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Issue 36.5 of the Review for Religious, 1977. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edaed by faculty members of St LOUIS University, the editor,al offices being located at 612 Humboldt Braiding, 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1977 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $7.00 a year; $13.00 for two years; other countries, $8.00 a year, $15.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor September 1977 Volume 36 Number 5 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW Fon REL1c~ous; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts andbooks for review should be sent to REVXEW YOn REL~CIOUS; 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. The First Week of the Spiritual Exercises and the Conversion of Saint, Paul Carolyn Osiek, R.S.C.J. Sister Carolyn is on the faculty of Catholic Theological Union, Chicago, where she teaches New Testament. Most recently, she had been Research/Resource Associate in Women's Studies at H~rvard Divinity'School. Her address: Catholic Theological Union; 5401 S. Cornell; Chicago, IL 60615. The title ~ays in a general way the topic of this article. Actually, however, it is somewhat the other way around, for another way of expressing the topic would be: Paul's decisive "First Week" experience, or, the "First Week" in the life of Paul. The present investigation Will be an attempt to focus, examine, and understand the personal experience of Paul which parallels and reflects the process experienced and planned by Ignatius for his followers in what he later came to call the "First Week" of the Spiritual Exercises. There are some obvious limitations to such an undertaking. First, if as is generally accepted, Paul's initial conversion experience took place some-time between 33-36 A.D., and if what is preserved of his Philippian, Ga-latian, and Corinthian correspondence was written between the years 54 and 57 from Ephesus, there is a 20 year gap between the.experience and the description. 1 Second, Paul had no intention of writing an autobiography.' He alludes to his own spiritual experience only insofar as it helps him convey ~The chronology of the letters is disputed. Here I follow J. A. Fitzmyer, "A Life ~Jf Paul," Jerome Biblical Commenthry, ed. R. E. Brown. J. A. Fitzmyer. R. E. Murphy (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.:Prentice Hall, 1968), pp. 218, 221. 657 6511 / Review for Religious, .Volume 36, 1.,977/~5 his point to others, usually in terms of the bankruptcy of the Mosaic laW vis-a-vis the grace of Christ--a religious situation far removedin actuality from the experience of most of us, whatever figurative applications can be made. Third, the one source in which Paul's spiritual conversion-is graph-ically and formally portrayed (in triplicate)--Acts 9:22 and 26~could be utilized in a consideration of New Testament theology of conversion, but in the light of modern scriptural source criticism cannot responsibly be used to shed light on Pauline spirituality or spiritual experience. Some of the elements picked up by Luke in.his triple narrative will be used as illustrative of the Pauline experience in the wider dimension of familiar religious symbols, but it must be kept in mind that for Paul they are secondary. This brings us to a statement of the broader scope of the present under-taking. The purpose of the investigation is not historical. If it were, it could well stop with the Pauline data. Rather, the full scope is an attempt to understand Paulis wounding and healing as exemplary of a common spir-itual journey through death to new life for a purpose. The expanded ar- .ticulation of that process is drawn from personal experience as retreatant and as a spiritual director. It might be well to begin by describing the structure of the "First Week' '~ process as it will be treated here. Basically it is a movemrrit of entering into death in Order to have life, of descending into the depths 0nly to find there new inspiration to arise, of going down with the old and familiar and coming up in newness, as the ancient ritual of baptism by immersion so clearly portrays. It is wodnding and healing, alienation and reconciliation as the person comes face to face first with human evil and then with divine good-ness. Precisely where these two currents cross is the point of greatest pain because the comparison becomes nearly unehdurable. But out of the con-flict engen.dered by that pain comes the energy to begin anew, and thus the paradoxical cycle of death and rebirth is once again lived out. Ignatius' term -confusion" is not a bad word to describe the growing sense that something is wrong, both in its literary meaning of "shame" and especially in its more common sense of "losing one's bea.rings." There are three stages that can occur as defenses are stripped away and the sense of confusion sharpens. Ignatius described these three stages one way in n. [63] of the Exercises: first, a deep knowledge of-pers~onalo sin and a feeling of abhorrence; second, an understanding of the "disorder of my actions" and a resulting feeling of horror; third, a. knowledge of the sinfulness of the world ~.and, again, a.sense of horror. Abhorrence and horror are strong enough terms, yet they imply a primacy of activity on the part of the retreatant though, it must be added, the grace to have such feelings is clearly seen as something to be asked of and freely bestowed by God. The terminology used by Ignatius here, at least as we can understand it four centuries later, does not adequatrly desc.ribe the passive nature of the First Week experience as it is sometimes encountered when, without active The Spiritual Exercises and the Conversion of Paul / 659 pursuit of desire for sorrow for sin, and so forth, rational defenses and affective supports ~reviously relied upon suddenly disappear. Disorienta-tion deepens as awareness of sin increases. The revelation of sinfulness progresses; as Ignatius.described it, in three stages. The first is that of felt guilt over specific acts for which the person is respohsible, guilt that has been accumulating perhaps over a long period of time, the full impact of which suddenly bursts forth with unexpectedly painful sharpness as the reti'eatant faces God and himself in solitude. Crnfusion is balanced only by the fi~m witness of the mercy and forbearance of God in allowing the person t~J come to this point. The second stage occurs if the layer of the conscious mind can be sufficiently peelea off to-reveal the underlying basic tendencies to evil for which a perso~n is only partly responsible at the conscious level. The feeling of confusion, pain,, a~nd alienation increases and a ne'w factor eri(ers in: helplessness-sthe inability to do what one Would want to do about vast areas of life. ,;The realization deepens that one is unable to Consciously regulate tendencies to grab for security, love, and control that diminish both victims and subject. The person is painfully aware of not being in control of his own motivation. At this point feelings of guilt mix with a newly discovered fear of one's own innate destructiveness. Mistrust of oneself can be countered by trust in the God who has kept him from becoming worse than he is. In the third stage the probe of the ~pirit goes deeper still until it reaches the 16vel at which personal responsibility is no longer at stake. It is .the experience of total powerlessn~ess, helplessness, total inability to act in any way.to save oneself. The forces of disintegration seem to be triumphing and God seems to have left the person totally to his own resources which have consequently cru'mbled. Here it is no longer a question of guilt and merc~,, but of the ability to live with fear and to cling to some memory of the love of God. The familiar theological maxim that God sustains all things in existence at every moment becomes a crushing reality, for the person is This "confusion." flowing from the sense of being judged by God, is not the result of a rational process: it is total loss of face before a situation which cannot be long endured with the usual supports of reason and prudence. We find ourselves con-fronted by ttie cross of Christ placed in the presence of unmeasuredness itself, that which is "madness to the world" (I Co 1:23).2 Z"La 'confusion.' fruit spirituel de cejugement divin, n'est pas le r~sultat d'une argumenta- 'tign logique: elle est perle totale de contenance, devant une situation qui pr~cis~ment ne peut ~tre plus Iongte.mps support~e avec !es ressources habituelles de la raison et de la pru-dence. ~Nous voici, devant la Croix du Christ. mis ,en presence de la d~mesure m~me, qm est 'folie l~our le monde" (I Cor 1:23) . La premiere semaine des Exercices." Christus, vol. 6. no. 21 (1959), pp. 22-39 (translation mine). 660 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 sure that nothing within himself is preserving his being, .and yet it seems to be God himself wh6 is crushing him. Ignatius understood [53] that only the total powerlessness of Christ on the cross as he is destroyed by force.s beyond human control can give any meaning to this experience, W. de Broucker describes this state of soul in a way that sums up the whole triple movement: It is precisely the attitude expressed by the dying Chris.t that marks the beginning of the movement upward: "Into your hands I commit my spirit." Surrender into the hands of God, the cessation of struggle against the force that seems to be annihilating the self, goes against the basic instinct of human nature. It is natural for us "to fight for life, to hang on tenuously to the familiar. If the shred of self that is left can be given up, a new self can be formed. With surrender comes trust that there is someone or something to surrender to, and that something other than total chaos can result. Once trust has been given, a dim hope can begin to arise, an assurance that dawn will~ome and that a reason for the suffering and death of the experience may be that something greater is coming to birth. With a new confidence given to the force that is at work within, further insight into one's personal responsibility may result. There may be deep-ened realization of how one's total helplessness before God, now a.~vivid reality, creates subconscious defenses in the form of root tendencies to turn away from God in order to avoid pain, conflict, or unwelcome truth. New awareness of personal orientation away from God then leads to a whole new outlook about personal sinfulness. The avoidance, neglect, anxiety, and self-seeking expressed in everyday~life as sin are seen with much more understanding and insight into one's personal motivation.s and weaknesses. At this point a healing of pain and guilt can take place and the mercy of God becomes an invading presence _bringing with it the experience of reconcil-iation leading to a deep sense of peace and eventually of joy. The new clarity of understanding leads inevitably, for the person who remains faithful in following the new way where God is'leading, to a trans-formation of attitude and behavior. This transformation is a psychiC and spiritual change that invades the whole person, btit rarely does it happen all at once. It involves the abandoning of certain accepted values and untried assumptions regarding personal autonomy, perception of truth, or need for affectivity. Realization of what God is asking in these areas and consequent surrender and acceptance of change usually happen gradually over a period of at least several months. What is happening simultaneously is the ac-quisition of a new set of personal values to replace the old ones, values usually founded on sharpened awareness of the fragility and weakness of the self and a deep sense of awe an~d gratitude at the ways that God's power is at work in weakness. Mary Esthei- Harding describes the psychological change that is taking place at this point: The Spiritual Exercises and the Conversion of Paul / 661 Whenever there is an upsurge of highly activated unadapted material into conscious-ness, the task of assimilation becomes urgent. This holds true whether the new material is valuable, creative stuff or merely alchaic phantasy that bespeaks more a morbid exuberance than a prolific creativity. The assimilation of the new material demands a fresh standpoint, which implies a recognition of the relativity of all former judgments. What was formerly considered unqualifiedly good must'now be judged in the light of,the new and enlarged understanding; the same must be done with that which has been considered bad? The whole experience might be summarized as an awareness of: the goodness of God gratitude sinful actions guilt. need for mercy, forgiveness sinful tendencies fear struggle need to experience love of God powerlessness surrender trust hope And a new awareness of: sinful tendencies new awareness of mercy love motivqtion for sinful power of God acts , need to change There follows a healing and reconciliation peace, joy and a gradual transformation of values, attitudeS, behavior As 'was stated at the beginning, the primary focus of this paper is the spiritual experience of Paul, aRd the previous discussion of the process is by ~ay of setting the stage. Patil's change Of heart is classically spoken of as a "conversion;" The limitation inherent in the use of this term is the restricted sense in which the word is most often used: change of faith or religion or, somewhat more broadly, emendation of a wayward moral life, while the root meaning of the word "conversion' ~ is really something closer to an "about face~'--a total turning of the person from one orientation to another. While Paul's "conversions" certainly did entail a change of reli-gious affiliation, though probably not a change of moral conduct, it must be Understood. primarily in the broadest sense of the term, as a complete overthrow and turn-about of personal values. Because of the ambiguities aPsychic Energy: Its Source and Its Transformation, 2nd ed. Bollingen Series X (Washington, D.C.: Pantheon, 1963), p. 285. 662 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 present.in the word "conversion," it might be preferable to ~pe~ak of the "transformhtion" of Paul in his encounter with the li~,ing Christ.4 Contrary to, what much p0pu,!ar arid undiscrimina.ting piety (and perhaps even the a~uthor of Acts)would,have us think, Paul's transformation did not happen.overnight or even in three days as a careless reading of Acts 9:18-30 might suggest. Paul himself speaks of three years (Ga 1:18).~tran~spiring before he began to preach Christ. There is no reason' to suppose that the process moved along with remarkable speed. We tend to clothe Paul's transformation~ixperien~e in'a thick ~overirig of the miraculous, leaning too heavily on the clear triple account of Acts and too lightly on Paul's own illusive comments. The flash of light, the heavenly voice of the reveals/r, Paul's being struck to the ground, and the mysterious three-day blindness are all stock elements of narrations of divine epiph-anies. For some, miraculous revelations are a stumblingblock and a source of conflict. But for most people today, they are something else: an invitation to disregard. And so what happens°is that someone like Paul, who leaps out at us so humanly in his own writings, becomes relegated to the dim past, to the gallery of "saints" who are not quite as human as the rest of us, to the realm of the "supernatural" dichotomized from that realm in which we ourselves live and struggle. The reason for all this is 'not surprising: we do not have to have the uncomfortable experience of seeingourselves reflected in such a "saint." The ways of God with humanity are as varied as are the persons who seek to know them, and yet there are qualities of our common humanity that remain very much the same. It is for this reason that an analysis'of the transformation process a~ given above, and an attempt to see that process as it happened in Paul are worthwhile. We may be able to see something of ourselves in him and so better understand the ways of God in us. It is a mistake to think of Paul as changing f.rom hardened persecutor to egthusiastic mystic, from~his, blind cruelty to a Christian sensitivity, as though: his transformation, were from sinner to saint. Paul was not a hard man; .he was a sincere and generous man. His pursuit of Christians sprang 4An important article or] the structure and Western interpretations o"f Paul's conversion ex-perience appeared long ~go and attracted considerable nOtice in Protestant Scholarly circles, coming as it did out of a Lutheran interpretation of~Paul; I refer to Krister Stendahl'.s "The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West," Harvard Theglogical:Revi~ew 56:3 (July, 1963), pp. 199-215, an article well worth reading. In recent conversation betwe_en the author arid rfiyse!f there was agreement about Paul's "clear conscience" regarding his former way of life in Judaism (see ~specially pp. 200-201); however, I would not want to stress the idea of "introspection" as the search for personal sin, but would rather emphasize the seeking after awareness of God's action within the person. In contrast to Dean Stendahl's interpretation (pp. 204-205) I would distinguish two aspects of Paul's change of ways: first, a personal transformation, and second, the directing of that new energy toward evange Jzat~on of the Gentiles. The Spiritual Exercises and the Conversion of Paul / 663 not from cruelty but from enthusiasm in the service of God. He was the good and tlpright man whom the Lord loved, and because the Lord loved hii~ so much, he called him to give more. Paul says of himself (Ph 3:5-6) that his family and religious credentials were impeccable and that he had done far more than the minimum required to be a son of the Law. He was without fault in itg r~gard,'fully aware of its value as gift bestowed upon Is-rael as a proof bf God's love. Hi~ sincere thirst for justice miast have led him periodically into the self-scrutiny of the just which produces an awa(eness of personal failings anti sinful tendencies that only deepens devotion as it deepens-an ap~areciation of God's mercy. ,.Then something happened. Whether his encounter with the living Christ was as dramatic as Acts 9 portrays it is doubtful, for Paul nowhere alludes to~,,his experie]ace as containing elements of the sensational,but rather de-scribes it qui[e simply: "Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?" (1 Co 9:1); "I did not receive [the gospel] from a human source nor was I.taught by any but a revelation from Jesus Christ" (Ga 1:12); "God who had set me aside from my mother's womb called me through his grace and revealed his son in me" (Ga 1:15; see Is 49:1; Jr 1:5). There is an undeniable sense of personal encounter and ,call, even for a specific mission, but ~very little impression of fanfare. He found himself at point zero, knocked off his horse more internally than externally, with no patterned defenses or conditioned responses to fall back on that had not been stripped away by a new presence that was relentlessly pursuing him. ,When the realization of whathad happened began to take hold of him, Paul knew he had been changed. Luke's image of blindness approximates in physical.terms what must have been his psychic,state for a period of time: confusion, loss, fear, inner chaos, spiritual paralysis, the terrifying~feeling that hig whole world was coming apart. As he began to surrender to the force that was invading him, he would have become aware that it was a new and unwelcome presence that of Jesus of Nazareth, suddenly: intruding upon his well-ordered world. This is in fact the heart of the experience of brokenness: that Christ manifests himself in a new and unexpected way, and before his demanding presence all pre-conceived structures of life must be put aside. '~ Onc~ he had accepted what was happening, he would have begun to see h~ms~lfin a new way, feeling within himself the slowi3i-dawning and terrible realization that he had misplaced his devotion and misdirected his zeal, the frustration of knowing for the first time that he had beeri turned in a di-rection which, in the light of a new awareness, he had to judge as the wrong way. New understanding Would .have brought about new se'lf-knowledge and a new capacity for radical honesty about the movements of his life, enveloped in deepened awe at the sustaining and patient love of God re-vealed in Christ who was now calling into question the whole meaning of his life. ,664 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 The realization that the love of God has been constant when our re-sponse has been anything but constant, that his forgiveness was extended even before we knew for what to ask it, can be a crushing blow from which the security of the ego never fully recovers. The wound inflicted on it is not cured, as if the tearing never happened; rather, it is healed, brought to new wholeness- not in spite of, but because of the rending. As is often the case, Paul's healing and reconciliation with God were not for his sake only., but that he might lead many others to the same point: "The love of Christ overwhelms us when we realize that one died for all., so that the living should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again., for everything is from God who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and given us the ministry of reconciliation" (2 Co 5:14-18). What is cautiously born then is a'self that must undertake the painful task of she~lding and leaving behind as so much debris much that the former self deemed of value, in order to make room for new value to come. In the case .of Paul the reversal which he had to endure to be faithful to newly-given grace was dramatic and loaded with not only personal but also social consequences: "But whatever was formerly gain to me, I have com~ to consider it loss because of Christ; mor.eover, I now consider everything loss because of the overwhelming knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord, for whom I have let go of eve~:ything and consider it rubbish in order to gain Christ and be counted with him" (Ph 3:7-9). For him it meant giving up a worldview, religious affiliation, a certainty of being right, a reputation, family and friends, the whole fabric of personal and social relationships that had formed the pattern of his life. Few are called to so drasti6.a change. Yet the most fundamental change must have been one with which many can resonate: the need to reconstruct from broken fragments.a new self, a much more fragile self, like an earthenware jar hollowed out at the center in which "the overflowing power comes from God and not from us" (2 Co 4:7). It is the need to understand and accept the voice of Christ addressed to the prostrate human spirit, "My grace is enough, for strength is brought to fullness in weakness," and to respond by saying, "Joyfully then I will openly share my weakness so that the power of Christ may be revealed through me" (2 Co 12:8-9). It might be argued that the above account of Paul's conversion .and transformation is a fanciful extrapolation based on insufficient data. Yet the essential human experience underlying it is so basic and .universal that no matter in how many myriad forms it is manifested, a true experience of transformation from one spiritual state to another (as opposed to a super-ficial "conversion" that is only temporary because self-induced) has certain fundamentally similar components. Certainly Paul's experience was a trans-formation of this kind. Though he leaves many things unsaid, the pain and fear, the bewildering search, and ultimately the ecstasy of discovering that it is precisely in crucifying weakness that the power of the risen Christ is manifested, come through in the few literary traces he has left. The Spir!tual Exercises and the Converison of Paul / 665 For Paul transformation meant a radical break with the past, with family, home, and faith. For most of us, the break is not so abrupt, and yet the need to abandon old habits of thinking and feeling to make room for new ones still only dimly perceived is a common element. Spiritual directors are plentiful these days, but guides and models in one's spiritual experience are not always easy to come by. An ability to find echoes of one's own life in the jolting experience of Paul may give encouragement and be a cause for that movement of hope in darkness which affirms with him that no matter how chaotic may be the experience of finding out what we really are, for the person who continues trying to hang on the way Christ has hung onto him neither height of blind pride nor depth of despair--both of which can co-exist in the same person--nor any creature of the imagination can ever wrench us away from the love of God that is expressed to us in Christ Jesus our Lord.5 ~See Ph 3:12; Rm 8:39. REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits by J. R. Sheets, S.J. .50 Retirement or Vigil by B. Ashley, O.P. .30 The Confessions of Religious Wom~en by Sr. M. Denis, S~.O.S. 30 The Four Moments of Prayer by J. R. Sheets, S.J. .50 The Healing of Memories by F, Martin .35 The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat by H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 The Teaching. Sister in the Church by E. Gambari, S.M.M. .30 The Theology., of the Eucharistic Presence by J. Galot, S.J. .30 The Vows and Christian Life by G. Greif, S.J. .30 New Reprints° Centering Prayer--Prayer o~ Quiei by M. B. Pi:nnington, O.C.S.O .50 Colloquy of God With a Soul That Truly Seeks Him .30 Prayer of Personal Reminiscence by D. J, Hassel, S.J. .60 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 No. Grand Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63103' Please include remittance with all orders less than $5.00 A Theology of the Religious Life Local Church and Ladislaus Orsy, S.J. Father Orsy teaches Canon Law at the Catholic University of America. He resides at Carroll House; 1225 Otis St. N.E.; Washington, DC 20017. The text of this article is the keynote address given in New Orleahs at the annual convention of the National Conference of Vicars for Religious, on March 21, 1977. The notes were added later to try to dispel some ambiguities in the text and, elucidate further the author's mind. Saint Thomas Aquinas introduced one of his famous works with the Sen-tence: "A small error in the beginning leads to a great one in the end.''1 In the same spirit of wise caution we can say that the wrong question ~n thee beginning is likely to lead to the wrong answer at the end. Let us transform, therefore, the terse words of the title, "A :Theology of the Local ChUrch and Religious Life," into a question rightly construed, that can lead us securely in our inquiry toward the ans~ver~s that we do not know at the point of our departure. Indeed, the title breaks up quite naturally into three queries: 1. What is our understanding of the local church? (By under:standing we mean tides quaerens intellectum; faith seeking underst.and!ng. Here we mean the knowledge of the local church that is givew t.hroughfaith, and is deepened through our reflection on the data of faiths)z ° ~ ~ 2. What is our understanding of religious life? (Understanding means, here again, knowledge through faith and reflection.) , 3. What is, and what should be, the right relationship between the two? The questions spring quite natur~ally from the title. Yet, I am still not satisfied with them. They shouldbb focused with more care, sharpened with greater precision. Also, they should impose a limit on our rather broad topic, and thus make the discussion of it more manageable for our specific purpose. Let us try again to set the right questions. 666 A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 667 1. What is our understanding of the fact, of the ~event, of a particular church ? There are two significant changes in this new formulation. We seek a better understanding of the fact or event of the church; that is, our'focus is not on an abstract concept, but on an actually existing community of Chris-tians who form a church, although not the:universal Church. Our focus is concrete and existential. Our understanding will develop more from .the observation of the living body than from the analysis of texts. Also, we substituted the term "particular" for "local." The reason for this isthat local church has a geographical connotation and tends to point to a parish or to a diocese, hardly to more than these. The term "particular" allows greater flexibility; it points toward the natural unity of a group of Christians inside the broad,universal community. Such unity may well emergedn a diocese, .but it may well go beyond it and extend as far as an ecclesiastical province, a region, or a country.~ It may even spread over several countries. To seek the understanding of a "particular" church, instead of a "local" church, frees us from narrow boundaries and will allow us to examine the issue in a broader context? But we must impose a restriction on ourselves. We do not intend to exhaust the mystery of a particular church by investigating all its dimen-sions. We want to understand its life in relationship to religious commu-nities. That is all; but, it is a lot. 2. What is our understanding of the fact and event of religious com-munities? Here, too, our focus is concrete. Our primary interest is not in the concept of religious life, but in the real life.of religious communities.4 With a well-defined limitation: we seek the understanding of the life and work of religious communities in their .relationship to a particular church in which they exist, and where they give themselves to the service of the universal church. 3. What is, or what should be, the relationship between the two, a particular church and religious commutiities, in it? We intend to reflect on the living relationship that exists, or should exist, in the b6dy of the church between two diverse members. We seek ihis understanding in view oflntelligent Christian action, with the intention of ¯ finding norms and guidelines for such action. Let us turn now to the first q,uestion. First Question: How Can We Come to,a'Better understanding of the Particular Church? All understanding begins with the perception of facts. For facts about the particular church we must turn to the awareness of Christians through-out- the centuries, from the beginning to our days. Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 Some historical pointers about the development of the particular church; or, how did the Christian community perceive the particular church throughout its history? In the early centuries, Christian communities developed maihly along the great commercial routes of the Roman Empire. Soon they structured themselves; the bishop presided over the congregation. The local com-munities were closely knit; those were the times when Christians knew each other by name. While they were aware of the universal dimension of their religion, they enjoyed a certain amount of local autonomy,. Yet, right from the beginning, there was a ,movement to bring the smaller communities around the bishop into a larger unity, either under the supervision of a traveling bishop, or under a metropolitan residing in a larger city, usually the capital of a province. Particular churches with their own language, liturgy, discipline and customs, developed, not so much in each~city, but in larger territories that represented a natural cultural unity, They developed different understandings of Christian faith; they created different practices. Of course, those differences did not go so far as to deny or contradict the unity necessary for universality, but they certainly went far enough to give a different character to each of those particular churches.'~ Such trends are clearly discernible well into the Middle Ages. Individual dioceses in most places were too small to give a specific ex-pression to their faith, to create their own discipline; culturally, they were ¯ ¯ absorbed into a larger unity, into the ecclesiastical province or the national church. Thus, the Irish church, from the beginning, wa.s quite different from the continental churches, yet there was not much difference from one diocese to another. The English church, too, had its own characteristics under the leadership of Canterbury. On the Continent, the legal customs of Germanic peoples gave a certain unity to many churches. In Spain, the Mozarabic rite developed and united many dioceses in worship. In France, churches around Lyons formed again a vital unity, distinguished by their liturgy. We could continue the enumeration of such developments, but for the purpose of this article, let us content ourselves with a general statement, that I believe is historically correct. If by particular church we mean a church that has its own specific charisms, its own mind and its own heart within the universal Church, then only a few dio.ceses were truly.particular churches,n Differences in theology, liturgy, and discipline could be found much more between ecclesiastical provinces, regions and territories of nations, than between dioceses. The source of such variety is much more in human culture than in the understanding of faith. With the waning of the Middle Ages, a change takes place. The power of the metropolitan see in the Western church is reduced to a minimu~m. Liturgical worship, preaching, and discipline become strongly unified in the whole Church, even to the point of exaggerated uniformity. The role. of A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 6159 particular churches, be they dioceses, regions or provinces, is reduced to a minimum. Vatican Council II wanted to restore the dignity of the particular church and the bishops sti'essed its importance repeatedly,r ~'et the council was not in a position to do much reflection on the nature of the particular church, on what it has been throughout different periods of.history; it did not tell us how the term should be understood in the future. Indeed,°the developments after the council reflect some confusion, even some contradiction in these matters. In many theoretical writings and commentaries on the council, it is assumed that the particular church is the diocese. Its unity, its specific character, its distinctive vocation are em-phasized. Yet recent developments in liturgical and disciplinary legislation do not give,.much importance to individual dioceses; they give much more power to larger :tinits represented by national or regional episcopal con-ferences. While differentiation on the diocesan level is virtually impossible, ex-cept in insignificant and minor matters, privileges, exemptions, special permissions are easily granted to a larger unit such as a region or a nation. It is clear now that the term "particular church" can be used in two distinct ways. It may refer to an individual diocese, to one congregation around its bishop, or it may refer to a larger unit that comprises several dioceses and possesses a unity that springs from human factors such as culture, history, national inheritance, and so forth. Both uses are legitimate and important. But the meaning ought to be clarified in each case. Reflecting on the relationship of religious communities to the particular church, we cannot sweep away this problem of meaning, calling it purely semantic. The issue of relationship is alive on both levels and brings up different problems that we must face. There is the issue of the rela~tionship of.religious communities to a diocese. But there is also the issue of the relationship of religious com, munities to a larger unit, e.g., ~to the national church, that has its own particular characteristics. In the United States, both issues are alive. Theological reflections on the fact or event of the particular church, or, what is our understanding of a particular church? 1. Christian people throughout their historY were aware of belonging, as it were, to two communities: one, universal, the other, particular. The universal' community is world-wide; it springs from the action of the one Spirit of God, who was poured out on the face of the earth. The entrance into it is through one baptism that is the same everywhere. The particular community is the local one~ For some, the local church means the parish, for some others the diocese, for others again, it may well mean the church in a country. 2. The temptation always existed, and will probably never leave us, to Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 oppose the two to the point that one is considered important at the expense of the other. But any such consideration is wrong because it tears up the visible body .of Christ. When we speak of the universal Church and the particular ones we. do nothing less.and nothing more than to describe an existing differentiation in the social, body of Christ. His body is one, but it is composed of parts; the whole could not exist without the parts;-and the parts have no life .in themselves. Any separation means death for all; any destruction of natural harmony brings sickness to the whole organism. 3. Paradoxes can be helpful inour attempt to understand such complex differentiation. It can be :said that there is both autonomy and dependence in each member of the body. The particular church is autonomous and yet it depends on the universal Church. The universal (~hurch is itself the source of life for all other churches; yet its vitality comes entirely from the local churches. We may think of the autonomy of the heart in bur body. It will not ~ perform well unless all the other organs let it do what its spec!fic task is; any unwarranted intervention with. the heart,may bring subsequent disaster for the whole body. Yet the heart is totally dependent in its function on the whole body. The rhythm of its beat, the strength of its action, are carefully regulated by numerous other factors and agents present in the living body. If they,.cease . to function, no life-giving blood will flow into the heart. We may not be able to reach~a precise definition for the local church, but reflection through symbols and images can give us a great deal of, under-standing. 4. If we ask now what precisely the source.of differences is among the local churches, we find that it is mainly in the humanity of those Christians who form them, that is, not so much in any specific Christian belief, but in th~ human traditions; history and culture of those who believe. Thus, initially, the Jews and the Greeks and the Romans all received the good news equally, but they built up churches that were marked by their own culture, national customs and characteristics. Thus there were soon Jewish churches, Hellenistic Churches, and churches of the Romans, all part of the "same universal Church, yet all different. .Later, the inhabitants of Ireland, of England, of the Iberian peninsula built their churches on the universal elements of Christian faith, worship, " and discipline, and on the particular elements of tl~eir own inheritance. 5. The situation is not much different today. Here and there, an isolated di6cese may be found that has its own distinctive life as a diocese. The Christian community of a Pacific Island may well develop.distinctive traits that no other diocese in this world can possess. But such cases are rare today. More often there is a regional unity. The dioceses of Alaska form a natural unity that is quite different from their sister churches in the South. A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 671 There" might also be a national unity. The dioceses of Japan are not mark-edly different from each other; the strong unity of the culture and traditions on the four islands is manifest in the particular church of Japan. Even a whole contir~ent can display a unity. How many times in recent years we have. heard the churches of South America speaking with voices that were strikingly similar to one another. There are foundations in South America for a specific particular unity that embraces the Christians of many dio-ceses, numerous provinces and several nations. 6. °Such re°flecti0ns and considerations do not leave us with a clear concept'and definition of what a particular church is; but they leave us with a good working understanding of the complex nature of our Church that is both universal and particular at the same time. Our undei-standing reflects the true state of things and.~e do not become captive of romantic ideas that are definitely present in the .post-conciliar writings. Father Karl Rahner himself stresses that there is church whenever the bishop celebrates the Eucharist, surrounded by his community. Such a ViSion certainly corre-sponds to our earliest traditions, but it is simply not realistic today. Few of the faithful ever partake in the Eucharist'celebrated by the bishop, and the size of the dioceses geographically or numerically makes any such cele- I~ration virtually iml56ssible. Our understanding it not in adopting clear theories. It is much more the perception of the changing, shifting realities of the Chi~rch. That is how it should be. The duty of Chri~tia.ns to uphold the particular church; or, how must we confess in word and deed our belief in the particular church? At this point, two facts stand out. One is that there is no Christian Church without particular churches, as~there is no human body withotit members. The other is that there is no Christian who does not belong, somehow, to a particular church, as there is no individual cell that does not belong,to a distinct organ in the human body. No one can; therefore, belong to the Christian Church without assuming the duty to uphold a particular church, although this duty may well be differentiated according to the condition of each one, as we shall see. There is no direct and immediate entry, into the universal Church, since it is the communio of local churches. Interestingly enough, not even the pope him-self, who traditionally has been called the "Bishop of Rome," or the "Uni-versal Bishop," belongs exclusively to the universal Church. He is not residing in a territory detached from all particular churches, as the Presi-dent of the United States resides in the District of Columbia, detached from any allegiance to any state. The pope is the Bishop of Rome and belongs to that particular, church, while he is also the head of the universal Church. The very structure of the (2hurch demandsthat there should be aduty on every single person to uphold his own local or particular church. The support to a,memb.er church must always be in harmony and good 679 / Review for Religious, Volume,36, 1977/5 balance with the belief and support given to the universal Church. There is no precise measure to determine how much a Christian should give tohis particular community and how much to the universal congregation of the Church. Such measure can only be determined by taking into account a call and a mandate: the vocation of an individual person or of a distinct com~ munity. Even in the case of the same person, of the same community, the contribution can be shifting and changing according to needs, and their existing capacity to give. Now we have come to the point where we can speak .more explicitly about the duty of religious communities to uphold the local, particular church. It is a duty from which there is no exception and no exemption. But the duty is not the same in every group. Religious ins'titutes that are exempt from the jurisdiction of the local or~linary and subject to the direct supervision of the Holy See, have a f9ndamental universality, a call and a mandate to go to local churches where the need is greater.8 They are freed from the power of the local,.bishop, not in order to be total free-lancers in the Church, but to be free to serve~ anywhere in any local church. Because of the universal call and mandate of such religious institutes, their world-wide organization, their capacity to move from one place to another should be respected. But once they are settled within the boundaries of the local church or in the territory of a particular church in the broader sense, they must blend into the local scene; they must even strike roots in the local soil in order to bring forth good fruit. They should not be a source of disruption, but a source of strength.9 Similar considerations apply to'various communities of pontifical right. As a rule their vision goes beyond the limits of a particular church, their aspirations often stretch far and wide. But they too, are at some place and have the duty to serve the people of God there. Then there are the institutes of diocesan right. They dedicate them-selves to the service of the universal Church through serving exclusively near a local church. They are not superior or inferior to the others; they simply have their own distinctive vocation and dedication. The duty to respect.and to serve a particular church SpringS not only from a law imposed by God through the structures of the Church, but also from the respect due to differences manifest in our human nature and in our historical traditions. The upholding of the local church originates in a deep belief in the Incarnation; in the blending of divine and h6man elements in the Christian community. The gift of God may be similar all around but it takes different shapes and forms in various ~places. Second Question: How Do We Perceive Existentially, Understand Rationally, and Be at Home Practically With Religious Communities? The question sounds broad but the focus of our inquiry is strictly cir-cumscribed again. We do not wish to reflect over all the aspects of the A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 673 existence and life of religious communities. We want to know, to under-stand and help them in their relationship to the local and particular (hurch. This is the proper scope of our inquiry. A short survey of the development of religious communities in their rela-tionship to the local or particular church will be good grounding again for further reflection. Our survey will be limited to a few facts arising in the history of the Western Church. The birth and expansion of the monastic movement from the sixth into the ninth century can be described in a somewhat unusual way: the au-tonomous monasteries that sprang up first in Italy, and then on the con-tinent of Europe, also in the British Isles, had much of the characteristics of a local church. The monasteries were cities of God, distinguished from the cities of man. The brethren gathered around the Abbot to offer their praise and thanksgiving to God.~° In some places, the bishop exercised a certain amount of power over them. In other places, due oftrn to distance, the monks lived and died Within their own monastery, with no interference from any ecclesial au-thority. By the eighth century however, the weakness of being alorie and not being in communication with a broader ~egment of the Church became manifest. Signs of decline and decay were setting in. The eighth century that witnessed the movement of Cluny also saw an increasing awareness of the need forgreater unity am?ng religious com-munities. Monasteries of different places, provinces, regions and countries placed themselves under the power of the Abbot of Cluny. Such close unity clearly constituted a new relationship to both the particular and universal Church. In fact, without the help of the church of Rome, that is the pope, they could not have achieved what they did. With Cluny, an organizational breakthrough had been made. In the eleventh century, the movement of Citeaux brought about again a new type of union of monasteries built more on a bond of love than on any legal structure. In the thirteenth century, Francis and Dominic were certainly dedicated servants of local churches, but soon they moved beyond this: they em-o braced the whole of Christendom. They brought their own new approach toward serving both the local and the universal Church. They had a strongly developed sense of universality, without, however, turning their backs on local needs. ~ ~ The sixteer~th century is the time when new continents opened up. Discoverers and colonizers set out to conquer new lands. That is the time of the foundation of the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits seemingly had no allegiance to any local church. They were devoted to the pope. But further examination shows that while they set out on their apostolic journeys, often 1574 / Review for Religious, Volume 36~ 1977/5 sent by the pope himself, for the sake of the universal Church, once they arrived, they went to extraordinary lengths to build and to uphold local churches in India, in Japan, in South America. Paradoxically, they left thei,r native churches to become all to the natives in faraway places.~z The nineteenth and the twentieth centuries bring a new development. There are many apostolic foundaiions; some more for the sake of the universal Church, some definitely for the sake ofparticular churches. Both trends are represented: to serve the universal Church, and to work for the welfare of local churches. Here our historical survey ends and our reflections begin. The ecclesial Character of religious communities; or, hdw are they related to the Church? Our .aim here is to articulate with some clarity an understanding of the obvious fact of history that religious communities exist in the Church and they are in the service of our Christian people. 1. The birth, the development, the existence and the work of religious communities is nothing else than a particular manifestation of the life of the Church.~3 A religious com,rnunity, independently .from the ~:hurch, has no life. When a community prospers, it is growing in the life that was given to the Church. This statement should be stressed today ~ince some religious comn~unities have become soinvolved in reflecting on their own life that they hhve lost sight of the source of their life. They work within a- narrow horizon, and never find what they are seeking so anxiously. Also, once we understand the fact that there is no life in religious communities except what comes from the Church, it is easier to understand the history of those communities which once prospered spiritually but later grew old arid died. There is not necessarily any shame~in that. Human persons too. are born, develop, prosper, grow old and die. God may well call a community into existence to provide for the needs of the times; he may well call another one for new needs. We are not privy to his designs. We should give praise for the vocation we have and should not covet what we do not have. Those who are ~nxiously asking whether or not religious life will survive lock themselves in(o the limits of a wrong question. The right question is: is there an abundance of life in the Church? If so, that life. will manifest itself in new ways that we cannot foresee. There will be always foolish persons around, such as were Francis of Assisi, Ignatius of Loyola, Teresa of Avila, to surprise us, to shock us, and to entice us to follow them. If we put our hope. where it naturally belongs, that is, in the Church, our anxieties may well disappear.~4 ~ 2. A religious community may have many goals, all of them good and right. But there is a built-in purpose in .every community that seeks and obtains approval from the Church. They. publicly proclaim that the words of life are with the visible Church. They want to be publicly recognized by the Church, they want to have their way of life authenticated as good enough to follow Christ. A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 675 The legal formalities of obtaining approval for a new religious com-munity have a deep theological significance. As often happens in the Church, the beauty is all within. A community asks for public incorporation into the strtictures of the Church. Such a quest is the fruit of an act of faith in the wisdom and the power of the Church. When such incorporation is granted, behind the test of the document there is a quiet recognition that the Church has seen grace operating in the community. It is an approval of the way of life of the group, of their service to thee community. The foundation. for the understanding of government and obedience in religious commu-nities is their ecclesial character. The Church gives them a public mandate. When they accept it, they obey the call to service.1'~ 3. Ye~, the mandate from the Church does not make all the ]zommunities the same. Each retains its own particular character and personality. Each is called to serve both the universal and local church in different ways. There are and there will be communities Who have their origin and the scope of their life within a local or particular church. There they were born, there they live, work and die. We all know such groups. Their gift is precious beyond telling.In Lesotho, who can serve the local church better than a congregation of native sisters? There are communities whose organization may spread throughout the ~niversal Church. Members are easily transferred from one place to an-other, according to need. Their vocation is to blend the universal mission with service in one place. The Franciscanor Dominican friars or the Jesuits would be typical examples of'suchcommunities. But let us recall that when a Eurbpean is sent to Japan, and takes up some apostolic work there, his mandate is to affirm and uphold through every available means the church of Japan. Missionary adaptation or "incuituration" is really an effort.to-ward building the local church. No matter how universal the vocation of a commu,nity is, eventually service must be given at a place that is the local or particular church. The duty of the Church to uphold religious communi.tiey; or, how can religious communities be "affirmed by the Church? The Church affirms a religious community through the act of public approval. But that is just the beginning. The initial act should be followed by unceasing help and encouragement to promote the integration of reli-gious into the life of the Church, both universal and particular. Respect for the ,way of life of each group should be the fundamental rule that governs the attitude of the Holy See or of the diocesan bishop. There is no single rule to say how this respect should go. , In the case of a contemplative monastery, respect may ~nean the ap-preciation of the prayers~offered by those monks and nuns, of the sacrifice of their lives. In the case of an apostolic community, the situation is dif-ferent; they are taking part in the practical work of evangelization. The 676 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 Church mandates them to preach, and to perform deeds of charity. They should be given an opportunity to share their experience with others. I.n the diocese, they should=be taken into the planning, even into the decision-making, process. Indeed, there is an ancient tradition to invite abbots of independent monasteries and, a newer practice, to invite superiors general of exempt religious, orders, to an ecumenical council. To have religious present at synods, held either on regional or diocesan levels, would be not only fair and just, bfit it would be according to our traditions, too. Such can be the affirmation of religious life in practice. At this point it is interesting to note that the development from synods to episcopal con-ferences is somewhat a departure from the old tradition of the Church. Surely, the episcopal body has a unique position in the universal Church, and the residential bishop is in charge of his diocese. But the bishop needs the religious to carry out well their own mandate received through their consecration. I~t is, necessary for them to be in steady contact with religious who carry so much of the burden of daily work in the Church and the churches. If reiigious share the pastoral work of the bishops, they should also have some part in planning and evaluating the same work.~ Third Question: What Is the Relationship Between the Particular Church and Rer, ligious Communities, and How Should This Relationship Develop? The relationship between a particular church and religious communities is a dynamic living relationship that must be created anew all the time. Legal norms cannot do more than give a framework that is always in, adequate .to generate life, but good enough to protect life that comes from deeper sources. Legal norms by their very nature are abstract, impersonal, and general. They are meant for typical cases irrespective of the persons inv61ved, and of their historical circumstances. But in real life there are only concrete situations and living persons and communities. The relationship depends on the personality of the bishop on the one side, of the religious community on the other side. They must work out their relationship concerning particular issues,lr Perhaps this.relationship is best described through analogies. The ob~,ious analogy of call and response can be used. The bishop calls on the religious community and asks for help to build the Church, to announce the good news, to do the good deeds of charity. When the re-ligious hear this call they must respond out of their own resources. The response of an enclosed community may well be in offering prayers for the needs of the diocese; the response of a group of Dominican friffrs may well be in preaching in' the diocese. The religious too, may call 'on the local church for help and encouragement; they may well need it. A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 677 They may play another role in the diocese. They may call people to a better service of the Lord. They can act as the conscience of the com-munity. Their independence and freedom allows them to do so, provided they can do so without presumption.18 The analogy of the body can be recalled also. The religious community must find its own identity in the body of the church, before it can function properly. The community is a member of the local church, with its own structure and role. It would not be in the interest of the local church to weaken a member group. On the contrary, it must promote their welfare, It must respect theii- identity, must use them properly for the purpose they have been created.19 Such relationship cannot be regulated 'by the rules of justice only, Justice gives birth to rights that must be respected, and certainly should not be bypassed and neglected: Nonetheless, a living dynamic relationship cannot be created if both sides stand on their rights. Such an attitude would lead to a dead end where all the participants become captive to their own rigidity and: dedication to strict justice:2° ~ Good relationships between the local church and religious living and working in it must be created'continuously by both sides. There is no other way of creating it than by charity thiat means to give. Neither side should ask first what is due to them, but rather what is 'it that they can give to-the other. Only then will there be a new spirit that builds the church instead of destroying it; a new spirit that brings unity to the whole body instead 6f fraffmenting it. ~ Conclusion As we reach our conclusion we may well experience contradictory feelings. On the~one side, we experience frustration. After ali we did not succeed in finding precise rules and fixed principles tO determine ihe relationship of the local church and religious communities. We found only changing ,and shifting patterns and the need to create relationships where they do not exist according to our expectations. On the other side we experience contentrhent because we are guided by the Spirit of God and the intelligence of believers rakher than by rigid rules. After all, the Lord himself did not give many detailed instructions to his disciples. He gave them his Spirit to guide them in all. With the help of the Spirit they have built the Church. They were guided more by a person than by words. Our hope, too, is in a person, in the same Spirit of Christ. He is with us, in the local church and in the religious communities. Yet, our hope is also in the dedication and intelligence of Christian people on both sides, in the local church and in religious communities. They; together, can create their relationship anew. 678 / ReOiew for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 By dOing it, they will experiencethe joy of the Incarnation; they will share theagony of the Cross. Yet, throughout it all, they will 'be blessed and will know a contentment that is in a small way the anticipation of the gift of the Resurrection. Notes I. Parvus error in principio magnus est in fine in "De ente et essentia," begin~ning. ~ 2. Such understanding is the fruit of both contemplation and rational reflection. We must first accept the mystery through faith and then seek the understanding of it. 3. We do not intend to down-play the importance of a diocese. It is a natural unit in the church, ,sacramentally and organizationally. Nonethe-less, the life of a given diocese ordinarily does not differ significantly, if at all, from the life of neighb.oring dioceses. But, often enough,.a group of dioceses displays significant differences from the way another group .lives. The local churches of Holland form a unity that is quite distinct under many aspects from the d!oceses of Germany. Organizationally, the division of the universal Church into dioceses is of permanent importance; but, histori-cally, the larger units have played a more importapt role. The term "par, ticul,ar" is used in our text loosely; its meaning is to be determined from the context. At times, it refers to a diocese. More often it refers to a larger unit: to several dioceses grouped together, displaying a common understanding of the mysteries, using similar rites in worship, cooperating closely in apostolic work. 4. The theological principle cannot be stressed enough. We do not begin with a definition; we begin with the contemplation of an event in the history of the Church. We seek to reach some understanding through the con-templative perception of the mystery. Therefore, our vision will never be so complete as apparentlya definition is. Even if we are able to reach a good understanding, it remains incomplete and leaves plenty of possibility for further pr.ogress. 