithful' themselves signified by the washing. Their reward will be to participate in the worship of God day and night. With typical Hebrew reverence for the name of God, John speaks of Him "who is seated on the throne" rather, than repeat the sacred name: Just as in the land of promise there was to be a cessation of suffering, so in heaven the faithful will be eternally free from all care and want and every sort of mental distress or bodily pain. For the Hebrews water was scarce and very precious; a plentiful source of it signi- ,fled abundance and prosperity. The water here is a symbol of God's grace, and God is its source. John's vision is in terms of the Old Testament prophecy of Isaiah, but now in Christ the fulfillment is assured. There isone other appearance of Christ which must be mentioned, perhaps the most striking vision of all. Before, we saw the temple; now heaven itself is opened, andwe see the magnificent, triumphant Warrior-King followed by the armies of heaven: Then I saw heaven thrown open and there appeared a white horse. His rider was called Faithful and True, and he judges and wages war in uprightness. His eyes blazed like fire. There were many diadems on his head, and there was a name written on him which no one knew but himself. The garment he wore was spattered with blood, and his name was the word of God. The armies of heaven followed him mounted on white horses and clothed in pure white linen. From his mouth came a sharp sword with which he is to strike down the heathen. He will shepherd them with a staff of iron, and will tread the winepress of the