5. As succeeding generations of Christians may focus on different as'- pects of the same mystery, and give practical emphasis to their vision, in a similar way, churches existing in the same historical period may build up differing~understandings of the same mystery, and order their practices acc.ordingly, not in the sense of Contradicting each other, but rather, in the sense 6f completing each other's perception. The same mountain can be looked at. by explorers from the North, and by explorers from the South. Their differing vision of the same mountain is complementary, not contra-dictory. The contemplation of God's mighty deeds in our history, deeds that are certainly permanent, gives rise to perceptions and understandings, that are diStinct and complementary. We see the origin of particular churches in such different perceptions, followed by different practices. A Theology of the Local Church .and Religious Life / 679 6~ At any time of Christian history, a diocese can be called a particular church organizationally. There is one community, with a bishop presiding over it_But beyond any Organization, there is a sacramental unity in the diocese; if the universal Church is a sacrament, so is the diocese. "This Church of Christ is truly present in all legitimate local congregations of the faithful which, united with their pastors, are themselves called,churches in the New Testament" Lumen Gentium, 26. 7." Vatican Council II strongly upheld th6 dignity of, and the right of, the local church.' For instance: "That Church, Holy and Catholic, which is the Mystical Body of Christ, is made up of the faithful .who are organically united i6 the Holy Spirit through the same faith, the same sacraments, and the same government and who, combining into various groups held together by a hierarchy, form separate churches or rites. Between these, there flourishes such an admirable brotherhood that this variety within.the Church in no way harms her unity, but rather manifests it. For it is the mind of the Catholic Church that each individual church or rite retain its traditions whole aiad entire, while adjusting its way of life to the various needs of time and place" Orientalium ecclesiarum, 2. 8. A paradoxical statement; nonetheless it is true; Exempt religious orders mostly used their freedom from local episcopal jurisdiction-to go from,one place to another, either to help the churches most in need, or through missionary activity, to give birth to new churches. Sometimes the privilege of exemption helps specific activities in the service of the universal church, such as, to :sponsor an International School of Theology in Rome or elsewhere. 9.' The strength they give to the local church eventually rebounds to the strength of the whole. 10. To describe the monastic movement in terms o'ffuga mundi, that is flight from the world, only~ is to do injustice to history. Granted that to flee the world was an important motive for people who wanted to join the monastic community, still theii" main motive was to build the city ~of God among the cities of man.°The monastery was as self-contained as the Small cities built on the tops of the hills and mountains of Italy. Yet, there was a difference: praise and thanksgiving were offered, t9 God, day and night. The task of th'e earthly city wasopus hominum, the work of man; the task in the city of.God° was opus Dei, work thai belonged to God. Admittedly, the theme 'of "fleeing the world" is stressed in contemporary monastic lit-erature. But such writings must be contrast+d with documents, such as the Rule of St. Benedict, where the ongoin, g praise of God and his service takes the central place; also, with the fact that the monks did not hesitate to go out into the world "of barbarians in central and northern Europe to bring them the good news of Christ, and to teach them all that they found precious in human culture. A monastery could truly be called a,"local" or "partic-ular" church except, perhaps, for the fact that it was not presided over by 6~!0 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 a bishop. But the monks were dedicated to the service of the universal Church0probably more than they realized. Without understanding their universal orientation, we cannot understand the conversion of Europe. For a wisely controversial book on the rise and fall of religious com-munities, see Vie. et mort des ordres religieux by Raymond Hostie (Paris: Cesclee de Brouwer, 1972). For a classical exposition of the development of religious orders, see From Pachomius to Ignatius by David Knowles (Oxford: Claredon Press, 1966). 11. The Middle Ages, also, saw the foundation of religious orders that were principally devoted to the works of the universal Church. There were orders' to promote the Crusades, or to take part in them; to protect the possession of the Holy Land; to give themselves for the redeeming of the captives, and so forth. 12. Thi~ history ofthe Jesuits shows eloquently that the service of the universal Church can never be separated from the service of particular~ churches, and vice versa. They could not have been more dedicated to the universal Church. They accepted a mandate from the pope, and the pope only. Yet once they established themselves at a given place, they did everything to enter into the culture of the natives. They helped them, in every way that was compatible with Christian faith and the universality of the. Church, to build new churches with strong particular traditions. In China, they devised and fought for specific rites in the vernacular suitable for the Chinese culture and mentality. They attempted to do the .same in India. In South America, they sided with the natives against the con-quistadores, and gave life to local churches within the framework of the so-called "reductions," that is, autonomous Indian settlements leading a strong community life reminiscent, somewhat, of the early church of Je-rusalem. History shows that to serve the tiniversal Church redounds to the good of Particular churches. 13. We like to stress that the life of religious communities is nothing else than a particular manifestation of the life of the Church. There is no such thing as the Church on one side and religious communities on the other, eitherhelping each other inharmony, or being in open conflict. The member is not .separate from the body; all life of the member is the life of the body, Religious life cannot be conceived of as charismatic life independent and separate from the institutional life of the Church. Charisma and structures, although distinct, can no more be separated from each other in the Church than the flesh and blood of a human person can be separated from his bones: The skeleton, ugly and unfriendly as'it is, gives support and proportion to the beauty of the flesh that covers it. Charisma and institutions must work' together. ~ 14. There is no need that is as. great today as the need for purification of our faith in the Church, and the right understanding of what ,kind of A Theology of the Local Church and Religious Life / 681 community Jesus has founded. One conception should be discarded right from the start (in the terms of Karl Rahner, it could be called a "silent heresy"): the Church is a community of holy persons throughout. While it is true that there will always bepersons of extraordinary holiness raised by God among his people, there will always be many in the Church who are sinners, and glorify God by proclaiming his mercy. The Church is a human community, a community of sinners. Yet, because the Spirit of God is faithful to her, she will never lose or corrupt the word of God, provided the proclamation of the word takes place with ~'ull apostolic authority. Human limitations and fragility, however, will always be present and manifest in the Church till the end of time, be it in the hierarchy, be it in the people. To love the Church means to love the community as it is, and above all, to have the internal disposition to give what we can to this community. There is little love in those who continually expect to receive. There is love in those who know how to be compassionate. A religious community is one with the Church if the members are steadily asking themselves what they can give to her so that she can grow in goodness, into a greater likeness to Christ. For a more detailed explanation of these principles, see "How to Be One With the Church Today" in Blessed Are Those Who Have Questions, by Ladislas Orsy (Denville, N. J.: Dimension Books, 1976). Perhaps the best and most rewarding way of acquiring the right theo-logical understanding of the Church is to read and study its history. The real Church, suppprted by the Spirit, is there in its beauty and fragility. A merely conceptual and systematic approach may lead the unwary to a dream--beautiful and unreal. Once a person surrenders to,the dream, he will be frustrated by the harsh and true reality, that is, by the Church as it exists. 15. Indeed, the roots of a theology of obedience in religious life are there in the mandate that the community receives from the Church. There is a sacramental character to such a mandate, since the Church itself is a sacrament. (The seven signs are particular manifestations of the life of the Church.) Obedience to such a.great mandate should not be confused with ob~eying ordinary human rules and regulations that are part and parcel of the life of every community, religious or not. Through the v6w of Obedience, a person gives himself or herself explicitly, visibly, to the Church~ It is the sacrifice of legitimate freedom to accept a mission from the Church in which, behind human~structures, the Spirit of God lives. 16. There are few countries where the health and progress of the Church depend so much on education as in the United States. Much of this ~ork is sponsored, directed, or done by' religious men and women. Yet, when the most important policy-making body for the pastoral life of the Church meets, that is, when the episcopal conference deliberates, or de-cides, religious are absent and are given only a very limited opportunity to Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 contribute before, during, or after the meeting--a lack of balance, and the Church is poorer for it. °17. It is interesting to note that, with all the ingenuity of canon lawyers at .her disposal, the Church never succeeded in working out clear and entirely satisfactory norms to regulate the relationship between the local ordinary anti,religious communities of pontifical right, or those enjoying the privilege of exemption. Why? Because it is easy to state some theological principles such as: the bishop is the supervisor of~all apostolic works in the diocese; or, religious must be free to i'egulate their internal affairs, and to carry out their apostolate according to their constitutions. But, it is difficult t0 make detailed norms applicable everywhere. Nor will the new proposed legislation overcome this problem. If anything, history proves the insuf-ficiency of strict legal solutions. 18. A religious community of international dimensions can do much to bring a local church out of its own isolation, and to make it aware of the universal Church. The very presence of the members of~a community that works world-wide for the Church is a reminder ~to the faithful that they too belong to a community over which the sun never sets. 19. This implies respect for the particular charism of an institute. The local church should not try to use the religious for work contrary, or alien, to their own calling. 20. While it isright to work for justice, we should never lose sight of the ¯ fact that justice is the minimum of charity. Justice can proclaim what is due to each person and group and does establish a balance in the life of a human community. Yet the stability of an organization built on justice only remains precarious.To achieve contentment and happiness, it is necessary to ttave charity all around. By charity, we do not mean charitable handouts, but strong love that consists in giving, not only advice or things, but ourselves. A society in which each vindicates his or her own fights is built on a shaky foundation. A society in which each one is intent on giving what he has to others, is like a house built on a rock. This is obviously true of the Church, but it is equally applicable to any secular society. The great national'heroes of the past were those who were able to give to others, not counting much what they were giving. From what we just said, rio one should conclude that ttie cause of justice is not urgent, and that we should not work for it. Quite simply, as Christians, we must say that justice, in itself, i.s not_enough. The strength and perfection of love is a vital need for every human being and every"human society. The great idea of balance and welfare through the virtue of justice ought to be completedby the foolishness of love that God revealed through his Son. See the Conclusion in Morale Internationale, by Rene Coste (Paris: Desclee, 1964). For general orientation about the great problems of the world, and for spiritual recreation, all at once, see Return to the Center, by Bede Griffiths (Springfield, IL: Templegate, 1977). From the Center will those actions flow that bring love, peace, and justice to all men. Prayer: Adventure Into the Unknown Cecile Godreau, M.M. Sister Cecile worked for eighteen years in Bolivia where she was active in spiritual direciio~ for young religious. Presently she resides with the M.aryknoll Sisters; Maryknoll, NY 10545. Today there is a thrill at the very thought of the unkno~,n. Is there life on Mars, on Jupiter, or on the planets around other suns? If there is life, is it more advanced or more perfect than the life forms we know? What about our own planet? Are there life forms we have not yet explored? What about ¯ those areas on earth where men have never or rarely ventured?.What secrets do they hold? There was a time when the knowledge of the unknown would have inspired us to build protective areas, or at least, to introduce taboos for safety's,sake. Today we want, and are drawn to venture into, the heart Of the unknown. I would suggest to anyone with a bit of explorer's blood, and ~,h~ has a heart desirous of giving beyond what is often a dull, everyday existence (called life), to join me in a consideration of a great adventure. This ad-venture is so unique and so intensely personal that it is different for each -one. It is so thrilling that the one who goes on this journey will need an eternity to finish it to discoger its source. I mean prayer, God's version of p~ayer, called spiritual life by some, mysticism or i:ontemplation.by others. I call it adventure: God calls: maybe, he proffers a mind-blowing call, the kind of call that, as in the life of St. Paul, knocks us down when we are riding high. Maybe it is a call as quiet as an evening calm. Or, maybe it is a call after a powerful experience in a Common pCayer situation because of, or with, an unusually charismatic person's approach to our weak defenses. Again, maybe it is merely the movings quietly within that crumble all our preconceived plans and leave 683 684 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 us stunned by silence, or the slow and burning love that somehow separates us from our past. It is impossible to mention every situation, for from the time of this very conversion, it is different for each. God knows how best to invite us into the great adventure. Once we have been converted, we are left to find our way into God's country. Like the prophet Elijah, we realize that God is not in the con-version, not in the earthquake or thunder, but in the whispered breeze. Even trees, whose job it is to let us know when a breeze is near, are often u~nmoved by the gentleness of a tiny breeze. But we are made with hearts attunedif we will but go into our hearts to see and hear what is taking place therein. Some stop here. It is difficult to go within. Our culture has worshipped the extraverted, the active, the expressed word. Our people are expected to tell the world how they feel about everything. So it is almost impossible to have a silent center within us. We are not accustomed to going deep within where God is waiting for us. We are afraid to find out how it is to meet God in our'hearts. We are afraid to discover life within because someone may think we are not socially-minded. People may think we are not committed. "Alone in our hearts where God resides" has a scary sound to it, or, perhaps, even neurotic. What is God doing inside when we have been shouting to him from afar? Some break through and come to the God within. For them, He is Father, or Jesus, or maybe an inner awareness or "presence." Here we are bound to kneel in silence. Even our vocal prayer and meditations come to a halt. As the silence deepens, we wonder if it is right to be here. And we need help so often to just sit and enjoy what it is to be with God. Here we need often to be assured like children. We are moved to love so deeply, we may think we are a little "different." We search for others to understand. Often there are few around who dare to talk about this. We are alone and happy, deliriously in love, or quietly secure. Our God is like a mother nursing its child, a child being embraced by a loving mother, or held like an infant to a father's cheek. As we settle down like Peter to build tents for our experience, Jesus reminds us it is time to go back down to the bustle of the city. Our first reaction to move on is, "I thought this was it!" We balk at being born, and we refuse to leave this hallowed place. So God "puts out the lights" so to speak. Here many get discouraged. Yes, they lose heart. Why? Because all was so comfortable. Here people try to find other loves and ways. They are frightened because they think they have lost their faith. "Faith," of course, is the name mistakenly put on the experience of God within. Faith,-in fact, is the stepping out into the darkness that God directs us toward. We "explore" Faith by putting our hand into the hand of the resurrected Jesus to go out and discover what it is to be Jesus, Son of God. We are going to have to molt our skins of the intense joy and the security Prayer: Adventure Into the Unknown / 685 that we had, and we realize that we are vulnerable. To put our hand into the hand of Jesus is not a journey deeper within. It is a journey beyond our human limitations. Here Jesus who directs our adventure gives us self-knowledge. We might get discouraged and have the feeling of one who has climbed too far, too fast. We are aware of our smallness. Yet, Jesus who helps us on our journey is intent on leading u~ onward. When we reach the place he means us to explore, he does a very strange thing. He lets us see our world through his eyes. We might find ourselves somehow knowing what Jesus means in his gospel. Somehow, we tread through life as Jesus did. We, little by little, begin to know ~vhat it meant for Jesus to have been driven by the Spirit. Now we no longer seem drawn within. Our eyes are cast out onto our world! How terribly important each person we meet becomes! We are not sure we are loving others as our-selves, or as Jesus, because we are somehow filled with a compassion beyond our own. We are almost sure our small selves are being used by Jesus. Yet, all along the way, we are aware of the difference. Our real selves come to light. We find fewer and fewer excuses for ourselves, and we are driven deeper into our faith. For some this step is done very quietly, almost imperceptibly. Some cry, "I no longer know if it is me or Christ living in me," while others go deeper into faith, knowing only that they must go on seeking a water to quench the thirst of "Everyman." Here each one is given something of Jesus to use for Others. Little by little, the awareness of self is lost in the dream of bringing solace to others. 'Here we lose touch with our world because it claims to do what we, in fact, are made ~over~ tiy Jesus to really accomplish. We talk a different language, and our agony is this language. We no longer speak as men do who have tongues in cheek. Our new simplicity makes us a target for the clever and the powerful. Yet we seem to be drawn to quietly go on. our wills and intellects, no longer bound up in our feelings, are sharper. We are able to see our. way better than before, and our way takes us, like/Jesus, into the Father's will. We delight in our brothers, whether large, smzll, sinful or ~,irtuous. We ar~ at last able to see the God hidden in each. We know what it is to be Jesus. We begin to desire with all our strength to build a temple to our new-found religion. Jesus will be our Master, and we will do our worshipping strongly for a new world. We will be the Jesus of this world. It seems we have arrived, and yet--yet, God has just brought us to a new faith. It is as though all the experiences we have had were pu! in a vast sea, and we were set afloat in the tiny boat of our new faith. No longer do we feel the strength of God, nor see the glory of Jesus. We are asked to ride a stormy sea in a skiff. There is only one thing to do: trust. We are terrified by our nothingness, as we are compared, not with men, but with God. This death experience is the most terrible and the most beautiful experience of our lives~this realization of what we are without 686 ,/ Review for Religious, VOlume 36, 1977/5 him. The deep peace that has seen us through that dark and light of our lives is a must now, and we hope it is real in this stage of our adventure. Here, too, each person is different, and comes to this at different times. Once we have opted for death, we are given a faith that we never thought possible: No longer a faith held up by our deepest feelings, nor one seeing the progress of Jesus in our lives, but the faith that believes because one holds on to God beyond any reason. We go into the darkness to be pulled out now not trusting ourselves, our "faith," our ways, even our religiosity. We are pulled out swinging from a thread like a string puppet. We go from anger, to despair, to surrender. Surrender, which once sounded so terrifying, is the beginning of life. A dark faith is given us. No longer do we explain, or sing to it, orhold it as a precious keep-sake, for we realize.it is simply gift. We are now ready to walk back with a song to our native home. Nothing can really make us fear again. Our wordless love is for God, the Great Unknown. God, who lias been badlyexplained over and over by ourselves and others, takes us into himself. It is as though welook for our small boat, only to see it has disappeared. We are at the beginning of an intense desire. Longing and homesickness set in to show us how intense ourodesire is for God. Yet, he turns us back to live again among his people. He gives us each a seed to nurture, and when grown, to share the fruits with others. Some are so overwhelmed by this that they fall into silent prayer, agonized with the weight of their message. Others are filled with speech, a babbling speech, yet a speech that can be recognized as a song of God. One can open one's eyes and God has grown unlimited. We hasten to meet him, only to find that at this point, he spreads out in all directions. One is surrounded by God, silence, and it will take an eternity to begin to explore, to begin our adventure into this great unknown. How much we desire to begin to go towards our deepest love, and at least arrive at the first steps toward an eternity of ~urprises, peace, and our Source. We are willing to live a thousand years, if that be what he desires. We ~ealize that creation needs our new song which we, like God's trou-badours, will sing, with hearts somehow free and waiting, in this new-found peace, his last call. An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice Max Oliva, S.J. Father Oliva is the Director of Social Ministries for the California Province of the Society of Jesus. His special interests are the theology and spirituality of Social justice. He conducts workshops on these two themes as well as on. other aspects of social justice. He is also Associate Director of Field Education at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley. He ~resides at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Introduction We hear a lot of discussion today about the need to promote justice in economic, social and political structures. It takes only a cursory reading of the Bishops' Synod Statement, "Justice°in the World," tofind the Church issuing this call: Listenihg to the cry of those who suffer violence and are oppressed by unjust systems and structures, and hearing the appeal of a world that by its perversity contradicts the plan of its Creator, we have shared our awareness of the Church's vocation to be present in the heart of the world by proclaiming the Good News to the poor; freedom to the oppressed, and joy to the afflicted) How does one pursue social justice in the light of one's faith? How do we in.corporate and integrate the important ingredients of our own need for personal contact with marginated and oppressed people and the ongoing process of conversion that each of us must undergO? Row do we bring about a balance between our faith and our practical efforts for changing structures? This article offers some reflections on an apostoli~ spirituality for changing social structures, a ministry which can be a part of anyone's life and ministerial vision. The thoughts expressed here are the result of the tSynod of Bishops, 1971, "Justice in the World," page 1. 687 61111 / Reviewfor Religious, Volume 36, 1,977/5 author's reflection on his own ministry, both in inner-city Black commu-nities and in efforts to change social structures,z What do we mean when we talk about changing social structures? The most obvious example of structural change that comes to mind is the effect that a state or federal law can have on a whole range of institutions and the people in them. Take, for example, the Equal Employment Opportunity Act, which has had the effect of requiring businesses to hire minority and women workers, in responsible positions, or lose federal contracts or be taken to court in civil action suits. The ordinary citizen's role in promoting such a law might have been to draw attention to the injustices present before the law was passed by some kind of advocacy effort. Another example of structural change, again in the world of business: ~in the 1960's, many companies had as one of the standard questions on their applications forms, "Have you ever been arrested?" To the person ap-plying for work from an economically depressed area, this question was an automatic "No" to a possible job since many had been arrested. However, relatively few people had ever been convicted. Successful efforts were made to convince companies to change the word, "arrested," to, "con- .victed," thus opening the job market to a large segment of the community who had up to then been ex.cluded. Closer to home, changing structures m~ght involve affecting admission policies in a religious school so that more min.ority students might be able to attend, or, influencing a province so that an essential criteria for being a superior would be that she or he is strongly committed to justice. In both of these cases, an individual's action can have results that change the structures involved and thereby affect many people in the process. Basically, structures, systems and institutions of society are the frame-work in which human relationships--personal, political, economic, cultur-al~ take place. Social justice seeks to assess the worth of social structures and systems in view of how they impact the lives of people in them, or exclude people from them, and calls for personal responsibility for these structures. There are many ways to influence social structures, be it through actions to promote just state or national laws, be it efforts to affect international systems, or by way of altering a policy in one's own institution or com-munity. Whatever the means chosen, certain basic dispositions are neces-sary for such efforts to be realistic and, thus, effective. The first and pri-mary disposition is to be on the side of the economically po, or and politically powerless, as an advocate for their rights. In St. Matthew's gospel (15:29-31), we find Jesus sitting on a moun-tainside. There, "large crowds of people came to him bringing with them ~'i'he author is also indebted to Workshop participants who have given valuable feedback to the ideas expressed in this article. A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice / 689 cripples, the deformed, the blind, the mute, and many others besides. They laid them at his feet and hecured them." What is particularly striking about this scene is not so much the cures, though, of course, these are marvelous signs of God's presence, but that Jesus actually, physically, touched these people: the crippled, the deformed, the blind, the mute--the marginated and outcasts of his time. Today, we, because we are Christians, are called to do the same, to touch the poor and oppressed of our day, those who are often different, from us by economic background, by color or culture, by education, perhaps by some kind of physical or mental handicap. To touch these, people means to have some ongoing personal contact with them, in order tolearn from them--their needs, their suffering, their aspirations, and their richness. To touch these people involves, paradoxically, a healing in ourselves, a deliverance from our prejudices, convictions, and attitudes, an escape from apathy, and an awareness that has deep within it a sense of urgency that justice be done. Such personal contact insures that our com-mitment be an "affair of the heart." Such contact is essential if our ministry of changing unjust .social structures is to be realistic, that is, meeting real needs. This ongoing personal interchange with oppressed people and an alert analysis of the structure we wish to change are basic dispositions for a ministry of changing social structures, be our work in schools, hospitals, a parish, retreat house, mass media, social ministry, or whatever,z Some Basic Principles The cycle of poverty is often described as consisting of: apathy--aliena; tion frustration--ignorance--hunger---despair. These words can also be used to describe our own state of mind and heart as we contemplate unjust arid dehumanizing structures. The problems seem so vast, the structures so complex, that we simply despair of moving at all to influence or try to change them. We need to begin our consideration of an apostolic spirituality for social justice ministry by taking a close look at some basic principles: 1. That each of us can be part of the change process for a more just world: by our choices, by our life-style, by our life-stance. No issue is so ambig-uous, no structure so complicated that we are unable to do something to influence it. ,~ 2. That other people--those we live with, those we work with, our stu- 3Personal contact with oppressed people, is also necessary for one-on-one kinds of service, such as spiritual direction, for the purpose of such ministry is to help the person clarify and deepen his relationship with God and challenge, when appropriate, the way the person lives out this faith in relation to the world. The director can be an excellent resource for helping the person being directed to see the intimate connection between faith and social justice and to discover ways she or he might effectively act to change unjust social structures. It is only by realizing this connection in his own life that the director will effectively communicate this message to the one being directed. 690 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 dents, parishioners, retreatants, fellow workers--can be reached and can change in their attitudes, in their values/in their standard and st.yle of life. Why? Because, like us, they are of good will. True, like us, they suffer from ignorance about those who are poor, are often insulated from those who are economically poor and politically powerless, and sometimes accept myths about the poor as truths. Still, they do not deliberately will the destruction and dehumanization of others any more than we do. They, too, seek hap-piness, peace and justice. And, like us, they sometimes get too caught up in self-interest or ignore the social dimensions of their actions. But if we can change, can become more socially conscious, more committed to justice, so can others. 3. That because of God's personal love for each of us, we are each im-portant in the process of building the kingdom of God, a kingdom initiated by Christ and commissioned to us, his followers, to carry on and build, a kingdom which fosters human dignity and equality, and which values hu-man-. development. , 4. That the Spirit is working in and through each of us even as we take small steps to change structures, and can work in ever new ways as we become more resolutely inserted into the world of the marginated and the oppressed. ~. 5. That other people---other religious women and men, diocesan priests, laypeople, Christians of.every denomination, and non-Christians too-are at work, acting for peace and justice, realigning their life styles, taking a critical stance toward the structures of society. This gives us hope. The Center of Our Commitment We are called to this ministry of changing unjust social structures by Jesus Christ, who works with us and whose Spirit is the source of our courage, wisdom, power and hope. God the Father is the center of our lives, the focal point of our identity: his personal love isthe basis of our worth.4 He is our Rock, our Foundation, our Beginning and our End. He is the One for whose sake ultimately we are engaged in the struggle for justice. ~ The more God is our center, the less chance do the idols that attract us and keep us from a commitment to justice hamper our ministry, idols such as popularity, "success," reputation, endless analysis, and the '.;good life." The more God is our center, the more effective will be our ministry of justice, for it will become ever more clearly his work. Because God is the center of our lives, we can develop the kind of apostolic qualities that are necessary for an effective ministry of justice. ~The author realizes that not all people relate to God, as Father,. as the center of their lives. This is the way the author relates to Gbd. To respect this difference, the word "Father" will only be used this once in the article. A SpiritutJlity for the Ministry of Social Justice Let us now consider some apostolic qualities that can help render our actions more fruitful. Apostolic Qualities for Our Ministry of Justice Because God is the center of our lives, we can be radically open: open to growth--intrapersonal, interpersonal and societal (our relationship to human.environments, structures, institutions and processes, especially of asocio-economic-polifico-cultural character). Open to new ~concepts and ideas, such as social sin and social grace, Liberation Theology and the use of Marxist tools of analysis for studying the structures in our socie[y. Open to face uncertainty and fear as we come into personal contact with the marginated and the oppressed people in our society and the environments in which they are forced to live. Open to face our own prejudice, racism and sexism as, they are manifested in attitude and language. Open to face our value addictions as they are reflected in our consumption patterns--the kinds of things we buy and.~why--and in our life style. Open to the pos-sibility of being misunderstood, even rejected, by those ~ith v~hom we speak about issues of justice, be they members of our family, our com-munity, or our constituents. Because God is the center of our lives, we can ~have a capacity for critical reflection such that no ideology, no system or way of life is "sa-cred" (or defines who we are). None can be free of scrutiny, challenge and, if needed, reform, be it: socialism, communism, capitalism, the American way of life and its values, the Church, our own community or the work of our apostolate, Because God is the center of our lives, we are not afraid to face the fact that we are converts to our ideas of justice and the actions we undertake for justice. Thus, we are capable of being ruthlessly honest with ourselves, neither becoming self-righteous nor bitter or cynical. Being honest in this way enables us to have what Thomas Cullinan calls "patient endurance,''~ a uniquely, Christian virtue, which is centered on Christian hope, without losing a sense of urgency that justice be done. Because God is the center of +ur lives, the focus in exercising our ministry of justice is not on "success" as we usually define it. Our success is in the doing or saying what we know we must say to be true to our convictions and the needs of oppressed people. Like the prophets, the doing or not of some word, some action, is not based on peoples' reac- 5Thomas Cullinan, O.S.B,, If the Eye Be Sound (England: St. Paul Publications, 1975), page 121, This is an excellent work of modern spirituality. In particular it uncovers the theological and spiritual foundations on which a socially committed Christianity must be built. Dom Tfiomas Cullihan, O.S.B., is a monk of the Ampleforth community, in England, and a member ¯ of the Commission for International Justice and Peace of England and Wales. Available: Catliolic Institute for International Relations; I Cambridge Terrace; London, NW I, England. 692 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 tions--be they affirmative or negative--not on how many people like us more or not, not on how many people ag~'ee with us more or not, but on being congruent with who we are before God, as we discern it in prayer and consultation. It is the virtue of integrity. Because God is the center of our lives, we can ~possess an habitual facility of discernment. In our ministry of social justice, there are two basic areas of input for our process of discernment. (1) The first element of our input is grasping the "signs of the times," that is, the cries of the poor and the oppressed of our world, their struggles,, their needs, their aspirations, their problems and the causes of these problems. Such knowledge and, more importantly, unders~tanding comes, as we said before, primarily by way'of some ongoing personal contact with economically poor people and those who are politically powerless and is supplemented by books and articles, films, workshops, or whatever means serves to increase our con-sciousness of the problems. Then each of us must lobk closely at her Or his talents, gifts, personality, ministerial strengths and weaknesses, and the kind of ministry she or he is involved in. In a spirit of prayer and with ~:onsultation, then, the discernment-reflection process gradually, organi-cally, and continually enables eiach of us to make action-choices for justice from where we are. For some, such action will involve integrating, social justice into classes taught or into the administration of a school or a hos-pital; for others, it will mean some kind bf political action or public protest. For some, it will mean homilies or retreat talks that show the intimate relationship between one's ~faith and a commitment to act for justice; for still others, it will involve direct service in an inner-city or rural, community or Third World country. Because God is the center of ou~ lives, we can ask him to fashion in us a heart for the oppressor as well as for the,oppressed. Injustice kills the perpetrator since exploitation, tyranny and oppression are sighs of death, spiritual death. We love the oppressor when we oppose with all our strength her or his spiritually suicidal behavior of oppression. With God's help we can enter every heart. For the po. or, we strive to win rights and the freedom to develop humanly; for the rich, we strive to win moral development. It is important to note, though, that the way in which one manifests one's concern for the oppressor will differ according to the kind of ministry one is involved in. The community organizer's way, for example, will be dif-ferent from the high school teacher's. Each develops a heart for the op-pressor in the context of her or his own situation. Because God is the center of our lives, we can have empathy with those who are economically and politically oppressed. Empathy is the'ability'to see life through the eyes of others. In our ministry of social justice it is seeing life through the eyes of the poor. It demands personal contact with people who are poor. It necessitates our taking a "learning stance" in the presence of oppressed people, listening to their needs, their suffering, being A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice / 693 willing to be continu'ally educated by their life experiences and their contact with human misery. Empathy is the key to understanding and thus to be able to demythologize our views on why people 'are poor. Finally, empathy is the way to true solidarity and effective advocacy. Because God is the center of our lives, we can have a freedom from attachment---in the face of anything which is not in line with our primary goal: the will of God and the building of his kingdom, a kingdom which values and promotes human dignity, equality and development. Having our foundation in God allows us to be free from attachment to. any cause or issue, any insight or pre-conceived plan of action, any request, for action, or even our own fear of acting. It is the "single-heartedness" of the Be-atitudes. Finally, because God is the center of our lives, we can have a capacity for suffering--what Jos6 Magafia says in his book Ignatian Exercises: A Strategy for Liberation, "to rejoice in sufferings because they are the hallmark of every ,genuine liberating commitment.''6 Such a capacity en-ables us to make the fundamental Christian option of becoming advocates for the rights of oppressed people. It is also, obviously, intimately bound up with the preceding eight apostolic qualities and with the effort it takes to keep God as one's center. A capacity for suffering is essential for each person~s ongoing process of conversion, and we are all called to conversion: "It is too easy to throw back on others responsibility for injustices, if at,the same time one does not realize how each one shares in it personally, and how personal conversion is needed first.''r Just what is conversion ? One of the clearest descriptions the author has read is the following from Fr. Pedro Arrupe, S.J, Conversion is getting rid of something so that something else can take its place. It is getting rid of everything that prevents us from being filled with the Holy Spirit. Conversion, then, is a change; a change tfiat takes place deep inside us; a radical change. Let us make no mistake about it: there is nothing supdrficial about conver-sion. It is not, for'instance, deciding, after a somewhat more fervent retreat, to "give something to the poor," or to be a little more generous to one's "favorite charity." This is a praiseworthy thing in its way, but it is not conversion. Conversion is not a giving of something that we can well afford to lose. It goes much deeper than that. It is a putting away of something that we are: our old self, with its all-too-human, all-too-worldly prejudices, convictions, attitudes, values, ways of thinking and acting; habits which have become so much a part of us that it is agon.y even to think of parting with them, and yet which are precisely what prevent us from rightly interpreting the signs of the times, from seeing life steadily and seeing it whole.8 ~Jos6 Magafia, S.J., Ignatian Exercises: A Strategy for Liberation (New York: Exposition Press, Inc., 1974), page 117. rPope Paul VI, 1971, "A Call to Action," page 28. 8Pedro Arrupe, S.J., "Witnessing to Justice" (Vatican City: Pontifical Commission Justice and Peace, 1972), pages 25-26. 694 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 Our call to conversion as we pursue our ministry of social justice is not a one-time happening, it is an essential element of the Cross-Resurrection dynamic that permeates our lives as Christians. And conversion does in-volve suffering as well as joy. With God as:our center, we can have the courage to face our own need for conversion and the suffering that ac-companies it, Such suffering is redemptive. Conclusion We are,' each, called to a ministry of justice, but our ministry must take place in the rootedness of our faith lest we become simply good humanists or philanthropists. Our commitment must be founded in the love of God and the "Good News" of his Son. Although this may seem to be an evident" premise, it is easy to lose sight of once we become involved in actual work. We depend on one another for support, for.challenge and tolerance. And we are nourished in our commitment to act on behalf of social justice by our prayer and the Eucharist: in prayer, for it is here in the quiet moments that we can face the reality of just who our center is-~ourselves or God; in the Eucharist, because it strengthens us to face our timidity and fears, it calls us out of ourselves to be, like Jesus, persons for others. Now Available As A Reprint Prayer of Personal Reminiscence:' Sharing One's Memories with Christ by David J. Hassel, S.J. Price: $.60 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious 612' Humboldt Building 539 North Grand St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Taking the Long View Francis X. Hezel, S.J. Father Hezel is director of the Micronesian Seminar. based in Truk; Caroline Islands; Trust Territory, Pacific 96942 Not too long ago a gentleman visited these islands offering a new eight million dollar college as a gift to the Micronesian people from the U.S. Congress. His offer met with an enthusiastic response almost everywhere. At last Micronesia would soon have its own four-year college! Not a con-ventional college, but one that would be specially tailored for providing training in vocational skills or whatever else is judged to be educationally relevant. I was dismayed by the uncritical enthusiasm that greeted the visitor's offer, well-intentioned though it was. Don't people here know, I asked myself, that the new college will cost almost two million dollars a year to operate? A tidy sum, considering that the total amount of local revenues generated in the Trust Territory is only seven .million dollars at present. Isn't this gesture, I thought, a bit like making a gift to a poor friend of a good-sized German shepherd to guard his house, letting him know as you walk out the door that the animal eats five pounds of meat a day? tin any case, would a new four-year college of any kind help solve the burning question of how to promote economic development? Diplomas abound in the Trust Territory and marketable skills are on the increase. The real problem, of course, is jobs; and this won't be solved by adding another expensive education mill. As long as the goal is to develop Micronesia's resources and make the islands more productive, a new college with an increased capacity can only make a bad situation worse. If you want a person to spend his life in a fishing boat or on a farm, the worst thing you can do is plant him in a chair for another four years. He will very likely never get out of it afterwards. 696 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 Its the old story, I said to myself. Another."gift" from abroad; more hidden costs, social and economic; and the dependency rut gets deeper and deeper. How is it, I wondered,th~at this familiar story is repeated over and over again, even by individuals and groups that profess a commitment to self-reliance? Surely some of them must see the long-range effects of these projects. Consider the response to the Headstart and Old Age Programs, to use as examples two federal programs designed to benefit opposite ends of the population. No sooner was the Trust Territory made eligible for federal funds under these titles than every district opened an office, applied for government money, and began an earnest search for ways to spend it. The immediate benefits of the two federal programs were all too obvious: food for the young and the old, an income for those on the payroll, travel abroad for program directors and their understudies, and the promise of other good things to come. But how about the fact that the~palates of the young were being ha-bituated to breakfasts of tomato juice and doughtmts? What about the danger of families abdicating their strongly-felt traditional responsibility to provide for the elderly? Or the risk of weakening family and community ties, as still another responsibility of theirs is surrendered to a government agency? Then, of course, there is again the matter of furthering the eco-nomic dependence of Micronesia on a global superpower that has military interests to maintain. Somehow these last questions were overlooked in the rush to expand the district payroll and get money rolling in. A paycheck and cases of corned beef are just a bit more real than such intangibles as family bonds and ,psychological dependence. - Do I sound a trifle "anti-progress," or possibly even cynical?.Then let me make a public confession. Neither I nor the staff of the small private school of which I am director have altogether resisted the temptations of "easy money" from abroad. We are receiving federal funds from the six-million dollar Federal Feeding Program, as are virtually all public schools and a good many 'mission schools as well. To understand how an abomination of this sort ~might have happened, you would have tO put yourself in the shoes of a school administrator who is wondering how he will make it to the end of May. without going broke. Local support groups have not come through, the school accounts are just about exhausted, and bills continue to pile higher on his desk. Just then, in walks a federal program officer with a sheaf of papers in hand who proudly announces that he has funds to cover the entire cost of the school feeding program for the year. To the beleaguered school.administrator it is a heaven-sent answer to a pressing problem. Naturally he signs on the dotted line, heaves a sigh of relief, and then settles back to wait for the first check to come. ~ Taking the Long View / 697 That, however, is only the beginning.'A year later the school admin-istrator has to decide whether he shall continue to participate in the feeding program. He knows very :well that the 25 thousand dollars he receives will not raise the nutritional quality of the food one bit. Healthy food is some-thing that teenaged boarding students must have in ample quantity, no matter hbw financially hard-pressed the school may be. He knows that the Feeding Program of which his school is a beneficiary can only further re-inforce the "handout" mentality of a people long accustomed to looking to Washington to pay all their bills. He recalls with a shudder all that he has read and heard about the stifling welfarism of Indian reservations. But he calculates that an additional 25 thousand dollars a year would allow him to build a garage, a maintenance shop and new water tanks which he thinks that the school may need. And so, dismissing the uncomfortable concern he feels for remote consequences, he signs on the dotted line just as he did the year before. Like the others in the examples cited earlier, he has responded to the immediate need and left the future to take care of itself. Micronesia teems with persons like him (or should I say me?) whose decisions are based on answering today's needs at the expense of the future. Jobs, schools, roads and the like occupy our exclusive attention while the hidden costs of these "improvements" and the nature bfthe funds that finance them go uncalculated. This preocc~ipation with the sho~'t-term rewards might be called the national disease of Micronesia and it has infected every part of society. The employee who drinks up his paycheck, on Friday and Saturday to the sorrow of his family for the following two weeks shows acute symptoms of it. So does the fish dynamiter who pulls in his haul, rubs his belly, and leaves the shattered reef to repair itself---in twenty years time. Then there is the young college student who spends the two days before his semestral exams emptying Budweiser cans with his friends, and a week hence is looking for plane fare home from college. Is it simply an accident that a couple of years ago the theme song of the islands seemed to be "Help Me Make It Through the Night?" The people of an island press for Congress of Micronesia funds to erect a seawall, conscious only of the money that will make its way into their pockets, but unmindful of the damage to their sense of community that loss Of locally sponsored labor projects will inflict. Congressmen vote to ap-prove high-cost capital impr6vement projects to be funded by the U.S. knowing full well that the cost of maintaining these facilities will be a financial burden to Micronesia in later years. Top,level policy-makers cam-paign for higher wages for government employees, thereby undercutting any real hope of inducing young people to take up less lucrative but much-needed work in commercial agriculture and fishing. And ,everyone-- parents and educators alike---encourages the greatest possible number of 69~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 high school graduates to go off to college without the least idea of how they will occupy themselves when they return. Entrepreneurs with an eye for a fast dollar build supermarkets, bars aid moviehouses, thus helping to send the annual level of imports soaring still higher. Prominent businessmen who are. instrumental in bringing tele-vision into their islands make a killing on sales ofTV sets~ leaving the social consequences anti'the economic effects on families for others to handle. Political decisions, I fear, are made in much the same way. Nothing can convince me that the people of the Marianas, when they signed their Cove-nant with the U.S. two years ago, were as fond of the American Eagle as the dollar on which it 'appears. Yet money buys good things, as I have already ungrudgingly admitted. Whether, however, it will also purchase an enduring social bliss for the Northern Marianas remains to be seen. I have never heard or read a cogent explanation of what any of the separatist districts wants politically and I have despaired of ever doing so, although it is well-known what those districts expect by way of fiscal gains. I can only assume that they desire for themselves whatever their generous benefactors~ desire for them--whether these bene.factors be America, Japan, Nauru, or the Sheikdom of Aden. Surely it would be difficult to maintain that their decisions are. models of political far-sightedness, whatever else they may have to recommend them. But the rest of us are in no position smugly to point an accusing finger at those districts that have sought greener pastures---or, to be more exact, greener bankrolls--elsewhere. Which of the remaining' districts can hon-estly say 'tha~it would not have jumped at the chance to do likewise, had the opportunity been offered? We all seem to have fallen prey to this obsession with the immediate pay-off. It may be that this is an all too human weakness, but it is a frightening irony that our failings should be rationalizedqn the name of "progress" or "development." If development implies anything at all, it suggests a forward-looking approach---one that is as concerned with to-morrow and 20 years hence as with today. With the coming of foreign currency to these islands a century and a half ago, Micronesians were for the first time able to accumulate a surplus, to hoard, to save and invest. Money created the possibility of a "tomorrow" in these islands. By a strange irony, however, foreign money is now being used to freeze us securely into the present and to anaesthetize us against a concern for the future. Not that money, jobs, education, material improvements, and even federal programs are evil in themselves. The real problem is that these and other short-range benefits are so alluring that they overpower more distant considerations. And when they are offered to any of us gratis, their at-traction is practically irresistible. An announcment is made that some new federal program is offering funds to establish national parks, buy library books, or develop curricular materials for teaching the metric system. We Taking the Long View / 699 run to our desks' and concoct a proposal that will enable us to receive our share of the funds. Why not take advantage of a windfall while it lasts, we reason to ourselves. The trouble is that the objectives we set down for our programs can all too easily be inconsistent with or even run counter to broader develop-mental goals in ttie Trust Territory. There's certainly no harm in securing federal money to build a museum in which traditional artifacts will be displayed., or in providing emergency assistance for' rebuilding houses after a typhoon, or in putting up a new sports center at U.S. expense. But we must not be surprised if the cu-mulative effect oUall this on the community is to teach people that Santa Clauscomes to Micronesia every day of the year. Over many a desk in headquarters is posted the inspiring adage: "Give a person a fish and he has a meal today. Teach him how to fish and he has food for the rest of his life." It is very easy to understand how this lesson can be lost on our people today in the face of the mammoth give-away program that enervates our com-munities even 'as it showers on'them its material "blessings." Buyit~g canned federal programs is a lot like buying canned fish. It is inexpensive, convenient and satisfying---an eminently sensible thing to do. But there, are still those hidden costs to be reckoned, as we know only too well. Whether we weigh these costs in making any initial decision or not, they are bound to catch up with us in the end. Those of us who ~take a dim view of ~anned programs funded from abroad---and I include myself hereto so on the grounds that their long-term costs usually outweigh their immediate benefits. These "costs" can be conveniently grouped under three bro~d headings: social, economic and political, although some would want toadd "environmental" as a fourth heading. Let me now suggest a few examples of each. Regarding social costs we may say this. Programs that introduce into a community a substantial amount of money to build a road, erect a com-munity center or feed schoolchildren all too often bring about the pyscho-logical or social impoverishment of the community that they are intended to help. This happens when members of the community decide that it is more profitable for them to sit and wait for things to happen rather than initiate devi~lopment projects oftheir own. At this point, cooperative work by families on community projects sharply declines, and so does what we commonly call "community spirit." When most of its responsibilities are pre-empted by government agencies and alien institutions, the community simply loses confidence in its own effectiveness to achieve anything of real value. The same may be said of the family. As it relinquishes its respon-sibility for feeding toddlers, schoolchildren and the aged, the ties among its members will almost certainly weaken. The obvious question that must be asked of every development project, then, no matter what the source of funding, is whether its effects will be to increase or diminish the social fabric and sense of purpose of the community. 700 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/5 ¯ Micronesians commonly refer to their islands as "poor"--that is, as lacking adequate income to provide for themselves much of what they regard as desirable. For this reason, there is usually a mad rush to obtain whatever haaterial benefit~ the U.S. or any other country might offer by way of assistance. What is often overlooked, however,, is that certain gifts may make us poorer rather than richer. Expensive hospitals, water systems and airports are also expensive to rriaintain year by year--and the future budget of a "poor" group of islands is bound to be very limited. Moreover, some improvements can require an expanding network of expensive facilities and social services to support them (or clean up the social mess they have made). Take,the case of a costly new high school that is built of sufficient size, to allow all school-age youth in the area to enroll. Soon after the new school opens discipline problems multiply, since there are clearly a large number of misfits who have been accepted in the cam-paign to make secondary education universal. To keep the poorer students in school, a special program for potential dropouts is funded through a federal grant. A recreation center is built and new staff is hired to moderate the center's activities. Social therapists are trained---at additional expense-- and hired to counsel "hardcore" problem students. Mental health facilities and referral centers are established through still another program. In short, everything.possible is done, at prodigious expense, to keep in s~chool young people who never wanted to be there in the first place, As social services and physical facilities proliferate along with the pro-grams that support them, Micronesians are gradually led to believe that a society without expensive gadgetry and quackery is entirely impossible. To have a school without sliding classroom dividers or a hospital without sophisticated laboratory equipment becomes unthinkable. It is no wonder that Micronesians have come to believe that they can't live without an extravagant subsidy from abroad! Naturally this means that they will have no recourse but to continue living in the shadow of the American eagle--with all that this implies politically and militarily. Very few decisions today are simple decisions. Most have far-reaching implications on the future social, economic and political order in these islands. We know this only too well, of course, but all of us still must adjust to making decisions at times as if there were no tomorrow. Until all of us learn honestly and openly to weigh the long,term effects of our choices, not just count the immediate gains; we will be deluding ourselves

Issue 56.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1997. ; for Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1997 ¯ VOLUME56 . NUMBER3 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that. the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practica~L or inspirational written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (I~SN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University. by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Linde]l Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314--977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU.EDU Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1997 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to cop), any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Her]rages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1997 ¯ VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER3 contents 230 feature The Examen of Particulars Joseph A. Tetlow SJ proposes.an understanding of the examen of conscience which supplies to ordinary people a means and a method for ongoing conversion and growth. 251 268 perspectives Justice-and-Peace Ministry: Three Decades Plus Kenneth R. Himes OFM presents a perspective on the centrality ofj.ustice-and-peace ministry to the mission of the church today. Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue James H. Krbeger MM presents a synopsis of recent thought within the Roman Catholic tradition on interreligious dialogue and its relationship to evangelization. 277~ charism Providence: Charism and Contemporary Spirituality Suzanne Mayer IHM explores how providence figures in the life of Theresa Maxis and in thelives of us all at the threshold of a new millennium. Review for Religious 285 295 Cross-cultural Formation from a Pacific Perspective Kevin Dobbyn FMS presents his own experience, research, and reflection about the inculturation of a congregation's charism. Associate Relationship: An Emerging Sense of Identity Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share the fruits of an intercongregational gathering of associates and vowed members whose focfls Was the issue of associate and religious identity in the context of the associate relationship. 3O2 311 insights Seventy and Counting Marie Beha OSC reflects on the interior and exterior changes involved in growing old and in relating to others and to God. APerspective on poverty Donald Macdonald SMM identifies the Sermon on the Mount as the classic source for p~oviding personal motivation in living a life of evangelical poverty. departments 228 Prisms 320 Canonical Counsel: Lay Religious as Pastoral Ministers in Parishes- 325 Book Reviews May-3~une 1997 22-7--- prisr s ~e know well the account of the first Pentecost in the Acts of the Apostles. The rush of wind all through the house and the tongues as of fire lighting on each one present recall the thunder and lightning and the fire and clouds as God's presence was made manifest to Moses and the Israelite people at the time of the Sinai covenant. Now the covenant fulfilled in the passion, death, and resurreEtion of Jesus is confirmed by this new out-pouring of God's Spirit. In the perspective of this year 1997 dedicated to Jesus Christ in our millennium preparations, we find that famil-iar stories can take on fresh meaning. For example, "tongues as of fire" traditionally signify the presence of the Holy Spirit and the gift of preaching the good news, perhaps miraculously even in the many different languages of the crowds addressed on that Pentecost day. Might we also understand by the symbolism of. tongue the word of God that each one of us becomes through the gifting of the Spirit? Jesus as the Word made flesh now joining us together in his risen self brings a new reality to all the baptized as "wo~'ds of God." Every Christian is a precious and unre-peatable expression of the presence of Christ. All the rich-ness of the Hebrew word dabar, translated as both word and deed, underlies the great hymn which forms the Prologue of the Gospel of St. John. The Word both being God and being in the presence of God, the Word through whom all things came to be and the Word that is the source of life for whatever is, the Word that is a light shin-ing on in the darkness (a darkness that can never over-come the Word)--this Word became flesh "and made his dwelling among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of an only Son coming from the Father, filled with endur-ing love" On 1:14). Jesus as risen Word of God is uniquely the embodied expression of God, acting with all the power and dynamism Revie~v for Religious and love of God. Yet all of us Christians in our own way are not only to be seen as contemporary expressions (presences) of Jesus, but we as word (dabar) are also to be active and dynamic (doing deeds)--"love following upon love." The Pentecost tongues as of fire symbolize the action of God speaking us out as images of his son Jesus. As the pope focuses us upon the person of Jesus in 1997, we Christians are called to realize anew our responsibility of being expressions of Christ and actions of Christ enfleshed for our world. But the symbol of the (plural) tongues as of fire also suggests the kind of speaking we des~cribe as dialogue. This meaning of the symbol needs strong emphasis in our actions as Christians prepar-ing for the new millennium. Dialogue as conversation does not come easy. In our own day broken marriages, fractured commu-nities, worldwide ethnic and religious violence all attest to the fact. We note from the Pentecost experience that our under- . standing of dialogue requires a special gifting of the Holy Spirit. Dialogue as a true and necessary, element of Christian evange-lization requires more than human technique, expertise, and patience. From Paul VI's first encyclical, Ecclesiam suam, written in 1964, we become aware of some of the Spirit-filled conditions of dialogue: An esteem for the position of the other side is present, something good in the positions of everyone is preserved, and the possibility not only to enrich others but to be enriched our-selves is retained. That is the Christian attitude undergirding our evangelizing dialogue. Dialogue needs to be a part of our Christian action if we are to be word expressions of Christ. Dialogue starts in our families often torn over values and religious practices; dialogue begins in our religious community, where divisions of traditional and pro-gressive seem to serve two Christs. Dialogue also belongs to an ecumenical-movement effort in our daily dealings with friends and coworkers who worship differently from us or perhaps wor-ship not at all. We find the kind of dialogue symbolized by the Pentecost tongues only if we are people who are fired by love. The dialogue of evangelization must be modeled after the example ~ofJesus, the Word of God, the primary Evangelizer. The joy of the risen Jesus as he continues to share his Spirit with his followers needs to make its presence felt in our own desire to dialogue. Then truly tongues as of flame are upon us. David L. Fleming sJ Mlay-J~me 1997 JOSEPH A. TETLOW feature The Examen of Particulars The examen of conscience belongs to many traditions. It has been a cherished exercise of desert fathers and moth-ers, Stoic philosophers, Zen masters, and mys.tic and monastic ascetics. Over the centuries Jesuits have kept recalling, as a dictum of St. Ignatius, that even if one is too sick to meditate one does not omit the daily examen of conscience. The early Jesuits expected, and so wrote in the Official Directory.of the Spiritual Exercises in 1599, that all who made the Exercises would continue making the examen.of conscience for the rest of their lives. Down through the ages the examen has been prac-ticed in many different ways, from the meticulously methodical to special kinds of self-awareness. It has been practiced for various purposes, too, from self-.regarding to self-emptying and from sin-centered to a focus on self-transcendence. In the Ignatian tradition it has been thought of as the five-point General Examen proposed in the Spii'itual Exercises (§43). That precise exercise shaped .the prayer of Jesuits and others who have followed Ignatian spirituality over the years an'd right on into the 20th century. But, by the middle of this century, the five-point examen had, taken on the aspect of behaviorism or voluntarism, and one writer after another complained that it no longer helped prayer. Joseph A. Tedow SJ is director of the Secretariat for Ignatian Spirituality in Rome. His address is Curia Generalizia, Compagnia di Ges6; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma PRATI; Italy. Review for Religious During the past few decades, the practice of the examen has become more current~ It became the "examination of conscious-ness" when George Aschenbrenner, in his landmark 1972 article, introduced insights from depth psychology into the exercise and indicated 'how tightly the Ignatian examen related to the move-ment of spirits. Aschenbrenner acted on a principle enunciated by Dominic Maruca. The five-point examen given in the Spiritual Exercises is meant for beginners, that is, for those going through the ejercicios leves, the brief simple exercises of Annotation 18. The examen of those who are more practiced, Aschenbrenner proposed, reached into the discernment of spirits. After that devel-opment the examen as an exercise continued to expand: Anthony DeMello designed some Gestalt practices to help self-examination. John English, in the "awareness examen," accommodated the exa-men to the way people currently perceive the self. Recent Developments Two developments during the past twenty-five years encour-age continued attention to the examen.and have motivated this article. The first is the swift spread of the individually directed Spiritual Exercises. In both eight-day retreats and retreats in daily life (also called 19th-annotation retreats), the Exercises are now offered to people who have no intention of making an election or even a serious decision, but who want only deeper peace and better order in their lives .and who look for it in deeper relation-ship with God in prayer. Historically, such exercises are what Ifiigo called ejercicios leves, simpler exercises, He described them in the first part of Annotation 18 and in the lengthy material on the General and Particular Examen. Ifiigo used these simpler exercises to help souls to a method (five points) of self-examination and a system (approach for gen-eral and particular examen) for doing it continually~ But, as far as my information goes, few directors of the Exercises today-really urge the importance of the examen of conscience. Some do, indeed, promote some similar practices such as journaling, one of the favorite ways of self-examination (or, better, of self-appre-ciation) in the New Age. And yet those who direct the Exercises in daily life and those who pyeach the Exercises to m'en and women are giving help to Christians in much the same spiritual condition as those Ifiigo helped. In Oregon, Dublin, Seoul, St. May-3~une 1997 Tetlo~ ¯ The Examen of Particulars Louis, and Naples, Jesuits and their colleagues are helping peo-ple who have no great decision to make, but who want a deeper interiorized faith-life, to have a more vibrant relationship with God and find more meaning in their lives. People like this once found everything they needed in Divine Providence and the church's vibrant practices of sacrament and sacramental. They no longer find there what. they need, and their loss must be carefully appraised by spiritual, directors. For the loss and the consequent spiritual search does not mean that they have been invited by the Holy Spirit to the kind of interior life practiced by privileged religious and the theologically educated. They remain ordinary faithful in the core of the church. For every four women who go to Central America and face martyrdom, four hundred thousand stay home. For every man given by God the privilege of an hour of quiet every single day, there are a hun-dred thousand who have to fight to find ten minutes of quiet in an ordinary day. We know that these women are politically invis-ible; are they, perhaps, also invisible spiritually? And what about their husbands? As we have moved the Spiritual Exercises fur-ther into feeling and concreteness, have we left the males without masculine formats? These people form the vast majority of Catholic Christians. They are not called to centering prayer or contemplation in any particular form, or to make retreats annually. Rather, they relate to God our Lord mainly by meeting obligation and keeping the commandments (one way Ifiigo described them). When they pray, they usually seek to know the law that the Spirit has written on their own hearts. But they need adult catechesis, b~i which I mean instruction in the interior life. We teach children the faith; we teach adults how they do interiorize or might interiorize the faith they know. For most Christians, religion--creed, code, cult--is their way of experiencing God, and directors are mistaken to take it upon themselves to force them away from that into the direct experience of God called spirituality. For them God is not dead and never has been. They still do pray for rain (unless the more advanced have taught them not to) and for help in rearing their children and sanctifying their marriages. They will never suffer a Dark Night except in the most tenuous analogous sense, and that framework will not help them to deeper meaning and relationship with God. They need other kinds of frameworks and other kinds of direction. Review for Religious These are the people Cardinal Bernardin was referring to when he said that millions do not want to be drawn into a hostile stance toward their church. They do not and cannot live on any brink, and they are not able to join joyfully in prophesying structural change in priesthood o~ marriage or medical care or social secu-rity. For :them, directors exercise the ministry of reconciliation. These are the people that Ifiigo and his first companions, and a great number of the founders of other congregations, reached out to when they helped souls. Vatican Council II, it is important to recall at this juncture, called them to ongoing metanoia. They are not the church semper reformanda--a mandate to papacy, episcopacy, and parish priests. They are the church semper renovanda. Hence, for them the exa-men of conscience ought to supply ~ means and a method for ongoing metanoia, that is, of continually growing in their graced self-awareness and steadily purifying their sinfulness. This article addresses the issue of how they might do that. This brings me to the second reason to attend to the examen at this time: developments in psychology that offer help in self-examination. I refer here particularly to recent focuses on the positive development of the ego and of the self. In particular I draw from the cognitive behavioral theories and practices of authorities such as Dr. Aaron Beck and Dr. David Burns. These psychological processes allow one to connect bne's actual every- . day thoughts, feelings, desires, and behaviors with deep character traits and conscious commitments. Obviously, these theories and practices promise to be helpful in spiritual self-examination. I am sure that the cognitive behavioral materials can be applied in more than one way. I have been using them for some time, and I will propose one possible way that,has proven helpful to exerci-rants and directees. Before turning to what might be called an "examen of par-ticulars," we need to explore three of the things entailed by the examen in the Ignatian tradition. First of all, this examen shares several important characteristics with all prayer in the Ignatian tra-dition, even with such set frames of prayer as the Contemplation We teach children the faith; we teach adults how they do interiorize or might interiorize the faith they know. May-Jm~e 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars for Love. Second, since the examen deals directly with sin and sinfulness, the Ignatian examen implies a characteristic Ignatian understanding of sin that includes shame as well as guilt and focuses on sin as failure. However, third, Ignatius connects sin with ingratitude in various ways throughout the Spiritual Exercises. He once stated explicitly that all sin is at root ingrati-tude, the failure or refusal to give thanks to God for his gifts. Hence, the Ignatian examen shares with all Ignatian prayer an emphasis on the concrete existential gifts and graces of God. Each of these points about the Ignatian examen of con-science-- characteristics of Ignatian prayer, sin as failure, and an emphasis on divine gifts--calls for careful reflection. So I will take the three in turn. Taken together, these three points of reflec-tion suggest why a particular variation on the five points given in the Spiritual Exercises is proving useful at the dawn of the 21st century. I might usefully point out here that the connection between the Particular Examen and the General Examen is not clear in the Spiritual Exercises. Does one make them both together? ls the more general examen to prepare for the sacrament of reconcilia-tion, and the particular exam to help in daily life? Not even later Jesuit legislation by general congregations clarified that. I tend to believe that people practiced in the interior life ordinarily use a general examen for the sacrament of reconciliation and that the form suggested at the end might serve them for the particular examen. I can testify that it has been serving some of us very well. Some Characteristics of Ignatian Prayer To begin with, Ignatian prayer grows from and flourishes in story, a point not irrelevant to the examen. After explaining in the first annotation all the things he means by "spiritual exer-cises," Ignatius promptly points out in the second that all prayer on Scripture must be rooted in the unadorned narrative of the Gospels. Additionally he directs that retreatants begin each con-templation by locating each mystery in the course~ of Jesus' life. When Ignatius suggests materials not found in Scripture, he reg-ularly suggests history or life-story material: regarding sin he tells not only about the angels and Adam and Eve, but also about one person who committed one sin and Went to hell for it. He tells the surprisingly successful story of Three Couples which helps reflec- Review for Religious tion on genuine indifference. He introduces the incarnation with a story about the Holy Trinity hovering over the whole globe; the Two Standards, with the scene-painting narrative of Jesus gathering people around him on the sweet green fields of the promised land; and so on. Some story is commonly a presuppo-sition to entry into Ignatian prayer. You could make a successful case, I think, that those of us who were trying to practice it year after year found the five-point examen problematic precisely here. After thanksgiving and a prayer for light, we moved through a quick survey of the story of the last few hours. We found that helpful as long as we felt that the deed done was vastly more important than how we felt about it or what motivated it. But, once we grew keenly aware of the layers of motive, desire, emotion, perspective,, and habit that interweave in any single experiences, we could no longer find much good in skimming along over the deeds done in the last hours. As a consequence of this and of other changes, only a very few of us now find this quick survey helpful. Yet in the Ignatian tradition we still feel the need for story, for moving along in a narrative. Without intending in the least to denigrate the practice, I find nothing in the Ignatian tradition about sitting still for a while and letting Jesus call .attention to the day's graces and fail-ures. Ignatian practice has been a litde more active, and it focuses on story. Story here means incident (like a screeching near-accident in a car) or experience (like a. diffused feeling of anxiety in traffic). The conjunction of all of these developments drew the more mature and practiced in the interior life prompdy to adopt George Aschenbrenner's consciousness examen, which called our attention to the story of the spirits moving us during the day. All of these developments affect the beginner as well, and also those whom God calls to a life according to the commandments. In my limited experience, these also need a way of connecting their stories with their human gifts, qualities, and achievements.,The method which will suit them is unlikely to require serious discernment of spir-its and probably ought to give them a little more focus and explic-itness than the consciousness examen offers. .A second pertinent characteristic of prayer in the Ignatian tradition is this: Prayer is not an end in itself, nor even a kind of end-means, in the sense that this is where we go to find God and finding God in this prayer is what we intend. Prayer is, indeed, a kind of end in itself in some other contemplative traditions: it is May-ffune 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen o~Particular~ that to which everything else in the day and in life is ordered. Not in Ignatian spirituality. The first intention here is to find out what God hopes in me and in my lifeworld, what Ignatius called "God's will," and everything in the day is ordered to that discov-ery and enactment. The whole intention in Ignatian prayer, including the examination of conscience, is to find what God is hoping for and wishes and wants at this time and this place. This is one way to explain the expression "contemplative in action." Hence, in the Ignatian tradition, to find devotion does not mean to find sweetness in prayer. Richard Rolle wrote, "From my study of Scripture, I have found that to love Christ Jesus above all else will require three things: warmth, and song, and sweet-ness." Ignatius could not have written that. For him, to love Christ Jesus above all else will require these different things: to reach some sureness about what God hopes~and wants in this time in my self and in my world, to be prompt to do what I discover is God's will, and to find God in the enactment of it. I have just stated a thirdcharacteristic of Ignatian prayer in all its modes. Ignatian prayer grows along with an understanding of God's action in the world: God always creating my gifts and self, the Spirit raising my desires out of the divine love, God giving the gift of enactment. Hence, in all its modes Ignatian prayer hovers between the felt sense that God has hopes in me and the enact-ment of my own authentic desires. This dynamic tension appears in the very first colloquy in the Spiritual Exercises. At the end of the contemplation on the Triple Sin, as I stand next to Jesus fixed to his cross, I ask myself: "What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What might I do for Christ?" I am asked, in the presence of the Crucified--who symbolizes all of God's pas-sionate, loving hopes for me and for all humankind--to elicit my own authentic desires to collaborate with Christ in his enterprise. The full meaning of this colloquy surely reveals a good deal about the examen of conscience. How I am to imitate Christ hanging on a cross? What is this imitation about? Perhaps others remember struggling with the question: Am I supposed to want crucifixion? If not, then what? In other great spiritual traditions, the person doing the imitat-ing concentrates wholeheartedly on Jesus of Nazareth, who became the Christ. In the initial tradition it is this: Christ is there on his cross, offering all of his human gifts to the Father in praise and obedience because of his love for each single human; I stand Review for Religious next to him, full of gifts from the Father, wondering what I am to do. The metaphysics of the love Ignatius describes pithily in the Contemplation for Attaining Love must illuminate this scene if we are to comprehend the examen. Love, the little prenote states (§230), is done, not talked about. And love is the mutual sharing of gifts, the lover and the beloved giving and receiving, both doing both. This is the imitation of Christ in the Ignatian tradition. Notably, it demands of us an awareness of our specific gifts at this moment so that we may share them in building the reign of God. This surely is going to make a differ-ence in the kind of self-examination called for here. Among those who have been serving God longer, this imitation requires discernment because human love as we experience it reaches not only our thoughts and feelings and behav-iors, but most emphatically also our desiring. But the church has always known, and postmodern Christians most emphatically know, that even beginners in the interior life have to examine their desiring. It is useful to recall, therefore, that discreta caritas marks any well-made examen, so that mature Christians living the life of the commandments will live good lives without Ignatian discernment. Directors who urge it on those who do not need it or cannot use it are doing them no favor; they may be projecting onto the interior lives of ordinary. Christians a need that only the more advanced feel. To do so is to break a good general principle in working with ordinary Christians (and with annotation 18). Few of us managed to explore our desires when we were using the five-point examen (except perhaps that we harped on fleshy desires we considered reprehensible). Yet examining our desires is important for several reasons: the other "standard," to begin with-- advertising, conformity, consumerism. And, to continue, at the end of this century desiring is the dynamic heart of what our post-modern culture calls "freedom": "I gotta be me; I gotta do my own thing; you asked for it, you got it." Such desiring needs care-ful assessment. But desire was of consummate importance in Ignatian prayer before this century even began. The most com-mon phrase in the Spiritual Exercises is "what I want." The whole purpose of the thirty-day retreat is to discover What I want (§1). Desiring is the dynamic heart of what our postmodern culture calls "freedom." Ma),-a~une 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars Behind this is the church's conviction that God our Creator and Lord shapes our freedom by shaping our desiring. Were we all to exact our most authentic desiring--that desiring in us that rises pure and clear from the passionate creative love of God at the core of our selves--we would in an instant inaugurate the reign of God. More modestly, if each of us kept a steady, well-ordered connection between our authentic desiring and our examen, we would have no problem with the church's leading--say, in the matter of the faith that does justice, If God our Creator and Lord wants faith and justice, then God is raising desires in each of us for faith and justice, including the middle class of the U.S.A. The problem is that we have not learned a method for listening to our authentic desires. In the Ignatian tradition that is sin; so now we talk about sin. The Focus on Sin as Failure Far from being limited to the estimation of sin apparent in the General and Particular Examens in the Spiritual Exercises, which are meant for people just beginning an interior life, the Ignatian realization of sin develops in several complex ways. From the con-sideration of the triple sin, through the noble response to the call of the King, to the "Take, Lord, receive" prayer in the Contemplation for Love--I believe it can be argued--sin unfolds both as guilt and as shame. As this unfolding occurs within Ignatian prayer, there arises, at least in people today, an under-standing of sin as failure. In the church's immediate past, we were vaguely convinced that we thwarted God, kept God from doing what God intended. With our postmodern sensibilities we now come up against more than one serious confusion in that way of thinking about sin: How can a ,puny,: limited creature contravene the divine will of God, all-powerful, all-wise, and eternal? And about this puny creature: After absorbing depth-psychological insights, we tend to feel that by our sin we thwart ourselves rather than God. Again, aware of our utter brokenness, we hold that God is forgiving us--poor creatures that we are--even as we sin. The upshot of all this is that we now tend to feel that we are letting God down, disappointing God, holding back from God what Father, Son, and Spirt. gra-ciously hope for in us and our lifeworld. This is to think of sin not so much in terms of contradicting God's will, but rather--and Review for Religious more fruitfully--in terms of failure. In my own mind (and in the hearts of many others when they speak of their grave failures) an extraordinarily powerful metaphor for sin is a fetus failing and withering in a woman's womb, bitterly disappointing the mother. We are such a failure in God when we sin. Why failure? Well, Christian iconography, for one thing: the prophet telling'David, "You are that man"; the Magdalen's seven devils; the seated figure in Michelangelo's "Last Judgment," staring stark through dirty fingers. Failure as a metaphor for sin is not new; the church has always thought that going against our consciences, the com-mandments, legitimate laws, is moral failure. Ascetics and mystics have gone further, seeing themselves as fail-ing by not reaching ideals they had set for ourselves, though all too often they name ideals of moral behavior ("I will not judge others harshly, I will not tell fibs, I will not., and so on"). At the end of this century, however, failure covers a much broader area than morality: physical, aesthetic, political, and economic failures, career failures, medical, grammatical, mechanical, even computer failures. Many prophets about the green earth.make .lists of these failures: the air we breathe brings death from Chernobyl; the pleasures of love carry AIDS, cars suffer mechanical failure, magazines suffer cir-culation failure, and (may God avert the evil) computers are sub-ject to hard-disk failure. Every human person knows failure: a friendship fades, a position does not materialize, a debt does not get paid, siblings or children misbehave gravely. We overeat, escape into drugs, grow addicted to harmful substances like tobacco or harmful activities like gambling. We suffer physical failures like diabetes, psychic failures like acrophobia, aesthetic failures like ugliness or awkward manners. And, of course, in the end we fail to live forever as we would like, but die instead. Humankind is intimately, incessantly, incurably acquainted with failure. Some matters regarding these failures have a crucial bearing on the examen of conscience and deserve our notice. At times the failures are not willful, but are sin handed down to us from our forebears. At other times we seem to fail by error or through tiredness, but on closer examination we find the failure hiding some habit or quality or personality trait that needs our atten- Humankind is intimately, incessantly, incurably acquainted with failure. IWlay-~tnne 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars tion. And at other times, of course, we suffer one or another of myriad failures because of our own sin. Humankind even tends to believe that certain specific failures are accounted for by sin: lep-rosy and blindness among the Jews of Jesus' day, AIDS among the Christians of our day. "Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he is blind?" We are not likely to shake that belief because it is partially true. But how is it true? We have to face that question if we take failure as the metaphor for sin. We have not had to answer that question as long as we have taken sickness as the basic metaphor. And the matter is impor-tant because we have not been connecting all kinds of evils with sin. Think of a serial killer. Instinctively, postmodern humankind feel that a serial killer is very sick, inhumanly driven by uncon-scious motives to madness. "Oh, that's sick.t" cuts off any further inquiry into the morality of the murders and really implies that they are not sin. But, when we take failure as a metaphor for sin, we have to inquire further. Finally we get to the heart of the matter of sin: the original sin. We all know the larger theological truth, of course, that we are deeply affected by the original sin. But, as long as we consider sin as a sickness, we who work in theology immediately cede the explanation to the psychologists. We never get to the spiritual significance of the original sin in our own actual lives, and its truth means little more to us than the truth about Pluto's orbit. This is a crux matter in the lives of many ordinary Catholics. In the American tradition believing a truth means accepting its consequences in real life. Well, are the consequences of the orig-inal sin in my life the ones I suspect--negative self-image, neu-roticisms, childhood abuses of all kinds, compulsions, addictions, ¯ schizophrenia? How can I accept any of these, harsh as they are and even harmful? How do I put together self-acceptance and my own acceptance of God's acceptance of me with the fact that I am from a dysfunctional family, work in a dysfunctional job, am surrounded by neurotics, with whom I fit perfectly? None of us will continue the examen of conscience for long or go any deeper than, yes or no, I did or did not sin unless and until we find a way ~o give an account to ourselves of these live urgent issues. And ordinary Christians living the law written in their hearts-- much vexed with compulsions, prejudices, inveterate habits, reflex responses to advertising--inevitably face these issues. In sum, these issues are their "dark night of the soulT' and ordinary Review for Religious Christians need serious adult catechesis about handling these inte-rior faith issues (and hope issues), and they need a way of self-examination that allows them to apply it. The examen must be able to help me make this distinction: Is an experience my sin, a sin, or sin in me? The question begs for long study in a church plagued by narcissistic individualism. Perhaps, even more, it begs for some method of prayer that will allow each of us to probe the Christian self, a method available to the merest beginners as well as to someone who falls in love with God again on every starry night. In the Ignatian context, we sin when we fail to enact powers and virtues and holy desires that God is creating in us, when we are carelessly unaware of them or enact them neglectfully or refuse to be aware of them for lack of love. Considering sin as failure offers the great advantage of emphasizing simultaneously the interior and the external, an impor-tant consideration when we come to the examen of conscience. When a spring fails to bring out sweet water, the spring must be clogged or fouled in itself and the fields around it are deprived of water. When the fig tree fails to bring forth good fruit, the tree is suffering some internal disease or defect and the world around it is deprived of figs. When we sin-- it.;is extraordinarily useful to notice at this juncture in Christian history--we simultaneously suffer some internal fault or defect and our lifeworld suffers some lack or positive injury. Were I to make a false claim against a neighbor in a grave matter, I would suffer internal falseness and dishonor and my neighbor would suffer some concrete injury. That case is obvious; some cases are less so. For instance, when I do not pray according to the spe-cific gifts God is giving to me (time, desire, opportunity for min-istry), I fail to enact many of my gifts and my lifeworld is deprived in some way. When spouses fail to nourish regard for each other and starve their married love, their children suffer in ways we can now name. Clearly, ordinary people living ordinary lives need ways to connect their interior failings with their relationships and their lifeworld. Ordinary people living ordinary lives need ways to connect their interior failings with their relationships and their lifeworld. 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars The Recovery of Shame Another great advantage of thinking of sin in terms of failure is the recovery of shame. A hundred years ago Freud concluded that shame is subsumed into guilt, and depth psychology has not had much to say.about shame ever since. More recently, popu-larizers have urged that all shame is "toxic" and insisted that we should s~pew it out as we would a gulp of hemlock. Both of these stances seem extreme and seem to be connected with modern and postmodern individualism. For guilt can be entirely secret and internal, but shame always reaches both individuals and society. .'The Oxford English Dictionary finds that for centuries shame has meant "a painful emotion arising from the consciousness of something dishonoring, ridiculous, or indecorous in one's own conduct or situation"; the "fear of .offense against propriety or decency"; and the threat of "disgrace, 'ignominy, loss of esteem or reputation." (Notice that this language brings forcibly to mind the language of the Kingdom and the Contemplation.) In all of these senses, shame hovers between individuals' self-appreciation and what their society considers honorable, proper, decent, and gracious. Shame has been repudiated as an outmoded burden of a "shame culture," in which what we pejoratively called "confor-mity" is maintained through the fear of being shamed. But we are mistaken to repudiate shame, for it is that repudiation (along with much else) that has given scope in our culture to narcissis-tic individualism. Guilt is connected with transgression, with breaking law or violating conscience; shame is connected with failure, with falling short of an ideal. That ideal is a ~:eality which transcends the indi-vidual self and which individuals have chosen to make their own. Hence, shame belongs in the Ignatian examen of conscience. For the examen, like all prayer in the Ignatian tradition, is connected with the magis, and the magis refers to an ideal. Even if I am exam-ining whether I broke a commandment, in the Ignatian tradition I am holding up a higher ideal than mere conformity--some kind of magis that calls me, considering the gifts I am given, at least to keep the commandments all the more perfectly. Hence, failure in the Ignatian tradition commonly means falling short of an ideal. The result of that is not guilt; it is shame, which connects me to those in my life and to my lifeworld. Understanding sin as failure, then, supports the examen of conscience in the Ignatian tradition. It does so for one final tea- Review for Religious son: I cannot know my failures unless and until I have known my gifts. This is surely why Ignatius begins the five-point examen with an act of thanks to God. I cannot know specifically and con-cretely how I failed unless and until I know my gifts in all their specificity and concreteness. In the Ignatian context, a failure of any kind (fiscal, physical, aesthetic) transmutes into sin when we have failed at what we have all the gifts to succeed at because we either refuse to use those gifts or actually reject them. Failure transmutes into sin when we fail to use gifts that we have when and as our experience and our lifeworld call on us to use them. We sin when we fail to enact powers and virtues and holy desires that God is creating in us, gifts we are aware of and yet neglect or gifts we refuse to be aware of for lack of love. This brings me to the third thing that the Ignatian examen entails. I can cover it briefly. The Stress on Gift and Giftedness I have suggested that the Ignatian examen, like all the prayer in that tradition, is an ongoing search of our life story for what God hopes in us. It entails knowing our authentic desires. It results in a felt sense that a given act or experience is holy or sin-ful and, if sinful, whether the sense is of guilt or shame or the sorrowful playing out of sin in ourselves. Above all, this examen grows from a graced union with an active God. Nowhere in the Ignatian tradition is God so transparently active as in the Contemplation for Love. There the focus on what God wishes me to do, and on how God's wishes come to be expressed in my self ontologically, emerges in an almost fiery con-centration on the gifts that God continually shares with us in the created world. The one praying recounts the gifts, then God's presence in the gifts, and then God's present action in them and finally embraces the gifts and their enactments as a share in God's Self. The prayer verges into being a quasi-ontological invitation to enact the gift I am aware of in order to collaborate with God in creating not only my own self but also my lifeworld. "Moral action" transmutes into a particular in the divine action--utterly holy in itself. After such a prayer, particularly if this way of pray-ing should become habitual (as it surely does among Ignatian practitioners), an authentically Ignatian kind of examen of con-science will focus on giftedness and the enactment of gifts. ~Vlay-June 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars [ I The. Ignatian examen, in fact, presupposes a sense of collab-orating with God in bringing myself and my lifeworld into exis-tence and giving them definition. This sense results from the Principle and Foundation properly explained and adequately grasped. Though this spiritual sense is not unrelated to Ifiigo's profoundly mystical illumination at the Cardoner, many ordinary Catholics are able to appreciate it. We can surely come to this understanding: God has hopes and desires for me regarding my life and my lifeworld overall and even in the smallest details. Within that awareness is the faith conviction that God my Creator and Lord is creating me moment by moment. Of course, the col-laboration of creature with Creator God is totally asymmetrical, the finite with the infinite, the failed sinner with the Holy One. But it is truly a collaboration. How does God conduct this col-laboration if not by creating in each one gifts to enact, the free-dom to choose among those gifts, and the very enactment of those gifts ? The precise failure of modernity, from which we all still suf-fer, has been people's dim or even nonexistent awareness that every concrete existential reality in my life and lifeworld is God's giving at that and this very moment. Within this modernity the church has seemed commonly to believe in the rationalists' "watchmaker" God, infinitely transcendent, the first cause in a vast long line of secondary causes ending in each one of us. That belief had permeated so many. people that the First Vatican Council felt impelled to define as a doctrine of the faith that God directly, personally, as First Cause, created each human soul. The definition left problems behind it, the first of which was, What about the body? The reasons for the failure of modern Christians to keep mindful that God is always Creator are dense and many, but we ought to note several of the more obvious because they are per-tinent to the examen of conscience. We have become aware, to begin with, how human behavior is defined by genetic precondi-tioning, childhood neglect, and various abuses. We wonder--to visit this same issue in another place---how compulsions and addic-tions can be gifts. We have grown so used to noting our uncon-scious motivations that we use them as excuses. Who has not heard such remarks as ".I can't help it, I'm an ENTJ" and "Well, I'm a two on the enneagram"? More positively, we think of the self as the product of our own choices; we feel responsible for mak- Review for Religious ing ourselves. We know that we must be authentic and express our true self. Well, in what sense are the me and my own se/fgifts if I achieve them? If these grounds for our failure to walk humbly as creatures before our Creator and Lord are even partially true, we well need an examen of conscience that facilitates the connection of our gifts with our actions both graced and failed. I do not mean "in a general way"; I mean a method of connecting our concrete gifts with concrete enactments. How does my gift of intelligence connect with my failure to get a job I applied for? What responsibility have I, son of alcoholic parents, for yet another enactment of dependency? What was the Spirit of Jesus Christ trying to tell me in a con-solation I suddenly received and dis-trusted during a conversation with someone I do not like? We have so much knowledge about the inner workings of the human psy-che that we are being irresponsible not to ask, What is going on here? We once demanded of ourselves the motivation behind our behaviors: What made me say no? What am I doing graduate studies for? Why did I not tell the whole truth? We must now recognize that in every so-called motive there converge contexts, perspectives, perceptions, val-ues, desires, prior decisions, and habits. We cannot give an account of this complexity by asking ourselves, even very earnestly, What was my motive? To know failure for what it is requires that one know one's skills, gifts, capacities, abilities, habits, and so on.After all, what fails? Hence, the most helpful examen of conscience will require that I examine in detail my gifts. Not in general, not unconnected to my current experience, as though I were makinga catalogue of all my gifts and all my achievements. Rather, the exercise will demand that I inquire, with precision and thoroughness, which of my gifts, skills, achievements, habits, and so on are involved in what I am examining, for this is the way God draws me into coop-eration in creating my own self and my lifeworld. And this is how we can reach for fervent ongoing conversion that really addresses ourselves and our situations. In the Christian We need an examen of conscience that facilitates the connection of our gifts with our actions both graced and failed. Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars tradition the examen has been integral to ongoing conversion; in fact, it could almost be called the expression of ongoing conver-sion. It is integral as well to growing deeper in holiness by accept-ing more and more into every part of myself my redemption in Christ. For conversion, contrary to popular image, does not mean an action done once and forever. Conversion is perhaps best thought of as accepting responsibility for my self---my thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and even my desiring--at this time and in some particular realm of human experience. Thus, a recovering alcoholic accepts responsibility in the realm of moral experience by acknowledging his own drives and needs and responding to them in Christian freedom, All of us have to accept responsibil-ity for ourselves in the realms of intellectual development, moral judgment and action, affective and emotional functioning, appre-ciation of beauty and development of taste, and active civil engage-ment for the sake of good order and justice. Obviously, we each go through many, many experiences in every one of these realms, and at each step we all are called on to take greater and greater responsibility for ourselves. That is what conversion means, and obviously it is an ongoing process. In the Ignatian tradition, conversion does not deal with the minimum. As I have said before, we who follow this tradition feel that the Spirit of Christ calls steadily to the magis. This magis, however, will never be an abstraction; the Spirt of Christ does not invite us to "holiness" or to "heroism." Rather, the Spirit calls in concrete matters one after another, which grow out of and actualize a fundamental option to follow, and perhaps even to imitate, Jesus Christ. The magis will continually involve further insight into my own thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and desiring and into how these are or are not realizing God's hopes in me. That is the point of the incarnation. The Examen of Particulars Let me recall what gives Ignatian shape to an examen of con- . science. First, any method of self-examination in the Ignatian tra-dition, like all prayer in that tradition, stays close to story. It~is about finding God's wishes in me and in my lifeworld. Or to put that another way, it is about finding my most authentic desiring, which is God's way of shaping both my self and my lifeworld. Then, insofar as it deals with sin, this examen works well when the Review for Relig4ous metaphor for sin is failure. The original sin is the failure of my humanness, bred into me by dysfunctional family, friends, society, and schools, not to mention air, food, and technologies. The fail-ure is both in me and in my lifeworld, so that when I feel it with any clarity I feel shamed as much as guilty, or even more. The typical Ignatian image is of the knight who has failed his Lord or the handmaid who has failed her mistress. Now, what kind of examen of conscience might respond to these three points about Ignatian prayer and spirituality at the beginning of the 21st century? This examen will proceed in an intimate relationship with God creating me moment by moment. It will help find what God is hoping for me to do. It will focus on experiences as totalities (their contexts, perspectives, perceptions, values, desires, decisions, habits), on things done and undergone both in their externals and in my own thoughts, feelings, and inner behaviors. It will connect external and internal events with actual gifts being created in me by God. The ~xamen will keep me mindful of what I have chosen to do for Christ, or what I believe I might do for Christ. Rather than retail a series of events, this examen will help me unpack both my successes and my failures, bringing me to feel accurately and generously any guilt I have incurred and to assess shame, the failure to reach my own ideals. Throughout, the examen will work on the basis of gratitude to God for gifts, hours, life, everything. This means that, though I may feel sharp shame because in some concrete way I have failed, I still will not allow the tempting thought to seize me that I am a failure. Here is what might prove to be a useful scheme: Always begin by recalling that God is creating you moment by moment. Each time you decide something that shapes you a~ a person, God, too, is deciding to shape you. Each time you relate to another or oth-ers, the Spirit of Christ is relating you to your entire lifeworld and creating it in you and through you. And, while you .are look-ing at the past, over which you have no further control, God is always acting in the now, the Master of history to whom past and future are present. Be mindful that you are now in God and that God loves who you are--not who you might be or could be or even should be. Let the Father's gaze rest on you in all of its com-plaisance. The examen of particulars has five moments. First, recall an incident or an experience. Second, remember your response. May-)~tne 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars Third, recall which of your gifts were or mighthave been involved in this concrete experience. Fourth, examine the particulars: What was really going on? And, fifth, ponder in Christ, What comes " next? 1. Recalling an incident or an experience. What happened? Recall some incident or experience during your day. For a moment, just remember what happened. Recall an incident (an encounter, for instance, or a friendly gesture): what was done and said, by whom, where, and when? Or recall an experience (an achievement, for instance, or a feeling of fear): what happened? You can finish this in just a minute even if you jot down a bit of description. This moment is parallel to entering an Ignatian contempla-tion: you notice who was there, what was done, and what was said. At first you might take any experience that' stands out, whether holy, harsh, or hollow (by which I mean ambiguous). Often enough some incident or some habitual or characteristic action stands out as holy or unholy. You might, however, ask about how Christ is redeeming you, or what the experience of a conso-lation signifies, or what a failure signifies. After a while you may well find yourself concentrating on one kind of incident or expe-rience: on getting angry rather often, on almost always being late or not finishing things, on feeling restless or touchily anxious, on handling a new kind of success. When you note that, be aware that the Ignatian tradition has valued the examen of a particular virtue or failing as a signpost of how the Spirit of Christ is invit- ¯ ing you to spiritual growth. ~ 2. Remembering your response. How did you, yourself, act and react? Remember your thoughts and feelings and behaviors, what you did and said. Remember also what you wanted to ~do and say, and then how you felt about what happened. Take enough time to recall these interior phenomena. If you are like the rest of us, you too often let thoughts, feelings, and desires go unnoted. Yet they are important connectors to your lifeworld and to your God, and you would do well to write down what you find. After finishing these two phases, let the incident or experience, itself, rest while you turn to your own self. 3. Recall your gi)%. In every single action and reaction, you act as a whole person, interrelated in concrete ways to other.per-sons. Yet you are complex, with five senses and certain physical qualities; with gifts of intelligence, education, and rearing; and endowed with a certain limited number of abilities and talents. Review for Religious You are graced with certain qualities and characteristics, and you have realized certain achievements and developed certain skills. God your Creator and Lord has been and continues creating all of these complexities in you--or, rather, creating you in all these complexities--and they are all gifts, even your skills and achieve-ments. In any given action or reaction, certain of your gifts con-tribute or are called on. As you listen to a friend, your empathy, skill in discernment, availability, freedom to spend the time as you choose, and fidelity as a friend all come into play. Your accom-plishment with a guitar, while remaining present, probably would not come actively into play, nor your computer proficiency either. But, if you are looking into an incident of getting angry at a com-puter, that proficiency would be relevant, and your gift of empa-thy perhaps less so. In one way or another, though, you do bring every one of your gifts into every incident or experience. If you have gifts of intelligence and articulateness, you may, at the moment of noticing a fellow worker's error, consciously keep your mouth shut so as not to offend. That is to say, in any experience you will have acted out some of your gifts and not others. In the incident or experience that comes to the fore during your examen, which of your gifts were involved or could have been involved? Among your gifts, note abilities, talents, charac-teristics, qualities, skills, achievements, strengths. Take plenty of time to do this part of the exercise, and insist with yourself that you be complete in cataloguing the gifts. You may well find this part of the examen somewhat difficult; many do. Part of the rea-son is that through and in those gifts God connects you to the peop!e in your life and lifeworld and raises in you those desires which, enacted, will bring justice, peace, and love to you and your lifeworld. A plea to the Spirit of Jesus Christ for light will help. 4. Examining particulars. What was really going on? Having looked into your concrete gifts and characteristics and achieve-ments, you are in a position to see more fully (and perhaps more accurately) what was going on in your whole self. Go back over the first and the second points and examine them in all their partic-ulars. Take your time doing ~his, especially if you started it while you were listing your gifts. For what seemed a mere burst of tem-per may prove to be sinful self-reliance and lack of trust in God. What appeared a simple consolation may, on closer examination, signalize a major invitation by the Spirit to growth. You thought ~/lay-June 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars at first that you were being humble, and you turn out to have been cowardly. You feared that you had failed in courage, and turn out to have exercised a maturer and deeper prudence than you had been exercising before. An action that you justified may in truth have been a failure; you acted tough when your gifts and the circumstances called on you to show greater compassion. All depends on the particulars. Realize that you are asking: What is God telling me in this incident or experience? What is God hoping in these gifts that I enacted or failed to enact? Where is the Holy Spirit leading me? How was I interacting in it with Jesus Christ, my redeemer? Done correctly, this exercise is the opposite of narcissistic self-regard. 5. What comes next? As you discover more clearly what was going on in the incident, you will come to see clearly what you might do next. So you may have to repent and have sorrow and beg God's forgiveness, or you may need to rejoice and give God praise and thanks. You may be called on to do something or to wait upon the Lord. No matter what you discover in truth, God is hoping in you, for love of you and of your lifeworld. This examen puts me into contact with my real thoughts, feelings, desires, and behaviors, allowing me to decide whether I consider them Christhke or not. Better: this is a wonderful way to open to the Spirit of Christ. The Holy Spirit can teach anxious people to trust God the Father much more readily if they have become aware of their anxiety and of how it permeates all their feelings, thoughts, behaviors, and desiring and begs for healing. The Spirit can more readily teach slothful people who have not spoken out against injustice if now they are growing aware of their gifts of clear thinking and articulateness and also aware that they are not using those gifts. These are spiritual tasks that ordinary Christians feel attracted to and can keep at. This form is surely only one of many possible ones, and imperfect at that. Perhaps it will move forward the quest of finding God in all things, even in self-examination. Review for Religious KENNETH R. HIMES Justice-and-Peace Ministry: Three Decades Plus Few developments in religious life since Vatican Council II have been more hopeful than the dramatic rise in jus-tice- and-peace activity, a commitment to the social mission of the church. Today this ministry is more diverse in style, more widespread in locale,, and more intimately connected to the ideals of religious life than would have been pre-dicted thirty years ago. Without doubt it is a movement of grace, committed people responding to the prompting of the Holy Spirit. In this article I will review the recent past, discuss the centrality of justice-and-peace ministry to the mission of the church today, and look toward the future of religious in this ministry. Regarding the response, during the past thirty years, of United States religious (particularly'men, for I know more about them) to the church's urgent calls to social ministry, I offer not a care-ful chronological reconstruction of issues and develop-ments, but rather a personal reflection that is intended to provoke further reflection and also discussion. Kenneth R. Himes OFM, professor of moral theology at the Washington Theological Union, has held, as visiting professor during this school year, the McKeever Chair of Moral Theology at St. John's University in Jamaica, New York. Originally the keynote speech at CMSM's justice-and-peace conference in August 1996, this article--here modified and shortened--appeared in the fall 1996 issue of CMSM Forum. The author may be addressed at 6896.Laurel Street; Washington, D.C. 20012. " perspectives May-3~une 1997 Himes ¯ Justice-and-Peace Ministry Foreign Missions and the Social Mission of the Church The foreign missionary work of religious underwent great rethinking as a result of the theologies of revelation, grace, and church that scholars produced in the 1950s and 1960s. After Vatican Council II there was a need to rearticulate the nature and purpose of foreign missionary activity. Not everyone was able to do that as adequately as had been hoped, and the result was that younger religious felt a diminishing interest in the missions. Moreover, many foreign missionaries returned to the States, some-times with a sense of what came to be called "reverse mission," that is, the intent of communicating to people in the United States how Latin Americans, Asians, and Africans saw us. I think that those who took up the task of "reverse mission" were mostly religious who had worked in Central and South America. This was partly because the United States has great influence there and partly because the Latin American church was quicker to develop and give voice to a local theology that did not merely adopt the basic themes of Vatican II, but adapted the conciliar vision to the Latin American reality. Thus missionaries returning from Latin America came back to the United States with a perspective and orientation that was self-consciously dif-ferent from the North American outlook. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, some of the most prominent religious dedicated to justice-and-peace activities in the States had previously spent time abroad in the missions. Frequently they were more critical of the United States than their fellow religious and were quicker to devote themselves to the social mission of the churcli. Their influence has been enormous and has brought both strengths and weaknesses to the development of justice-and-peace work in the U.S. church. The "reverse mission" people were prophetic, able to distance themselves from the conventional wis-dom of U.S. society, and they were able to expose the dark side of a Catholicism that had become comfortably suburban and middle-class. The judgments made about the United States sometimes seemed harsh, even radical, but they were an important counter-weight in a church that was less and les~' a blue-collar, urban, eth-nic population and more and more a white-collar, assimilated, suburban middle class. A major benefit provided by foreign missionaries to religious communities in particular and the U.S. church in general was an Review fim Religious awareness of the international nature of Catholic justice-and-peace~ activity. Questions of economic development in poor nations, economic colonialism, the behavior of multinational cor-porations, Central American politics, apartheid, the plight of refugees--these and many other issues came into the rec-room and dining-room conversations of religious communities because of foreign missionaries' experience of a world much larger than the local parish, retreat house, school campus, or shrine church. A more ambiguous aspect of the global awareness of foreign missionaries was their inclination to adopt the philosophical and theological categories of liberation theology. By helping to intro-duce this vitally important theological and pastoral movement to the U.S. church, the returning missionaries expanded the theo-logical conversation within our nation. In the 1960s and 1970s, many North American Catholic theologians were still far more engaged with the European theologies of Rahner, Congar, Schillebeeckx, K~ing, Fransen, Fuchs, and others than with the voices of Guti~rrez, Segundo, Boff, Sobrino, and their colleagues. Bringing back not only knowledge of new authors but sensitivity to the life situation of the Latin American church was a wonder-ful service provided by those who performed "reverse mission." At the same time an unfortunate aspect of this influence was that many in the justice-and-peace community simply adopted liberation theology without sufficient reflection upon how the Latin American experience should be integrated with North American realities. As a result, justice-and-peace ministry employed a vocabulary, a rhetorical style, and a social analysis which could not speak adequately to the U.S. Catholic experi-ence of democracy, free markets, and liberal culture that had shaped an outlook very different from the reality presumed by liberation theologians. Of course, the ministry of justice and peace in this country must be shaped by a wide-ranging conversation with the church throughout the world, but the conversation must also be rooted in an understanding of life in the United States-- our traditions, our institutions, our virtues and vices. Another aspect of the influence of foreign missionaries on justice-and-peace ministry is its prophetic edge. In many ways Catholic social action throughout this country's history has tended toward reform liberalism. Now and then during the 19th cen-tury, the immigrant communities, particularly the non-English-speaking immigrants, took~a more separatist attitude toward Ma),-Jttne 1997 Himes ¯ .~ustice-and-Peace Ministry For many Catholics, American society, with all its problems, was not simply lacking in structures of grace. United States culture, but Catholics in this country usually worked for incremental reform from within the dominant ethos of the nation. (The most significant exception to this has been the 20th-century Catholic Worker movement.) Assimilation, not with-drawal, was the goal for most immigrant Catholics, and the church promoted such an ambition, Much was accomplished as a result. Catholic intellectuals and church leaders, although often critical, also found much that was worthy of accep-tance in the way of life found in the United States. One need only think of John Carroll, John Ireland, Isaac Hecker, James Gibbons, Peter Dietz, John Ryan, and John Courtney Murray to remember that the trend in Catholic social activism was to see the possibility of putting the two words American and Catholic together, rather than stressing some incompatibility. Returning missionaries, however, looked at their homeland somewhat from the perspective of outsiders. Influenced by their foreign mission experience and by the theology of liberation, such missionaries offered a harsher and more radical analysis than many U.S. Catholics had previously considered. Aligning themselves with the voices of Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and others who had become alienated by the Vietnam War, an important segment of the justice-and-peace communRT strongly opposed the United States policy. But most American Catholics never embraced the more radical critics of society such as James Groppi, Dan and Phil Berrigan, and Merton. This was so, I believe, not because of shallow faith or lack of virtue on the part of the majority, but because of its different experience. For many Catholics, American society, with all its problems, was not simply lacking in structures of grace. Justice-and-peace ministries that assumed an emphasis on countercultural strategies did not capture the full experience of those Catholics, who found in this society elements of God's gracious presence as well as human sinfulness. The upshot, though not intended, was a certain elitism in justice-and-peace ministry, a belittling of middle-class Catholics and their alleged vices of consumerism, racism, nationalism, and parochialism. No doubt the prophetic or countercultural element of jus-tice- and-peace ministry did shake the taken-for-granted world of Review for Religious many Catholics in this country. Although they had not been indif-ferent to the situation of other nations or peoples, U.S. Catholics were challenged by those in reverse mission and by other harsh critics of our society to consider the ways in which the United States was complicitous in the suffering felt by many on our planet. The call to conscience provoked some anger, but also much salutary soul-searching among faithful people, and helped prevent American Catholics from becoming too uncritical in their assimilation. In addition, many missionaries returning from poor coun-tries came home with a renewed appreciation for simple living. Living in countries where material conditions were harsher than in the United States gave foreign missionaries the opportunity to rethink the distinction between being and having, between what is necessary and what is luxury. Their example of simple liv-ing inspired many fellow religious and many lay people to link lifestyle issues with political commitments and to rediscover the social implications of asceticism so as to connect self-discipline with social solidarity. Spirituality and Justice-and-Peace Ministry Not only in asceticism but in the entire range of spirituality topics, an important connection has been made between justice-and- peace ministry and spirituality. One of the early problems in social ministry was the frustration that accompanied the work: small victories and large setbacks, the complexity of the existing problems along with the appearance of new ones, time passing and social conditions worsening. Many religious discovered that justice-and-peace ministry brought high risk of fatigue, anger, alienation, and marginalization. Classmates might rejoice in being made pastors of successful parishes, others in the community were achieving success in teaching or administering schools, preachers and counselors were drawing loyal followers among the Catholic laity, but often the religious working in justice-and-peace min-istry were on the margins of a congregation's ministerial life. Out of necessity as much as desire, those religious engaged in the social mission of the church began a search for a spirituality that would support their ministry. This has led to marvelous advances in the spiritual journeys of countless religious, but it has not been easy to move from a spirituality that stressed renun- ~¥lay-~une 1997 Himes ¯ ~stice-and-Peace Ministry ciation of the world to a spirituality that is more at home in the world. Some were-not able to make the transition, and justice-and- peace ministry has had its share of religious who were unable to persevere in that taxing and unrewarding ministry or were unable to continue in their vows. Given the tumultuousness of these last thirty years, a socially conscious spirituality was cru-cial for maintaining the faith, hope, and charity that support jus-tice- and-peace ministry. Developing such a spirituality, however, often required moving beyond established paradigms of the spir-itual life and rediscovering the richness of the biblical tradition. Today more and more of our confreres have found the God revealed in the Bible to be more passionate, more engaged in human history, than the God of the philosophers, whose omni-science and omnipotence do not readily suggest lovableness. Coming to understand how the covenant with Yahweh and the reign of God proclaimed by Jesus were inextricably tied to .build-ing communities of justice, mercy, peace, and love has fostered a biblical spirituality that is vastly different from that which many religious received in their novitiates during the 1940s and 1950s. From John XXIII's optimism about the world and from the docu-ments of the council, an outline of a spirituality emerged which was more incarnational and more personal. No'longer was the image of the holy religious one who fled the world and strove to be angelic, for now holiness was to be found in the world: the spiri-tualities we embraced encouraged us to be more human, not less so. In many communities it seems that those engaged in social ministry are also the ones who have taken the call to holiness most seriously. Frequently the social activists in the congrega-tion are keenly interested in living in intentional communities with regular times of communal prayer. Retreats, directed and preached, have in recent years concentrated on topics like faith and justice, a spirituality of peacemaking, living the gospel in an affluent culture, and seeking God in everyday activities. More and more religious are interested in preaching on justice and peace. Since the late 1980s, interest in the environment has iadded another rich strain to spirituality: appreciation of the beauty of creation becomes a revelation of God, and reverence for creation a way of showing reverence for God. Over the last thirty years, relating the social mission of the church to one's personal search for God has occasioned significant writing, and any number of books and articles take as an axiom that the journey inward and outward Review for Religious are not at cross purposes, but are thoroughly intertwined. Religious today are much better able to integrate their desire for God with their quest for a more just, peaceful, and sustainable world. The Role of Religious and the Role of the Laity When religious took up the challenge of renewal following Vatican II, there was an energy and an air of excitement. People began to see the possibilities of new ministries and new ways of serving in old ministries. The call to read the signs ofthe times led religious to seek out new forms of social work, political activism, and community organizing. Encouraged by documents like the 1971 Synod's statement Justice in the World and Paul VI's Call to Action, religious involved in justice-and-peace ministry saw themselves as being faithful to the council's vision of the rela-tionship of church and world. Among the positive consequences of such a development was the public witness of many religious to the church's commitment to building a more just and peaceful world. As vowed religious gave themselves generously to the social mission of the Catholic community, they constituted a living rebuttal to those who looked upon religion as a retreat from the world and a shirking of the responsibility caring for the political, economic, and cultural dimensions of human existence. The presence of religious in many roles previously viewed as "worldly" occasioned a reevaluation of ways of distinguishing between sacred and secular and elicited new appreciation for the religious depth of activity that heretofore had been seen as simply secular. In addition, a great benefit of this outward thrust in mission beyond the institutional boundaries of the church to the wider society was that it led relig!ous into much greater collaboration with the laity. The pre-Vatican II church, of course, also con-sisted of clergy, religious, and laity working together. Even in the heyday of vocations to consecrated life, the large Catholic network of social-welfare programs, schools, and hospitals involved, work-ing partnerships between religious and the laity. Yet it is true that, during the last three decades, there has been increased contact between religious and lay people, more egalitarian styles of shared ministry, and a sharpening of skills f~r collaborative ministry. At the same time, however, religious have been subtly tempted to assume leadership in places where lay people might be expected May-June 1997 Himes ¯ .~tice-and-Peace Ministry to come to the fore, as encouraged by the council document Apostolicam actuositatem, with its desire that lay people carry the gospel into public life. By reason of their large numbers and var-ied experience, lay people are best suited to be the leaven in busi-ness, politics, the arts, education, social service, and other such endeavors. But in recent years it is still religious communities that have sponsored many justice-and-peace centers, newsletters, programs, and activities through which the church strives to engage the wider world, That many religious took the lead in such activity reflects well upon their dedication and creativity, but perhaps it was time to leave ways open for many more lay. people to do such creating and leading. The high profile of religious in the church's justice-and-peace work is related to the more radical and elitist aspects of the min-istry that I pointed out above. As outsiders to much of the work-ings of secular society and as people expected to have less concern about career and salary, religious could afford to be. more harsh in their judgments about secular institutions. Lay people, in con-trast, were generally more attuned to the ambiguity of the busi-ness world and less prone to make broad prophetic denunciations of the profit motive, economic competition, and material success; There is surely truth in the claim that, during the last thirty years, religious in justice-and-peace ministry were considerably more critical of United States society than their parents, siblings, nephews, and nieces among the Catholic laity. Thus the formu-lations of problems and the suggested solutions did not engage lay people the way they did religious. As justice-and-peace ministry draws more upon the talent and experience of lay people, we may witness in it a different tone and style. Parochial Ministry and the Charism of Religious Perhaps no development in contemporary.religious life has been more important than the response to the council's affirma, tion that "institutes have their own proper characters and func-tions. Therefore the spirit and aims of each founder should be faithfully accepted and retained" in the renewal efforts of reli-gious (Perfectae caritatis, §2). The past thirty years have seen an onslaught of historical research, publication, and discussion by and for religious trying to ascertain their charism as manifested in their founders' lives and writings. Revlew for Religious Is there any religious institute today that does not work more self-consciously than a few decades ago at understanding and pass-ing on its charism? Less and less is it valid to talk about religious generically, for the distinctive charisms of monastic, mendicant, and ~apostolic communities (to name just three ways of describing religious) cannot be lumped together. And diversity is the case even within these categories~ as Carmelites, Dominicans and Franciscans--mendicants all--would attest. The rediscovery of the various communities' specific charisms occasioned a rethinking of the religious priesthood. The Jesuit historian John W. O'Malley has suggested that the theology of priesthood widely held after the council was inadequate to the complexity of the tradition of religious life within the church (Tradition and Transition, chap. 6). Many commentators on Vatican II have noted that it talked about Christ in the classical threefold schema of priest, prophet, and king. These last two images expand priestly identity beyond a narrow cultic understanding, retrieving the ministry of the word and pastoral leadership as elements of the ordained minister's identity. So far so good, but, as O'Malley sug-gests, this is still too narrow a view. The teaching of Vatican II rests on an assumption about the unity of the priesthood that is not historically accurate. In speak-ing of priestly ministry, Presbyterorum ordinis images (1) a stable community of faith and practice, (2) a parish setting, and (3) a specific hierarchical union with the local bishop. In other words, the document presents the diocesan priesthood as the norm or the theme, and other modes of priestly ministry as variations on it. Inasmuch as, at the time of the council, one-third of all the ordained ministers in the church were religious, this was a large assumption. One of its consequences is that Perfectae caritatis treats religious profession as an issue of lifestyle--discussing spiritual-ity, vows, and discipline, but ignoring ministry. Religious men have experienced lately a growing disen-chantment with the relegation of their religious vocation to a lifestyle question. They have begun discussing what formative influence their particular charism has on ministry. It has become apparent that the Vatican II approach is insufficient to account for the experience of thousands of ordained religious. The founders of religious communities were charismatic fellows whose ministry flowed, not from their official position, but from their reading of'the pastoral need and a sense of personal inspiration. Himes ¯ ffustice-and-Peace Ministot Pi'iestly ministry for religious is broad; it takes forms of pastoral care that are devised to meet the spiritual needs of people. Often such ministry was exempt from direct episcopal super-vision and beyond diocesan structures and boundaries. For exam-ple, in many religious institutes it was the various ministries of the word--preaching, teaching, lecturing, spiritual direction, direct-ing retreats, publishing books, and ministering to non-Cfitholics as well as to the faithful--that were the normal ministries for reli-gious priests. In many cases, this took ordained religious beyond the walls of the church and even of Christian soci-ety. Priestly ministry for religious is broad; it takes forms of pastoral care that are devised to meet the spiritual needs of people, needs that can appear marginal to the ordinary pastoral tasks in a parochial community. For that very reason, a variety of religious communi-ties have never seen caring for parishes as central to their work. Many ordained religious carry out their ministry, not in a parochial setting, but in a classroom, a retreat house, or an out~each center in some domestic or foreign mission area. In short, the model is not that of preaching to a largely stable community of believers, but of spreading the gospel by means of occupations and tasks that make contact with people in ways that are beyond the ordinary parochial structures of a diocese. Although we all know that there is a shortage of ordained min-isters for parishes throughout the nation, this does not mean that religious should become stopgaps. They should continue to offer their own pastoral assessment of how to serve the people of God consistent with their charism. This may require less, not more, parochial involvement. The social mission of the church may be the most important ministry to which religious ,should attend--and one which may receive less and less attention from the secular clergy as they find themselves stretched thin to meet the needs of American Catholicism's extensive parochial structures. As religious have sought to clarify their identity ,during these last thirty years, they have gradually realized that the charisms of religious life may lead them in directions quite different from those of the local diocesan presbyterate. Am I a religious first or a priest first? is a bad question. The proper question is how rain- Review for Religious istry and religious life permeate and shape one another. How does a man's religious vocation color or inflect his ministry as an ordained person, and vice versa? If what has been said is true for ordained religious, it should clearly be the case for lay religious. Reconsidering institutional commitments has often been painful and even divisive. Just as ordained religious have at times taken their cue more from the local diodese than from their community's tradition and charism, so too have lay religious. In some instances, the staffing of dioce-san schools has been analogous to the staffing of diocesan parishes. The issues of a community's corporate institutional commitments vis-a-vis its charism can seem to be a minefield, and the movement of religious out of other ministries into justice~and-peace endeaw ors has often been the occasion for a minor explosion. Yet the process of renewal continues, and the interest that religious have taken in the church's social mission has been strengthened by renewed appreciation of the charisms of various religious com-munities. The Centrali~ of the Social Mission A striking feature of the history of the church's social mis-sion is that it was seen as the generosity of its heart, but not always as a requirement of its nature. The theological reflection in Vatican II's Gaudium et spes and in later documents such as Justitia in mundo and Evangelii nuntiandi have shown how justice-and-peace ministry and the religious mission of the church are con-nected. This essential religious mission has been expressed in our time as evangelization: "Evangelizing is in fact the grace and voca-tion proper to the church, her deepest identity" (Evangelii nun-tiandi, §14). As Paul VI explains, evangelization is a process, a vital part of which is entrance into the community. People cannot simply be preached at or lectured to on Catholic doctrine; they must be brought into a community of faith. Such a community has a distinct pattern of behavior, a way of life. In its earliest years Christianity was known as "The Way" because it was seen to be about living a certain way of life, becom-ing part of a particular community. The gospel must be a word that transforms. As evangelizers, we must bring people into an active Christian community. In other words, faith entails not only attitudes and ideas but also commitments. The community that is May-J~ne 1997 Himes ¯ Justice-and-Peace Ministry Christian must be a community of witnesses. Without witnesses, evangelization fails. We are to witness to the very thing that Jesus was committed to: the reign of God. The Lord's proclamation of the reign of God was the good news. However, it is not enough simply to know and speak the gospel message. Ministry cannot be a matter of "Here's your answer and, by the way, what was your question?" If the community of witnesses, namely the church, is to minister effectively, we must attend to people's immediate concerns and show how faith in Jesus speaks to those concerns. Years ago the old Critic magazine had a pertinent cartoon. A handsome, sharply dressed cleric is speaking to a woman in her liv-ing room. Standing there in a tattered housedress, hair curlers tumbling over her forehead and ears, she is ob'~iously pregnant. Two little children tug at the hem of her dress; her husband in a T-shirt lies belly-up on the sofa, surrounded by beer cans. Laundry is piled in the corner, and in the background pots boil over on the stove. The dog is chasing the cat. The smiling priest looks down at her weary face and says, "Now remember, Agnes, the Christian is an Alleluia from head to toe!" None of us will deny that faith is a reason for genuine joy. But Father's way of conveying the good news is, well, not good. We laugh or smile at the incongruities. But we realize that the reality of it hurts, that the perennial danger of religious language is using it cheaply, without having our human heart in it. Gustavo Guti6rrez puts the challenge graphically: "How are we to preach the gospel with any credibility to that two-thirds of humanity which goes to bed each night hungry, ill-housed, chron~ ically ill, and without hope for the political and material improve-ment of their lives? What can the phrases 'God is love' or 'redemption from the yoke of sin' possibly mean to them?" It is not enough to tell the good news while people are enveloped in conditions that deny the very dignity we tell them is theirs. We know that there is a here-and-now dimension to the reign of God--for present-day Christians, just as there was for the One who went about doing good in Galilee and Judea. Yet we also know that the reign of God is not here in. all its fullness. Woody Allen once said: "The lion may lie down with the lamb, but the lamb isn't going to get much sleep!" We find ourselves in a state of tension; we live in the between times. The reign of God is here ¯ . . not yet. If God's reign is here as well as not yet, then it is Review for Religious linked to history. Like Jesus himself, the reign must be incarnated and enter into the human drama. Moreover, Jesus invites us to have the same relationship with God that he has--to be sons and daughters of the Father. This implies being brothers and sisters to one. another, not only in our interior attitudes, but also in our conduct--or else it is a pious nonreality. In order to be faithful to Christ, the church must witness to both the here-and-now and the not-yet dimensions of the reign of God, but my concern in these remarks is the here and .now. For the church to be like its Lord, the community of Christians must be the agent on earth of the reign of God, incarnating in his-tory a state of life characterized by relationships of justice, peace, forgiveness, love. In a word, the task of the church is to bring about liberation. Liberation, as properly understood in Catholic the-ology, is similar to the classical word salvation, but has a less otherworldly connotation. It under-scores the here-and-now aspect of God's reign. It calls attention to the present processes whereby people begin to be extricated from sin and its effects: oppression, violence, sexism, marginalization, racism. Liberation does not presume an uncritical commitment to a spe-cific economic or political option. What it implies is the work of overcoming obstacles to human well-being. It recalls the free-dom Christ has won for all. But this freedom, this liberation, must not be thought of as simply a spiritual event. As embodied spirits we need to understand it as belonging also to temporal life. Liberation-v-or salvation, if you prefer--must mean some-thing for our lives here and now, If the church is to proclaim the ~reign of God, if we religious are ~to invite people into a relationship with God, we should help foster a way of life in which people get some foretaste, some here-and- now experience, of the fruits of God's reign. We should as a church be able to point to how their relationship with God can-- and does--transform their life. Otherwise we are reduced to promising a reign of God that is only "not yet," without any "here and now." As the 1971 Synod said, "Unless the Christian mes-sage of love and justice shows its effectiveness through action in the cause of justice in the world, it will only with great difficulty gain credibility" (chap. 2). If we are committed to the great reli- We are to witness to the very thing that Jesus was committed to: the reign of God. May-Jt~ne 1997 Himes ¯ Justice-and-Peace Ministry gious mission of the church, to evangelizing our world by procla-mation of the good news of Jesus Christ, then we must also wit-ness by our actions that this good news touches people's actual experience of economic, political, and social realities. During these past thirty years, the social mission of the church has moved from the periphery of church life to the .center. In most religious communities it is no longer necessary to make the intel-lectual case that justice-and-peace ministry is valid and important. No longer do religious who are social activists regularly encounter opposition or skepticism from within their community. In fact, they are now esteemed for their ministry. But the number of reli-gious who wish to follow in the steps of earlier justice,and-peace ministers is small. Within congregations, even though the mood has shifted from disagreement to approval, the percentage of reli-gious who work full-time in social ministries remains small. As David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis report in their study of American religious life, many religious do not find themselves personally engaged in., or particularly interested in doing, justice-and- peace ministry ("Future of Religious Orders in the United States," Origins 22, no. 15 [24 September 1992]: 264; also Review for Religious 52, no. 1 [January-February 1993]: 23). The great need, then, is to provide opportunities to acquire social-ministry information and skills. Religious generally see the point of contact between faith and justice, but not their own point of entry: Where and how to start? How to organize direct-service programs and move from there to advocacy? How to integrate global issues of poverty, refugees, war, and ethnic strife into a local ministry? How to do a social analysis of one's ministry and use it in pastoral planning? What strategies to adopt in trying to reshape major institutions of a society? How to exercise leadership in a pluralistic and secular society? There are no neat and clear answers. For successful social ministry, much knowledge, and many skills" remain to be acquired, and continuing education in this area is very much needed. Looking to the Future I propose for the sake of discussion a way to think about our situation as American male religious concerned for the ongoing vitality of the church's social mission in our times. This time in which we live--we seem unable to name it, People call it post- Review for Religious modernity, which of course is only to say that, with the passing of one era called "modernity," another is taking its place. In politi-cal life we see something similar: a post-Cold War world that includes postcommunist nations in central and eastern Europe. We in the United States appear headed for a postwelfare state with a postindustrial economy. With so many merely chronolog-ical names around, it should not surprise us that we religious lack certain clarities aboht the future of our postconciliar church. .We need to remind ourselves that the Spirit of God does not work by our clock or even our cal-endar. Other generations, too, have been confused and have had to stumble around in history before finding a pathway. Recall the Jewish people after the Exodus or during the Exile. Consider the early Jewish Christians trying to get used to Gentiles as equal partners. We can only imagine the turmoil of the fall of Rome or the rise of Islam in North Africa, once vigorous Christian regions. Compared with these things, the uncertainties of religious life in the 1990s appear less than overwhelming. In times of turmoil there is always a temptation to rush to a solution, to find some quick answer. But--of this I am convinced-- in the future few things will be more necessary for the church's social mission than the quiet determination and perseverance of religious who keep working for justice, peace, and a better envi-ronment even if no grand vision or strategy is readily forthcoming. Others may reap the benefit of the seeds planted during this time. In Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons, the ambitious Richard Rich is disappointed that Sir Thomas More has suggested that he be a teacher. Rich somewhat bitterly asks, "And if I was, who would know it?" More replies, "You, your pupils, your friends, God. Not a .bad public, that." Precisely such a viewpoint is what religious today need as they work for justice and peace. To my mind one of the great problems today is that people forget the importance of caring for what is near at hand, those local and people-sized institutions that provide the wider society No longer do religious who are social activists regularly encounter opposition or skepticism from within their community. 1997 Himes ¯ ~s~ice-and-Peace Ministry with its sense of community. The fate of these--families, neigh-borhoodS, labor unions, small businesses, religious comunities, and innumerable other voluntary associations--will determine the future of American life. Government can reinforce and strengthen these smaller elements of society,, but cannot substitute for them. According to Catholic social teaching, society needs a healthy, robust civic sector, a public space where smaller human communities can flourish. Today the ecology of our social envi-ronment is as threatened as our natural environment; people's sense of community is strained. But is it not true that religious, with their wealth of experience, knowledge, and skill in building and sustaining community life, have something to offer the wider society in this regard? Cannot religious men and women be among those who help repair the frayed fabric of our families, our neigh-borhoods, our civic groups, our voluntary associations? Such an approach may be dismissed as sentimental by the national elites, for it cin seem small-time. But that is one more aspect of the problem. The worlds of big business and national politics have de-legitimated local life. The world of voluntary asso-ciations and community organiz~ttions seems peripheral to the market and the government, where the talk is of billions of dollars and millions of people and, moreover, comes into people's homes via television. The megastructures of politics and business are no substitute for the spiritual, the social, and the cultural at the local level. Not that people should ignore the world of national gov-ernment and business; but, rather, they should take care that these realms support the local scene and not undermine it. Nothing that goes on at the national levels of politics and economics will improve our social life if at the local level people continue to withdraw from public space, avoid contact with neigh-bors, and refuse to participate in the social groupings that con-stitute civil society. Is it unrealistic to ask of ourselves as religious that we counter such distancing and participate in local group activities and join local community organizations? Can we not model for others the fact that life together is much richer than a life lived apart? Is not the witness of our community commit-ment a needed corrective to the present state of American life? As vowed religious we need resist a tendency to look inward and look after ourselves first as we age, shrink in numbers, and experience worries about our collective future; Precisely because such a tendency is natural, what we require is a clear outward Review for Religious thrust in our ministry. During the last three decades, many issues have prompted us to look beyond ourselves: the Vietnam War, civil rights for African Americans, troubles in Central America, nuclear disarmament, environmental consciousness, economic inequality in our nation and our world, the call for a consistent life-ethic, and the plight of children amid poverty and broken family structures. The recalling of such justice-and-peace causes of the past and present may help us religious avoid the pitfall of letting our world become too small, of letting the intraecclesial problems of renewal be the only thing that defines us. The movement for justice and peace among religious these past thirty years has kept before our eyes a sense of the gospel, a yearning for the reign of God, a not always gentle reminder that a wide world awaits whatever humble service we can render it. The social mission of the church helps religious men to be cred-ible when we proclaim, in the words of Gaudium et spes (~1), that "the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the people of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the fol-lowers of Christ." Mother (Matthew 23:9-11, 37-39) Call no one on earth your mother. You have only one mother, the Christ: a mother hen longing to shelter all who come running in under the outstretched rainproof feather-roof of his warm and welcoming wing. Bernadette McCarrick RSM May-June 1997 JAMES H. KROEGER Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue Pcaope John XXIII in his call for aggiornamento and his convo-tion of the Second Vatican Council envisioned a wide and encompassing renewal of the whole church. Today, after three decades of experience since the council's close in 1965, a keen observer can now evaluate those areas in church life where authen-tic renewal has been received, taken root, effected growth and change, and borne fruit. How has interreligious dialogue fared within the panorama of an entire church renewed for its task of mission and evangelization? Modest progress has been achieved both in mutual under-standing and in the-ongoing dialogue that is a central element of the church's evangelizing mission. Bold and creative initiatives have been taken; yet, for both church leadership and ordinary Christians, dialogue remains on the periphery of Christian life and ministry. A twelve-stop journey on the church's dialogue road will reveal milestones where growth and understanding have been achieved. At each stopping place in this essay, there is a brief description of a document or event, of the progress which it took note of or contributed to, and of the paths it pointed out for future dia- James H. Kroeger MM worked for more than two decades as a field missionary in the Philippines and Bangladesh. He holds a doctorate in missiology from the Gregorian University, and his most recent book is Living Mission (Orbis Books). This article of his appeared in Omnis Terra, March 1997. Currently serving as the Asia-Pacific area assistant on the Maryknoll general council, he may be addressed at P.O. Box 303; Maryknoll, New York 10545. Review for ReligiouJ logue. On the one hand, the church's signposts have been clear and encouraging; on the other hand, however, much of church mem-bership has been a pilgrim walking the dialogue road reluctantly. The present overview of significant milestones is intended to encourage church members to make more room for interreligious dialogue in the church's mission and ministry. Secretariat for Non-Christians On Pentecost (17 May) 1964, in the climate of the Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul VI instituted the Secretariat for Non- Christians as an entity distinct from the Sacred Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples. Renamed the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue in 1988, it was to serve as a sign and struc-ture of the church's desire to meet and relate to the followers of other religious traditions of the world. Its task, as noted by Pope Paul, was "to search for methods and ways of opening a suitable dialogue with non-Christians . . . in 'order that non-Christians come to be known honestly and esteemed justly by Christians, and that in their turn non-Christians can adequately know and esteem Christian doctrine and life." Encyclical Ecclesiam Suam Pope Paul published his programmatic encyclical letter Ecclesiam suam on 6 August 1964 (between the second and third sessions of Vatican II). This magna carta for dialogue is the first time that the term "dialogue" is found in an encyclical, and more than half of the document is devoted to a discussion of the need, sources, characteristics, modes, partners, challenges, and goals of dialogue: "The church should enter into dialogue with the world in which it lives and labors" (§65). "The dialogueof salvation was opened spontaneously on the initiative of God: he loved us first" (§72). We "need to wait for the hour when God may make our dialogue effective" (§79). "Dialogue is, then, a method of accomplishing the apostolic ¯ mission" (§81). "The church is not unaware of the formidable dimensions of such a mission" (§95). It is also directed towards "the followers of the great Afro-Asiatic religions" (§110). We "recognize and respect the moral and spiritual values of various non'Christian religions, and we desire to join with them in pro- May-June 1997 Kroeger * Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue moting and defending common ideals of religious liberty, human brotherhood, good culture, social welfare, and civil order" (§108). Second 'Vatican Council Five documents of Vatican II contain important elements for understanding the church's role vis-?a-vis world religions (Nostra aerate, Lumen gentium, Ad genres, Gaudium et spes, and Dignitatis humanae). Some general themes are: the need to recognize within religions "elements of truth and grace" (AG §9), "treasures which the bountiful God has distributed among the nations of the earth" (AG §11), "a ray of that Truth which enlightens all men" (NA §2), recognition of the work ofthe Holy Spirit (GS §11, AG §4), the presence of treasures of the ascetical and contemplative life (AG §§15, 18), and the presence of"seeds ofthe Word" (AG §11, LG §17). The council promotes an attitude of profound respect toward all world religions (AG § 10), specifically primitive and traditional religions, Hinduism, and Buddhism (NA §2); Islam (NA §3, LG §16); and Judaism (NA §4, LG §16). It encourages dialogue and collaboration (NA §2); it is through dialogue that Christians can "receive the inspirations of the Spirit faithfully and measure up to them energetically" (GS §92). The council challenges all' Christians: "We must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery" (GS §22). j FABC First Plenary Assembly The Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC) met in Taipei, Taiwan, from 22 to 27 April 1974 to prepare for the Synod on Evangelization. Their landmark document Evangelization in Modern Day Asia spoke of "the integral preaching of the gospel" (§23), "the building up of a truly local church" (§9), and the triple dialogue with people, cultures, and religions (§12). The church in Asia especially needs to engage in "a dialogue with the great reli-gious traditions of our peoples" (§ 13), which are "significant and positive elements in the economy of God's design of salvation" (§ 14); "they.have been the treasury of the religious experience of our ancestors" (§14); ?and how can we not acknowledge that God has ,drawn our peoples to himself through them?" (§15). FABC Review for Religious recommended the need to "evolve a working concept of evange-lization that embraces, as integral to that concept, genuine dia-logue with the great living religions of Asia" (§3a). Synod on Evangelization of the Modern World The short declaration at the end of the 1974 synod pro-claimed: "Confident in the action of the Holy Spirit which over-flows the bounds of the Christian community, we wish to foster dialogue with non-Christian religions, so that we may reach a better understanding of the gospel's newness and of the fullness of revelation, and thus may be in a better position to show to others how the salvific truth of God's love is fulfilled in Christ" (§11). Apostolfiz Exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi One year after the synod Pope Paul VI published Evangelii nuntiandi (8 December 1975). Evangelization is seen as the "voca-tion proper to the church, her deepest identity. She exists in order to evangelize" (§ 14). The understanding of evangelization in EN is a broad one: "Evangelizing means bringing the good news into all the strata of humanity" (§18). "No . . defective and incomplete definition can be accepted for that complex, rich, and dynamic reality which is called evangelization without the risk of weakening or even distorting its real meaning: It cannot be fully understood unless all the necessary elements are taken into account" (§ 17). EN speaks of the church's esteem and respect for non- Christian religions because "they are the living expression of the soul of vast groups of people . They have taught generations of people how to pray. They are all inipregnated with innu-merable 'seeds of the Word' and can constitute a true 'preparation for the gospelTM (§53). The church needs "to offer to the mis-sionaries of today and of tomorrow new horizons in their con-tacts with non-Christian religions" (§53). Dialogue and Mission On Pentecost (10 June) 1984, the twentieth anniversary of the creation of the Secretariat for Non-Christians, the church published "The Attitude of the Church towards the Followers of May-June 1997 Kroeger ¯ Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue Other Religions: Reflections and Orientations on Dialogue and Mission." Approved by the pope, the document expressly places interreligious dialogue within the purview of the church's evan-gelizing mission: "Dialogue finds its place within the church's salvific mission; for this reason it is a dialogue of salvation" (John Paul II, Introduction, §5; see Ecdesiam suam §74). The document gives interreligious dialogue a broad defini-tion: "It means not only discussion, but also includes all positive and constructive interreligious relations with individuals and com-munities of other faiths which are directed at mutual under-standing and enrichment" (§3). Its main concern is "the relationship which exists between dialogue and mission" (§5). The document presents the five dimensions of integral mission and evangelization and notes how they are understood "in the consciousness of the church as a single but complex and articulated reality" (§ 13). Both local churches and missionaries are "respon-sible for the totality of mission" (§14) because "Christian mis-sion embraces all these elements" (§13). Four forms of dialogue are presented in detail (§§25-35). World D~y of Prayer for Peace at Assisi On 27 October 1986, in the context of the International Year of Peace, Pope John Paul invited representatives of other Christian churches and ecclesial communities and of the major world reli-gions to come on pilgrimage to Assisi to pray and fast for world peace. Explaining the event, John Paul noted: "The event of Assisi can be considered as a visible illustration, a concrete example, a catechesis, intelligible to all, of what is presupposed .and signi7 fied .by the commitment to ecumenism and to interreligious dia-logue which was recommended and promoted by the Second Vatican Council" (§7). He added: "Either we learn to walk together in peace and harmony, or we drift apart and ruin our-selves and others" (§5). Seven FABC Theses on Interreligious Dialogue In April 1987, after two years of study and consultation by the Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC) Theological Advisory Commission, the document Theses on Interreligious Dialogue: An Essay in Pastoral Theological Reflection was released, Review for Religious The aim of the document was to "facilitate a new insight into the identity of the church in a religiously pluralistic world and a renewal of its mission" (§0.9). The document presents a com-prehensive vision of interfaith dialogue in seven closely reasoned theses with extensive commentary. They address important the-ological. missiological questions, consistently asserting that dia-logue "is an integral dimension of the mission of the church, which is the sacrament of the kingdom of God proclaimed by Jesus" (Thesis 2). Encyclical Redemptoris Missio John Paul's mission encyclical, dated 7 December 1990, addresses the "permanent validity of the church's missionary man-date." In chapter 5, "The Paths of Mission," a specific section addresses "Dialogue with Our Brothers and Sisters of Other Religions" (§§55-57). It is an exceedingly rich section: "Interreligious dialogue is a part of the church's evangelizing mis-sion . Dialogue is not in opposition to mission ad gentes; indeed, .it has special links with that mission and is one of its expressions. . The church sees no conflict,between proclaiming Christ and engaging in interreligious dialogue" (§55). "Each member of the faithful and all Christian communities are called to practice dia-logue . I [Pope John Paul] am well aware that many mission-aries and Christian communities find in the difficult and often misunderstood path of dialogue their only way of bearing sincere witness to Christ and offering generous service to others. I wish to encourage.them ." (§57). Dialogue a~d Proclamation On Pentecost (19 May) 1991, the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue and the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples jointly issued "Dialogue and Proclamation: Reflections and Orientations on Interreligious Dialogue and the Proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ." The document explicitly affirms the holistic and integral nature of the evangelization process and mentions the five principal ele-ments of mission (§2). Discussing "the relationship between dia-logue and proclamation" (§4), the document quotes John Paul II: "Just as interreligious dialogue is one element in the mission of the May-3~tne 1997 Kroeger * Milestones in Interrelig~ous Dialogue church, the proclamation of God's saving work in our Lord Jesus Christ is another . There can be no question of choosing one and ignoring or rejecting the other" (§6). "Both are legitimate and necessary" (§77). There are many "signs of the times" (social, cultural, reli-gious, and political) and a religious sensitivity and attentiveness are important for hearing "the Spirit of God. speaking, teach-ing, and guiding" (§78). "All Christians are called to be person-ally involved in these two ways of carrying out the one mission of the church, namely, proclamation and dialogue" (§82). "Yet, more than tasks to be accomplished, .dialogue and proclamation are graces to be sought in prayer" (§89). Continental Synods As the Jubilee Year 2000 approaches, Pope John Paul has made known his intention to convoke and complete a series of continental synods. In those areas of the world where a variety of religious traditions are integral to people's indigenous culture and faith,.~interreligious dialogue will necessarily be important for the.church's presence and ministry. Onthe Feas~ of the Triumph of the Holy Cross (14 September) in 1995, John Paul released the postsynodal apostolic exhortation Ecclesia in Africa. In reference to dialogue (§§65-67), the document notesi "Commitment to dialogue must also embrace all Muslims of goodwill" (§66). "With regard to African tradi-tional religion, a serene and prudent dialogue will be able., to foster the assimilation of positive values . They can be seen as a preparation for the gospel . The adherents of African tradi-tional religion should therefore be treated with great respect and esteem, and all inaccurate and disrespectful language should be avoided" (§67). This is a task given to the church in Africa in ful-fillment of "her evangelizing mission towards the year 2000" (§8). The church in Asia (home to more than 85 percent of the world's non-Christians) will necessarily devote attention to inter-faith relations and dialogue as it prepares for its continental synod. The Preparatory Document (Lineamenta) notes: "God's offer of salvation to humankind is always a question of dialogue . The entire mission of Jesus was constant dialogue with humanity. The whole mission of the church is, therefore, one of dialogue. Dialogue is a part of the work of evangelization . In the Asian Review for Religious context, dialogue is of primary importance for the future of Christian mission . The church in Asia, therefore, must enter into ever deeper dialogue with the great religions." (§33). John Paul II The pope has given much emphasis in person to the role of dialogue within the evangelizing mission of the church; in his missionary journeys he constantly seeks opportunities to interact respectfully with the followers of various religions and faith tra-ditions. From his voluminous state-ments on interreligious themes, some short representative quotations are pre-sented here: "Christians will, moreover, join hands with all men and women of good will [and] work together in order to bring about a more just and peaceful society in which the poor will be the first to be served" (Manila, 21 February 1981). "Christians and Muslims, in gen-eral, have badly understood each other, and sometimes in the past we have opposed and even exhausted each other in polemics and in wars. I believe that today God invites us to change our old practices, We must respect ~each other, and also we must stimulate each other in good works on the. path of God" (Casablanca, 19 August 1985). "By dialogue we let God be present in our midst, for as we open ourselves to one another, we open ourselves to God" (Madras, 5 February 1986). Interreligious dialogue is "a Christian work desired by God" and "one element in the mission of the church"; "the commitment of the Catholic Church to dialogue with the followers of other religions remains firm and unchanged" (Rome, 28 April 1987). "Throughout my pontificate it has been my constant concern to fulfill the apostolic and pastoral task of both dialogue and proclamation. On my last visit to Africa, I met leaders of African traditional religions and witnessed their awareness of God's near-ness and their appreciation of the ethical values of a godly person" (Rome, 28 April 1987). "By dialogue we let God be present in our midst, for as we open ourselves to one another, we open ourselves to God." May-~ote 1997 Kroeger ¯ Milestone~ in Interreh~ious Dialogue "Respectful dialogue with others also enables us to be enriched by their insights, challenged by their questions, and impelled to deepen our knowledge of the truth. Far from stifling dialogue or rendering it superfluous, a commitment to the truth of one's reli-gious tradition by its very nature makes dialogue with others both necessary andfrui~Cul'' (Jakarta, 10 October 1989). "Interreligious dialogue at its deepest level is always a dia-logue of salvation, because it seeks to discover, clarify, and under-stand better the signs of the age-long dialogue which God maintains with humanity" (Vatican City, 13 November 1992). Summary ~ This essay has presented a synopsis of recent thought within the Roman Catholic tradition on interreligious dialogue. It has been purposely succinct, highlighting only twelve moments within the Vatican II era, supplemented with some pertinent citations from Pope John Paul II. The material available in this presenta-tion clearly indicates the church's current thought and direction vis-h-vis dialogue and evangelization. At the heart of recent Catholic literature on dialogue is an operative vision of evangelization that is broad, comprehensive, and holistic; it is often termed "integral evangelization." Several elements--including dialogue--are seen as constitutive~dimen-sions of it. The church ~consistently affirms her commitment to "integral evangelization," realizing that evangelization culminates in the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ--whenever, wherever, and however this is practically and respectfully possible. Again, in fulfilling her mission of evangelization, the church engages the followers of various faith traditions, because it believes that in this encounter all dialogue partners will experience a mutual evangelization under the influence of the Holy Spirit. Dialogue remains an important bridge for the church to cross into the third millennium of Christianity. Review for Religious SUZANNE MAYER Providence: Charism and Contemporary Spirituality Several years ago, one sister within a group of Sisters, Servants ,of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, making a retreat together asked a Redemptorist theologian about the source of our IHM reliance on Divine Providence, something we considepa core spiritual charism of our congregation. We had,been looking at 'slides on our shared heritage featuring~ along with other treasures, the Marian paintings that hung in various places of St. Alphonsus Liguori's early life. These canvases portrayed Mary as Mother of Perpetual Help, the well-known Redemptorist devotion and the source of many shrines and many parish tides. The slides evoked Sister's curiosity about the deriva-tion of Mary as Mother of Providence and about the reliance on Divine Providence fostered by the Sisters for more than a hundr4d fifty years. These words are part of the answer she received from the theologian: "Your tra-dition of reliance on Divine Providence does not trace its origin to St. Alphonsus or anything in the devotional his-tory of the Redemptorists. You need to credit the feminine~ side of your founding and trace it to Mother Theresa Maxis and her total dependence on God throughout her life." For the celebration of the sesquicentennial of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, the sisters gathered during August 1995 in Monroe, Michigan, Suzann~ Mayer IHM writes to us from the IHM Spirituality Center; King Road/P.O. Box 200; Immaculata, Pennsylvania 19345. charism May-~me 1997 Mayer * Providence the place of foundation. It was natural to explore here this charism of Providence and its place in the evolution of this group of almost two thousand women religious. In an informal preconvention sur-vey conducted among some members of all three branches of the sisters assembling there, various nuances seemed to have emerged between and among them with regard to the meaning and rele-vanc~ of Providence; but, since the questionnaire was far from scientific and its sampling far from representative, litde was done except to remark on. the subtle variations. Some speakers from the three assembled branches, however, developed the topic of Divine Providence," and some conversations took place on the subject. Both the retreat director's response and the ideas raised at the meeting in Monroe stirred some curiosity in me. As a mem-ber of a congregation that traces its origin a century and a half back to the "banks of the Raisin River in Michigan" during the time of westward expansion and the coming of many immigrants to this nation, I considered trust in God's providence and benef-icent care of each person to be a logical spiritual necessity. But I wondered: How did this reliance on Divine Providence figure in the life of our founder, and, even more, how does it speak to us now, women religious standing at the threshold of a new mil-lennium? ~ To understand the meaning of Providence, I turned to the Catechism of the Catholic Church (§§302-314). My reading reminded me of questions I hear frequently when I sit in my counselor's chair and share the struggles of good people trying to make mean-ing of evil, darkness, pain, and loss in their lives. The Catechism states that in God's .providential plan. the universe exists in statu viae, "in a state of journeying toward an ultimate perfection yet to be attained," a sort of immaturity or incompleteness here and now. In this state of journeying, human experience ranges from loss to gain, chaos to order, exile to homecoming, terrifying evil to great goodness. What I heard in the scholarly words and philo-sophical phrases were echoes of my own experience and that of other journeyers. God does not create or will evil, pain, or loss, but, in honoring the integrity of human freedom, walks with peo-ple as they move through the world as it is, good and evil. Scripture shows us shekinah, cloud by day, fire by nigh~ (see Ex 40:34-38), and gives us the farewell promise of Christ to be ."with you always" (Mt 28:20). Review for. Religious The heart of holiness is the heart of maturing in Christ, the Pauline meaning of perfection (1 Co 13:11 and 14:20; Heb 5:11- 14). The spiritual child needs and wants the plan, finds security in order, yearns for control, but the spirit of providence enables the adult man and woman to understand becoming whole in bro-kenness and perceiving the plan threading its way even through chaos. Such a providence calls for abandonment, not as some test of human endurance, but as a falling into the arms of a loving, caring presence. Again the scholarship translates for me into.a remembered experience. Having worked with young adults in retreats and workshops, I recall an icebreaker that was designed to instill or test trust. In the acti;city the young people would have to fall backwards into, hopefully, the arms of their waiting friends. Providence viewed from this per-spective allows today's believer to expe-rience divine care in both the positive and the negative. What if the arms are not in place to catch the falling body? What if their strength proves inadequate? The trusting soul lands on the floor. Does this - mean that the friends have failed the test? Perhaps. Or maybe it is a result of mistiming, an unpreventable distraction, misjudg-ment on. the part of the faller whatever. A providence spiritual-ity demands inclusion of negatives as well as positives. Otherwise, the believer would be living in a Pollyanna world where God gives only home runs, top grades, and sunshine days in answer to prayers. What happens in such a world when the inevitable strikeouts, ,failures, or clouds come? Where does providence spirituality fitinto the life of Theresa Maxis, the "feminine side" of the founding of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary? And, more relevantly, where does it fit into the life of IHM